Tag Archives: creation

Political correctness …

has really cramped my style.  There are things I want to know, questions I want to ask, mysteries that I want to unravel, but since the world has decided that everything is taboo, it seems that I’m not allowed to ask.  If I ask what the significance of a certain dress is for, I am frowned upon.  If I ask what the red dot on the forehead means, I am given the cold shoulder.  I don’t ask because I find it odd or disturbing; I ask because I am curious.  I really want to know.

I want to know what someone from India has for breakfast on an ordinary day.  I want to know what someone from Germany holds dear in their heart.  I want to know why and how and who.  I am curious by nature and have a hard time keeping my questions to myself, but find that more often, instead of answers, I am given silence.  Why is it that we have to be so separate.  My blood is as red as the next person’s.  My heart beats, my lungs fill with air, my eyes see, my mouth speaks.

I spent my years in elementary, middle and high school fighting cliques, trying to belong in a place where I really didn’t.  I really thought that, once I reached adulthood, those things would pass away.  There are things I want to learn, people I want to photograph and cultures I want to know more about, but I feel thwarted by a bigotry, prejudice and hatred that isn’t mine.

I know folks of different nationalities and cultures, different colors and countries, but I, because of the standards the world has set, am an outsider.  I don’t want it to be that way, but try as I might to find a way to change it, I continually find myself on the outside looking in.  I would be honored to be invited to sit at the table for a traditional African American New Year’s Day dinner.  To participate in the beauty of the preparation of an Indian wedding.  To partake in the awe of a German Christmas tree decorated with candles.  To walk in the vineyards of Italy and see the beauty that is there, learn what makes them beautiful and listen to the song that the growing vines sing.  I want to sit in an Irish Pub listening to the storytellers as they weave their magic and feel that I am a part of it all, not an outsider, not an American, not  anyone except who I am.  How satisfying it would be to sit at a long table, whether I speak the language or not, with a culture not my own and just absorb it, draw it into myself and hold it in my heart for all time.  I want to understand the color of red in the paint of Easter eggs in Russia.   I want to know what the traditional foods of Hanukkah represent, what the words to the songs they sing  mean.   I have so many questions … and no one to answer them.

I am not politically correct.  I call a spade a spade and am not afraid to speak my mind.  I only wish that there were others, ones who were willing to share, so that what I know of would be more than what I know of.  I am willing to learn if someone is willing to teach me.  I am willing to open myself to the possibilities of endless fascination, but before I can, there must be those willing to open themselves to the possibility that everyone does not harbor a heart of hate.  I am a child of God, that is true in the purest form, and as such, I want to know all there is about the world I live in.  I cannot help it.  I want to know.  I want to learn.  I want to know.  Surely, in all the world, there are others like me.  Teach me and I will learn, and as I learn, I will teach others.  Together, one at a time, we really can change the world.  Come … Let us reason together.

bleedingheart_bw

A heart for all mankind … a heart for knowledge … a heart for truth

Birthdays …

the good, the bad and the indifferent.  Birthdays have always been a very cool thing to me, whether it is mine or someone else’s, I just feel happy.  Most of the time.  This year, my birthday came and went. There was cake and ice-cream, family, friends, co-workers; all the usual birthday suspects.  It was different, though.  This month started out with a fairly serious facial injury and mid-way through, adding insult (and injury) to injury, I fairly seriously injured my shoulder and cracked a couple of ribs.   Now it is no secret to the people who know me well that my mind, in the best of times, is a scary place to be.  During the worst of times, I walk around with a bio-hazard sign flashing above my head.

But, as I so often do, digress.  I can chalk part of it up to the end of October, that which I both long for and dread.  I have a love/hate relationship with that month and it nearly always makes me high.  November, however, is a month of coming to terms with the oncoming winter, saying goodbye to the leaves, hello to the bare sentries of winter and getting ready to be cold more often than not.  And my birthday is this month and that always makes me feel extremely special.  That was not to be this year.  With each new event, there were melancholic thoughts of days past, days that I didn’t care that much for when they were the present.  I thought much of my late husband and felt guilty, at times, that I was ready to let him be at peace and begin the process of getting on with my solitary (as that is how I like it) life.

