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Disney Dads

Back in 1974, we took a vacation to Walt Disney World with another family who were close friends of my parents. At that time, Dad was the pastor of First Baptist Church on St. Simons Island, Georgia, and his friend Joe Fennell was the husband of the organist in our church. Our mothers were close friends. In fact, when I hadn’t had chicken pox by the time they wanted me to have it before I got older, their children got it and our mother arranged for us to go and play with them so that we would contract it. Tiffany, standing third from left in this photo (next to me, the tallest kid in the green shirt) freely shared her germs. I kept a scar right between the eyes well into my teens from a popped pox.

The popcorn cart reminded me of the popped pox as I sort through pictures of travel this month. While I’m not particularly a fan of amusement parks, we made such wonderful memories there even when the Disney parade was nothing but a few characters walking down Main Street without lights and music and all the thrills of a big parade.

Disney, 1974

Popcorn, Pox, Pops

Disney popcorn cart

between-eyes popped chicken pox

posing with two Pops

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Juneau, Alaska

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be on a glacier with all this heat in the Southeastern United States today? We were there several years ago, and we took a helicopter ride to Mendenhall Glacier, where we got to ride with the sled dogs. Fun fact: they pee and poop on the run. Meeting the next generation of Iditarod and other sled racing dogs was a highlight of that trip!

Sled Team

Mendenhall Glacier

riding with the sled team dogs

Alaskan sporting!

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Saguaro Cactus

In February, we traveled out west to visit one of our daughters in Nevada. We saw beautiful deserts with sunset skies in violet purples, tangerine oranges, buttery and vibrant yellows, and deep rose reds. Many of the cactus plants looked as if they were singing praise to their maker. I painted a watercolor picture, but it did not turn out at all, so here is a photo I did not take that shows better what I had tried to capture in color.

Silhouette of a tall cactus with two arms in a desert at sunset with colorful clouds

Holy Hands

Saguaro Cactus

praising purple sunset skies

raising holy hands

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A Light Unto My Path

Today, I’m blessed to host the Spiritual Journey Thursday 2026 for the month of July. Our group was asked to reflect and meditate on this phrase: “a light unto my path.” I invite your reflections and blog posts today as we consider the light that guides our way.

“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path” (Psalm 119:105) serves as a reminder that divine wisdom and scripture act as daily, step-by-step guidance to help navigate the dark or uncertain moments of life.

when we travel deep

dark paths of uncertainty

His Word is the light

One of my favorite helpful resources for when I’m reading God’s Word has always been a concordance. Long before the many online versions of this resource emerged when internet use became more popular, I had a hard copy of a concordance and a study Bible with illuminated footnotes. No matter what popped up in my day or my season, I had a resource to guide me to just the right places in scripture to hear the words my heart needed. Today, there are even alphabetized lists for every topic imaginable, like this one.

In the happiest of times, it feels joyful to praise God for His many blessings. Life goes along without bumps, we go to work, cook dinner, take weekend trips, and meet friends for book club chats. We say morning prayers, “praying folks up” on the way to work like we are building prayer credit in Heaven to remain covering our loved ones even when God calls us home. Yes, I do that.

But in the darkest of times, even in the pit of a world up-ended when all the rubble is still falling, even when we can’t see five feet in front of us or think clearly, scripture and prayer are God’s guiding forces to help steer us through every cavern, every storm, every place of darkness – no matter how hopeless life can seem at times. He is our lantern and our guide. He shows us our blessings even in our struggles.

We pray without ceasing for God’s Word to light our paths forward – on days of joy, and on days of sadness, on days of peace and days of turmoil. He is there, lighting our path.

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On the Day I Was Born – July 8

During the last week of June, I had the amazing privilege of traveling to Portland, Oregon to visit the archives of the poet William Stafford at Lewis and Clark College as part of The Stafford Challenge Poetry Conference. I learned that people often ask to see the actual hand-written notes and poems that he wrote on the day they were born, and so I did the same.

Archive Haiku

William Stafford:

I visited his archives …

my birthdate writing:


Here is my best transcription of this page from his handwritten notes on the yellow pages in the photos that follow, below.

8 July

We thought leaves waited, without
winds. But their work flourished, then.
Lost as leaves are, in the fall, each
has all its guarantee: sun, air wind.
I take the fall.

