Summer Snapshots

The pandemic season may have kept me out 

of the garden centers, but my mailbox has done 

a brisk business. Park Seed Company provided 

wonderful seed packets in early spring. 

The entire process of planting and watering provided 

the perfect distraction from virus droplets, 

un-flattened curves, and

the mask/no-mask debate. 

And look at just two of the rewards of that labor: 

cleome

dwarf mix sunflower

This little stripey gourd is from last fall's leftovers.

We're enjoying lots of family gatherings.

Our backyard has never seemed more like a safe haven 

than it does now. 

But we're going out into the wide world soon, 

if we can only remember how to vacation out there.

 I found this reminder from 2015:

My family has changed so drastically since this vacation 

photo was taken. Instead of five, we are nine. 

And now I'm not the only female among men—

I'm joined by three amazing lovelies. 

Together, I think we balance out the group well. 

Grandchildren provide endless entertainment, 

hugs, and giggles—the biggest upgrade of all.

Read the vacation blog post from 2015 here. 

"Worth It" 

Plenty of Space

Sapphire skies host cotton candy clouds while

drowsy river waters float Kentucky kayaks

and carry conversations,

bouncing laughter bank to bank and back. 

Paddles dip, then lift and switch—

providing plenty of space for the 

what-ifs, 

how-abouts, 

and did-you-evers

which stitch our summer together.

When Your Umbrella Flaps

When you're on a hot beach and the noontime sun is beating down, this is not what you want 

to see above your head. But that's exactly what happened on our tiny patch of Florida beach this year. 

We were happily gawking beach scenery—parents corralling sandy littles, sun-darkened seniors 

knee-slapping, and shark tooth seekers bent double, surf scanning—when

WHOOF! 

Our umbrella lost its battle with the wind. 

For a while, we let it flap, too lazy to get up and wrestle it back into a proper form. 

I took a few photos of its free-form, flappy beauty—some of my favorites of the week.

Next time things go wrong on your patch of sand, instead of rushing to repair, 

take a breath ... can you see it? 

Beauty often shines in unexpected, less-than-ideal circumstances.

Desperate

Look! It's my birthday ... weed. 

Let's face facts - not much is blooming in mid-August, 

except ironweed.  

Just before my birthday and just before school started, 

we took a desperate-to-hold-on-to-summer outing to Lake Cumberland. 

The boats were all rented when we arrived, so 

we took in the sights at the fish hatchery, 

where only a certain sort of person is admitted.

(But I got in anyway!)

The next day, we rented  the tiniest, fastest  little pontoon available; the weather 

was perfect for boating, floating, and sky-gawking. 

Not so much for fishing ... 

Is it wrong to pray fervently for fish to bite?

Look at my handsome husband out there, waiting for me with a float built for two.

He thinks I'm still able to dive in with hardly a splash. 

Such a funny guy! 

Verse and Vacation

*

What do you think of this verse from my morning reading? 

It jumped out and grabbed my shirt collar. 

"Now unto the King 

eternal, 

immortal, 

invisible, 

the only wise God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. 

Amen."

1 Timothy 1:17

Join me--let this bang around in your head today. 

It might make its way twelve inches south and have real 

impact when it lodges in our hearts. 

I'm asking for that.

Eternal ... immortal ... invisible

Opportunity for extra pondering here.

-------------------------

Side Notes:
* This photo from a recent family trip to Williamsburg, VA, was taken from the steps of the oldest building on the campus of William & Mary College, the Wren Building, 1695. (1695!!!) 

** Family vacations still belong to our original five: my husband, myself, and our three mostly-grown, unmarried sons. To our yearly surprise, they look forward to this tradition. Lots of quality free food may be a contributing factor. Vacationing with these adult-ish versions of the children we raised, sharing memories and making new ones, is an unexpected and cherished blessing. 

When we go on vacation, dreams are spun. The unusual conversational freedom is an absolute highlight for me, and this trip was no exception. Miles flew by as we hashed out plans for an entrepreneurial adventure inspired by an expressway billboard. The structure of a niche business was built over a plate of chili cheese fries. In addition to frisbees on the beach, plots were tossed to attend William & Mary, get coordinating degrees, and relocate to lovely Virginia. 

