In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “ROY G. BIV.”
We have been asked to show the colors of the rainbow and it reminded me of this song we used to sing in elementary school.
RED
AND YELLOW
AND GREEN
PURPLE
AND ORANGE
AND BLUE
I CAN SING A RAINBOW
SING A RAINBOW
SING A RAINBOW TOO!
This picture may be black & white but the day stands out vivid in my memory. My daughter and I were stunned by the drive up into Moll’s gap and we stopped at one of the lakes to get these shots with the Mountains of Killarney as our backdrop.
My son, a teacher in South Korea
PINKIn response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Vivid.”
Click on the word “Vivid” above to see other brilliant posts.
Here is my take on vivid:
Vivid-
of a picture, memory, etc. : seeming like real life because it is very clear, bright, or detailed
: very bright in color
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Linger.”
The Post has asked us to Tell us about times in which you linger — when you don’t want an event, or a day to end. What is it you love about these times? Why do you wish you could linger forever?
I love to linger in the place of prayer. To find that space where the troubles of the day just melt away in the sweet presence of Jesus, is to find life’s greatest treasure.
While all prayer must eventually lead to action, I think most of us act to quickly and pray to hesitantly. It is not until I have refreshed my harried soul that I can safely come out of the place of prayer and into the fray of ministry.
It is not just the unburdening of my soul that draws me to this place. It is not just that I can freely express myself without fear of judgment or retribution; It is that even as I speak, He answers. Prayer is not a monologue shouted into an empty universe. It is a dialogue framed in the intimate whispers of lovers.
I do not hesitate to leave the place of prayer out of fear of losing my space in line at the throne of God. Prayer is an unending connection, a communion that always is and always shall be for the believer. It is the place in this world where we touch forever, where time and need are all washed away in the flow of the river of God. The thread of that tributary can be found in every moment and in every place. In one sense I never leave prayer or at least I am never more than a stone’s throw away. Yet even knowing I can always come back I hesitate to step away from prayer because in that place I know forever and I understand grace in ways my time in this world makes me forget.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Enveloped.”
The Daily Post has asked us…What does enveloped mean to you?
I suppose to be enveloped means to be covered over….
Like my daughter was covered over by my dog, Mercedes in this photo. It reminds me of a song we used to sing a long time ago in church, ‘I am covered over with the robe of righteousness my Jesus gives to me….” I don’t know how righteous Mercedes is but she is a good dog and she is white.
I suppose to be enveloped could mean to be contained within something….
Like my daughter is contained in the arms of these two school chums.
OR
Like the light of the sun is contained within the branches of this bush. If that is so then maybe to be enveloped is more perception than condition.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Land of Confusion.”
The Daily Post has asked us,
Which subject in school did you find impossible to master? Did math give you hives? Did English make you scream? Do tell!
I was a pretty good student throughout school. I was one of those kids who did his homework between periods. I studied while walking to school and still got A’s in everything. Then I met geometry and before long I realized that if I didn’t do something radical I could very possibly ruin all my chances at joining the Honor Society (yep I was that kid). So I studied (that didn’t help) and after squeaking through my first semester with a low C (which really alarmed my parents) I got a tutor. I made it through but determined that I would move away from higher math as quickly as I could.
Years later I was hired at a high school as a Special Needs paraprofessional. My mornings were given to a young man with many challenges. I just loved this part of my job and felt called to it by God. However the young man only stayed on half a day as he had a vocational placement in the afternoons. So the school opted to put me in a classroom as an instructional aid. Guess where I landed? You got it! Helping out in geometry class! I was terrified but then the teacher began handing out the lessons and strangely I got it! I guess that part of my brain finally turned on. So tenth graders don’t give up if you don’t get it just yet. You might just be waiting for a part of your brain to come on-line.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Intricate.”
Intricacy is a complicated topic…
Peacock Design at Delft Factory
Maybe what we are talking about is the intricacy of human craftsmanship. Our human penchant for detail.
Inside Guiness Brewery
Or maybe it’s the crazy support systems we use to keep our world together.
No one can deny the intricacies of a Bach played on a piano-forte.
But in the end nothing rivals the intricacies of life made and given by God.
The petals of a rose.
The mountain winds blowing through a forest of trees.
Or the sunlight settling on the smile of a child.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Your Life, the Book.”
The Daily Post has asked, From a famous writer or celebrity, to a WordPress.com blogger or someone close to you — who would you like to be your biographer?
In spite of my writings here and the fact that I live a very public life as a Staff Pastor in a New England church there are few people who know me intimately enough to do the job of writing my biography. While many see the outside there are few who have watched the interior workings of my life and even fewer I would entrust my journals too.
I think it would have to be my children.
Maybe my sister
Or my best friend Jody.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Early Bird.”
Here are my attempts to explore the morning light.
The winter sun rises in New England.
Spring sun rises over Whitney’s Pond.
Morning sun at Blarney.
Sun rise in Cork.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “If I Had a Hammer.”
Last night my daughter called and told me she needed a new water pump in her car. Last week I learned the ABS computer in my mini-van is toast. The price for these fixes? $700.00 and $1500.00 respectively. Right now I wish I was a mechanic and I had a whole auto shop in my back pocket.
My front porch made it through another winter but more pieces of it crumbled to dust in the winter freeze. I wish I was a natural born carpenter and that working with wood felt as natural to me as the moving my fingers across the keyboard.
So many are jealous of my voice, my musical ability, my quick way with words or the speed at which I read. Honestly sometimes I think I would trade those gifts to be mechanically inclined. Still I realize each of us has a gift and we are called to use it and not covet someone else’s gift. I know if I am just faithful to God with the gift He gave me He will make a way for the things that I have no gifting for to get done.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Three Letter Words.”
The Daily Post has charged us to
Write an entire post without using any three-letter words.
Here goes!~
I have three kids.
Joseph, Amanda, Melanie. Somehow we have reduced each of their names to a three letter word “—“, “—” then of course “—” . I suppose technically Amanda’s nick-name is “Mand” or “Manda” . “—” seems ungirly. However I am from MAssachusetts so I often drop last letters of words I speak. That is what happens when those of us from Massachusetts speak words like the three letter way of saying “automobile” it resonates as “cahh” instead of “—”
Although we do tend to contribute letters to certain words, especially when they finish with letters like “a”. My sister’s name is Brenda. That name is invariably changed to “Brender”. Soda becomes “Soder”. However, “holler” becomes “hollah” .
My grandparents once experienced a whole argument over where the “Tuna” resided in their house. Gramps kept telling Grams “Cupboards keep tuna”. (Of course he used three letter words)
Grams found it nearby under some sofa cushions promptly using it to change television programs, Tuners, Tunas, Brenda, Brender: Life, in truth this story, would be so much easier if everything reduced to three “lettahs.”
Lillie-Put 