Post-Thanksgiving Blessings

I love these people. I love these places. 

Behold, children are a gift of the Lord. 
(Psalm 127:3)

The Birthday Boys

Every single time these boys stay over at G's house...

They 'wake G up' with birthday cakes!   
Plastic and wax birthday cakes...

Every time.

The. Best. Cakes! 

And then we eat chocolate chip pancakes!

            Behold, children are a gift of the Lord.  (Psalm 127:3)

Sitting with Pumpkins

 We would rather sit with pumpkins
and have them all to ourselves, 

than be crowded on velvet cushions.

[with apologies to Henry David Thoreau]

Behold, children are a gift of the Lord.  (Psalm 127:3)

A Pre-Fall Ramble

 A brief but satisfying diversion on a sunny, Sunday, pre-fall afternoon--

• the persimmon crop is promising  
  
  
  
  
• the wildflowers are charming  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• the light on the water is alluring  
  
• the little stream across the pond dam is flowing  
  
• the wild grapes are enticing  
  
• the Fall is approaching  
  
  
  
  
• And "found treasures" are the Best! 
  
  
  

  

• Behold, children are a gift of the Lord.  (Psalm 127:3)
• 
  
  
  

This Mother's Day

This Mother's Day, 2020, in the throes of a very strange spring...
But what lovely presents my girls have given me...

Although a couple of them are starting to make me look like a hobbit.

                  Behold, children are a gift of the Lord. 
                                            (Psalm 127:3)

Honeysuckle Time

It's honeysuckle time at G's house. 

Honeysuckle and the wild, pink roadside roses that once grew on the banks of the road that used to be dirt beside of G's house always brought the anticipation that summer would be along any day. 
The dirt road and the roadside roses are gone, but the old, red one beside the back screen door is still there. And it's more magnificent than ever this year. 

This year...of all years...needed the rose's extra brilliance and beauty.

This spring...of all springs..wanted the honeysuckle to bloom sweet and mellow.

Maybe next year the children can come and drink the honeyed sweetness from the little yellow vials fresh from the vine. Maybe next year spring can come unhindered and unsullied. But still we are thankful for the beauty, even if it must be appreciated in solitude.

A breeze blew softly, slightly rippling the water as it carried the heady scents of late Carolina springtime through the air. Honeysuckle. Jasmine. Ripe, pungent river mud. 

Ah, the world felt right.

Caitlin Rush


Behold, children are a gift of the Lord.  (Psalm 127:3)

All of Them

My prayer is that these I love will grow as Jesus grew:

 And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.

(Luke 2:52)