Joy E. DeKok's Blog, page 4

Tenderness – A Nature Essay

Tenderness – A Nature Essay – Joy DeKok

“How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in your life you will have been all of these.” George Washington Carver

I wandered out to where the birds gather. On the way, I prayed for a few tender moments. The ones that seem like they come straight from the heart of God the Creator and seep softly into mine.

For a while, I sat alone in the sunshine with my camera ready and my finger hovering about the button.

Their arrival startled me as they came in fast and a bit furious. Some arrived in a flurry of feathers and even the gentle juncos were feisty and flighty. I wondered if I had somehow carried the chaos of the human world into theirs. I hoped not. I shivered as the chilly wind circled around me and snuck into the space between my orange cap and my red jacket.

A few minutes later two things happened: the wind quieted and so did the birds.

Sometimes one of them listened as I welcomed them to the stump.

Others looked at me between bites.

This one paused while “scratching” his or her way to the best bites. I love these glances in my direction.

When my time with the birds was complete for today, gratitude flourished in my heart and I wanted to pass it on. This is my attempt to wrap the beautiful gifts of God’s tenderness to me today as a testimony of words and photos and give them to you.

He is good. Always good. He’s so very good to me.

Until Next Time,

Joy

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. Henri Nouwen

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Before & After ~ A Poetic Journey

Jon took this pic of me last summer. I’d been outside in the sunshine and knew my hair thin, but that’s often the way it is with cancer. I didn’t know it then, but my hair situation was about to change. After my recent zap of radiation, it went from thin to sparse. It was time to consider a new option. One I’d resisted considering – a wig. This isn’t a perfect poem – the meter may be off in places, but I’m okay with that. The more I tried to fix it and make it perfect, the less it sounded like me. So I quit doing that and am now doing this – sharing this part of the journey heart wide open.

Before & AfterA Poetic Journey by Joy DeKok

Before . . .

I caught the shimmer in the mirror,

My balding scalp, my eyes full of tears.

The strands so fragile and skin so white,

A sad reminder of what’s not right.

 

Stiff little hairs standing up on end,

Brittle and broken, no way to mend.

I pat down the fuzzy texture there,

Detesting what some call chemo hair.

 

Is wanting a wig all kinds of vain?

Will wearing one be a daily pain?

What if I can’t stand the way it feels?

Good grief this is a really big deal.

 

I want to believe I’m worth the cost,

But I worry it might be money lost.

I want an improvement in my looks,

Right this minute all I am is shook.

 

After pondering the pros and cons,

Praying and talking it over with Jon,

The time has come for me to do more.

I’m going to visit a wig store.

 

When my style and color choices are made,

It will be time to have my head shaved.

I’ll cry tears of sorrow and of joy,

I will look even more like a boy.

 

It’s a given my scalp will get cold,

I’ll get a nightcap – goodness I’m old!

And a soft beanie for my home days.

Comfort and style in more than one way.

 

Most of the stages of cancer are hard.

I’m sad, fatigued, nervous, and scarred.

But there’s hope rising inside me too,

I might really love my fake new doo.

 

Others will know there’s a wig on my head,

But that’s not the thing that I most dread.

The thought that makes me almost wig out,

Is not fighting the fear and the doubt.

 

There is no shame in losing my hair,

Or in wearing a wig if I dare.

Maybe a writing hat would great fun,

Perhaps two or three instead of one.

 

I do enjoy pretty accessories,

And consider them almost necessities.

Earrings, purses, and now things for my head,

Helps ease back the worry and the dread.

 

It’s time for a cup of green jasmine tea,

And look at styles I might like for me.

Tomorrow is the day I’ll decide,

Blond for sure maybe on the short side.

 

Or perhaps a sassy angle cut,

I will need assurance deep in my gut.

What will it feel like to wear new hair?

Thank You, Lord, for the courage to dare.

(I’m a terrible selfie taker!)

After . . .

I went to get new hair by myself.

Wigs of all kinds lined the long shelves.

So many lengths, styles, and colors to see,

Which would be the right one for me?

 

As I walked quickly through the store,

I noticed wig accessories and more.

My heart told me I was in the right place,

And beat at a slightly happier pace.

 

Sarah asked me to sit in her chair,

Invisible trust flowed in the air.

She put the first wig over my head,

My mouth fell open; my eyes stared.

 

Who was that woman looking at me?