Maybe someone found all this language
the world brings. Not a snake but a stream
through the air, or maybe little waves
nothing holds — anyone in this town fear
news the ants work on? News peeled off
the yellow car that left here this morning; news
trotted among sounds, under the bridge. I felt
the snake across my feet in the bus. And watched
the conductor act calm, as required by the state.
The fox I stole gnawed : inside my coat. Men
act so free: “No fox I stole has ever bitten
me.”

Forsaken liberal, I stamped the curb:
every cause I ever found

has had my vote. Now the animals
prefer their keepers to the kept or freed.


8 July 1966

Seasons mark the brain: a shaft
of spring has always hurt what winter
held. I see beyond the plate and
feel the foxes well. No angel, no
prophet rides with me, but animals.
Keepers are enough too and they live well;
To feed that fox I commit to walk through hell.

every day
Lizards and liberals both low and

adaptable, come back to their holes and love it there.

Such great song scared the birds;

they tiptoe – winged away

Pascal fell through a million windows,
a little kid too smart to be saved by
stupidity.

Though the handwriting is challenging to decipher and does leave some questions, I hang on the first two lines:

We thought leaves waited, without
winds. But their work flourished, then.

Yes, these periods of waiting often seem frustrating, challenging, and even pointless at times. Some days we feel we are merely holding on. But we wait, knowing our work is flourishing. Knowing that the best is yet to come.

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Travelin’ Shoes

I remember buying a new pair of white Keds as a young adult and someone saying, “they’re so blinding white, you might wanna kick some dirt on ’em.” That has stuck with me every time I see a pair of new white shoes, not yet traveled or broken in. And as a lover of well-worn shoes, this photo shared with me by my daughter-in-law sparked joy when I saw the love of living in one of my granddaughter’s shoes as she was fishing on the muddy brink of a pond.

Our shoes tell a story about the living we do!

Muddy Livin’

always have a pair

of well-worn travelin’ shoes

for muddy livin’

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Independence Day Camping – 1971

In 1971, we lived in Reynolds, Georgia on Robin Hood Road and the corner of Friar Tuck. Mom was pregnant with my baby brother, Ken, and Dad was pastor of the First Baptist Church. We lived here in the pastorium, and those were days filled with such fun of childhood – it’s where I learned to ride a bike without training wheels. I’m still looking for pictures of my favorite Keds sneakers – Red White, and Blue. Those were my favorite colors in those days, and I can see it in the campground pictures where we camped over the Fourth of July holiday. Mom always proved that she could outfish anyone, even times when she went fly fishing.

I’m still sifting through old photographs as I digitize them and share them with other family members. It’s fun walking down memory lane.

Our house in Reynolds, Georgia at the corner of Robin Hood and Friar Tuck Roads
Mom, Fernandina Beach, Florida in 1971, pregnant with my brother Ken

Camping Out

Red, White, and Blue stripes

camping at Fernandina

with my family

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Happy Independence Day!

Happy 250th Birthday, America! It’s a great day for watermelon, and a great day to be born. My son, his wife, and their children await the birth of a son and baby brother. Whatever we do today, it’s day to celebrate.

Watermelon Seeds

soon there will be six

in this growing family

he is due today!

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Multnomah Falls Etheree

Last month, I attended The Stafford Challenge Writing Conference in Portland, Oregon with my dear writing friend Glenda Funk. She and her husband Ken were kind enough to take me to Multnomah Falls before I returned back to Georgia. I made such fabulous memories on that trip, and the Pacific Northwest holds beauty that is second to none. But as I write this, I’m reminded of Rainer Maria Rilke’s words about Rome from Letters to a Young Poet:

Finally, after weeks of daily self-defence, though still a little bewildered, one comes to oneself again and one says, “No, there is no more beauty here than elsewhere, and all these objects, which generation after generation has continued to admire and which the hands of jobbers have repaired and restored, mean nothing, are nothing, and have no heart and no value”; but there is plenty of beauty here, because there is plenty of beauty everywhere. 

Multnomah Falls Etherwe

smiles

postcards

sunglasses

National parks

rolling suitcases

things that make travel fun

in the Pacific Northwest

and anywhere else in the world

where fresh discoveries in nature

take our breath away with striking beauty

At Multnomah Falls, June 2026