Dear Henry – “Letters From The Village” – Day Two

provider two mcclellanville

A letter for my future grandchild calls him to see, calling him to be, aware, alive and grateful for the beauty in his grace-filled days.

Dearest Henry,

The squid ink squirts across the night
Sky, a canvas
Blackening, a blanket for sleepy day’s cover
And you will look up while holding my hand
To soak in a heavenly sea of delight
The pin pricked sky over Jeremy Creek
Twinkles its twinkling radiant stars
Flashing and blinking and winking at you

Cast your eyes, your chin tilted skyward
Throw out your vision as shrimpers their nets
Connect the dots with your gaze make big dipper
Then squeeze tight my hand while we gaze
At the moon,together
The man in the moon is smiling at you
Sweet Henry, sweet child
He’s smiling at me, he’s grinning at us

And one night its cuticle thin like a sliver
Cut with precision, smooth as french silk
Capture the glory now in your memory
Capture it now for tomorrow brings change
Somewhere so briefly between the waxing and waning
A thin sliver hangs graceful over our dreams
Blink and it changes, sleep and its gone.

Tomorrow when sleepy day goes down for the night
You and I will walk out to the edge of the world
The edge of the water its lapping and flapping
Bobbing the shrimper’s boats like toys in the bath
And the sky will become radiant with color
We’ll stare at the pinks, the hot and the cool ones
Right before orange blazes her brush through the sky.

And off to the heavenlies the day will retreat
To sleep beside dipper and man in the moon
The day will rest up for her glorious tomorrow
And you dear Henry will sleep awhile too
For tomorrow there are treasures and glorious discoveries
To make and unwrap, to claim and collect
Tomorrow the sea will deliver her beauties right at the feet of sleepy-head you.

Summer’s Simple Joy & All God’s People Say Amen

Hoping for your weekend, time to seek, gather and soak in the simple placed right where you are

Wishing for your weekend ,time to collect colorful memories of sun-drenched summer


And praying for your weekend, time to reflect under the shade of His love on all the He was, is and forever will be in the echoes of the amens.

May you rest in His Amazing Grace all weekend long as you scoop up the sweet and the savory of your good story while you taste and see that it is all so very , very good.

Praying for a grateful heart in my everythings. How about you?

Moving At A Snails Pace (Photo Blogging)

Oh the best laid plans. 

To go one way and then you find yourself heading another way entirely.

Spontaneously slow walking and talking, at a snail’s pace really.

Uncovering the unexpected. And stopping. Often. 

To ponder on the stumbled on wonder.

To view the world with a shift in your life lense. The one through which you view things in the daily ordinary.

But the summertime lense can bring a cool green change in perspective.

Cut flowers from the yard, petals on the path, shadows through the gate they lay down and ask to be stumbled upon.

When you find yourself moving at a snail’s pace. Because you walk in the shadow of a generation before. And you know you have this one glorious day.

And the gift comes in taking the path marked by another one. Whose pace is not your own.

And isn’t that what love does? It shifts gears and changes pace and waits on others.

It is patient and it is kind. And I think sometimes it moves slow and steady, at a snail’s pace. And the only rushing sound is that of the waterfall. I am learning to love like this. Slow and patient. Unrushed.

But I am slow at learning to love, like this. And oh it is so slow and hard, this new kind of love.

But that Joy comes in the unrushed dog days of summer in the shadow of another generation is a good lesson to learn. Summer teaches with her slow warm hand. She turns the head and opens the heart to learn anew.And shows  in the  slow light of  a June day how to love to the beat of another’s pace and stride. To love the other’s ways. To bend down in love to another’s needs.

Even if I learn it at a slow snail’s pace, it is that I learn it at all, in the days remaining that is important. 

And the light creeps through and shines like the Hope that I have to learn it well and to learn it  for good. The good that is lasting and the good that is slow
and patient and kind.

We are three generations watching in love at how we care for and love another. Three women with a pace and stride unlike the other’s, learning to bend in love. Slow loving the other.

Slowing down for love on these dog days of summer. 


Linking with Ann today at A Holy Experience dot com

Rolling With It Through Brooklyn–Day One

Will you pop over here and see the beginning of this exciting ministry (

Oh God is so good.

What a privilege.

Amazing grace.

Savoring the fresh memories of discovering Brooklyn, her beauty, her people and especially thanking her for lending us her lovely white subway tile walls for ministry.

Words across, words down.

Clues calling out to the weary and the lonely.

A crossword puzzle taped to a wall crosses cultures and languages and invites.

Come solve me. Come gather around the word. The words bridge between the north and the south.

The words carry love.

The clues intrigue and offer a word of Hope, of community, of Love and of Grace.

Eyes of the lonely stare empty curious. Eyes of the skeptic glance at the grace.

Eyes of the mind and heart pause then enter in the game, the fellowship, the team work, before the train comes.

And after the train comes.

A subway,our Creative God, and two screaming yellow buses.

And the story continues, as we roll out of Brooklyn.

Amazed by Grace.

Three in one and one in three–Fourteen Down. And the answer was and always is, the Trinity.

We have felt the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit deep in the bowels of Brooklyn.