She looked like me, but could this be?

Could hair make a difference this big?

I felt so right in this dark golden wig.

 

To make sure we tried on a few more,

But that first one fit me in my core.

When she put my hair back on my head,

There were no tears – I smiled instead.

 

I watched Sarah cut bangs in my hair,

And saw an answer to my prayer.

I’d asked God to give me and her,

The wisdom to see and to be sure.

 

There was one more stop to make that day;

A salon to have my head shaved.

I worried this might be when I’d cry,

But once again, my eyes stayed dry.

 

The pile of hair on the floor was small,

Still, not a single tear rose to fall.

I felt oddly good and strangely free,

Changed and older but fully me.

 

Settling my new hair back into place,

A small smile eased across my face.

I pondered a new summer doo,

One shorter, sassier, and acrylic too.

Until Next Time,

Joy

This is me smiling at Jon today. It’s so much fun looking at him. And looking almost normal – whatever that is these days.

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The Last Sip – A Pondering Post

Most of the time, I like my coffee hot, dark, and black. I like my tea iced or hot, and my favorites are Herbaly (LINK), green jasmine, and I enjoy a strong cup of stevia-sweet (10 drops per teacup) Earl Grey almost every day. Now and then, a little stevia in my coffee is dessert. A cup of chamomile/lavender before bed is sometimes my last treat of the day.

I’m a heavy drinker. Add in the 40 to 60 ounces of water per day I take in each day, and you can imagine the workout my kidneys get!

When these beverages are in lovely cups or mugs that match the sweater I’m wearing, it’s even better. It’s good when all of my accessories match my outfit.

Today’s accessorized options.

Sometimes I read while I drink but most often, the scents and taste invite me to pause and ponder.

If you come here often, you know I use the word ponder a lot. Here’s why this word matters so much to me . . .

After I came to Christ as a teenager, I read part of the Christmas story from Luke 2 in our church program. The moments Mary shared with the angel touched me when I realized God sent him to her when she was around my age. Since she was engaged, I’d always believed she was older, but things were done very differently back in Mary’s day. The words in verse 19 caught my attention then and hold it to this day.

“But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.”

Grandma Joy and Me – That Christmas

Ponder Defined: To consider quietly, soberly, deeply, carefully, deliberately, and attentively. To examine with focused, prolonged thought before making a decision or coming to a conclusion.

Looking back at the years between then and now, I cannot say I always pondered well. Sometimes I still don’t. But when I do, no matter what is going on in my life, it’s good – so very good. And as time passes, I’m faster to go to pondering than ever before.

Faster as in about the time it takes to pour a cup of coffee or fix a cup of tea. I hurry to the One who already knows my thoughts (even before I think them!) and still wants to hear me say them to Him. My gut-level, no holding back, out loud, wide open-heart moments sustain my faith, increase it, and bring peace that cannot be explained.

Again – so that you understand – I am not 100% at this. It wasn’t even my idea. The God of Christmas planted this desire in my heart about 47 years ago! I am drawn to pondering by God’s love, grace, and Spirit.

Today, fidgeting in my brain long and hard about the chaos that so easily disquiets, discourages, depresses, distracts, and dismays me, I stopped to bring all these things to Almighty God. It took me a while because God is asking me to do something that rubs me the wrong way. He wants me to pray for those who want to deceitfully use me and love those who are my enemies. See Matthew 5:43-48 KJV. (ADD LINK)

This is like taking a bitter medicine I once had to ingest as a little girl of maybe five years old. It was an awful color that reminded me of vomit – likely because I was so sick, and sometimes I threw it up. It smelled horrible and tasted worse.  There were no grape, cherry, or bubblegum flavored meds back then. When it was time to swallow it, I sobbed. But, taking it was my only option for getting better. I remember looking into Mama’s eyes as she held the spoon for me. What I saw stopped me in my red-faced, runny-nosed tracks. She had tears in her eyes too.

Swallowing that vile stuff became easier because she loved me.

Remembering, I was right back in that kitchen with her when another detail returned. We stood by the sink, where a cup of water sat. A cold cup of relief poured to help wash down the putrid (yes, it was that bad!) medicine.

A tender help from a loving parent.

Today, it took me a long time to let God use His Word and illustrate it gently with a moment in life I rarely think about. He let me take all the time I need. When I got there, I realized the small amount of tea in my lovely cup was cold. I wondered if the strong Earl Grey would be bitter – it’s not one I drink iced. I considered tossing it but changed my mind.

