There've been no surprises this first half of August on Pollywog Creek - hot and muggy and green as ever, but when I think of how sick I was two summers ago, I have nothing but gratitude for how I'm doing today. Summer is still difficult, but I'm determined to persevere - focused on those glimpses of mercy.
You'd laugh hysterically to see me the mornings I wander about. I'm still in my pjs so I can tuck the pant legs into socks to keep mosquitoes off my legs. A small pink battery-operated fan {a birthday gift from a dear friend} that keeps the air moving around my face hangs around my neck, as well as one of those rice-filled cold packs in a long tube {that's been chilling in the freezer}. My nearly white hair is pulled up in a loose, sloppy ponytail on the top of my head, and I carry a basket with my cameras, cell phone {in case I need to call for help should I happen upon a dangerous critter}, a small notebook and pen {because I never know when inspiration will strike and I don't trust my memory}, a bottle of gatorade, and a towel or small pillow to sit on and rest if I can't take another step.
I'm quite sure that my neighbors worry about my sanity and my children are embarrassed to claim they know me, but it's one of the joys and privileges of growing older, I think - permission to be eccentric, right?
Afterall, what have I got to lose? It's one small way I can live with courage.
its darkness will be like the morning.
And you will feel secure, because there is hope;
you will look around and take your rest in security.
You will lie down, and none will make you afraid;
many will court your favor.
Job 11:17-19, ESV
{Photos - the first half of August on Pollywog Creek}