I don’t discount the many blessings of the last year.  That would be wrong on so many levels.  The blessings have been numerous and I am thankful for each one.  Blessings sometimes get lost in the fray of life, though. I have family suffering from the loss of a loved one, dear friends that I am unable to account for and dealing with turning 45.  Any of these would be like turning a page during normal times, but when they all happen at once, well, it weighs on the mind.

Did it make my birthday less happy?  Yes.  Life has a way of doing what it wants.  That doesn’t mean that I can’t be happy today, or tomorrow or the next day.  It doesn’t mean that I am beyond hope.  Unhappiness is a part of living and if there is anyone who has lived their entire life saying they have never experienced it, then you have seen, up close and personal, a liar.

November is nearly over and the round of Christmas parties, Band concerts, Christmas plays and a thousand other things that I will be trying hard to find a place to fit will present themselves, (at the last minute, always at the last minute), and at the same time, working diligently to keep my sanity (a fine line at best).  While it is true that I’m closer to fifty than I was only a couple of days ago, that is the furthest thing on my mind.  I am happier now than I have ever been.  Free, so to speak, with a daughter in college and myself on my own.  But there are times, as everyone knows, when it would be nice just to have someone put their arms around me, saying nothing as I cry until the tears were gone.  There is nothing wrong with that.  It is not a sign of weakness, but proof of humanness; it is life.  It can be, at times discouraging, but in that moment that we find ourselves, unless we make it our mission, will not last forever.  I am already looking forward to doing it better and with more enthusiasm in the next year; whatever “it” may be.  I am a survivor and no matter what comes at me, I can depend on the Jesus to which I cling to lift me when my wings are too broken to fly on my own.  I am truly, humbly, honorable and indescribably blessed and that, I don’t want to forget.

Looking at the here and now can sometimes be overwhelming … but the here and now will be the there and then tomorrow, so don’t let it break you.  Let it get you down, cry when you need to, throw things if it suits you (my favorite thing to do in a crisis), but at the end of the day, realize that our life, our thoughts, our fears are part of what makes us who we are and without them, we wouldn’t really be anyone in particular, but like everyone else.  I like being different, even when it’s painful.  Though I have many regrets, there isn’t anything I would change because if I were to change them, my ability to relate and empathize would become obsolete.  An easy life is no challenge, but rising above the odds and making the best of the worst situations takes us to a whole new level.  It is my goal to serve my Lord and be the best that I can be for Him.   Be encouraged, my friends, for nothing lasts forever.  Nothing.

Lightning over Big Moccasin

Psalms 28:7 ~ The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart is trusted in Him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will praise him.

The Wonder of Nature, Baby…

a force to be reckoned with.  As Hurricane Sandy makes her way up the East Coast, I find it both exhilarating and humbling to follow along.  I have many friends, some in flesh and blood, and others on Facebook and Twitter that I follow along with.  I wonder and think about their well-being and hope they will be well and safe, but at the same time, well, what can I say?  I want to be in the midst of the waves and snow and wind and carnage.  I want to wield my weatherproof Pentax and document the most awesome entity that is called Nature.  It is in my blood, my heart and my soul and even though I have mixed feelings about it, it doesn’t change the desire.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment that I knew, beyond all rational thought, that I wanted to be a photographer, but it was somewhere in the middle of Mrs. Duncan’s third grade class.  I was caught taking photographs of the classroom and of the teacher, and she took my camera away.  As far as I know, if she is still living, she still has it.  Documentation of life as it happens became a pure obsession, one my parents (as those long ago sought after piano lessons) thought would pass.  But it didn’t pass.  Instead, it became an inferno as opposed to a campfire.

As years passed and photography consumed me, it had to take a back seat to the reality of having to work to feed my family.  A day job has, as far back as I can remember in my adult life, been the bane of my existence.  I got married and then had a child.  It wasn’t in my nature to quit once I had started something, so even though I loved my daughter and tried my best to make my husband happy, I could think of little else than leaving it all behind to pursue my dream.

But dreams are just that.  Imaginings and hopes that may or may not come to fruition.  The timing, at that particular moment, wasn’t right and I had responsibilities that kept me grounded.  I have no regrets (well, maybe some regrets where the philandering, cheating, no-good husband was concerned), but as far as my daughter, absolutely no regrets.  She was,  is and will continue to be a driving force in my life.  I had pretty much given up the hope of ever being a “real” photographer.