And guess what?

That last sip was the sweetest one of all. At that moment, I felt the tender help from my eternal loving Parent fill my spirit. So, I will love my enemies in prayer even when it feels impossible because all things are possible with God. The Bible tells me so.

But Jesus looked at them and said to them, “With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” Matthew 19:26 NKJV

Until Next Time,

Joy

 

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Unique Focus – A Nature Essay

These photos happened last July on a day I walked our wildflower fields the way I often do. It’s my normal practice to take at least 2 snaps of each picture hoping if one doesn’t turn out, the other will. I didn’t know until I got back in the house that I had taken two uniquely focused photos of these blossoms.

They were important enough to me I gave them their own folder on my desktop where I visit them often and let the beauty of the moments bless me again and again.

Today, on this January day, I’m sharing them and some words that seem to fit the memories with you. I pray You will be blessed too.

“A good snapshot keeps a moment from running away.”
Eudora Welty

“Sometimes I arrive just when God’s ready to have someone click the shutter.”
― Ansel Adams

Since taking these photos, I’ve had many opportunities to focus and refocus my life. Most of all, my thoughts. ― Joy DeKok

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. Philippians 4:8 NLT

Until Next Time,

Joy

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Retreat! A Writing Essay

I started this writing retreat with high hopes. The set purpose of intentional, dedicated time would bring results my word counts increased. Each day would be full of the quiet contentment that comes from writing. I had a plan of action, and Christmas-like anticipation rose in my spirit.

Then, life took a sharp turn. While I have no idea today how God will use all that happened and didn’t happen, I know He will.

Here’s my retreat week in review.

Days 1 & 2:

It’s taken me until almost 8 PM of Day 2 to find my focus. Discovery: I don’t let stress go easily. It takes intentional effort to breathe a little slower, ponder my writing projects, and take in the opportunities less social media offers.

I miss my FB family and friends. A lot.

Pacing and pondering my way through our house, I felt the quiet settle around me. Sometimes on my journey up and down the hallway and dining room, Sophie walked with me and tried to “herd” me into the living room.

The solitude is, at times, heavy. Gray and wearing. Strangely distracting.

Day 3: January 13, 2021

Our beautiful, sweet, sassy, enthusiastic Sophie is gone. We are grieving deeply. She filled up holes in our lives we didn’t know we had. She talked to us. Smiled at us. If all else failed, she nibbled on our ears to get our attention.

I miss her curly fancy tail wagging at me and her enthusiastic love.

We knew she had cancer in her little body and that today was coming. We talked about it, prayed about it, and did our best to prepare our hearts. As long as our girl continued to eat, enjoyed her walks, and did most of the things Sophie did, we would wait.

She did her very best until she couldn’t.

Preparation works for many things but not the loss of a beloved friend.

This writing retreat isn’t at all what I expected. And it surely wasn’t the day Sophie Star (Tucker has the same middle and last names) DeKok hoped for either. She loved life, but today, that beautiful little girl’s heart no longer beats in the energetic and enthusiastic rhythm that kept us at the center of her life.

Writing more than this is impossible. All I have left is tears. In a year of losses, here is another. They have all cut deep. One on top of the other before the sorrow before it had time to stop bleeding.

Day 4: January 14, 2021

FB tells me I posted this photo of Sophie on January 14, 2019. 2 years ago today.

I sat at my desk, determined to work on my novel. To push ahead. To be brave. It didn’t work, but I tried to purge the pain by setting it from my heart, through my fingers, to the page, which is a useless effort because the sorrow will live inside me long. But facing the aching head-on through words is one of the ways I grieve. Although my novel word count has not increased, my journal is much longer than it was. And my box of tissues is emptier.

Today, the loveseat in my office is empty. No little writing buddies snuggled in, gracing my space with their contentment. Tucker is with Jon – he needs his best buddy. He will snuggle with me later – he’s faithful that way. You might ask if I mean Jon or Tucker. The answer is both. Yes, in the middle of this, I know I am blessed.

I’m thankful we have Philippians 4:13, which says, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”

All things. Grieving included.

Day 5: January 15, 2021

When the words didn’t come again, I walked. This photo illustrates the way it feels when I try to write. I know it will get better. The chill in my heart will thaw, and the heaviness will lift. Then the story will tumble from my mind onto the page again. But not today. And that’s okay. When I planned this retreat, I had a plan. God had a different one. In the sadness, I trust Him.

