WordFULL Wednesday: today

It’s Wednesday. That day in the middle of the week. “Over the hump” day. Halfway from one weekend to the next one.

For several years now, Wednesdays here in Mama’s Empty Nest have meant one thing. Wordless Wednesday. The day when I don’t share my thoughts, instead I reveal just a photograph sans words. Hence, Wordless Wednesday.

I started seriously blogging when I launched Mama’s Empty Nest in the summer of July 2010 and for a solid year, I blogged several times a week with words that just flowed onto my computer screen like a never-ending shower.

But something changed one year later. By the summer of 2011 – July to be exact – I began utilizing Wordless Wednesday in my blog posts. It wasn’t my original idea; I had seen other bloggers do the same, so yes, I was a copycat.

Something had changed. I remember going through a dry spell when the shower of words became more like a sprinkle. In conjunction with that, taking photographs with my small point and shoot digital camera became a fun hobby.  

And so, because of a lack of words, Wordless Wednesday became a reality. I posted one of my photos just about every Wednesday from then on – seven years’ worth of pictures.

A couple of years later, I was gifted with my DSLR camera and Wordless Wednesday became more of a joy than a necessity because my photos were so much clearer, better, and more expressive.

But you know what Elton John once sang? “Change is gonna do me good.”

I’ve been thinking a lot about change this week. In yesterday’s post, I wrote about a change of attitude that we Americans need to take with our words. 

“And that is how change happens. One gesture. One person. One moment at a time.” ― Libba Bray

Changes will be felt here in Mama’s Empty Nest.

As I sit here at my desktop computer in our home office, I glance out the window and see a definite change of seasons before me. Summer flowers have faded and died and we removed their porch box homes. Little dots of fall color catch my eye here and there among the still green leaves on our trees.

Change. It’s coming. It’s inevitable. And often very necessary.

So no doubt, it’s past time for a little change on my blog.  I still want to showcase some of my photographs and probably will continue with Wordless Wednesdays on occasion when the words get jammed up and don’t flow easily.

But I want to try something different.

This new direction is entitled WordFULL Wednesdays – again, not my own creation, just with my own spin to it.  I imagine those posts won’t be long, but perhaps just short snippets that complement one of my photos, possibly just a quote.  

Those who have read my writing for long will know that I am a quote lover (that old quote notebook that I keep writing in is getting thicker and thicker).  So sometimes I may just include someone else’s words in an appropriate quote along with my picture.  

So here is today’s WordFULL Wednesday.

While on vacation in New England this past summer, I noticed this sign posted outside of a religious organization. It spoke to me and I made Papa stop the car so I could take this picture.

Those words on that sign are exactly what I needed to see. To read. To hear. And maybe you need them as well.

Go slow. What’s your rush?

Savor the day. It’s the only today we have, find something to enjoy about it.

Maybe a bit of enjoyment will come from my WordFULL Wednesdays. I hope so. I know it will for me.

“Forget yesterday—it has already forgotten you. Don’t sweat tomorrow—you haven’t even met. Instead, open your eyes and your heart to a truly precious gift—today.” ~ Steve Maraboli

©2018 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

 

Sticks and stones

Recently, I perused back over my photos from Papa’s and my summer excursion to New England pondering over which ones to post, which ones might give me some inspirational fodder for blog posts, which ones were worthy of sharing here in Mama’s Empty Nest.

And I found two photos that really caused me to contemplate, not necessarily because of the subjects of the photos but because of where my mind ventured while examining these pictures.

Sticks.

That’s the first photo above. Stopping inside the first visitor’s center we encountered in the state of Vermont, we observed this wonderful sculpture of a horse. I failed to write down the artist’s name and have since forgotten it, but this work of art immediately caught my eye.

The sculpture consisted of pieces of tree boughs, possibly driftwood, woven together to make the frame of the horse. Intriguing enough. But what truly caught my eye was that the lengths of wood were hand painted in a patriotic theme of red, white, and blue. And printed on the boughs were words from our country’s Pledge of Allegiance and other American patriotic works.

