And God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night. And let them be for signs and for seasons, and for days and years….
I think of things having an appointed time in the rhythm of life when I consider the verses in Ecclesiastes that are so iconic to seasons and turning.
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
Rhythms and cycles play an important role in balance and harmony of living. Having a rhythm to each day, each week, each month is an important part of life, whether we are working or retired – rhythms are like schedules, habits, and time management. One of the first things I had to do in retirement was create new routines. A new prayer time topped my list, since my prayer chamber used to be my drive in to work and now that I’m not going there anymore, I needed a new designated time that would be consistent. I chose coffee time since there is a rhythm to that regularity and, to some degree, a consistent morning time frame – – and, like coffee, I need prayer at the top of the day. I have discovered in this new routine that I like to see steam rising from my mug as I say prayers, as if what is coming from my lips is swirling in a steam mist upwards to heaven in the quiet, relaxed rhythms of the morning.
HELLO! and HELP!
someone stranded
on a desert island
sends smoke signals
I send prayers
from the porch
fresh from my lips
vapors rising
to heaven
A special thanks to Ramona for hosting this month and inspiring us to think of the rhythms in our spiritual lives.
Sometimes when I’m going somewhere, I pray for a parking space before I ever pull into the parking lot. Lord, show me the way to a space to park. I often quip that I must be doing something right when the Lord blesses me with a good one. And the other way around when He doesn’t.
Same is true of Thursday afternoon when I went on a mission to see if I could get tickets to the Dolly Parton tribute at the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville, Tennessee before they all sold out. I said a prayer and got two tickets. The kennel had space to board our four-legged sons, and there were hotel rooms available right across the street from the Opry, on Music City Drive and McGavock Pike.
I‘ve done something right.
And I’ll keep right on trying.
Thank you, Lord! Amen.
This day takes me back through the years of coming to the Grand Ole Opry. My husband’s former company was based in Nashville. He came up several times a year to meet with the team and get the company truck serviced, and each time he came I’d ask to ride along so we could go to the Opry. In those days, I was working on another degree and spent quiet days in the hotel with stronger wifi and more free coffee than my rural area offered while he went to work, and then he’d swing by and pick me up for dinner before the show. Or, if I finished working or needed a break, I was close enough to tarry over to Opry Mills Mall. It’s where I bought my first pair of Birkenstocks and where my older daughter worked at The Rainforest Cafe for years. (She had just moved to Antioch when the Christmas morning bomb exploded in the building right next to where they had lived in downtown Nashville. Ironically, the bomber had lived in Antioch. I was blessed that she was safe).
This visit to the Opry hits much differently. A legend, among the greatest humans who ever lived, gained her wings last week. She knew poverty, and she knew the rags of hard life before she ever knew the riches – which is quite literally depicted in her Coat of Many Colors and its triumphant story. She worked her way up with elbow grease and talent, blessing, and an almighty Godwink. And she has done more for Literacy in this area of the United States than anyone with her Imagination Library, inspired by her father’s inability to read and write and knowing that it would take someone with a big heart and deep pockets for some of the children of Appalachia to have a fighting chance to be literate.
I was listening to some audiobook previews to help one of my book club sisters choose a Dolly Parton book for October, and all the way up my husband and I listened to Dolly Parton, Songteller, a book about the stories of Dolly’s life and how certain moments became the inspiration for her songs. My husband was behind the wheel of the car but “along for the ride” on the audiobook, as he often is about books when we travel – and he is always a good sport about it, too. But something captured him about this one. Once we’d arrived and checked in to the hotel, he asked me to turn the audiobook back on during our rest time before we went over to the Opry.
As we made our way through the lines and into the Opry, we took in all the many different ways people arrive for this event – not just in the cars, Ubers, and taxis, but also in manner of dress. Denim shorts, tank top, cowboy boots and hat. Shorts, tshirt with butterfly wings attached, and sandals. Leather skirt just south of what it needed to cover, tank top just north, and fringed vest with silver glitter knee boots and matching cowboy hat. Jeans, sneakers, and a plain t-shirt. Formal gowns of all colors, mostly pink for the evening. I started thinking that maybe the girls’ adventure book club trip after reading the Songteller should be to come to Nashville and shop for glitter boots and cowgirl hats and then come to the Opry.
The show was just as Dolly would have wanted it to be – people remembering her through story and sharing what she meant to them. And somehow, the always-eclectic mix of talent at the Opry from the legends to the newcomers was evident…..and, of course, they all had stories of Dolly. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house when T. Graham Brown stepped onstage in a pink and silver sequined coat and sang Beulahland (25:12 in the Youtube link below). One who needed tissues throughout the show was the woman seated next to me. She was Dolly’s age and had grown up visiting Opryland all her life and continued the tradition when she had her own children. She’d lost her husband five years ago, and her son and his wife had flown her to the show in their small plane. She shared how they had feverishly worked to get tickets on Thursday also and how thrilled they were to get them and make the last-minute trip. There were as many stories in the crowd as there were on the stage, as there are throughout the world.