Fate and destiny has a way, though, of cutting through all the nonsense and paving a way where there didn’t seem to be one.  God knows the most intimate secrets and desires of my heart.  I began creating greeting cards a few years ago and have, to date, sold well over 20,000 cards.  God has blessed me well beyond what I believed I was capable of.  I have recently signed up to be a part of the Virginia Tourism team and excitement doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel.

Saying things out loud has always been a problem for me, but writing about or photographing and then writing about them is as natural as the breath in my lungs.  I look forward to every new adventure, each new sunrise and everything in between.   One has only to look at two sunrises or sunsets in succession to realize that they are completely different and have very different things to say.  Many times, I have (much to my family’s chagrin and disapproval) made myself a human lightning rod in the midst of thunderstorms, but take not into account my safety.  As I see it, if I die while photographing the wonder of nature, it has been a good death.

My blog posts come from my own brain and my own heart and my own point of view.  While there are times that I am certain I step on the toes and belief systems of the people I love and cherish, I cannot stem what comes from my soul.  To do so would be to deny that I, in any capacity, cease to exist and I have worked way to hard to overcome such ideals to let them hold me captive anymore.

Funnily enough, this post began as encouragement to those who are about to face an awesome display of nature and try to survive, but, has become more of an homage to those who follow along.  I am honored.  I am humbled.  I am inspired.  Life inspires me and that, in itself, is one of the most wonderful things I can imagine.

If you listen …

you can can  hear the songs the leaves sing.  I suppose it comes as no big surprise that my blog posts this time of year pretty much revolve around Autumn, specifically  October, which brings with it the beauty of leaves that so many people, both photographers and just onlookers, seek out.  It is easy to find places to look at and enjoy the leaves on the trees that are turning colors of fiery red, brilliant orange and intense, glistening gold.  It is also easy to find trails to walk, especially around Southwest Virginia, that will take you beneath that brilliant canopy.

But those aren’t the only leaves that call to me.  One of my favorite experiences is walking along a mountain trail and have a gust of wind come up; one that blows a hard puff and send leaves spiraling out of the trees, floating and swirling as they fall gracefully to the ground.  There they make a carpet that can only be found once a year; a colorful carpet that transforms an otherwise brown and dying earth with a brilliance that cannot be rivaled.   In that carpet, it is not unusual to find mushrooms, acorns, walnuts and a myriad of other things that add their own beauty to that which is already there.

In the silence of a trail shoot when there is only me and what surrounds me, I listen to the sound.  What a symphony.  As the wind blows through the leaves, they rustle, talking back and forth, singing because, after all, this is their time.  Their moment to shine and take the spotlight.  And they sing because they know that even on the ground, they are spectacular.

They find happiness in falling and flying, giving way to freedom and pure unbridled joy.  At least it seems to me to be a joyful experience.  They look to be having so much fun that it makes me wish I could float from the trees, singing a song of thankfulness just to be a brilliantly colored leaf in October.  I find it exhilarating to speed around the bends of curves of leaf-covered mountain roads where leaves have pooled as though waiting for me to come along.

They laugh as I speed past, blowing them up and swirling them above the road and then back again.  Sometimes they find their way through the open convertible top and into my car.  They make me want to laugh just as, at times, the magnificence that I am allowed to be a part of makes me cry.  Not sad tears, but tears of happiness that I am alive and able to become, even for a short time, a part of Autumn.  I love being a photographer, especially in October.

 

Ecclesiastes  3:11 ~ He has made every thing beautiful in his time: also he has set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God makes from the beginning to the end