This piece of art once again reminded me of what a great nation we truly have here in the United States and how blessed we have been. Having just commemorated this month the 17th anniversary of the 9-11 terrorist attacks on our country,  those thoughts are fresh on my mind.

Joined together like those sticks forming that horse, Americans come together and stand united even through trials and difficulties and attacks. Or at least we have always done so in the past.

Stones.

Once we finished our sight-seeing in Vermont, we traveled next door to New Hampshire – the state well-known for its granite.

We stopped at a rest area where even the curbs were made of this hard substance and I snapped this photo of a piece of granite there with New Hampshire’s state motto inscribed upon it: “Live free or die.”

Americans have always been made of strong stuff like granite. We roll with the punches and don’t give up. It’s been ingrained in us since the Revolutionary War days when our colonial forefathers refused to take any guff from the King of England. We fought hard and long for our independence from another nation and we won it. 

Freedom is another blessing we possess in this country and it’s important enough to die for. At least, it used to be.

So where am I going with this? As I viewed those two photos on my computer screen, these words came to me.

Sticks and stones.

And these words followed.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me.”

Remember that old adage that we used to hear as children? It’s never really made sense to me because of course, if you’re beaten with a stick or a stone, you come away battered and bruised and possibly with broken bones. But words….words have so much more power than sticks and stones.

“Sticks and stones will break our bones, but words will break our hearts.” ~ Robert Fulghum

Words have the power to break us down mentally, emotionally, spiritually, even to the point of physical breakdown. And it seems to me that we Americans are throwing around an awful lot of reckless, harmful words at each other lately.

Words that hurt. Words that harm deeply. Words that incite anger, even rage. All because we don’t agree. How did we get to this point? Where we can’t calmly agree to disagree?

I no longer trust people’s words. I don’t believe the words politicians throw around. I don’t believe the words blasted across our television screens or the radio airwaves or online whether it be on social media or on various websites.  

I can’t believe those words and I don’t want to even listen to them. They make me angry. They make me incredibly sad. They destroy the notion of good will to all. And if we’re not willing to stop this madness, I honestly believe we will destroy our nation.

There is only one source I can go to for words that I can believe, words I can rely on. Words that don’t decimate. Words that don’t damage. Words that aren’t full of ugliness, bitterness, and rage.

The words I can believe are written in my Bible. So often they are the words of my Savior or of his devoted Apostle Paul or of the shepherd turned king, David. Words that strengthen me, encourage me, give me hope, and fill me with compassion for my fellow human being.

And while sticks and stones could certainly break my bones, the Word of God will never harm me or you. That I can count on. And that’s what I stand upon with hope that if enough of us speak words modeled after God’s Word, we can change the direction we seem to be taking. 

Our words flinging sticks and stones at each other can be turned into words of healing and hope.

“Societies aren’t made of sticks and stones, but of men whose individual characters, by turning the scale one way or another, determine the direction of the whole.” ~ Plato

©2018 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

When summer goes to bed

Now that’s a real flower bed!

The heat and humidity were sent packing for a couple of days this week when the leftover traces of Hurricane Florence breezed into our neck of the woods. 

My heart goes out to those who lost so much in the throes of that storm and I’m grateful to live where I do where the only after-effects we usually receive from hurricanes are a bit of rain.

I’m hoping summer is fading fast and ready to be put to bed. After all, the first official day of the autumn season is in sight.

I’ve never hidden the fact that I am not a summer lover. I’d like that season better if it was mellower and didn’t grab us, thrown us down, and hold us in a headlock of sweltering weather.

“When summer opens, I see how fast it matures, and fear it will be short; but after the heats of July and August, I am reconciled, like one who has had his swing, to the cool of autumn.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

So of course, I am more than ready for a change of season. In my book, you can’t go wrong with fall. But even saying that, there is one thing I will miss about summer.