Day 6: January 16, 2021

My retreat is complete. It wasn’t about writing – at least not yet. It was about taking the time to pray and grieve. The loss of a sweet friend in early December. The return of cancer in my body and my first radiation treatment. (We hope it’s the last for this spot but won’t know until March.) And our Sophie. These three heartaches collided and refused to be ignored. The solitude demanded I face the grief. The solitude was no longer a distraction but a place in time to pray, pace, and cry—a time to thank God for Amy and Sophie and to grieve our joint losses with Jon.

A time to be.

Of course, this involved coffee – a lot of coffee and rides with Tucker, who still loves going to his favorite parks and the drive-through at McDonald’s. He gets treats from us, and that’s a big deal for our handsome little buddy.

On Monday, I will go back to my desk and read what I have written so far. I figure each time I go there, my heart will find it’s way back to the story.

Until Next Time,

Joy

P. S. One of the ways I eased the sorrow back was to read. During this difficult week, I took brief moments of respite with author Michelle Griep’s The House at the End of the Moor. The author asks this question on Amazon:

What Can a London Opera Star and an Escaped Dartmoor Prisoner Have in Common?

These lines from the book snagged my heart. They are not in order, so I am giving nothing away other than the author’s talent to keep a wounded heart focused on the story and not her own grief.

“Rain cries down the windowpanes in a steady pat-pat-pat.”

“Though she smiles, a sadness hangs about her, a hint of desolate music in her tone, like the singing of a dirge on a very rainy day—and I suspect it has nothing whatsoever to do with my absence from the stage.”

“I dine with ghosts.”

To learn more about this book, click on the cover below.

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When It Makes No Sense – A Nature Essay

When It Makes No Earthly Sense – A Nature Essay – by Joy DeKok

He (Jesus) said to them, “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in, because of the quantity of fish. John 21:6 ESV

For over a year, I sat and waited for the birds to come back. I put out the food they’ve always eaten and did what the professionals said to do – I hid in a hunting blind where they wouldn’t see me.

It was great being out of the wind in winter, but the birds stopped coming over time. Well, they still came but not when I was out there. Back in the house, I’d see them flying in to enjoy the food I’d left for them. When I returned as stealthily as possible, they left again.

Determined to do what the pros said, I stuck with my forts most of the time in warm and cold weather. The first one was a flimsy little tent that the wind finally wrecked. The second was much sturdier, but the woodpeckers used their beaks to destroy the seams on that one.

Not willing to disregard the advice of far more successful photographers than myself, we bought another hideout for out there. It reminds me of an army-green outhouse, but I was pretty sure it would discourage the woodpeckers, and it’s the best one yet against the wind.

Once Jon got it put up, I went inside. A downy or two fluttered in and then away. It was the same with the brave and often bold chickadees. Otherwise, I was alone for weeks.

Discouraged, I reviewed what had worked the best in the past, and the evidence surprised me. My best bird pictures happened when I was out in the open with them – where they could see me.

Determined to listen to the wisdom of the pros, I hunkered down again and the birds stayed away.

Finally, even though it made no sense to me, I asked Jon to haul my old wooden bench near the full feeders.

Being the gracious man he is, Jon brought the bench over and left me to my wait. I sat down expecting to be alone, and because I had nothing to lose, I did another thing the pros say not to do: I talked to the birds who might be in the vicinity out loud. It was a simple invitation to come and get their pictures taken. Yeah – I know that makes about as much sense as putting myself out there.

But, within a couple of minutes, birds came from the wildflower fields and the trees. They landed on the feeders, on the stumps Jon had also added at my request, and in the messy dogwood bush, I love so much. That’s when the young blue jay who captured my heart came. (click the photo to read the blog post It Could Happen.)

And the others came too!

At first, the red-bellied woodpeckers dropped small twigs on me from the tree above. They do this almost every time they come near.

After three or four days, they returned to the feeders too.

And the birds are still coming. Some have to wait for their turn at the feeders while watching me.

Now and then, I sneeze, and they head for a bush or a branch and watch me closer before returning to the business of eating.

The pheasants come now too, but they leave as soon as they see me squawking all the way. These brief appearances delight me.