Today, I feel …

strong.  accomplished. motivated. tired. empowered.  It was a long day consisting of a long, difficult hike, mostly uphill, to be able to stand a bit closer to the sky and look out upon the beauty that lay below.  My trail shoots are usually five miles and under and while they are often to high places, with climbs and some measure of danger, today took the cake.  For eight hours, myself, my sister, niece and cousin trekked ten miles, mostly uphill, at a fairly steep incline.  At times, the steepness was such that holding onto trees or putting our hands on the ground was essential if we wanted to live to see another day.  It is, to date, the most difficult hike I have taken.  Had we decided to come in after visiting the White Rocks overlook, it would have likely been pretty much par for the course.  But no.  It wasn’t enough.  We went on to the Sand Cave.  I blame myself for it as I wanted so badly to see it and while we were there, we decided to bite the bullet and add an extra three miles to our adventure.  Knowing now what I didn’t know this morning when we started, I realize that in the future, I will go to one or the other, not both.  Actually, after having visited the Sand Cave, I can’t think of a good reason to go back.  Don’t misunderstand, it was beautiful, but it wasn’t what I had pictured in my mind.  The sand was deep and nearly impossible to walk in with shoes on.  I’m not a fan of sand in the first place, especially with shoes on, and this didn’t do anything to make me more of a fan.  The sand had the consistency of baby powder and didn’t stick to anything; a couple of stomps on a rock and all the sand feel off my shoes.  It was unusual and the ceiling and walls of the cave were spectacular, but still …  not a place I would purposely go to again.  The hike down to the cave was steep and, at times, treacherous, but the hike out was dangerous in the beginning and just plain exhausting by the end.  Already being tired and hungry (since as usual, I only had a pack of Toast-Chee crackers) made the climb out from the cave unusually strenuous.  The entire trail was rocky and rough, making it even more arduous.  The trail is listed as moderate, but don’t believe it for a minute.  It is, in places,  somewhat moderate but mostly difficult and not a trail I would recommend for amateurs.

Next weekend, I will go back to my beloved falls to see the foliage change and sit on the rocks for a while, enjoying the sound of rushing water and the complete solitude that I have found nearly every time I have gone there.  After today, it will feel no more strenuous than walking to the mailbox.

Let all creation sing a song
So that I may sing along.

Living for the Weekend …

isn’t really wishing your life away.  During the five long days between Sunday and Saturday, while I wish for the weekend to be here, I’m living.  Every day, every minute, I am going about the daily grind that is a big part of my life.  I wish for 5:00 on Friday starting first thing Monday morning.  I know that once Saturday comes, I will be up and out before the sun, doing, living, moving and embracing a beauty that otherwise lives in my head.

Occasionally something comes along that distracts me even from wishing for days off.  When that happens, there is little to do but hang on for dear life and ride the wave until it either drowns me or dumps me out somewhere; broken, blessed and sometimes disheartened.  Each failure and triumph is a lesson and my purpose is to learn them.  I have no illusions, however, that there are not others who feel this way.  Some  call us weekend warriors, some call us wannabe’s, some call us weird and unsatisfied and others just call us nuts. I don’t consider myself a warrior on the weekends, nor a wannabe, nor unsatisfied or nuts; I am just somebody who wants to see and do and see some more for the vastness of creation can never been fully experienced in a single lifetime.  I have difficulty staying in one place when I know there is somewhere else to go … and there is always and forever, as long as time lasts, somewhere else to go.

Some days I wish could go on for weeks and others cannot possibly end soon enough.  But inevitably, I know that if I can hang on for  a few days, (because once I’m set free I will be rewarded by one amazing thing after another) I will be set free as a bird from a cage.  I don’t mind working, not overmuch anyway, but there are many other things I would rather be doing.  A disheartening thing  for me is looking out the window and seeing the light change and knowing that, for the most part, I am missing it; as a photographer, watching the light change without me becomes, at times, physically painful.  At times like that, I wish even harder for time to pass.  I don’t feel bad about it and have no intention of not wishing for weekends.  The drum I march to may not be the same rhythm as others’, but it suits me just right and, at some point, they meet up anyway.

I’m not much of a joiner.  Where I am, for the most part, I am there alone.  I, unlike many, however, don’t mind being alone.  It would be a fallacy to say there was never a time I didn’t wish for company, for someone special to share the beauty that embraces me, in the recesses of my mind, like a lover …  but there is something so serene and renewing about being in the middle of a beautiful place in nature with nothing but the sound of the earth mingling with the music in my head to keep me company.  If anyone has ever stood on the top of a mountain, feeling the wind, lifting their arms and face to enjoy the sheer freedom of it … or  lying down in a field of blooming flowers, letting the sun warm their body even as the fragrance overtakes them … or standing close enough to a waterfall to feel the mist as it moistens their hair and skin as it plummets to a clear pool below, or feeling an intimacy that moves the soul and spirit in ways that were never expected or imagined; they understand.  They know what words can never describe.