*** I keep a brief record of what happens on each day of vacation, including the funny quotes, favorite meals, and activities. Over breakfast or in the car on the way to the next stop, I scribble short notes in a cheap notebook, asking the group for contributions. Sometime soon, I'll show you how to use what you bring home to make a super-shortcut memory book.

One-Way Conversations

Someone was trying to send a message. 

The pink scripture stamped on this postcard looks like an after-printing addition. 

Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good. -- Romans XII 21 

A word of friendly encouragement for Mr. George C. Hust. 

The sender started to address the card, but stopped for some reason. 

Was she embarrassed to send such a bold, biblical statement, fearing the opinions 

of all who would handle the card as it made its way to Mr. Hust?

Did she hesitate, too faint-hearted to admonish a fellow believer, and shove the card away?

Did the nib of her feathered pen snap, with no replacements in the house? 

There's a story here...

---------------------------------------

I found this card at a flea market for 50¢, tossed 

among other lovely bits of junk. I'm always sidelined in 

antique stores reading vintage postcards, eavesdropping on 

long-ago, one-way conversations. 

"Florida is lovely, we've eaten fish everyday!"

"Tell Mother I'm doing just fine, a city girl now."

Recently I found this on the back of a photo postcard - 

"What I have against Hitler is the way he deals with young people." That single statement and nothing else.

It's fascinating! If you've missed it before, check out 

the typical box of old postcards in any antique junk store.

Worth It

Look - there they go! 

My family. 

I love to lag behind and watch them walk ahead of me.

When my boys were little, love for them overwhelmed me sometimes.

Can you identify?

As they've turned into adults, my mostly-grown men have put us through 

some wear and tear. It's the way of transformation - 

bystanders often sustain injuries. 

Can you identify?

But family vacations have magical, healing properties.

The air of  other places  threads between and around each person, 

and silken bonds of shared memories twine among us.

Vacation jokes, navigation mishaps, food indulgences, music choices - 

things we'll talk over, and laugh about, for years to come.

We would certainly have more dollars in the bank if we bypassed these trips.

Every year, we consider this fact.

Right before we begin to make plans to go again. 

* * *

Check out these vacation websites - you can take a vacation 

and keep some dollars in your pocket, too. 

Here and here. 

Flying

One week ago, I was above the clouds. 

Maybe because I don't get to do it very often, flying is still an 

amazing adventure for me. But this was the first time I've gone into the 

blue yonder on my own. I was alone in a crowd, and I can't say it was awful.

Security was so minimal - I didn't even have to take off my shoes. 

All that hubbub about zipper bags and 3 ounce bottles of whatever - 

there wasn't any. 

My seat was easy to find, both ways, and my seat mates were ideal

both times : thin, athletic women who wore headphones. 
I gladly gave up the armrest.

Since no one was paying any attention to me, I felt free to snap photos
 like it  was my first time in the air. 

SIDE NOTE:

Some of my favorite childhood memories are of flying with my dad in his small airplane. I loved the whole process - the flight check, communications with the tower - mysterious, invisible air traffic controllers, and the takeoff! The takeoff  never got old. All that crazy speed, faster and faster along the black and yellow tarmac then suddenly ... peace. The bumps and jumps of the wheels were finally silenced with one smooth dip-jump into the air; we were up, and the show really began! Dad was happy to take me on a kind of 'air tour', pointing out the sights not so far below. Everyday destinations seen from above appeared to be icons on a storybook treasure map.

Drying Linens

From the Shaker Village Get-Away:

At Pleasant Hill, back in the day, Shaker 'sisters' were expected to spend most of the day 

glorifying God through work in the kitchens, the weaving rooms, or the laundry buildings...  

Women of all ages labored in this small set of rooms and turned out 

clean clothes and linens for hundreds of people. 

Can you feel the peace of drying linens racked so closely, a concrete display of 

joyful community, each owner represented by initials carefully sewn on a cloth corner or seam?

 Or could there be hints of competition here? 

Did certain pieces always win space on upper racks ...

whose linens were the most carefully made, woven in the most brilliant patterns ...

which linens displayed the neatest stitches? 

I wonder if it was it peaceful, truly, among those Shaker laundresses 

in early January of the 1800s?

