Jesus said, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Please forgive ME, Lord, when I act in ignorance, too.
And even more often, forgive me for what I neglect each day --
when I leave my Bible unopened, when I neglect to pray.
Please forgive me when I overlook a need
and once again for passing opportunities to plant a seed --
the opportunity to introduce someone to you.
Yes, please forgive me for what I neglect to do.

Please help me, Lord, and strengthen me each day.
Show me how to walk closer in your way.

And dear God, along with all of these,
forgive me for what I know I shouldn't do, please.
For the frowns I give instead of smiles,
when I should be more understanding in my trials.
Forgive me for impatience, for a sharp tongue,
for not wanting to admit when I was wrong.
Please forgive me for the selfish things I do,
thinking of myself instead of others, instead of you.
Please forgive me for the thoughts, and well as words.
For I know that both of them are heard.
Dear Lord, cleanse me, renew in me again a healthy spirit,
one that's free from sin.
And help me as I prepare for another day
to become stronger, to walk closer in your way.

When we pray, we need to examine ourselves, to be honest with ourselves, to understand ourselves, as we move on to help others.

Columbine

When I see this life I'm living
is not the fruitful kind,
I step back and re-evaluate
and see what should be left behind.
Sometimes I find things for myself;
sometimes I must be shown.
Sometimes I find I don't have the strength
to change things on my own,
but my Lord knows when I'm trying --
He knows what is on my mind,
and together we can work to make
my life the fruitful kind.

Sometimes it's not what should be dropped
but what should be added in,
and sometimes I find it's the same old things
over and over again.
Like a toddler who may stumble,
but who eventually learns to run,
I find it takes some time and practice --
each step, one by one.
But slowly I'll become steady,
and although I still may fall,
I know that as I strive to grow,
my Lord watches over all.
I know that He will help me;
more and more strength I know I'll find.
Eventually, He can mold my life to be
one of the fruitful kind.

"I am the vine, ye are the branches; He that abideth in me, and I in HIm, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing." John 15:5

If anyone should ask me what love looks like, I would take the time to tell them what I've seen.
For despite one's first impression of this thing we cannot touch, one can see it, and I'll tell you what I mean.
Love's eyes reflect God's tenderness, His care and His concern, ever watching for the aching heart to ease;
they brim with tears of joy for the one who finds God's grace, always bright with faith, enduring, in God's sight to please.
Love's eyes will close in prayer, pausing often in reflection,
sensitive to all that comes along the way.
Love's eyes are just one feature that express its awesome depth. Love's smile is also part of the display.
The corners of love's smile turn up to point the way to the source of all the warmth with which it glows.
Love's smile says much more than many spoken words, because the message is one that every person knows.
It bridges any language and has the power to express all the things that the tongue just cannot speak.
Love's smile reassures one that he is never truly alone; it gives hope and reassurance to the weak.
Yes, this is love's appearance - just a way to recognize it
You might ask me how I know that this is true, and I'll tell you that I've seen it in many faces that I've met.

Tell me, does love's description sound like you?

Dear friends, let us practice loving each other, for love comes from God and those who are loving and kind show that they are the children of God, and that they are getting to know Him better. But if a person isn't loving and kind, it shows that he doesn't know God. For God is love. I John 4:7-8

Sometimes when we are teaching,
we find that we must learn;
we know that before a coal can give off warmth,
it must be able to burn.
We discover that before we can answer questions,
we ourselves must understand---
we find so much room to grow
when offering a helping hand.

Just as we invite company into our homes
and notice dust upon our shelves,
when sharing our faith with others,
we learn so much about ourselves.
We realize where we are weaker
and then strive to become strong.
We improve upon our quality of living
when we help a friend along.

We should welcome the chance to share with others;
we each have so much to learn.
Before a coal can give off warmth,
it must be able to burn.

Newfound Gap, North Carolina View

It takes valleys to make mountain tops;
without depths there would be no heights.
Through life's struggles we gain more wisdom
to understand what's right.
For trials make us stronger;
doubts bloom into faith,
and each new experience provides more substance
to bring us through, unscathed.
In each of life's deep valleys
there's a Lily to be found.
And through this Lily of the Valley
we reach mountain tops, safe and sound.

