Summer lingering in spasms,
She must abdicate with grace.
This is changing of the seasons.
Fall is slipping into place.
~Excerpt from a poem
by Joyce Johnson
the air is different today
the wind sings with a new tone
sighing of changes
the harvest gathered
a flower, a nut
some mead, and bread
a candle and a prayer
returning the fruits
to the grove
it’s blessing again
He(God) changes times and seasons; he deposes kings and raises up others. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning. ~Daniel 2:21 ✝
The Power of One
One song can spark a moment.
One flower can begin a garden.
One tree can start a forest.
One bird can herald spring.
One smile can begin a friendships.
One hand clasp can lift the soul.
One sunbeam can light a room.
One candle can wipe out darkness.
One laugh can conquer gloom.
One hope can raise the spirit.
One touch can show we care.
An elderly man was walking along the beach one morning after a storm. And in the in the distance he could see someone moving along like a dancer. As he came closer, he saw that it was a young woman who was not dancing but was reaching down and picking up starfish and gently throwing them into the ocean. As he drew closer still, he called out, “Good morning, young lady! May I ask what it is that you are doing?” The young woman paused, looked up, and replied, “The sun is up, and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw the starfish back into the sea, they will die.” The old man smiled, and said, “But young lady, do you not realize that there are many miles of beach and thousands of starfish? You cannot possibly make a difference!” The young woman listened politely then she bent down, picked up another starfish, threw it into the back into the water and said, “It made a difference for that one.” ~A parable, original author unknown
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. ~Galatians 6:9 ✝
**Images via Pinterest and Pixabay; collage created by Natalie
If one says “Red” – the name of color –
and there are fifty people listening,
it can be expected that
there will be fifty reds in their minds.
And one can be sure that all these
reds will be very different.
Red is a fading sunset on the horizon.
It’s a burst of flame;
A spray of the fire leaping towards us.
It’s the heat of the warm afternoon.
It’s a flickering flame of a tiny candle.
It’s the spark able to spread the wildfire of love.
Red is the color of heat.
It’s full of passion.
For the word of the Lord is right and true; He is faithful in all He does. The Lord loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of His unfailing love. ~Psalm 33:4-5 ✝
Light a candle in your soul,
And carry with you in the dark.
If you see a flame that’s lost its glow
Let yours supply the spark.
For a flame grows only brighter
When it gives to another of its light.
Believe in yourself in the depths of your being,
Nourish the talents your spirit is freeing.
Know in your heart when the going gets slow,
That your faith in yourself will continue to grow.
Don’t give up your dreams though others may have doubt,
It’s your life to live, you must delight in it throughout.
So learn from your errors, don’t dwell in the past,
And never withdraw from a world that’s vast.
Believe in yourself, find the best that is you,
Let your spirit prevail, steer a course that is true.
~Edited texts from Unknown Author
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. ~John 1:5 ✝
**Image via Pinterest, Text added by Natalie
Once a blogging junkie, always a blogging it would seem!
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
As WW II raged on in the fall of 1942, my dad was drafted into the U.S. Army on the day I was born and was sent to St. Augustine, Florida, for basic training. Afterwards he was moved to Camp Shelby in Mississippi for medical training before being sent overseas. My mom then traveled by train with me at the age of six months from Los Angeles, California, to Camp Shelby so Dad could see and spend a little time with her and me before being shipped out. (The picture above was taken in Mississippi before he shipped out.) A few months after he left, Mom began receiving small gifts and letters in French from a young Algerian woman whose children’s hands had been severely burned during an air-raid and whose home had been destroyed in the bombing. For several weeks, Dad who was a medic in the Army, made his way from the camp where he was stationed to the town in which the family lived to bring medication and change the children’s bandages. Today, I pray the little candle of Dad’s good deed shines on in the lives of those two little girls.
Although Dad came home to my mom and the two oldest of his babies as seen in in the photo above, he had been inducted into the army with an enlarged heart, which in retrospect seems to have been large both physically and spiritually. Even though he was shot in the line of duty, it was not the shrapnel in his legs, the wounds of war that ended his life. At the age of 51, my father suffered a massive heart attack which brought an end to his valiant and cherished life. It was then and is now the most tragic of my life as well as a profoundly defining moment. I was the only one of his three children whom he got to see graduate from high school, and 50+ years later I still cry when I see his face or speak his name. He was and is now my hero, and I honor him and ALL who have served and died to protect our freedoms. And I pray for safety for the ones who are currently serving and for their waiting families.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die… time for war and a time for peace. ~Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 and 8b ✝
Have you heard summer shout? Well it is and has been here; And its voice is red hot and full of fire.
Red. Red is a fading sunset on the horizon. It’s a burst of flame; A spray of the fire leaping towards us. It’s the heat of the warm afternoon. It’s a flickering flame of a tiny candle. It’s the spark able to spread the wildfire of love. Red is reverent, and it’s holy. Red is the color of heat. It’s full of passion. It’s bold. Red has the brawn of an ox, The skill of a pride of lions, And even the diligence of a colony of fire ants. It does not back down or grow weary. Red stands his ground firmly. It’s charming and romantic. Red is like a harvest of fresh raspberries: Satisfyingly and deliciously juicy. Red is optimistic. Red is the color of a rising dawn that glides across the morning sky and through the misty white clouds. It’s the hot August sun, beating down on your entire body, and filling you with warmth. ~Edited and adapted poem by Sunny Summers
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. ~Ephesians 3:16-19 ✝