I woke up to the fog.
Fog so thick I could reach outside my window and touch the cloud that seemingly came down.
It was a cooler morning, so I decided to take my walk a bit earlier.
There is something mysterious though not ominous about walking through the fog.

As I set out, I heard it.
It is a unique sound that can be recognized by hunters near and far.
It is recognizable though it is a far cry from a bark.
It is the sound of a baying beagle.

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Every time I am ready to write, I see a blank computer screen.
Instead of that being a bit daunting, it is exciting.
Exciting because I could not possibly write every day on my own.
I rely heavily on God for ideas and insights.

I trust that He will allow me to see and hear the littlest thing.
I know that He will help me apply that little thing to His Word.
I am certain.
I must be honoring.

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When my two oldest daughters were little girls, the dolls became available.
Dolls that came with their own set of books.
Dolls that represented a specific time period.
Dolls that helped you learn history.

Aptly named, the American Girl Doll catalog came to our mailbox a few times each year.
My girls would peruse the catalog and turn down the corner of the pages they liked.
True to their personalities, they each liked different dolls.
True to their personalities, the dolls they liked seemed to fit them.

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The windows were opened.
After weeks of the windows closed and the air conditioner on, it was a welcome change.
We had a few days of low 80-degree temperatures and no humidity.
Humidity and I are not friends.

Everything feels sticky in high humidity.
Glasses with ice-cold water actually seem to perspire as they sit on the counter.
The wood banister feels tacky to the touch.
Even the fixtures in the bathroom seem to perspire since our well water is co cold.

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Now what?
So many of us are asking that question in light of cultural issues that weigh heavily on us.
Asking that question without getting an answer often leaves people feeling powerless.
Powerless people tend to huddle in corners hoping that the problem will just go away.

Except not this time.
We have huddled too long.
We wait quietly in the corner hoping that someone else will handle all of our problems.
The cultural problems just seem too large as they loom before us.

Did you ever watch an ant?

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It was a big deal when I could ride my bike around the block.
It was a day of independence.
It was a day of realizing that I could be trusted.
It was a day when it was perfectly okay to be out of sight.

Back in those days, neighbors looked out for each other.
If I rode my bike too fast, I was sure that Mrs. So and So would tell.
In fact, before I even got home, my mother would already know.
It is the mystique of mothers: knowing the unknown ahead of time.

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Whenever it is one of my children’s birthday, I get out the family pictures.
Since they all have Facebook, I like to post a picture or two of them when they were little.
Sometimes I have one particular picture in mind.
Often, I have to go through many pictures in order to find just the right one.

That happened the other night before my oldest son’s birthday.
I thought I had a picture in mind.
I went to the boxes that are labeled by years.
I quickly became lost in the memories.

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I watched the bird fly above my daughter and I as we walked.
We had planned a shopping day and a lunch date.
It was a day at the outlets, looking for bargains.
It was a day of enjoying our time together and coming home with a few things.

As my daughter was ready to go into the store, I stopped.
I watched the bird perch on a small ledge in the ceiling.
There was a tiny gap between the ceiling and the wall just big enough for the small bird.
As I glanced up, I saw small pieces of twigs sticking out.

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I was in the store with the big bulls-eye.
I told myself that I didn’t need a shopping cart.
I was only going to get a few things.
That was a mistake because I was carrying my few things in a very uncomfortable way.

I had them in my arms just so.
One little unplanned bump into someone else and my few things would go flying.
I was walking carefully, heading to the cash registers.
I was determined not to stop for anything else as I walked along.

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When I go to bed after my husband, he is usually asleep when I enter our room.
I can maneuver quite well in the dark without bumping into anything.
I make my way over to our closet and turn on the light.
I get ready for bed in the soft glow of the closet light.

I am almost on autopilot as I walk to the closet.
I know the steps I need to take in order to get there.
The path is quite easy when there is a full moon.
The moonlight shines through the skylights in our bathroom, illuminating the way.

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