"In sorrow He's my comfort, in trouble He's my stay;
He tells me every care on Him to roll:
He's the Lily of the Valley, the Bright and Morning Star,
He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul." -- Charles W. Fry

Sweet White Violet, pastel 2004

Thank you, Lord, I love you
Thank you for giving me the
opportunity to seek your strength,
your wisdom.
You will deliver me. You have delivered
me already.
You are wonderful. Beyond the small
words I know to thank and praise you.
I am thankful that, with your help,
I can use all things for your glory.
All things for good.
These trials and tribulations. they have
made me stronger. I have grown in faith
and patience. And yes, Lord, wisdom.
But I beg for more wisdom. I am only
wise in that I realize I know very
little. I am small.
But you are great, Oh Lord. You
are wise and wonderful. And
you will help me grow.
I love you.

I have not seen His face, but
have I seen evidence of its radiance?
Perhaps I have seen it in the sunshine
that bathes the day and warms the earth
and reflects in its waters.
I have not felt the comfort of His touch,
or, have I...
in the cleansing rain, the gentle breeze,
the caress of snowflakes?
I have not heard His voice, or does it sound like
the whisper of wind in the leaves,
the chuckle and rush of mountain streams,
and the sternness of thunder?
How can I know He lives?
He has smiled upon me, He has
touched my heart; He speaks to me.

Golden dreams and crystal bubbles
are always such a part of me,
and yet, I find I'm often the first
to see the world's cruel reality.
My dreams they keep me hanging on;
my crystal world survives.
The truth is sometimes hard to believe,
when it shows through in others' lives.
And the greatest disappointment
is the truth sometimes of my own,
as I stand back and look upon it
to see how I've changed and grown
The changes have been awesome;
the growing has been slow,
and I'm amazed at what I've gone through
to learn the things I know.
But the gold is always purest gold,
the crystal remains intact.
I still have trouble understanding
the things I find as fact.

Oconoluftee Farm tree

I cannot tell you the things of my heart,
nor can I reveal all thoughts.
Many of my dreams are still unknown to me,
as are the memories that yesterday brought.
For this is the year of the locust,
and this summer is unlike the rest.
With clear, fragile wings I ascend past the trees
and assume the response I know best....
I am flying.

I cannot hope for tomorrow's return,
nor can I prepare for its stay.
Deep are the clouds that divide my world's sky
into chasms of darkness and day.
For this is the year of the locust,
and this season is not near its end.
Slowly I awaken from my unknowing sleep
and accompany my sky-destined friend.
I am flying.

I only wish I could explain this to you,
why it somehow expresses my pain.
Is this how you feel when you close out the world
in your feeble attempt to attain?
Attain all the answers to the questions unasked?
Know all the knowledge un-thought?
See all the dreams dreamt in nights without sleep?
Remember the battles unfought?
This is the year of the locust,
and its meaning I can't understand.
Like you in your search for unfeeling,
it happens without any demand.

Newfound Gap View of North Carolina, oil 2005

It is time that reigns over this world of ours;
no man escapes its rule.
Time cannot be conquered, it will not stand still,
but it is an asset, a tool.
For only through time are dreams made realities,
only in time do we grow.
Only through time can we achieve success
and utilize the things that we know.

Only in time has this knowledge come to be--
through hours spent in study and thought,
days filled with concern, confusion, and conflict,
precious seconds that could not be bought,
the moments of enlightenment and those of realization,
learning through trials and mistakes.
They prove that time is priceless but that each accomplishment is worth
the energy and time that it takes.

Somewhere in time, each man must step aside
and view his life as it stands.
He must realize ihs achievements, lay claim to his rewards
and receive the satisfaction he demands.
At this time he must take pride in the things he has accomplished,
stand out and look at the mountains he has climbed.

I love you and I'm proud of you in so many ways,
for I know you've reached that moment,
and now is that time.