Not my garden, but isn’t it beautiful?

The bright blooms in our flower garden, the little bursts of colorful wildflowers that grow on the sides of the roadways, and when there’s enough moisture throughout the season, the verdant color of green leaves and grass.

So before the reds, golds, oranges, and yellows of autumn start flaunting their gem-toned colors, I’ll offer up one last tribute to summer’s blossoms. One last hurrah. And then I want to send it off to dreamland.

“Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January.” ~ Hal Borland

While Papa and I were vacationing in New England, it was still June and summer’s colors were in abundance. The lovely scent and pretty pink of sea roses along the coast of Maine caught my eye.

And the plethora of spiky purple, lavender, and pink lupine we viewed all through our travels up north garnered my attention and begged to have their photos taken.

But it’s time to say farewell to them all. And welcome to fall. And I am ready.

“When summer gathers up her robes of glory, And, like a dream, glides away.” ~ Sarah Helen Whitman

©2018 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

Wordless Wednesday: amusing moose

©2018 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Not amoosed

Our trip to New England this past summer was everything we thought it would be.

The temperatures were cooler than home. A win for this gal. The mountains were beautiful and scenic. The spots we chose to stop and visit proved to be all they were cracked up to be.

Vermont is green. Truly green. Everywhere. No billboards on the sides of the road while driving through the Green Mountains. Signs of ecological greenness were also everywhere. Giant wind turbines for power.

The covered bridges of Vermont equaled those in our home state. And the quaint little Vermont towns we drove through were charming.

New Hampshire’s mountains were higher and grander, it’s true, although not on the same scale as the Rockies. But the White Mountains didn’t fail to impress, especially when we took a ride up the highest point in New England – Mount Washington – by cog railway for Papa’s birthday.

The gorgeous seaside views of the Atlantic Ocean from Maine’s Acadia National Park rivaled the sights we used to enjoy on the Pacific Coast when we lived in Oregon.

And the lighthouses. The lighthouses! I loved each and every one of them and my camera hardly left my eye. 

Papa relished his lobster rolls and abundance of seafood. I got to whet my appetite for taking photographs. It was a win-win situation with the exception of one thing.

Several folks informed me that we would probably see moose during our travels. Now we have elk right here in our home state, but no moose, so I was anxious to see one and hoped to capture a picture. We traveled over a thousand miles through states that proclaimed moose crossings on every highway and by-way.

Promises of moose everywhere. Well….I was not amused  amoosed by those promises.

We did not see even one live and kicking moose. We saw moose sculptures. We even saw two bull moose trapped by locked horns in eternal battle. But those were on display in LL Bean’s main store in Freeport, Maine, and formed by skilled artisans from the carcasses of those fated moose. 

I even had muffins, like in the children’s book,  If You Give a Moose a Muffin, to entice those moose to make an appearance but none took the bait. I know they were out there. They just must have been camera shy.

So I’m left with a few photos of sculptures and signs to amoose me. But I am grateful we didn’t literally run into one of those large creatures with our vehicle.

We’ve had enough heart-stopping moments when white-tailed deer suddenly appear on our roadways right here in our neck of the woods, thank you very much. So we’ve endured more than our fair share of deer vs. car crashes.

Perhaps it was for the best that we didn’t encounter any moose on our travels.

Henry David Thoreau once wrote, “Every creature is better alive than dead, men and moose and pine trees, and he who understands it aright will rather preserve its life than destroy it.”

I guess you could say we preserved some moose life. So because they stayed hidden during our New England vacation, it’s safe to proclaim “No moose were harmed in the making of this blog post.”

I usually can find something which allows me to amoose amuse myself and often it’s me. 

“A person who knows how to laugh at himself will never cease to be amused.” ~  Shirley MacLaine

©2018 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Wrong way

I grew up hearing my parents remark, “Wrong way, Corrigan” when you were headed in the wrong direction or when you did something wrong.

