We have several beautiful oak trees in our yard. One is a Northern Red Oak. Its distinctive leaves look like a hand stretched out as a greeting — an incredibly happy greeting. The large leaves create an abundant canopy, shading a significant part of our yard. In the summertime, its beauty adds practical help, shielding our roof from scorching sunlight thus lessening our air conditioning expense.

Those oaks provide entertainment as well. Squirrels love trees, especially this one, because of the shower of acorns pouring onto the yard and driveway. The squirrels chase each other all through its branches, like kids playing hide and seek. I’m quite sure they are not battling over who gets the next acorn, because there is a surplus of them in the tree and on the ground.

Then, there is beauty! As Fall nears, the luscious green leaves begin a gradual transformation into spectacular splashes of color; orange, red, and brown begin to dominate their limbs. It is as if a silent sentinel is guiding the skilled hand of an invisible artist, joyfully painting the landscape.

Joyce Kilmer begins his poem, Trees, with this sentence; I think I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree... and goes on to speak more poetically than I could ever,  …a tree whose hungry mouth is prest/ Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray… Since my space won’t allow it, you’ll have to read the entire poem for its drama and beauty!

In addition to the Northern Red Oak in my yard, there are over a dozen other hardwood trees including dogwood, tulip bay, and an assortment of others. These precious trees provide our own canopy, a cooling shelter along with the beauty of the leaves. 

A wonderful advantage of living in Atlanta, called “A City in a Forest,” is because of the abundant tree canopy. While, unfortunately, some developers violate the tree ordinances in Metro Atlanta, there are rules and regulations for replacement of removed trees. A nonprofit organization here, Trees Atlanta, does a remarkable job holding off development, and lobbying for better rules for retaining our beloved tree canopy.

I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree.
Perhaps, unless the billboards fall,
I’ll never see a tree at all. 

-Ogden Nash

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2025

Little Miss Muffet Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

~written by Dr. Thomas Muffet, Physician & Entomologist of the 16th century.

According to EarthKind, Arachnophobia (the fear of spiders) is the 3rd most common of all phobias in America. Considering that there are at least 4,000 known species of spiders living in the United States, it’s not hard to see why so many people get upset about finding these pests in their homes.

Although most people do not care for spiders — either fear them or find their webs annoying, some people delight in teasing others with spiders. Near Halloween, lots of homes sport spooky decorations including fake spiders and their webs.

Yet, spiders also provide valuable benefits:

• Spiders help control flies, mosquitoes, and other pests.
• Help balance the ecosystem in both natural areas and gardens.
• Spiders are a valuable food source for birds and lizards.
• Reduce the spread of deadly diseases.

More importantly is a lesser-known fact — medical research on the medicinal value of spiders. Spiders have played a valuable role in new medical treatments. Research has discovered that spider venom has the potential to act as a safer painkiller and may be able to treat strokes, muscular dystrophy, and, of course, is used for antivenom in cases of harmful spider bites. These are among the many reasons spiders live among us.

You may remember Charlotte, the gray spider in E. B. White’s classic, Charlotte’s Web. Charlotte, Wilbur, the young pig, Templeton, the rat, and other barnyard animals form and teach friendship among the variety of barnyard animals. Charlotte, the main character teaches the valuable lesson of sacrifice for others.

This classic, written for children, carries an impactful lesson for, and is beloved by many adults as well. In fact, Charlotte’s Web reminds me of Naomi, of the biblical story of Ruth and Naomi. Both were widowed women of ancient Israel. Ruth’s late husband was Naomi’s son. Alone and because of the culture of their day, they were worse than homeless. Naomi tried her best to get Ruth to continue on, without her, so that she could find a husband for sustenance and, possibly, to have children.

Ruth refused, saying, “Oh no. I’m not leaving you. I will go with you. I will worship your God with you, and we will look after each other!” And so it was, and as it came to pass, Ruth became a link in the ancestry of Jesus. It’s in The Book.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2025

School has started. For the past two months, school supply ads have been abundant. But I have not seen any ads for back-to-school shoes. When I was growing up in Deepstep, new jeans and shoes were at the top of the list as Mother prepared for back-to-school. She always got them a tad larger than I really needed, because my feet would grow to fill those shoes during the school year. Shoes were scarce back then.

