Zip Lines & Heartstrings

As July tiptoes toward its end, I find myself clinging to the warmth it brought—not just in temperature, but in spirit.

It began with a coastal getaway: Tom and I met up with our son, daughter-in-law, and grandkids on a quaint southern island. The highlight? Our teenage grandson charging through a 5K race and finishing strong amid 600 runners. His drive and determination not only lit us all up with pride but also inspired us with his determination to surpass his personal best time. That evening, we enjoyed a beautiful 4^th of July fireworks display on the beach. I imagined millions across the country celebrating the Holiday in very special ways, with friends and family traditions.

Arriving back home in Georgia, a new chapter unfolded. My brother and his family made the cross-country trek from Arizona, leaving behind the famous "dry heat" and bringing a whole lot of love with them. It had been far too long since we'd all been together. During their visit, we soaked up Atlanta's city pulse and savored the serenity of Blue Ridge. But the moment that stole the show?

Zip-lining.

Even getting to the first platform felt like an adventure. We traipsed up a 78-foot incline to the first zip-line platform. A gentle hot breeze danced through the trees, teasing what was to come as one by one, we launched.

Suspended high above the treetops, we zipped from platform to platform. We carefully crossed a wobbly wooden bridge that swayed with every step to reach the fourth platform, and then zipped above the treetops at speeds of up to 30 MPH. The last line stretched over 500 feet—a breathtaking flight over lush Appalachian terrain and tree canopies.

Our two teen nephews beamed with unshakable joy, their faces alight with fearless thrill. And believe it or not, the adults took to the skies right alongside them, feeling the same primal kind of exhilaration in gliding like a bird. It's an experience that awakens a deep, giddy stir within the soul. It made me feel as wide-eyed as the Wright brothers must have felt.

The rest of our time together was just as sweet. We played, talked (oh, the talking), and I cherished every moment with my sister-in-law, whose gift is seeing sunshine even in cloudy skies. My brother and I got lost in childhood memories, punctuated by him teaching me how to build the perfect meat and vegetable skewer. The smoky scent of grilled skewers filled the air, mouth-watering and wonderful.

This month gave me moments that will echo in my heart for years. So yes, July was hot. But it was also beautiful, messy, thrilling, delicious, and deeply meaningful.

 

Sing A Song

 This evening, nature hosted a quiet little drama in our driveway. Three sleek black birds gathered where the maple trees once stood, pecking at a few unsuspecting worms wriggling into the sunlight.

The trees, long past their glory, had recently been removed, making way for something new, perhaps, though the worms didn’t seem to be celebrating. As they surfaced from their disturbed earth and wiggled their way to the driveway, it was as if they’d wandered into the wrong story. Yet the birds were ready, grateful even.

Watching the impromptu feast unfold, my mind recalled the old nursery rhyme “Sing a Song of Sixpence,” where “four and twenty blackbirds” are tucked into a pie. True, it is a whimsical and strange rhyme, but it's etched in my memory from childhood. Only three birds graced our yard today, but they were enough to stir the same wonder in a deja vu moment.

Funny how upheaval (even the removal of ugly old trees) can lead to small blessings—tiny meals for tiny lives. The moment reminded me of Matthew 6:26: “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”

What a beautiful reassurance. Even when the world feels uprooted or uncertain, provision still finds its way—sometimes wriggling across a driveway. If the birds are cared for in such detail, how much more are we?

Heartbreak

This week’s catastrophic flooding in Central Texas has left the Nation reeling in sorrow and disbelief as torrents from the Guadalupe River surged with startling speed, claiming more than 100 lives.  The impact of this tragedy has been deeply felt across all ages, with heartbreak etched into neighborhoods and families.

Tiny tokens, such as stuffed animals, found among the debris, speak volumes about lives interrupted too soon. Countless prayers across the nation have been lifted, and continue to be lifted, to God for comfort and peace for the suffering. 

Amid the wreckage, the compassion of Texans shines: rescue crews, volunteers, and neighbors have united in remarkable efforts to comfort, search, and rebuild. Thank you, tireless responders, for working to ensure each victim’s memory is honored with care and dignity.