I never knew what they were referring to until I was older. Back in the late 1930’s when my folks were in their late teens, an aviator named Douglas Corrigan made the news. He took off from New York in his airplane for a non-stop solo flight supposedly to Los Angeles, but instead headed in the opposite direction and landed his plane in Dublin, Ireland. 

He shrugged off his flight eastward instead of west by proclaiming it simply was a matter of his having gone the wrong way, but aviation authorities accused him of doing the stunt on purpose because they had repeatedly denied his application for flight due to what they deemed an unsafe plane.

For his brash endeavor, the American public, staggering under the heavy hand of the Depression, embraced him and nicknamed him “Wrong Way Corrigan.”

That nickname always comes to my mind when I see a road sign saying “wrong way.”

Sometimes I wish I actually did have huge road signs on my highway of life that would warn me when I was headed for trouble. Headed in the wrong direction of life. Headed for heartbreak. Or major setbacks. Or difficult times ahead. 

How much easier it would be to make decisions and choices wisely if there was a big ol’ sign plastered in front of our eyes that said “Wrong Way!” We instantly would know to avoid that direction and change our route for a better one.  We wouldn’t get distracted along the way either if the path was plainly marked for us.

I don’t know why but it always seems to me that the wrong way also looks so appealing.  Or easy. Or well-traveled so it must be the right way, right?

Which road should we choose? The one that looks the least difficult? The one that is the most attractive? The one that is the most comfortable? The one that bolsters our righteous indignation? 

Pondering all of that reminds me of the Robert Frost poem, The Road Not Taken:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

I need to choose the right way for me and it probably is the road less traveled by. To do so means I have to make a concerted effort to change my mind and my actions. Not an easy task.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about something that happened in the past that still affects me in a negative way today. I realize that I still harbor unforgiveness and bitterness towards the person who wronged someone I love. And I know that is the wrong way to live my life.

I recently read somewhere where the Greek word metanoia was used in the New Testament in God’s Holy Word. Metanoia, when translated to English, means repentance. After reading this, I realized that I certainly need to practice what I preach and embrace some metanoia in my life.

I’ve known people who seem to think repenting from wrong-doing simply means being sorry you did it, or in some cases, the transgressor is just plain sorry he/she got caught and offers apology to smooth things over.

Wrong way, Corrigan! Repentance means you have a complete change of mind. You not only change your direction but you change your actions. Not just words — actions. You choose to stop going the wrong way, that easy way.

Repentance isn’t easy. It’s not just a matter of saying you’re sorry, although you certainly must do so. It’s admitting you’ve done wrong and then taking action to ensure you don’t  continue it. You might say you do a 180 on your highway of life.

It might even involve putting up your own wrong way sign every day to remind yourself that road is not the one you want to travel down.

It’s time for me to put on my brakes and stop going down that road marked wrong way. Time for a U-turn.

“If you’re going down the street and you’re going the wrong way, remember – God permits U-turns.” ~Suze Orman

©2018 mamasmeptynest.wordpress.com

Wordless Wednesday: hmmm…choices

©2018 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Writing signposts

One of the best compliments I ever received was from an acquaintance.

My acquaintance is not someone I know very well although we both were members of an organization a few years ago and that was our connection.  We do have a few things in common, one of those is that both of us love to write.

I’ve been writing this blog for over eight years now and at some point during that time,  this lady told me she loved my writing so much because she felt like she was right there with me experiencing what I wrote. She called my writing vivid.

Wow. That blew me away. And I’ve never forgotten what she said. What writer doesn’t want to hear that? Receiving that kind of compliment from a fellow writer was exceptionally meaningful and encouraging for me as I continued to write in this Mama’s Empty Nest blog.

This blog, this place where I try to put my thoughts into encouraging words. Where I share aspects of life that mean the most to me – my faith, my family, my friends, my view of the world around me, the aspects of life that amaze or astound me.