These days, my time off is spent hiking in and around Southwest Virginia, not just because it’s where I live, but because it is a spectacular sight to see.  I pack my gear, put in my earphones and listen to the beauty of music while I immerse myself in the beauty of nature; a Pentax around my neck and my eyes always searching for what I wouldn’t have seen if I hadn’t been looking.  That is part of being a photographer at the core of my heart.  Everything is beautiful, everything is alluring, everything is a photograph and nothing is too small to stop and admire.  During every moment, every adventure, every triumph and every disappointment, I know that I have been blessed beyond imagination by a loving God who knows what moves my heart and soul.  There are lessons to be learned and joys to be experienced.  It’s too late for me to change now, being as I’m getting old and set in my ways, so I’ll just go with it.  So far, it seems to suit me just fine … but eventually, the need to photograph will overtake everything else.  I feel, as I have for years, that this is God’s will for me.  He has encouraged me when I became discouraged and opened new doors into photography.  I am humbled that He would use me to encourage His people by doing what I love.  I am truly and excitingly and reverently and beautifully and gratefully blessed.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

~Robert Frost

Today I walked in the rain

One of the simple pleasures of my childhood was playing in the rain.  As I grew older, I still loved the rain but never seemed to make the time to just enjoy it.  Not run from it; not dread it.  Just embrace it.  So today, as the rain put a damper, so to speak, on my original plans, I decided to just go with it.

I decided to go on a trail I hadn’t been on before but thought I might know where it would lead.  The first hour went quickly and it was then I realized that the trail had been, for the last half mile or so, on an incline.  It wasn’t leading where I thought it would; curiosity pushed me forward.  The incline continued to steepen as I walked up and up, the rain falling softly around me.  The sound it made as it fell onto the leaves, trees and forest floor is one that I don’t have words to describe.  It is its own song; the music of rain, the orchestra of nature.

After two and a half hours and still no real clue where I was headed, I decided to start back down.  The trail was already becoming slick from the rain and with the overcast skies, darkness would come sooner than usual.  I plan to go back when I have an early start and can get to the trail destination.  It likely leads to the High Knob lookout, which is a mediocre destination without the tower, but I won’t know until I get there.

Once a dreamer …

always a dreamer … Being a nurse for the past twenty-five years has been an experience in and of itself.  It would take a hundred blogs running every day to review the exploits that happen just in my little world.  But this isn’t about nursing, not specifically, anyway, but about a path not taken.  I have enjoyed nursing, for the most part, and would not want to trade the experience and knowledge I’ve gained over the last two and a half decades.  It just wasn’t what I wanted to do.

I had three goals when I was a kid and they were to sing, play the piano and photograph the world.  All three of those things took guts and I didn’t have any.  I had no nerve, little faith and plenty of fear.  So I took the easy road, leaving my dreams to wither and fade into the dust of my past.

It only took a few months to realize that I had made a dire mistake, but I still had no nerve, little faith and plenty of fear; I just let it ride.  As years passed, the dreams I left behind refused to be still.  It became apparent to me that a dream that really did fade into the past, forgotten, wasn’t a dream worth chasing anyway; my dream was banging at my head and my heart.  At every opportunity, I found myself with a camera in my hand.   Nature and created things began to be a central focus in my life and weekends were spent jaunting around looking for “pictures to take”.  I went to work every day and spent the evenings fiddling with the camera, playing with settings, learning, without really realizing, to do what I had always wanted to do; be a photographer.  I never learned to play the piano and I sing only at church, but those are but ripples in the pool.  It is the light and shadow that I love and am thankful that even though I was foolish and fearful once, God saw fit to bless me with what I wanted most.

I find comfort in the images He shows me.  I will continue to work as a nurse but on weekends, I’ll be in the mountains or wherever life might take me, photographing the beauty that is before me.  It brings me inexplicable joy to be immersed in the feel and smell of creation knowing that I serve the one who created it.    I don’t believe in coincidences so I can come only to the conclusion that this path is one that God chose for me and continues to bless every single day of my life;  I may not have had the guts  back then, but I have them now, along with the faith and nerve to do it and do it well.

If just one is encouraged by this post to put fear behind them and follow their dreams, then it has served its purpose.

I had the ability to fly all along, it was courage to spread my wings that I lacked.