* photo of the restored laundry rooms as they would have looked in the early 1800s 

Side Note:

When my sons were small, they were blessed with the same good health that most American children enjoy. But when they became sick with whatever virus was going around,  I took pleasure in playing the mamma-caretaker to each, and maybe even spoiled them a little bit. Women often complain that men are such babies when illness strikes - this sort of indulgence by mothers like me might be the reason. I savored any opportunity to snuggle one of my sweet little boys who would normally be running, leaping and squirming to get away. 

Now my sons are mostly-grown, all tall and strong - I'm so grateful for them. When they get ill, to my amazement, they find the appropriate over-the-counter medication and dose themselves. They judge when, or IF, a doctor will be called. It's crazy! Just one more thing I always did for my children which they now do for themselves. 

For the last six months, one of my sons has faced the challenge of an auto-immune disease. He regularly drives himself to the doctor and endures a difficult procedure with admirable fortitude. Early this morning he came downstairs with resolve painted across his face; he shrugged into his coat, grabbed his keys and (again) turned down my offer to come along. 

But he did let me linger a tiny bit longer than usual on the goodbye hug.

The Spooky Eye

More from Shaker Village:

Would you believe that calling this bull would cause it to actually come ambling over? 

Would you WANT this bull with its menacing horns to  come any closer than this?  

 So while my husband called and cajoled, I freaked. 

"Oh. My. Gosh! Don't call it any closer! Watch out for its horns! What if it can 

jump over this wall? What if it can climb over? For Pete's sake - DON'T TOUCH IT!"

I snapped photos of the impending loss of his hand and babbled warnings.

But it wasn't long before I made pals with the big guy ...  

... and his super spooky eye.

Take It All

 The old hymns, 

I know I've said this before

 they float around in my head and appear at the oddest moments. Verses of song 

from my very early youth may pop forward while washing dishes, watering the gardens, in the shower... 

Is it something in the water???

*

And  I'm hoping the Holy Spirit will do the same for my sons - 

bring sacred things to the front. 

At this point in their lives, all the scripture verses and chapters they memorized and 
the few hymns I taught them as children seem to be buried.

But buried treasure is still treasure, folks.

*

And the best news of all is that the Faithful One knows exactly where it's buried 

and the perfect moment to retrieve it.

*

Here's the buried treasure He dug up and offered to me today, sung in a new way - 

certainly not the as in the Methodist days of (my) yore. 

Take My Life, and Let It Be

traditional music here - this is more my yore

Will you dare to ponder these verses with me and consider what might happen 

if we prayed this and really meant it? 

Not the Sunday Morning Version of consideration, please.

I'll speak for myself and admit that too often, instead joining in wholly dedicated worship, I'm actually pondering:

what happened before we arrived in the building 

 my own uncomfortable state of being

what my pew-mates may be thinking/saying/doing

how the worship team stays in perfect unity

the amazing enthusiasm of the deaf interpreter

after church plans and schemes ...

NO, let's not indulge this quarter-hearted rumination!

Take five minutes with me and really let these words sink down deep, where  you hoard 

your pile of Authentic Self. Turn the verses over a few times, read them in reverse order, 
say them aloud and ask yourself -

WHAT might He do with me if I sincerely and unabashedly 
fling the entire pile of myself at His feet? 

Romans 12:1

1 Corinthians 2:9-12



* photos from Colonial Williamsburg, VA trip, 2014

Misplaced Faith

When you have a car full of teenaged loved ones, a traffic back-up on the express way can cause some pretty rash driving decisions. So we believed the GPS when it said we could get to the pizza place by an 

'alternate route'. 

Oh the FAITH required to use a GPS! 

Off we went, following the directions in a blow-by-blow format, thinking SOMEhow we would arrive

 in a busy college town after driving further and further, deeper and deeper  into farmland.

This is where we were when the GPS said something none of us had ever heard before:

Prepare to park your car and continue to your destination on foot.

Misplaced faith, for sure.

Head in the Clouds

We did a LOT of driving in June, trekking to the Smoky Mountains and 

Virginia Beach. On our last day of vacation, instead of dozing with head 

lolling for the entertainment of the all, I was snapping these.

Does anyone see the elephant in these clouds?

A scary clown???

In the home stretch, there was a heated ABC Game*, with a unsolvable snarl 

around letter 'X'.  I ended up on the losing team.

So glad to be home and back in familiar routines!

SIDE NOTE:

*The ABC Game - Our Version - This can be played as an all car game or as a competition between teams, persons, rows, etc.  I prefer the competition since I want to be the winner, of course. Work your way through the alphabet, in order, finding words on signs, buildings, trucks, other cars, license plates - anything. 

