drippy …

It has been so humid … super humid … even for South Carolina. I took three baths today, well showers. When my husband and I took a trip to Hawaii three summers ago, we didn’t bring back souvenirs, just an idea he brought to fruition. On each of the three islands we visited, we found outdoor showers part of our accommodations. We enjoyed them so; he built me one by our deck. It’s front wall he made of wood panels, the other side and the roof are thin bamboo screens. The entrance has a curtain of real shells. The floor is stone like our stone walkway; overhead, under the bamboo, are shell string lights-real shells.

Wow, I am sure that detailed description may not have been necessary, but you can tell how much I love that shower; it’s a work of art!

When I am dripping wet from the southern humidity, I grab a robe and a towel and indulge myself; as I said before, I took three showers today; it was that humid; plus, I wanted to, I enjoy them, so I did.

I was a June baby, and back in ’56 air conditioning came in the form of open windows in the house, and in the car, rolling down the window with a handle-imagine that! Anyway, when Mother was hot she would give me a bath. So, I came by my love of baths from the get-go.

I have been furiously planting grasses and succulents this year, after last summer’s drought that took several shrubs and annuals, I am just not going to subject any more of my plants to an untimely death. Watching a plant or shrub die hurts me to my very soul. I used to talk out loud to my plants in the first garden I created surrounding our previous home; I had a beautiful garden, but, my conversations now are for the birds-literally. We have recorded over thirty-two species of birds that frequent our feeder.

Almost every square inch of space in my garden is planted with something beautiful; I need to gradually let go of planting more and be happy with maintaining. We’ll see if this plan pans out; chances are it won’t; but that’s fine, I’ll enjoy this passion of mine for as long as I’m able.

My mind is forever in a state of planning-creating. I must say the artist in me never stops. There’s always a new project I’m thinking about; different arrangements, repurposing, that’s the new phrase for recycling, I kind of like repurposing, it describes using something for a purpose other than for what was intended.

I created a Christmas tree one year out of lampshades. Yes, we rarely buy Christmas trees, I construct them. For several years it was a green wooden ladder I adorned. For my next constructed tree, I took lampshades, removed the fabric which left the metal bones, you might say, of the shade. Stacking them from smallest on top, to largest on the bottom, it was quite dazzling with crystal chandelier prisms as ornaments.

I am never quite satisfied with the status quo; there’s always some elaboration I can add, adjustment to be made, or visual statement that can be expressed.

Do I ever stop? No. I am never satisfied with myself, either. There’s always something that needs fixing or attention. I’m not high maintenance, well maybe I am, but I foot my own maintenance bill, so there’s that.

This yarn, I spin today, rambles on and on; is there a point here? Perfection cannot be obtained, earned, bought, or sold. It is neither animal, vegetable, or mineral. The only perfection that ever was, is, and will be, is God The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. All required is the desire to persevere, to keep trying, to never give up; for it is in trying, failing, picking yourself up, and starting all over again, that we show our willingness to be like You, Dear Lord. Children want to grow up and please their parents; live, look, and believe those things our parents believe. I want to please You, I want to become worthy; I want to strive towards perfection, towards You, Father. May I make You proud! Amen


Dear Lord, You never make mistakes; why can’t I trust that I am perfect just like I am? But You and I both know I am nowhere near perfect-quite the opposite. As Paul says, We must push on.

Philippians 3:12-14  The Message
I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.


I love this quote about perfection, by Stephen Manes, from his book, Be a Perfect Person in Just Three Days!


“Congratulations! You’re not perfect! It’s ridiculous to want to be perfect anyway. But then, everybody’s ridiculous sometimes, except perfect people. You know what perfect is? Perfect is not eating or drinking or talking or moving a muscle or making even the teensiest mistake. Perfect is never doing anything wrong — which means never doing anything at all. Perfect is boring! So you’re not perfect! Wonderful! Have fun! Eat things that give you bad breath! Trip over your own shoelaces! Laugh! Let somebody else laugh at you! Perfect people never do any of those things. All they do is sit around and sip weak tea and think about how perfect they are. But they’re really not one-hundred-percent perfect anyway. You should see them when they get the hiccups! Phooey! Who needs ’em? You can drink pickle juice and imitate gorillas and do silly dances and sing stupid songs and wear funny hats and be as imperfect as you please and still be a good person. Good people are hard to find nowadays. And they’re a lot more fun than perfect people any day of the week. ~Stephen Manes, Be a Perfect Person in Just Three Days!


Hymn of Promise

Words and Music by Natalie A. Sleeth, 1986


In the bulb there is a flower;
in the seed, an apple tree;
in cocoons, a hidden promise:
butterflies will soon be free!
In the cold and snow of winter
there’s a spring that waits to be,
unrevealed until its season,
something God alone can see.


There’s a song in every silence,
seeking word and melody;
there’s a dawn in every darkness
bringing hope to you and me.
From the past will come the future;
what it holds, a mystery,
unrevealed until its season,
something God alone can see.


In our end is our beginning;
in our time, infinity;
in our doubt there is believing;
in our life, eternity.
In our death, a resurrection;
at the last, a victory,
unrevealed until its season,
something God alone can see.






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