While personal and precious, this experience is not miraculous like the fishing disciples, their nets, and Jesus. That was amazing and supernatural. This passage is also one of my favorite moments in the Bible, and I always wonder – do bread and fish cooked on an open fire by Jesus taste better? Here’s the link to this chapter.

When it comes to the birds and me, I love the way God turned my heart back to His Word and the testimony of the full nets. Those guys were the earthly fishing pros, but Jesus was and is God and knew what they didn’t yet.

I love the way God takes His Word and illustrates it in earthly, practical ways that teach me that sometimes what makes no earthly sense to me makes perfect sense to Him.

Until Next Time,

Joy

P. S. The new army-green blind is now a warming house. I go in to get out of the wind for a few minutes to I wipe my runny nose (does cold weather make your nose run too?), rub my cold hands together, and apply more lip balm before returning to my bird bench. There is evidence the feathered ones out there use the wooden seat as a place to sit when I’m not there too.

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It Could Happen – A Nature Essay

It Could Happen – A Nature Essay – Joy DeKok

Author Note: I have no idea if this young blue jay is male or female. When we saw each other, I spoke to it as if he was male, so I use the male pronouns when talking about him in this essay for simplicity’s sake.

The young blue jay flew in low and alone. Although there were six of seven other jays at the feeders, they ignored him.

He was an outsider.

I’d never seen a blue jay hunker down on the ground or hurry to the protection of the wildflower garden when the others sounded the alarm. Unlike the other jays, he was silent.

Within minutes, I was smitten.

The first day we spent time together, he sat on the ground eating suet an enthusiastic downy woodpecker dropped from above him. Like me, he seemed content to watch and ponder the busyness around him.

When I spoke to him, he cocked his head in my direction as if my words interested him.

It felt like a compliment.

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The next day we met at the feeders again. He flew in a bit higher this time and settled on to one of the stumps Jon put out there for my feathered friends. He ate with more gusto than the day before, but he was still a loner. When the other jays flew in together and squabbled, he watched, however no invitation to join them seemed to be issued. The others left in a flurry when I spoke out loud to him.

He looked at me as if he knew who brought the goodies.

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Our third meeting was even sweeter. He flew in higher than before and settled on a branch in a nearby bush. Again, I talked, and he listened. After getting a bit to eat, he returned to his branch and settled in.

It was as if being near me was natural and safe. In my opinion, his keen intelligence was right on.

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Soon, sleek adult feathers will replace his soft fluff, and unless he continues his solitary ways, I won’t be able to recognize him from the others for certain.

But if a solitary jay sits on his branch or looks at me that way, I know I will hope it is him.

It could happen.

Until Next Time,

Joy

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Places and Things – A Writing Essay

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Places and Things – A Writing Essay by Joy DeKok

Note: From time to time, another author’s quote sparks something in me – a connection of sorts. And from time to time, this is where I will share some of those moments with you.

“Strangely enough, the first character in Fried Green Tomatoes was the cafe and the town. I think a place can be as much a character in a novel as the people.” Fannie Flagg

Places . . .

As a reader, I sometimes find myself attached to where the story takes place before connecting with the characters. It started with Laura Ingalls Wilder – the prairie fascinated me. Later, reading Perry Mason mysteries, it was the courtroom. When Jan Karon’s Mitford series released, I never wanted to leave town.

Another influence is the small towns (and sometimes the truck stops on a long trip) I visited as a little girl. The cafes smelled of coffee, eggs, bacon, fries, and burgers. Some of the floors were worn wood, others linoleum, coke came cold in bottles, and the foam that stood on the milk in my glass.

The drug stores offered cards, cheap toys, inexpensive cosmetics (1 grandma bought her rouge there), and perfume in glass bottles that held the word “toilet water.” This caused me great concern since the fluid inside of them was yellow. I worried about that something awful.

Now I love write-away days in coffee shops or cafés in the small towns nearby.

I was in one of those coffee shops when the idea for The Mississippi Queens series was born, and they had to have their own. You can read more about that HERE.

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When Olivia’s sister Pete needed a place to take her messed up sister, she picked The Baked and Brewed – a place where the coffee is hot, the food homemade, and the town’s people gather.

It’s funny – when I write about those places, I go in with my characters. The bell above the door rings in the memories I carry in my mind. I see faces turn to see who’s coming in, hear the greetings, and my mouth waters just a little inhaling the scents I remember.

Things . . .

