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How to Stop Barking Up the Wrong Tree
We’ve all heard, and maybe spoken, the words “you’re barking up the wrong tree.” This idiom carries the meaning of being misguided, on the wrong track, in error. The phrase originated with the description of hunting dogs. Unfortunately, not all the canines in our neighborhood have read about this. Take Sampson, for instance. A lovable black lab, he usually runs the length of his fenced-in back yard as Gibbs and I walk by. His ferocious bark would be more intimidating if his tail wasn’t wagging 100 miles per hour. But one day, Sampson completely ignored us. With every muscle tensed, he stood at the bottom of a Bradford pear tree,…
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Pebbles, Problems, Pearls, and Perseverance
What do pebbles, problems, pearls, and perseverance have in common? Okay, the p alliteration, but what else? I thought about this question as I hobbled along with a small rock in my tennis shoe. In case you’re wondering why I didn’t take off my shoe and get the pebble out, the seventy-nine pound lab at the end of the leash I held was not interested in stopping. My discomfort brought oysters and pearls to mind. I’d always believed pearls were formed from the irritation of a grain of sand, but according to research, parasites or other organic materials are the more likely culprits. Interestingly, like the pebble in my shoe…
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How to Stop Doing Things the Hard Way
Somewhere in my back yard is a tiny bug who needs to know how to stop doing things the hard way. This little green bug caught my attention one rainy day when he found his way inside our house and onto the kitchen faucet. When I moved in for a closer look, I realized he was a shield bug. (I helped both my kids with their elementary school insect projects, so I know things.) Because of his bright green color and tiny size, I classified him as cute and named him Sammy. But, cute or not, I refused to let him live in my kitchen. Not wanting to smush Sammy,…
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God Knows Your Name
Do you ever get names confused? I do. I always remember faces, but names can be a different story. Fortunately, I have yet to forget my own name. Maybe that’s because my teenage years spanned the late 1960’s to mid-70’s. One popular piece of jewelry during that era was the ‘I.D.’ bracelet. I still remember the one I received as a Christmas/birthday gift. Sterling silver, delicate links, my name written in flowing script across a silver band. I loved that bracelet but have no idea what happened to it. (If you ever come across a tarnished old relic engraved with the name ‘Kimberly,’ let me know.) Of course, identification bracelets…
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Faithfulness Matters
Faithfulness matters. A hidden message in my granddad’s desk reminded me of that truth . . . Passed down first to my mom, then to me, my granddad’s beautiful mahogany desk is a connection to my grandparents and to my childhood. I remember looking at the carved drawers and compartments when I was a little girl and asking my grandmother if I could open them all. But she said Granddad paid the bills at his desk, so I’d better not disturb things. Then she took me in the kitchen and gave me cake. Decades later, instead of paying bills here, I write. Once when I should have been working, I…
Faith for the Adventure
