Life as a mom, nana and follower of Christ; hoping to share from lessons learned
The weekly photo challenge was to depict one.
From the Weekly Photo Challenge:
lines to patterns. We see lines and patterns in the world around us, in nature and things man-made. Sometimes we don’t realize they’re there: on the street, across the walls, up in the sky, and along the ground on which we walk.
IN A NEW POST CREATED FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE A PHOTO (OR GALLERY) OF SHAPES, LINES, TEXTURES, OR PATTERNS.
Duck at Reservoir Park in Southern Pines NC
When I took the picture of this duck, I caught myself looking at the ripples. It never ceases to amaze me how that if we let God’s creation teach us, it never fails. There is a lesson in every scene.
As the duck paddled its legs beneath him, the water rippled out revealing motion. The display of the ripple varied based on his movement. When he was still and quiet, the water barely moved, but when he flapped his wings and flailed around as he took his bath, there were splashes and ripples and noise.
So, of course I began to wonder, “What is my ripple?” How does it look and what does it convey about me.
Do I thrash about wreaking havoc all around me? Or perhaps I am so quiet and unmoving that I am barely noticed at all. Or maybe, slow and steady is my way. It makes you think, doesn’t it?
I hope to be steady and sure, confident and moving forward. I pray that the impression I leave as I make my way through this world is a good one.
God Bless and Goodnight!
Me, long before the nickname kerplunk
The smell of the low tide on the way home tonight brought back more childhood memories. You know how you can be somewhere and just get a whiff of something and it can take you back to a specific time in your life?
My dad was a commercial fisherman and stone crabber and we were out on the water a lot growing up. It’s hard to remember exactly how old I was, but I think I was around 10 or 11 and I must have been going through a gawky, clumsy stage. One year my dad gave me the nickname “kerplunk”. It wasn’t one of those nicknames that last you for the rest of your life (thank goodness!) It was a nickname for a season. And let me tell you, that particular season, I earned it.
It seemed that we couldn’t be in the boat or actually anywhere near a body of water without me falling in. “Kerplunk”, he would say. I was thinking today that maybe the fact that dad started calling me that made me fall in even more, since our words hold such power.
I remember one time he was fishing and there was a large cooler in the boat and at the time the lid was halfway off. I was precariously perched on the edge of it and before I knew it, I was overboard and trying to get back in the boat. “Kerplunk”. Another time, my dad was stopped near a mangrove tree and had told us all to sit down as he was about to take off. In all my youthful stupidity, I thought it would be a cool idea to hang on to the mangrove branch as my dad moved forward.
The next thing I know, I’m hanging from the branch as the boat speeds away. I thought it was pretty funny until the branch broke. I screamed and they looked back about the time I found myself going under. Thankfully, I did know how to swim. I can still remember how the oyster shells felt when they cut through the tender flesh in the salty water. My dad gave me a piece of his mind that day for that one, but he had to feel sorry for me at the same time. I was a pathetic, bawling, dripping mess by the time they picked me up.
Then, it seemed that as quickly as my “kerplunk” incidents began, they just stopped happening. I guess you could probably say I learned my lesson, started paying more attention instead of trying to merely get attention. Even though it’s kind of an embarrassing one, it’s a good memory, because I remember all the good times we had out in the boat. I’ll have to remind my dad about that the next time I see him.
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