Taking care of one’s feet is essential. Melanie, our first child, needed corrective shoes. Globe Shoe Company in Savannah was the best-known establishment providing fitting for children’s corrective shoes. When Melanie’s shoes came, she stood in front of our TV and showed Mr. Rogers, “Look Mr. Rogers, I have new shoes.” She thinks that he replies, “Oh Melanie, I love them!”

Being well shod is no minor thing. Our feet, keeping us in balance and transporting us from place to place, take a severe beating. An injury to your foot can have severe consequences. George Herbert’s poem makes this dramatically clear:
For want of a nail, the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe, the horse was lost.
And for want of a horse, the rider was lost,
Being overtaken and slain by the enemy,
All for want of a horseshoe nail.

On a softer, and well, yes, more romantic note, here’s Kitty Kallen’s song — Little Things Mean a Lot.

Blow me a kiss from across the room
Say I look nice when I’m not
Touch my hair as you pass my chair
Little things mean a lot
Give me your arm as we cross the street
Call me at six on the dot
A line a day when you’re far away
Little things mean a lot

My dad was a truck driver, and he did his own maintenance and repairs. Each night after a day of hauling, he went over his truck to check every tiny detail. Attention to those details kept him from having major breakdowns while on the road. It seemed tedious to me then, but as an adult, I came to understand the immense value of his attention to details.

When the Israelites faced the Philistines, the Philistine’s warrior, Goliath, paced before them with loud vicious threats. But not young David, he selected a small stone, and with his slingshot, felled the giant.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2025

I have several loquacious friends — that’s a fifty-dollar word which means they surely do talk a lot. But I love being in their company. They are smart, talk easily — and a handful speak absolute genuine “Southern” which endears them to me. I do not enjoy being around people who yack aimlessly or are negative. Good conversation is nourishing for the soul.

“We need to talk,” can have different meanings, often depending on who says it. A friend on Facebook may say it because conversation in print can be like a bucket of bolts. It may be weighty, even useful, but lacks the texture and tenor of the spoken word. Spoken in a negative sense, it could portend unwelcome news from your boss or worse, your spouse.

I had a deaf friend who could not speak; he could utter meaningful sounds. We enhanced our conversations with hand signals (neither of us knew American Sign Language). When all else failed, he would write the word. A big smile let me know when WE understood. I usually stopped at his gas station on my trips home from college.

I always looked forward to our conversations. Our friendship depended on our attention to each other, not words not spoken. I considered our visits “our time to talk.” Looking back, I am glad I never rushed our visits. We just needed time to “talk.”

Many years ago, I learned the importance of our need to talk — to really talk. A medical article, circa 1981, reported that in times of crisis, some families fall apart. Yet, in other families in similar circumstances, the family members grow more closely knit. As it turns out, families that fell apart tended to silo, shut down, or cease talking altogether with each other.

Families that grew closer, weathering the crisis successfully, tended to talk. They talked — freely — with each other. Talking is a therapeutic means of easing anxiety and tension. They spoke of hope, often when there appeared to be little hope. Talking helped them maintain their connections, including each other’s feelings. Talking provided clues to their needs, opening windows for clarity and succor.

Jesus talked in parables. Sometimes, his followers did not understand, so he talked to them in detail. One such event was their questions about the Sower. He listened to them, then spoke with them, offering clarity.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2025

Water is both a bane and a blessing — depending on circumstances. We have had an abundance of rain this year. Atlanta is currently above normal rainfall. Not long ago a meteorologist reported a streak of rainfall every weekend for sixteen weeks. Earlier, we had a season of drought. Plants and trees glisten green and colorful, the blessing. News reports describe other areas having drastic flooding, the bane. 

Living things must have water. Sixty percent of the human body is water. To function properly, the human body must stay hydrated. Our bodies not only beg for water to drink, but also crave getting into water — the ocean, the pool, rivers, creeks, and even playing beneath yard sprinklers. Sing a strong siren song to us humans. 

Growing up, I never gave thought to the source of or need for water. Water was just always there. My first memories of water for our family go way back — from the spring down the hill from our house to a well-and-bucket, still later a pitcher pump on the back porch, and finally at long last, to a large farm water tank providing “running-water”. As I Iook back, we would have laughed ourselves silly if someone had said, “I’m going to buy a bottle of water.” Buy a bottle of water? Unthinkable!

