A fallish dusk...

Looks are deceptive. Summer's held her ground here on Pollywog Creek - only letting fall sneak in with a few fallish teasers while we keep the air-conditioner running and the sweaters in storage.

It's been a lovely week - with birthday parties and dinners with family, Emily's "meet and greet" with Congressman Rooney (I'm so impressed - she planned the whole thing), and lifegroup at Flora and Ella's. I'm not fond of a full calendar - I need space to stretch out, but it's all been so rich and good (well - except for that flu shot) - that I dare not complain.

Give me one thing more...

"Thou who has given so much to me,
give one thing more: a grateful heart."
~ George Herbert

Sure would be nice if someone would say 'thank you'. I grumbled to myself, irritated that no one seemed to appreciate a single thing I did.

It's what happens when the things you do are freely given. I continued the woe-is-me pitiful conversation with myself. Their lack of gratitude makes me not want to give them one more thing - ever again.

Pitiful, pitiful, pitiful.

"I know how you feel."  The Lord's whisper pierced my heart as I began to recall a multitude of gifts and blessings from His very hand - freely given grace and mercy gifts I'd failed to acknowledge or appreciate.

My cheeks blushed with shame. It's a wonder that He's given me one more thing - ever again.

Give me one thing more, Lord, I begged - please give me a grateful heart.




Photos: the sun hanging low over sugarcane fields and reflecting at sunset on the hood of the car as I drove east to west down rural highways a few weeks ago.

Can you blame me?

I awakened Saturday morning with a sense of urgency. I'd missed an editorial deadline for which there were no excuses. Totally mea culpa.


I'd begged for mercy - a few more days - and it was graciously granted, but I was humbled - fully aware I'd deserved a reprimand instead.





By Saturday morning, those few more days had  come to an end. I was this close to dotting all my i's and crossing all my t's and sending my work on its way wrapped in humble apologies, and I'd promised myself I'd do so first thing - before wandering and wondering and the distractions of color and light could lure me away.


I carried my necessary writing tools - laptop and coffee (life can be so simple sometimes. can't it?) outside to the backyard swing. I'd spent most of last weekend wrapped in blankets, fighting off the chills and fever of a stomach virus, then four days on the east coast playing with those two little ones who call me mimi. The quiet and cool, fresh air would clear my thoughts and my work would be on its way in no time at all, I thought.


If only I had not seen the way the sunlight glittered on the dew dappled grass or collected in beads on the leaves of the flame bush, or the scarlet hibiscus preparing to praise as she opened her petals to the sun, or the ripening berries and lonely zinnia...


..and the spiny black caterpillar munching on thorny leaves


...and the bouquets of milkweed rising out of the tangled viney thickets.

My spirit was willing, but my flesh was weak. I wandered and wondered first. Can you blame me?

I finished my work and sent it merrily on its way.

And I considered the costly and measureless grace and mercy of God, and how grateful I am for the way grace and mercy are often extended to me by others - by family, and friends, and editors, and probably strangers, as well.



(With my laptop closed, I was eating a bowl of curds and whey (yogurt) when along came this little green spider, who sat down beside her me, but he failed to frighten me away. Doesn't he look like he's wearing spectacles?)

Don't ever give up, Mimi....

I'm somewhat distracted these days by two of those little boys that call me Mimi. It's a perfectly delightful distraction to have grandchildren under my feet, but for the life of me I don't know how all you young mothers keep up with young children and writing, too. I'm guessing that you must never sleep.

On the other hand, small children are the most amazing source of inspiration. They really do say the darndest things.

My learning curve for all things technical and electronic is a bit longer than most, I think. Remote controllers make me dizzy - just ask Emily. It would be one thing if all households had the same controller, but even that would only help a little. I'm still learning the one at our house (otherwise known as the "dooral"), and we have had satellite TV for two years. The good news for me is that I don't watch much TV anyway.

The "dooral" where I am staying is much more complicated, with options that tangle my brain. Casey has walked me through the steps more than once, but if just one wrong button is pushed, I'm hopelessly lost and that is the end of that - much to Mason's dismay. He jumps up and down, holding his breath that I'll stumble on the right button pushing sequence for him to play Wii. "Don't ever give up, Mimi," he cheers me on - with the self-centered motive you'd expect from a four year old.

He's right though, you know. Don't ever give up.

Abounding in every good work...

Marketing is not my bent. I'd rather give you everything I own than try to sell you anything, but the opportunity to partner with World Vision was different. All that was asked of me was to host a party, share the blessings of child sponsorship and encourage others to sponsor one of five children. There'd be nothing in it for me (I decided from the beginning to give the hostess gifts away), but the joy of knowing it would all be for Him.