Porter's Creek

Love.
Love is a brand new thing to me --
something I've had for a long, long time.
Love is something I've plenty of
but do not keep as mine.
Love is such a happy thing;
it sometimes makes me cry.
Love gives me so much to live for --
yes, for love I'd die.
Love is a stepping stone to all of life's joys,
but it must not be walked upon.
Love often goes unrecognized
until the love is gone.
Love cannot be measured,
and yet, each day it grows.
Love is something that can't be explained,
yet something that every person knows.
Love is something I cannot touch,
and yet, to love I cling.
Love is such a paradox --
it's such a simple thing.

Spruce Flats Butterflies

Butterfly, wild and free
you know, you kinda look like me.

Frail and fluttering in autumn's warm embrace,
never truly occupying space,
never still long enough.
Lost in flight to a world unknown,
a gentle world of your own,
you seem to see things differently.
Life tries to hold you in its hand,
but you're on your way to another land
somewhere in your mind.

Man reaches out to touch your glow,
but the warmth comes from within, you know,
and it's hidden deep inside.
He crushes now your frail nervous wings,
frail, nervous, fluttering things,
and then the man finds
a very soft, warm simple being,
whose wings kept most the world from seeing,
warm and simple thing.

And then he sees what he has done,
the wings look dull now in the sun,
frail and fragile colors.
And the warm and simple is all he sees,
the wings are blown about in the breeze...
Butterflies don't last very long.

I see you, butterfly, in autumn's warm wind,
torn apart, never to mend,
frail and fluttering with too much ease,
wings blown away by autumn's warm breeze.
Just the warm and simple that no one sees,
lost, lying on the earth.

The wind was warm; the wind was strong;
no, butterflies don't really last very long.
Butterfly you look like me.

Tree tops at the Chimneys

Autumn.
Leaves are dying their glorious death.
The air is crisp and cool.
And the sun sets early.
Birds are following the warmer winds,
journeying to places I'll never see.
Summer flowers wilt away.
Caterpillars wrap themselves in winter homes.
And I, too, am becoming isolated.

Trees on Chimney Tops Trail

No matter what trials may come our way,
our love will grow deeper and stronger,
will last through this life, through eternity,
through all tomorrows to come, even longer.
Together in God's sight, we will stand side by side.
Together in spirit, wherever.
I'll love you though time may cease to exist.
I'll love you always and forever.

Walking down the road of life,
crossing bridges,
burning a few behind you.
Turning at crossroads,
making it over mountains
and through valleys.

And you're watching,
looking out for memories,
turning corners
and finding something there to remind you...
memories.

Memories of other places,
other times,
memories of others,
standing on the corners
as you walk down the road of life.

Wake Robin, pastel 2005

You're everything that makes me smile--
things like sunshine, honesty, and spring.
Your very existence makes life worthwhile,
because into my life you bring
all the things that make me whole,
all the joy life has to give,
all the wonder that fills my soul.
From moment to moment I live
just to be by your side, just to hear your voice,
just to be able to touch your hand.
Time is my enemy, I have no choice
but to try to understand
why the seconds stand still when I am without you,
why they rush on when I want them stilled.
I'm not sure what it is, but there's something special about you,
and there's a special place in my heart that you've filled
with a feeling that's deep, a feeling that's strong,
the special feeling that I am writing of,
and only to you does it belong,
this beautiful feeling --
love.

From beginnings.

Landslide Bluff at Newfound Gap, oil 2005

The little girl
who played with cats
and gathered flowers
climbed the trees
ran the fields
the sun shined on

The little girl
who hugged his neck
and tried his patience
walked the woods
asked him questions

Little Girl Gone

The little girl
who asked him, "please,"
and begged permission
to go with others
stay up late
to school at dawn

The little girl
who now is grown
and stands before him
his youngest girl
his youngest child

Little Girl Gone

From age 18

West Prong of Little Pigeon River, pastel 2004

Look out over hills and valleys.
Slip into warm lake waters.
Feel the rise and fall of ocean waves.
Hear the wind of a summer storm.
Run swiftly over mountain stream boulders.
Know the play of lightning and thunder.
And speak of God's greatest creation --
Love.

From age 18.