Favorite and least favorite moments from us? My husband’s least favorite moment was when Jelly Roll came out “after such a classy show, and then he had to roll out at the end and wreck it.” I didn’t have a least favorite; I loved every minute of that show. My husband’s favorite moment was all of it except Jelly Roll. I liked that Belle Frantz sang from her heart with such passion and got a standing ovation on her Opry debut (46:10 in the link below). She shared that her first album is coming out in November, and that it’s scary to release one – – particularly a gospel album – -but that she felt bold enough to do it and took her inspiration from Dolly. I was stuck by how much she reminded me of Patsy Cline.
You can watch the YouTube of the show here and discover your own favorite and least favorite moment.
Each time I see the circle, taken from the original Ryman Auditorium downtown, I get a little misty eyed at the significance and reasons that it was installed – to preserve the sacred space of the Country music greats who have all stood here. I’ve watched the 100th Anniversary a hundred times and can hear the song and the chorus of voices singing it – Will the circle be unbroken, by and by, Lord, by and by….there’s a better home awaiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky. I think of the history of Dolly Parton’s presence on that stage, and the way she could immediately connect with her audience, and the way that even in her absence, her Opry family connected with her – giving her the final performance of the evening. I think of this night of tribute and the many more that her musical family are offering, like Pink’s. And so many more ways she is being honored all across the nation and the world.
Of all the great Opry moments we have missed, I’m glad that last night was not one of them. I always leave looking forward to the next visit to The Grand Ole Opry.
Our host today for the third and final day of the August Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Joanne Emery, who inspires us to write poems about being deep in nature and the sensory and inner feelings associated with it. You can read her full prompt, and the poems of others, here. My poem today will follow the photos of our trail walk we took on Saturday.
Over the weekend, we took our two four-legged sons Boo Radley and Ollie to F. D. Roosevelt State Park for a quick getaway in the Wayfarer. While there, we took a hike along Mountain Creek Trail, and even though it was hot, the shade provided a respite from the extreme temperatures and the heat advisory in effect.
We like to start the day at the top of the mountain with a picnic breakfast overlooking the valley below Pine Mountain. Where many campers cook full breakfasts on outdoor kitchens, we like to take the easy route and buy coffee and muffins at the registration center and find a picnic table. The boys expect bites of blueberry muffin, and sometimes we cave in to their pressure.
The hike begins with Briar and Boo Radley in the lead, and Ollie and I follow. We make sure they stay on leashes in case we encounter other critters – human, canine, or reptilian, or other – on the trails. On Saturday, we did not meet or pass one other person. In fact, the trail was eerily silent of birdsong, traffic, voices, and even rustling of leaves in the wind.
The different types of mushrooms are always fascinating to me, including this one that is a shelf/bracket fungus that is either turkey tail or a lookalike. We also saw several patches of bright orange colored chicken of the woods and oyster mushrooms as well.
F. D. Roosevelt State Park has a naturalist who offers foraging classes on occasion when mushrooms are bountiful, and I have always wanted to attend the session and learn more about mushrooms and their benefits. I would still be reluctant to eat a wild mushroom, but I’d love to learn more about them.
Getting across the bridges is always interesting. Boo Radley hesitates and sometimes decides to go around the side. Ollie never hesitates and always turns around to be sure I made it across safely once he’s on the other side (how your dog tells you you’re old without telling you you’re old). Even though they’re schnoodles, they have the sense of adventure of sled dogs sometimes – they put themselves in four-wheel drive and pull us along.
They like to play in the streams, and as long as the water is running clear, we let them. On Saturday, they took drinks and walked around to cool off when we took a short break to let them play in the creek.
The natural ferns speak to me in whispers of my mother, reminding me I’m fortunate not to have crippling anxiety, my father echoing her: stress is a killer, I can hear him say. But not in these woods, not on this trail, not deep in nature. Nature heals.
I’m surprised I remembered the fairy tree door, but I knew when I reached the top of one hill that it would be on the other side. Sure enough, it was there, protecting the forest treasures inside – fairies, woodland critters, swag for those who take one and leave one.
And I kept watching for signs of fall in all the heat. Here and there, dotting the trail, were red or yellow leaves. I picked up several fallen acorns and put them in my pocket. I reflected on yesterday’s post about Noah and his wife, and the hope God sends in leaves. Yes, my answer is clear: God does still send hope in leaves. Ask and ye shall receive.
On Mountain Creek Nature Trail, Saturday August 15
Patricia Franz, our host today for the second day of the August 2026 Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com, lives with her husband and her Bernese Mountain dog, splitting her time between the Arizona desert and California’s Sierra Nevada mountains. She continues the nature theme in our poetry prompts today. Like yesterday’s host Denise Krebs, she has two poems in  Picture Perfect Poetry: An Anthology of Ekphrastic Nature Poetry for Students, the inspiration for yesterday’s and today’s prompts. You can find more of her poetry at www.patriciajfranz.com.
