Joy Break 3 | Infallible Sign | #Wordless Wednesday

Raven’s Joy I

Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God.
–Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

For today’s #WordlessWednesday, I’m sharing three photos my Raven shot with her “not iPhone” while on a walk yesterday. 🙂 She texted the photos to me with the message that she “thought to flower up [my] day.” I smiled from the inside out at this beautiful tribute to my love for photographing nature.

Raven’s Joy II

The message was timely. I spent much of yesterday fretting about an “unfairness” over which I have little control, and Raven’s joy served as a powerful sign of God’s presence.

Raven’s Joy III

Thank you, Raven for sharing your light and joy!

Joy Break 2 | Dance, Dance, Dance

“Allow yourself to trust joy and embrace it.
You will find you dance with everything.”

My Love Notes friend, Connie, sent the postcard above a couple of years ago. She found it and many others at an art fair, I think. Even though I searched “high and low” for information about the artist, I found none.

This is one of my favorite postcards because there is so much joy in the artwork–the colors, the movements, the expressions. The dance is part of the conversation between the women whose very souls seem to be possessed by joy.

Perhaps, that is the point of the quote above (attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson). When we release ourselves to joy, there’s a light in the step and mirth in the eyes. Our very beings are infused with joy.

Joy Break 1 | Discipline and Practice

“Barnsley Daisy” by Kelly of Happy Shack Designs

Around this time of the year, I usually begin a weeklong series of kindness posts, but this time around, I decided to focus on joy.

Despite the trauma and drama of the past several months (see last Monday’s post), I’m okay. As I mentioned at the very beginning of the year:

I’m learning to practice a steadying joy no matter the circumstance. This does not mean I work on being perpetually happy; it means that when LIFE does its thing, instead of driving myself crazy with worry or lying down in defeat, I rest in God’s presence and stand firm as His strength carries me.  Pics and Posts, January 1, 2019

Many people confuse joy with happiness. Unlike happiness, joy is not tethered to our emotional state. It does not depend on external circumstances or conditions. Joy is a discipline, and when we train ourselves in joy, we walk with knowledge that “a dark moment” is not the whole life. Therefore, in our innermost being, we are not held captive by our emotions–no matter what is going on around us.

I’m learning to lean in and remain in the Presence of my Heavenly Father. I need Him day by day, hour by hour, and being in His presence helps me confront my deepest aches and longings and experience life to the fullest even as I’m working through disappointments and pain.

The assaults can be wearying, but I’m convinced when we practice joy, we won’t succumb to the madness life tosses our way.


About today’s image: The Barnsley daisy above has been sitting in my “to be blogged” bin for a year. It was a side-swap from Liberate Your Art 2018. I’d planned to include them in this year’s LYA posts, but the swap coordinator, Kat, decided to take a much needed hiatus this year. The photo was taken by Kelly of Happy Shack Designs. Check out her website to see more of her photography and handmade jewelry. You can find her blog here, Artful Happiness.

#ThursdayTreeLove | Summer’s Crepe Myrtle

Crepe myrtles come in bloom
In the sunny summertime.
They beautify the landscape,
And we enjoy them so sublime.

from “Lovely Crepe Myrtles” by Margaret Cagle

One of the things I miss most about our home in New Orleans is the gorgeous trees that surrounded the property. Since our current neighborhood is fairly “young,” the trees have not grown to their full potential. There are no shady oaks or grand magnolias gracing lawns and gardens.

A tree that gave me a lot of pleasure was the crepe myrtle that grew near the curb leading to our driveway. I’ll have to do a deep dive into my photo files to see if I have any photos of that particular tree, but here are some snaps of crepe myrtles found in the [relatively] more recent files–shot since our move to Northern Alabama–including a tree I shot last weekend near Chattanooga, Tennessee.

One of the gorgeous sights I beheld when I looked through my office window [a few years ago] is a pair of crepe myrtles. They greeted me each time I left the building and headed out for a campus walk or an errand.

Imagine my chagrin when I exited the building one afternoon and met tree movers extracting  the trees. [Images above]. Initially, I was horrified, but since our campus is clearly a tree haven, I assumed–because I’ve never asked–there was a problem with the trees.

Even though I lost the couple, there are many other crepe myrtles all over campus for me to enjoy. They are a sight to behold during the mid-summer when all the other blooms are resting till spring.

Whenever I travel in the South (USA), I encounter the trees with blooms of various colors–white, pink, purple, and red. So far, I’ve managed to capture the tree in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and now, Tennessee.

The crepe myrtle is a pretty tree, but I find it difficult to adequately convey the prettiness through photos.


I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

“It Is the Rain That Calms Me” | #WordlessWednesday

“Purple Hibiscus Unfolding”

“The Things That Consume Me”
Zubair Ahsan

It is the fire that consumes me;
It is an inexplicable love,

It is the rain that calms me;
It is a melody from above.

It is the wind that humbles me;
It is everywhere and nowhere,

It is the sand that fuels me;
It is the artistry of nature.

I’m consumed by what I am,
I’m calmed by a riotous noise,

I’m humbled through arrogance,
I’m fueled by what is in poise.

I’ve much cherished the mystifying,
I’ve heard the unreal symphonies,

I’ve been moved by the inevitable,
And I’ve hailed the epiphanies.

Loc’d: Second Journey

“Loc’d Defined,” Photo by Cy

I began my second locs journey a week ago.

When I first loc’d my hair 13+ years ago, I was five months pregnant, dealing with the losses of Post-Katrina New Orleans, and adjusting to a new normal. Although I had “gone natural” four years before, the time never felt right for loc’ing.

Until then.

I craved the permanency and flexibility of locs. I needed something that would connect me to my natural self and my cultural roots, and that would allow me to navigate the early years of motherhood with one less concern.

I’d planned to loc for only seven years–the spiritual number of completion. I considered cutting them off in year six, after losing Karlette, but I wasn’t ready.

“Loc’d Mommy,” Photo by My Hubby

My son, especially, wasn’t ready for a loc-less mom. Though I suspect he most enjoyed “pranking me” by tying my locs to the head rest in the car, loc’d Mommy was all he knew and he resisted the idea of my cutting them off.

My hair was a way to “mark time” as we journeyed through the first decade of his life. There was lots of growth for both of us.

In year 10, with my son’s “permission,” I convinced my bestie to cut my locs when her family came for a visit.

Good-bye Locs

That was March 2016.

Now that I’ve begun my second journey, I am asked “why?”–the same question I heard over and over when I began loc’ing the first time and when I cut my lengthy locs three years ago. The question is asked for many [complex] reasons, some of which are touched on in an earlier post.

I do not intend to go into those reasons in this post; I have only my answer to the question.

The last several months have been traumatic in some ways, and I’ve been feeling the drive to loc again. I first felt the inclination after Lori passed. I held back because I thought those feelings were a knee-jerk reaction to something I couldn’t control. However, as the months crept along, the desire grew stronger.

The losses have been significant, the pain unbearable at times. I needed to begin the process again, to mark the journey as I navigate the grief and trauma.

For me, there is incredible power in loc’ing–the patient waiting, the commitment to the process. As the hair locs and lengthens, I stretch. I strengthen. I heal.