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The Sky's Voice

A few weeks ago today it was Solar Eclipse 2017.
The day before our pastor dedicated his entire message to Psalm 19.
The words fit the week.
We went through the verses one at a time.
The theme of the message was uplifting.
This solar eclipse wasn't some dark omen as some would say. Some precursor to judgment.
It was another day in the life of sky speech.
An exquisite mathematical alignment in the universe that speaks to everyone watching of God's breathtaking glory and ultimate supremacy.

Psalm 19
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of His hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech; 
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.(NIV) 

As the pastor read these words I felt a blanket of awe fold over me.  Kind of like the black velvet that blankets the night sky. Those words always capture my mind and make me …
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Work.  This word prompt sends my mind in so many directions.  
I think of  my dad getting in his little Honda every day for thirty some years off to his work crisscrossing hundreds of miles weekly as a building supplies salesmen.
"How was work?" I ask him while he slides his knife easily through roast beef at dinner.
"It was work." He says simply and a slight smile plays on the corner of his mouth.
I think of the word work and I think about the necessity of work in all of our lives.
Life requires work. For food, shelter, clothing, financial security, and yes health insurance. Work is  involved in all of the lovely parts of life.  Work is involved in the creating of beauty. A beautiful yard, painting, house...A beautiful life.

I say the word work and my mind flashes to art class.
I'm sitting in a basement art class that smells thickly of bisque and wet clay structures drying in window sills.
The art teacher is explaining our collaborative painting mimicking a g…


I still remember her smile spread wide across her flawless olive skin. Her hazel green eyes. Her dark rich hair.
Her eyes danced whenever she smiled and flickered mischief whenever she said something she knew was funny.
She was my mom's best friend and next door neighbor.
She was a former teacher turned stay at home mom.
She was simply fun. And loud. And Italian.
I always enjoyed whenever my mom crossed the yard and visited with Mary.
I remember the way my mom loved Mary.
They talked about flowers, gardening, yardwork and helped throw Tupperware parties.
They discussed education and had long heart to hearts.
I don't know how long Mary lived next door, but I remember that my mom never had another neighbor quite like that.
A neighbor who moved in and became your best friend.

My sweet friend Jenna and I are separated by hundreds of miles.  We don't get to talk often, but that doesn't matter. Every time I hear her voice and we talk time and distance haven't erod…

My little Guide

I smiled at this word prompt. Guide. I knew immediately what to write about...
My little Guide...

Yesterday I sat sitting quietly alone.  Considering the day ahead my brain still cloudy, sleepy.
My girls had just left for school and what next....
I heard the familiar command in our house call to me from upstairs,
"Mama see!"
I smiled. Its the phrase I hear oh so many times throughout the day.
I moved to the stairs and found my boy smiling and holding his hands outstretched reaching for mine.
"Mama see!" Is the go to phrase of the phase he's in.
He is expressing new thoughts and speaking new words.
He is trying new things and demanding that they are noticed.
More than anything he wants everyone to see him. To pause. To stop. To put the weight of their full gaze on him...

This phrase flows like a rhythm throughout the day...
Calling my attention to
...his small legs speeding down cracked sidewalks on his tricycle
...his brave boy voice shouting as  he runs towar…


A couple of weeks ago we were in that slice of summer that tucks you away from reality and covers you with sunshine and solace from the outside world.
We were on vacation.
The place : Hilton Head, South Carolina. Where the buildings are all neutral and hidden in plazas and strip malls. Bicycle wheels spinning up and down streets as this is a popular mode of transportation.
We spent the last of July soaking up the searing sun poolside or beachside and then couch-side recovering from all of the rich food we consumed. My mom spent most of her vacation cooking. She couldn't be persuaded to take it easy and made feasts for us every night.
We watched little boy enjoy the pool despite his pink floaties courtesy of his sissies.
We watched him revel in the tide chasing his baby feet. Laughing freely as his dad held him fast against his chest as the waves knocked into them.
He kept pointing at the ocean and telling us, "The Big Waa" (his word for water).
We judged countless dives …


Last week I read an eye opening article.  The article was on literacy and children.  A study points to something other than sight words and alphabet recognition to literacy success.
Kate-Koch Sundquist writes, "The best indicator of future success as a reader is actually a child’s ability to use invented spelling as he writes."
My eyes widened.  I was expecting to read that parents reading to their children daily was the key.  Or perhaps an exposure to wide variety of books. I wasn't expecting to be reading about inventive spelling.
My mind instantly pictured Moriah, my four year old.
Golden head bent over she focuses long on a drawing and usually includes letters that seem out of order to summarize what she has drawn.
She comes to me with her story.  She usually asks me to read what she has written.  I smile and think of how I'll correctly read her collection of letters.  They are usually real letters, but they are definitely out of order. Sometimes I can decipher…


I read this word and think instantly about four pairs of kid feet coated with sand running across the bare beach trying to collect sea shells.
That will be much of our week.  It's vacation time.
That time always brings out the collector in my kids. Porous pieces of sea life, broken pieces of driftwood, shells scalloped and colored in a myriad of ways.
Then the kids will go to some tacky beach shop and try to spend their savings on souvenirs to add to their already overflowing dresser.
Kids collect things.  I remember doing it and I watch this treasure hunt play out in the eyes of my kids today.
I looked at my girls' this week and finally asked for someone to clean up the mess that was peeking out from every corner.
"Wait!" third girl said, "These are my collections!" The priceless nature of these 'organized' toys brought to weight in a pair of serious four year old eyes.
Moriah is a collector.
A twilight hunter of fireflies. Her small fingers m…