It’s just a picture

Just a picture indeed.  Often times … no, let me rephrase that … most of the time, when I’m heading out to shoot some photographs, I go by myself.  It’s not that I always prefer to go alone, but it’s hard to find folks who are willing to get up before the sun and spend the day watching the same thing for hours as the light changes, hardens, softens, highlights and clarifies.  When by chance someone does want to go along “for the adventure of it”, after about an hour, they’re done.  Too many times to count I’ve heard the words “how many pictures do you need?”  There is no harm or malice in those words, simply a lack of understanding of what it means to be a photographer in love with light.  To most people, light is just the opposite of dark, makes it easier to see, comes in the morning and leaves at night; they cannot fathom that it is oh so much more.

Light has many moods, influenced by many things, but there are a couple times of day that I can count on finding amazingness .  These are the golden hours or, as they are sometimes called, the magic hours.  These are the first and last hour of sunlight in a day (though they are more in tune with the golden 30 minutes) and they are pivotal times for a photographer.  The light is low and soft and depending on the weather, can manifest in a variety of ways that couldn’t be captured in a lifetime.  That is the reason another question always comes up.  “Why do you have to get up so early?” or “why would you want to be there so late?”  I have a simple answer; because I am a photographer.  I chase the light, gauge it, study it and try to gain intimate knowledge so that I can, in my weak, mortal way, capture it before it changes.

I don’t go to a place to take a picture or a snapshot, I go to shoot it.  Maybe the first photograph will nail it or it may take hours or even days, going to the same place, watching the same thing, knowing that if I keep up the vigil, I will be rewarded.  These are the kinds of things that my friends and family balk about and why I usually ending up going alone.  But it’s not their fault.  They don’t eat, live, breath, sleep and dream photography.  They don’t look around them and see a hundred things that draw their attention.  They don’t feel the Spirit of God instilling in them the need and desire to photograph that which He has made. Nothing wrong with that.  That is one of the things that sets me apart from them.  It makes me different or as they like to refer to it, weird, geeky or odd; probably some other stuff, too, but all along the same vein.

Understanding the language of light is to a photographer like understanding the concept of music is to a pianist.  Without understanding, there can only be frustration.  I have spent years studying the art of photography.  Maybe I could have made it easier on myself by taking classes, but I wanted to learn it for myself; to see what worked for me and, as the years pass, start to see a style of my own emerge.  And that is why I get up so early and stay so late and why i will continue to do so because the language of light is one of the beautiful ones that I know.

Psalms 19:1 ~ To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David. The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.

Worshiping God in the Middle of His Creation

This morning, for Sunday worship service, our congregation didn’t meet in the churchyard as happens each time we have church services.  Instead, we took a detour and went down to the creek.   The beauty of nature became a sanctuary like none I’ve ever been in.  Overhead, the trees, bursting with the leaves that come with mid-summer, made a canopy that swayed in the morning breeze.  The overcast sky threatened rain and the light, soft and yielding, cast a lovely glow on the people that had gathered to worship God and on the beauty of God’s creation surrounding them.  Behind the “pulpit” made up of a picnic table underneath one of the huge trees, the creek gurgled and laughed as it flowed over rocks and made it’s way, as all flowing water does, to the sea.

As I looked around at the people, I saw an array of dress and I couldn’t help thinking that there are places some of us, myself included,would not have been allowed.  Knowing what hangs around creeks and pastures, I wore my jeans and boots.  Nobody cared.  We were there to worship the Lord, not critique what each one was wearing.  While we sang songs from the old Church Hymnal, I walked around taking photos.  I could not pass up such a rare opportunity to get shots of God’s people worshiping Him in the midst of His creation while all that surrounded us sang along with us and, in my mind, took an active part just by being.  After the service, the food and fun began.  There were grilled burgers and dogs with all the fixin’s.  Not long after they got their bellies full, the kids found their way into the water.  With splashing and squealing, the ones who were fishing were, I’m afraid, wasting their time.

All in all, it was a wonderful day of worship, prayer, food, fun, playing, wading, swimming and fishing.  Amidst it all was laughter and fellowship.  I can only imagine that God was pleased to see His children gathering under His canopy to sing His praises and worship His glory.  When I count my blessings, I count photography with them for, through the eyes of the spirit, I see what magnificent beauty God has made.