I thought it would be easy to find sponsors for children living in poverty, but only a few people were even willing or able to come.

I'll bring the party to you. I offered those who'd declined the original party invitation, and two of the children were finally chosen.

Emanuel from the Dominican Republic is adorable. He will be three years old on Christmas Day. We fell in love with him the minute we saw his picture and I was thrilled when he was the first to be sponsored. I dearly love the home that chose Emanuel. He will be prayed for and loved deeply for years to come.

Kaushal is a handsome twelve year old who lives in the slums of India. I could not be happier that he was next to be chosen. His sponsor is one of the sweetest friends we made after moving here over twenty years ago. She is a wonderful teacher who dearly loves children. She and Kaushal will be blessed.

For days after Emanuel and Kaushal were chosen, I grieved that there were three more children I'd been entrusted with that were still in need of a sponsor. How could I let them down?

I carried the burden of failure, wondering what I could have done to encourage others to sponsor - until I read this:

Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.

It wasn't my burden to carry - to move the hearts of God's people - for God loves a cheerful giver, not a manipulated, pressured giver.

Lord, you know whose heart has been tendered - who has decided in their heart to give, I prayed with the three children's pictures and folders on the table before me.




Later that week, I tucked the children's folders in my Bible before leaving for church. Maybe I could mention them in class, I thought.

As though the pastor and I had planned it that way, the message in church (before class) was on money and giving. I, of course, knew differently. It was clear to me that though I was timid about bringing up the subject of child sponsorship, I'd leave knowing I'd be disobedient to do otherwise.

Before class began and as people entered the room, I asked the teacher for permission. I took the folders out of my Bible and placed them on the empty chair next to me. Immediately one of my classmates picked up the one on the top. "God has been dealing with my heart about this for a while now," she spoke with a grin. "After Bob's sermon this morning, I know this is what I am supposed to do."

Six year old Keylin's folder was the one she had chosen. Keylin lives in Honduras in a poor rural community. We share the same birthday, Keylin and I, so I'd been praying extra hard for her. She is the same age with the very same birthday as her new sponsor's granddaughter, too. We rejoiced at the visible, providential hand of God that brought Keylin and her sponsor together.

The point is this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work. As it is written, 

“He has distributed freely, he has given to the poor;
his righteousness endures forever.”
2 Corinthians 9:6-9 ESV



There are still two children I am praying for sponsors: Nine year old Amos in Malawi, and six year old Akudzwe in Zimbabwe. I'll be returning their folders to World Vision the end of this month if sponsors are not found for them soon.

I share that with you today, in case God has been speaking to your heart, too.

Photo challenges and stretches...

Photo Hunt::Stripes (Antique Quilts)




More Stripes (Frog at Pond's Edge)




Photo Challenge::Decay (A southern sculptured borer in the decay of a dead pine)

I'm imagining with amusement my friend Allie's reaction to these last two photos. (I love you, Allie!)

Truth is, I would normally shy away from many of the things I find fascinating when viewed through the lens of a camera. The wonder it inspires and pushes me beyond my own abilities and knowledge and desires.

It has been months since I participated in a photo hunt and I miss many of my photo hunt friends. Today seemed like a good day to reconnect, and it gave me an excuse to post a couple of photos I'd otherwise not be able to use.

But I'm also wondering about you. Is there a tool or gift that God places in your life that stretches your natural abilities and tendencies?

Wonder what I missed...

Driving down the isolated wooded road to my friend's house one morning last week, I came upon four deer grazing along the side of the road. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera.


I was not going to make that mistake again. As I headed out the door this morning to make that same drive, I grabbed my camera and placed it on the dashboard over the steering wheel where I could access it quickly.


I drove slowly down the winding road, continuously scanning the edge of the woods for signs of the deer, but by the time I reached the road's end and the driveway to my friend's home, I had not seen a thing.

Disappointed, I turned off the car and prepared to go inside. As I snapped the lens cap back on my camera this thought occured to me, "I wonder what I missed while I was looking for deer."

*Photos from my Pollywog Creek backyard

October layers...

October can be quite the tease here at the subtropical edge of the Big Swamp. More often than not, the nearly imperceptible seasonal changes come not from lower temperatures, but the fewer hours of daylight as the sun shortens her stay each day.













We don't expect to wear sweaters - at least not in the beginning - but we think about taking them out, and shaking off the dust, and hanging one or two within easy reach.













The transition from summer to winter overlaps in layers here - much like our garments. Though we'll bring our winter clothes out of storage, we'll never put our summer clothes away.













October mornings on Pollywog Creek are bringing falling leaves from the sweetgum trees and delightfully cool breezes, but hibiscus are in bloom and sandals on our feet by noon.