- Yell out your word and tack on irritating celebration phrases like, "Take that, Sucka!" (I'm sharing the most polite examples here.) If you have a wicked laugh, throw that in too.

- No abbreviated words or acronyms allowed: KOA does not count for letter 'K'. 

Especially since the 'K' in that word stands for 'Kampgrounds', one of those nasty intentional misspellings. 

- No reusing exactly the same word by multiple teams/players:

 " 'C' - Cracker!" 

"Oh! 'C' for us too - Cracker!"

Nope. No way, no how. Find your own C.

Same word found on different signs - that's (reluctantly) allowed.

- Special allowances are made for Q and X and maybe Z, if you get that far. Any word CONTAINING one of these can count.  

- Placing a friendly bet can keep things interesting. Some examples: 

Winner gets to choose the radio station for 50 miles.

Loser carries the winner's luggage.

Winner gets first bed choice. 

Winner gets to order first at the next restaurant.

Loser cleans the garbage out of the car at the next stop.

Winner gets to choose a treat at the next gas station.

Loser may not speak for an hour ... (a personal favorite)

Home Again

A week is  along time to be on vacation. 

It can get a little big jiggy at the end.

Three adult-sized males 

crammed in the rear of even a generously sized (rented) SUV can be 

unenthusiastic travel companions when facing an eight hour drive home.

 It makes coming home all the sweeter, doesn't it?

Vacation photos of the fun part - - - soon to follow.

***

My speedwell was going strong a couple of weeks ago. Bees love the purple-blue spikes which are upright and colorful all the way to the end of their bloom time. When they're finished though, they're like  old ladies who've been too long at the ball - they lay all over gasping and taking up too much room. I trim mine back to about three inches. They look awful for a couple of weeks, while the other plants fill in and disguise their rough mornings. But soon speedwell will green back up and make nice foliage plants with a stray bloom here and there for the rest of the summer. They love the sun but will also bloom in pretty deep shade.

 

A Blue Door and Bora Bora

Shabby Charm

A starred, sky-blue door makes this place seem almost livable, don't you agree?

If I was homeless in Indiana, I'd try to get a spot in here, for sure.

Do you think we'll each be given our own mansion in heaven?

The gospel music of my childhood says "YES! A Mansion Just Over the Hilltop!"

There is debate over the meaning of the word 'mansion' in old King James' translation.

In my opinion, being given a mansion to live in  over there  seems almost contradictory 

to what He's been teaching me while I've been living  over  here.  I'm no Bible scholar, of course, 

but I find rest in the plain-spoken truth of these passages:

Matthew 6:19-21

“Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal."

John 14:2

"There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you 
that I am going to prepare a place for you?"

We've been getting some clarification on our final destination while reading 

50 Days of Heaven, by Randy Alcorn, a short devotional and biblically anchored. I find that 

my teenaged sons are interested, and that this topic is one they willingly ponder.

And personally, I'm finding that when you know where you're going, it gives a certain order to the rest of life. 
It all started with a trip to Bora Bora and the Price is Right ---

Game shows are a Snow Day Indulgence around here. (And there have been too many of them!)

I'm a little embarrassed to admit to game show watching, but there it is, out there on the 

internet, and everywhere now. ANYway, a lucky, screaming, flapping woman won a 
'once in a lifetime' trip to Bora Bora and in a flush of pure envy, 
I said to my game-show-couch-pals,  
"If you won a trip like that, it would change how you live. You could be thinking, 
'School stinks, but I'm going to be in Bora Bora in a few months!' " 

We went on about how you would make lists and prepare, planning and plotting your

time in this far-away exotic location, completely free of cost. The adventure! The food! 
The sights to be seen which had never even been imagined! The show closed, and 
we sat there in our snuggies, imagining the wonder and excitement that awaited the Bora Bora lady.

I guess you can take it from there. 

As Christians, we DO have a destination of unimaginable magnitude to look forward to, 
far beyond anything we could dream up, way better than any trip planned by TPIR staff.

Why is it that I forget to keep an eye on that and let it temper every less than lovely thing
 that is happening right now? 

Hence, the Heaven book - it's like a Divine Destination Brochure. 

More HERE.

Price Is Right clips here and here ... and one more here.

No extra charge.