This spot where I frequently take inspirational insights given to me by my Heavenly Father and attempt to share them with the world.

This site where I regularly pour out my heart in hopes of striking a positive chord with my readers out there in this too often negative, discouraging atmosphere we call life.

Sometimes I’m pleased with the words I summon up in my mind and plunk down on that blank computer screen. Sometimes I agonize and struggle to unite my thoughts with words that truly encapsulate my message.  

Will my readers get my drift? Will they understand what I’m endeavoring to say?

Is my writing clear? Is it expressive? Does it reach the very hearts of my readers?

That’s what I strive to do. I don’t write my blog to garner accolades, although I do appreciate compliments and encouraging comments from my readers. Those mean the world to me.

I don’t write to become the next best-selling author, although that certainly would be exciting. I don’t write in hopes of becoming a social media sensation, go viral, or invite fame. 

I haven’t developed a writing platform or marketing strategy. I don’t even promote my writing much except on my personal Facebook page and my Mama’s Empty Nest Facebook fan page. 

I write because it’s what I do. It’s hard to describe to someone who isn’t a writer. It’s like this huge cache of words are bottled up inside your very self and you have to let them escape because they can keep you up at night if you don’t write them down.

And for me, without trying to sound too ethereal, writing is like a calling. In my case, the calling often comes from the Lord.

He prompts me to tell my stories, to share my joys and even sorrows, to point readers to His Word to give hope and inspiration, to connect with my readers in a way that positively resonates with them. To shed a bit of light in a dark world. To provide a spot where goodness and kindness beam forth.

And if I succeed, then I’ve fulfilled my purpose in writing.

But I must admit that sometimes I get discouraged.

Sometimes I wonder if taking time and effort to reflect over ideas, search God’s Word, and contemplate over just the precise words to convey my point is worth it.  Other than my few regular reader/fellow blogger friends and personal friends and family, does anyone out there in cyberspace actually read what I write?

I don’t have a clue who reads my writing unless those readers comment or click on the “like” button here on Mama’s Empty Nest or on my Facebook blog fan page. And it surprises me when suddenly a comment appears and a reader informs me he/she has been reading my blog for years and has never commented before. Feedback like that motivates me to continue; there just doesn’t seem to be much of it at times.

Oh, WordPress gives me a stats report to show how many readers clicked on my link each day but even though I supposedly have followers well over the thousand mark and seem to acquire new followers, the actual numbers on the stats bar graph are small, barely breaking the one-hundred line.

Every so often, I’m tempted to “throw in the towel.”  Ignore the computer keyboard. Just stop writing. Motivation wanes. Ideas with coherent paragraphs to link it all together just don’t come easily.

And I wonder if the words that I anguish over, pray over, delve up from the depths of my mind and soul… I wonder….do they even matter?

Just last week, another acquaintance informed me that she loves reading my “messages” but hadn’t been taking time to read my blog posts on a regular basis.  Oh, how I get that. Life gets in the way.  So many more important aspects demand utter priority in life than taking the time to read someone’s blabbering online.

I understand that full well and I realize she didn’t need to offer a bit of apology because honestly, it does not surprise me that folks don’t have or take time to read my blog every day.

But her next statement warmed my heart.  “I have been reading them again and you truly are gifted with writing abilities. Keep it up, you are inspiring me,” she wrote. 

Just to know that on that day one person read my blog, and it impacted her enough not only to disclose it but also inform me that my words inspire her….well, shucks, isn’t that what it’s all about?

My purpose in writing. My purpose is writing. My purpose may be for you.

Whether it inspires one person or one thousand or one million, it means the same to me.  Using my words, I connected with another human being in a positive manner. Using my words, I brought meaning to someone’s life that day and it was good.

So I will continue my calling. To write the words I’ve been given to say. To show you the world through my eyes and from my heart so just maybe it helps you, encourages you, inspires you.  

When traveling down the highway of life, there are so many signposts. It can be completely confusing. We search desperately for the signs that show us the right way to go.