You can hop over to the site to read the exact prompt and see the pictures, but Patricia inspires us to write a nature poem today with this story: Two years ago, she snapped a photo of a mama bear. Over the course of a few days, she had begun to forage closer and closer to Patricia’s house. Then one morning as dawn broke, she awoke to find her and her two cubs rummaging through the kitchen! She wondered what the bear would say if it could speak, inspiring writers to consider various perspective and viewpoints as we write our poems today.
My mind tumbled for a while over these possibilities, and I almost always go to the kitchen table and all the spiritual ancestors who surely still lurk in moments allowed by Heaven. But we’d recently had something happen that offered a different perspective too. In the late summer evenings, the sun hits the kitchen wall with an orange glow, beckoning us out to the back porch to gaze in awe at its glorious swan dive beneath the trees on the far back side of the farm. We hadn’t anticipated the tangerine glow one evening last week after all the afternoon storms, but sure enough – it appeared, and we stepped out to take it all in. After a few moments, I noticed the hummingbird feeder needed refilling, so I grabbed the nectar and gave it a pour. Then we wondered about the feeders out front, so we went to check those too.
As I was unhooking a feeder, my husband whispered, “Come look at this.” A double rainbow stretched from the north side of the farm all the way across the south side. The hummers would have to wait – – I put it all down and ran for my phone to take photos! By the time I returned, the top bow had dissolved, but I managed to capture a photo of the full stretch of the bottom bow. Every time I think about rainbows, I think about Noah and the Great Flood. There are two trees left in the front yard after the harvesting of timber in 2025, and they struck me like Noah and his wife looking out over the land after the floodwaters dissipated. That’s what inspired today’s poem. I chose a nonet form, which begins with 9 syllables and decreases by one syllable on each line.
Glenda Funk of Idaho is our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for the first day of the July Open Write. She inspires us to write Double Consciousness American Sonnets, which are looser forms of the traditional Shakespearean or Petrarchan Sonnet with the Volta, or shift, around line 8 or 9. Come visit the page today and read the poems of others, and perhaps write your own to share!
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.
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.
After six days of travel to Portland, Oregon for a poetry conference at Lewis and Clark College with Stafford Challenge members, I am back home in Georgia and attempting to transition back to my regular time zone. I made myself get up at 5:45 this morning for coffee and yogurt and a snuggle with my schnoodles. I stepped outside to check the world, and the birdsong assures me the harmony on the farm is still in tune here in the quiet hush of the rural countryside.
It’s my first day home being off contract for summer before I officially retire in August, and I have two goals: write/post, and get myself back in the zone. I might push it and do a load of laundry just to have clean socks. Memories are swimming in my head, full of the love and exhaustion of travel – the best kind of tired that tells you you made the most of it all and came home changed in a way that only travel and friends can change you. How truly Steinbeck the journey, the best kind that leaves you stumbling around with a cup of strong coffee trying to recover from one trip while simultaneously and secretly plotting the next.
But whatever the day holds, my heart and mind will carry all the fresh air and green trees and memories of the Pacific Northwest. I’ll read poems and remember my time there, holding it all close with a foot on both sides of the country today.
Allium at Lewis and Clark College near Agnes Flanagan Chapel – Portland, Oregon
Today’s host of the third and final day of the June Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Leilya Pitre of Louisiana. She inspires us to write poems about the souvenirs we bring home from trips. You can read her full prompt here, along with the poems of others and the feedback given. I have written mine today as I await a flight home from Portland, Oregon to rural Georgia, fresh on the heels of a delightful writer’s conference trip with my friend Glenda Funk of Idaho. I’ve used the style of Ada Limon’s Instructions On Not Giving Up.
Horsetail Falls
Souvenirs from Portland, Oregon
more than the t-shirts and canvas bags
more than the keychains and shot glasses
more than that obnoxious prayer request card
cussing to God about the souls
of His other children
in the pew back compartment
someone intentionally forgot
to put in the offering plate
that I claimed as a bookmark
so I can pray the same sort
of prayer for Sam, Gavin, Kellen and all of us sinful humans
(yes, all of us !*(^ing %*m#@$$es)
more than the signed books of other writers
more than the leather shopping treasures,
it’s the photographs that really get to me
that keep the memories alive
stances of trees, slants of slate rooftops,
smiles of strangers and those we love
(yes, all of us !*(^ing %*m#@$$es)
standing beneath waterfalls
in the bend of the rainbow
God’s promise of hope for all His children
cloaked in the prayer shawl of His grace and mercy
(yes, all of us !*(^ing %*m#@$$es)
yes, I’ll take them. I’ll take them all.
Actual prayer request found in a church pew back in Portland, Oregon
Common Threads 