One time, I became attached to an inanimate object that somehow became a character. In the movie Cast Away, the soccer ball, Wilson was the company and confidante of the main character. When the black and white sphere headed out to sea, tears rose in my eyes. Then, in the silent theatre, I said out loud, “Oh! No!”

Before that – in the book and the movie Gone with the Wind, the green velvet curtains and her tight corset were as important to me as the fiery Scarlett O’Hara or the handsome Rhett Butler.

In the #1 Ladies Detective Series, it was the red tea. I could not read those books without a cup of tea in my cup! If I had time to read long, I brewed a pot and drank it all.

Those places and things tell me as the reader about the characters. As a writer, if you look close, you’ll see a little bit of me – maybe I’m the little girl sitting at the table with her grandma, both of us in our Sunday best. Or I’m one of the folks waiting for her slice of bacon quiche at the Baked & Brewed.

Whether I’m the reader or the writer, places and things are essential to a good story.

Until Next Time,

Joy

S. Did you notice the whole noun thing in this essay? People, places, and things.

The Tree I Love – An Essay

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The Tree I Love – Joy DeKok

Genesis 1:1 (ESV)

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.

To Revelation 4:11 (ESV)

“Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will, they existed and were created.”

Yes – I love a tree. I like many of the trees in our woods, but this one holds a place in my heart.

To be clear: I do NOT worship the tree, nor is it an altar of some kind in our woods. It’s a tree and, as such, is incapable of loving me back. I do not talk to the tree, and I don’t hug it, although I put the palms of my hands on its bark. I touch many of the things I find on my wanderings. The day I intentionally touched the nettles was not this kind of day! But the day I touched the bee was so cool!

The other day, on my way to the tree I love, I was distracted by loveliness along the way – a normal occurrence for me.

There was the surprise of moss on November 7.

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And fallen leaves that fell from the broad branches of the oak I love.

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In a tree no longer flourishing, I found this tiny dining room. The doorway is about the size of my hand, and space is no deeper than my cupped hand. Perhaps it’s the space of a red squirrel or chipmunk. I had never seen these little nuts – I think they are wild wood hazelnuts. A treasure trove!

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When I got to the tree I love, more moss growing on the rugged bark snagged my focus.

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For years I drove by the tree. I saw it and was impressed by the far-reaching branches, solid trunk, and rugged bark as I admired it from afar. Getting to it on foot meant – finding my way through thick underbrush, tangled vines, saplings in tight groups, and blackcap raspberry bushes whose thorns can cut through a tee-shirt sleeve and draw blood.

Unknown to me, the tree had Jon’s attention too. This summer, he took his chain saw out there and cleared a path to and around the tree. I married a man who, without knowing I wished I could get closer to that tree, knew I would love that space, and he did something about it.

Today, standing beneath the outstretched and mostly bare branches, I thanked the Creator for Jon, the oak, and all the beauty on the way. I marveled at how the woods slowed the wind to a gentle breeze, which led me to be glad for the wind even if it might be blowing winter our way. That led me to be grateful for the scent of the earth and the song of the chickadees flittering from bush to bush as I explored their territory.

And so on. One thing always leads to another.

I looked at the sky through the branches and pondered the acorn that was somehow pushed into the ground in the spot dozens of years ago seen only by God. Then, how with the help of the sunshine and water He sent, it sprouted and took root and grew.

God had plans for the big oak. He put it there to provide food and shelter for the wild ones for a hundred years or so. And then, on one beautiful November day, He knew I would stand under its outstretched beauty and worship Him.

Oh, the wonderful mysteries of God!

Until Next Time

Joy

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This & That & Some Other Things – October 2020

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Welcome to a new kind of blog post! I enjoy sharing books I’m reading (or have read), photographs I’ve taken, writing updates, and books others have written (and places you can find books to read). Below you’ll find all of this – something free and other great offers.

This . . .

This goldfinch and I spent some time together a couple of mornings ago. It was cold, but there we sat watching each other. I love moments like this, and I get sweet delight from sharing them with you. This photo is for you – it won’t be posted on FB or Twitter. To get your free copy, all you have to do is right-click on the photo and copy it to your device.

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These are the tools of my trade. Part of writing is reading, and I write to have readers. Photography doubles as part of the work I love to do and spirit therapy. The coffee (sometimes tea) fuels the work and gives me a break from time to time when my cup is empty.