My hope is that my writing is like a signpost offering a little guidance for us – you and me – to navigate our way through life. And that’s good enough for me.

“Good writers are in the business of leaving signposts saying, Tour my world, see and feel it through my eyes; I am your guide.” ~ Larry King

©2018 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

I (eye) spy

Do you remember the childhood guessing game, “I Spy?”

One person chooses an item for the others to guess and says, “I spy with my little eye something _______ “ (putting a descriptive word like red in the blank space). Everyone else in the game must guess what the object is and can ask for more descriptive clues.

It was a good way to pass time with my own little ones when we had to wait patiently for something like sitting in a doctor’s waiting room for an appointment.

I spy with my eye. Every morning we awaken and the first thing we do is open our eyes. And they tell us so very much. Is it light outside or still dark? We glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed and our eyes see the time. Is it 6 a.m. already?

Our eyes guide us to the bathroom where we get ready for the day. They scan the closet for something to wear.  They show us that that one missing shoe somehow got kicked under the bed.

Our eyes helps us choose breakfast from the refrigerator or pantry shelf. They aid us in measuring coffee for the coffee maker or filling the teakettle with water for that morning cup of hot tea.

Some of us read while we break our fast whether it’s the morning paper, a real book, an e-book on Kindle, or social media statuses on our phones or tablets. Those of us who are of Christian faith open our Bibles and let our eyes show us God’s Word to guide our day ahead.

We certainly need our eyes to drive. We need our eyes to accomplish certain tasks or at our jobs.  Our eyes tell us when aspects of life need taken care of like the grass is getting long and needs mowed. Or the table needs wiped off because there are crumbs left there. Or that gas gauge needle in the car is hovering on that big red E.

Our eyes perceive goodness in our world like that gentleman holding open the door for his wife. Or that young mother cradling and comforting her crying child who just fell and skinned a knee.

Or the teenager holding onto his tottering grandmother’s arm to steady her steps.  Or the young professional on her lunch hour who takes a sandwich to the homeless man on the street corner she passes every day.

And it wouldn’t be real life in this fallen world if our eyes didn’t also notice evil.  People treating others with hatefulness, disrespect, and downright cruelty. Just as we can observe beauty all around us with our eyes, we can also spot the ugliness.

Our own eyes peer outward, taking in all that surrounds us as far as the eye can see and then our brains interpret what our eyes behold.  But what do others see when they look into our eyes?

It’s been said that the eyes are windows into the soul. Can you tell by looking into another’s eyes whether she is lying or not? Sometimes.

Can you tell he has a nasty disposition when you look into his eyes? Often. 

And you can also see goodness and kindness reflected in a person’s eyes as well.

In the book of Matthew, Chapter 6, Jesus said, “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light.  But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!” (Verses 22-23)

When I read this passage of scripture, it reminds me that I want my eyes to be full of light, full of all things good, full of the things  that would honor my Savior. By doing so, my hope is that others will see Jesus in my eyes.

Back when our children were tweens and teens, I used to remind them that everything they took in with their eyes would be reflected in them, so they should be wise and discerning about what music they listened to, what television programs and movies they watched, and what they read.

“Garbage goes in, garbage comes out,” was my favorite saying back then.

Yet it still holds true today and for us adults as well. When we perceive the darkness of foul sights, words, and deeds, we are taking it in not just with our eyes but with our very souls. But let’s be honest, it is extremely difficult to block all the nasty stuff because it permeates our world today.

But I have a choice. God has given me free will. I can either allow the ugliness and wickedness to pervade my soul or not.

So what I choose is to awaken each and every day and before I even open my eyes, say to myself, I spy with my little eye ‘whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.’  (As written by the Apostle Paul in Philippians 4:8.)

“From now until the end of time no one else will ever see life with my eyes, and I mean to make the best of my chance.” ~ Christopher Morley

©2018 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

 

Wordless Wednesday: butterfly bush

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