I remember once when I was young --
even younger than yesterday,
I tamed a butterfly, yes, I did.
At least it seemed that way.
I didn't have to catch him;
he just lit upon my finger,
and he did not fly as I walked about.
No, he lingered.
And I smiled at my butterfly friend.
Yes, he was my friend.
For when he would fly to catch the wind,
he would also fly back again.
And I could pass him from hand to hand,
and he would hold on tight.
And once I let him crawl on my nose,
and he flew away alright,
when I sneezed because it tickled.
But he flew back again.
When he decided to leave, I let him go,
because, you see, he was my friend.

From age 17

LeConte Creek Tub Mill

How can this beauty be described?
My words fall far short of the awe in my heart.
The snow, virgin in places, broken in others,
lying upon the ground, softening the roughness
of man-made monsters.
The cedars standing proudly
and contentedly under their blanket of white.
The maples' shining branches, sparkling silvery
and intricately in the light from the house.
The sky, a dull white ceiling of soft, smooth cotton,
promising a fresh falling in the morning.
My own breath chilling lazily in space.
My thoughts as fresh and cool and honest as the air,
praising the Creator of this deep winter night.

From age 17

Twin Creek Trail

Snow seems to soften
the harsh lines of everything.

I walked among the sugar-covered cedar trees,
and I heard the snow squeak like a saddle
beneath my
old worn-out tennis shoes,
and I sighed as little white flakes
brushed against my lashes.

I walked where no one had walked before,
and I looked back to see
the dogs a-followin' in my tennis shoe tracks,
and I laughed as the little one fell
and burried his nose in the snow.

I shook the limbs of sugar-covered trees
and created my own little blizzard,
and I smiled.

Snow seems to soften
the harsh lines of everything.

From age 17

Flee to the mountains.
Seek sunlight.
Desire darkness
and stars
and all the mysteries therein.
Life,
its wonders,
My love,
its faults,
and You
and the mountains
Forever.

From age 17

View from John Oliver cabin, oil 2005

Mist near Chimney Tops, oil 2005

We walked
and heard the raindrops fall;
listening to our footsteps
falling upon the leaves.
I felt you thinking.
I saw the tree limbs waver.
I realized that they knew.
My thoughts were racing,
and my heart quivered
just a little.
You did not speak.
There was no need.
I touched your thoughts.
They were wet and cool
like raindrops
or tears
that had grown cold.

From age 17

Chimneys Canopy, pastel 2004

On a late afternoon
when I was sixteen,
while the leaves were gold
and the grass was green,
I went for a walk in the late summer's air,
without a worry,
without a care.

I looked for the stars
in the afternoon sky,
not expecting to see them,
not questioning why.
I looked for the snow
on the late summer's ground,
though I knew there was none
for miles around.
I looked for the lilies,
though I knew they were gone;
I kicked at the leaves
and traveled on.

Many years later
when I had grown old,
I looked for the leaves
of crimson and gold.

From age 16

Little River at Elkmont, pastel 2004

It's good to be so young,
so wonderful to be so free,
so beautiful to know
that you're in love with me.
It's so great to be in love,
so nice to have some dreams,
so fantastic to enjoy the earth
and walk in mountain streams.

From age 16

What color is black?
Describe the clouds to me.
Take me to the mountains
and tell me what you see.
I only know what I am told
or what I hear or feel,
for I am blind to all the world
and even darkness is not real.

From age 15



Middle Prong of the Little Pigeon River at Ramsey Cascades, drawn 2005

In the sunshine I found happiness.
In the wind I found strength.
In the stream I found purpose.
In you I found love.

From age 14.

Cades Cove Field, oil 2005

Blanket Mountain Sunset, painted 2005

The trees are black against the evening sky;

the sun is melting beyond the mountains.
I sit and watch as yellow turns to orange,
as the brightness falls away.
My world is left still and mystical;
I can no longer see the blueness of the sky,
and the stars are yet to shine.
Shadows linger and merge into darkness.
My only friend is fear.
My only hope is silence.
For the flowers sleep in meadows of loneliness,
and you have followed the sun.

From age 13.

Cades Cove Bend, painted 2005

Your heart is the sun on the mountain

Your smile is the creek running free

Your eyes are the air in the woods
Your voice is the darkness of the caves
Your touch is the field growing high
Your love is my paradise
and I love you deeply...
... with summer thoughts.

From age 13.