My water bill came this week. Buying water is routine; my bill automatically deducts $$$ monthly from my bank. Routine is the problem, because I seldom think about our water usage, unless the bill goes up. Yet untold numbers of people around the world must walk to a water source to get water, usually toting home their precious liquid.

Volunteer groups around the world help by drilling village water wells. Water consumption is a problem — not only in Arizona and other western areas, but here in Georgia too. Deep wells for agricultural irrigation, golf courses, and thirsty industrial plants are seriously compromising underground water aquifers. 

There are over six hundred references to wells scattered throughout the Bible. Jacob’s well is the first and most recognized Biblical well because of Jesus’s encounter with a Samaritan woman in Samaria. Jesus revealed to the Samaritan woman that not only is physical water essential, but also that the water of the Holy Spirit leads to a life everlasting. We find this essential nourishment through our life in Christ.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2025.

In Robert Lewis Stevenson’s poem, The Swing, a few lines give a lilting sense to viewing a wall; How do you like to go up in a swing, / Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the /pleasantest thing / Ever a child can do! / Up in the air and over the wall, / Till I can see so wide, / River and trees and cattle and all / Over the countryside— It makes you want to run to the playground and swing high to get a better view of the world.

Somtimes a wall is invisible. Often in neatly manicured, pristine neighborhoods, invisible walls exist, and neighbors do not know the names of their next door neighbors. During one of the many recent devastating river floods I saw where neighbors stopped wading through their on disasters, pitched in, to help other neighbors who had even more loss. Invisible walls disappeared and arms of care and help reached out—as the poem says–/ Till (they) can see so wide/ .

Robert Frost’s poem, Mending Wall, describes two neighbors mending the stone wall between them. One neighbor quotes his grandfather, “Good fences make good neighbors.” The other neighbor speculates– Before I built a wall I’d ask to know / What I was walling in or walling out, / And to whom I was like to give offense./ Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, / That wants it down.’

The poem raises some important issues; Why is the wall there? and Why do we allow that wall. What are we walling in or walling out. Walls isolate. Gates in walls offer welcoming portals that can help nurture friendships and neighborhoods.

Life spans are trending longer now. Healthcare researchers advise reaching out to family, friends, and neighbors, and how it is important to develop a network of relationships. Medical research shows that people who who maintain and extend social relationships tend to live healthier, happier lives. Trustworthy relationships are pure gold.

I have a nucleus of friends, whom I could call at midnight desperately needing help; any one of whom would arise to help. It is priceless comfort. Such friendships often take decades to develop. On rare occasions a trustworthy friendship can develop more quickly—over shared values, interests, and gut instincts. This has happened more than once in my lifetime—one such friendship now lastiing nearly sixty years.

© Copyright Willis H. Moore 2025

Growing up in Deepstep, with my little friends at church, we sang ,”I have the Joy, Joy, Joy, down in my heart…”. We had no idea what it meant, nor could we—at that age. But it was a fun song with repetition and a bouncy tune. We sang with gusto. Not long ago I was in a conversation with some friends, one of whom was being bullied in a relationship. One person in the group offered what I thought was excellent advice; “Don’t let him steal your joy,” she said, with compassion.

Sandra L Brown, is CEO of The Institute for Relational Harm Reduction and Public Pathology Education. She wrote in Psychology Today; Happiness is future-oriented and it puts all its eggs in someone else’s basket. It is dependent on outside situations, people, or events to align with your expectations so that the end result is your happiness.  Happiness is something like a commodity that may be bought, sold, or stolen. It is external, subject to the wind, whims of others, or your own mood. Happiness is something like when a kid opens a Christmas gift; it may be tossed quickly aside, replaced, or shunned in an attempt to grasp another, shiny thing.

 Brown goes on to say, …happiness is not joy (emphasis mine) because joy is not external, it can’t be bought and it is not conditional on someone else’s behavior. In fact, joy is not contingent on anything in order to exist. Joy, by its very nature has that deep down inner peace—-that is beyond human understanding. In turbulent times, sunny times, or when the road is rocky that peace holds steady.

Married couples can find that difference between happiness and joy. As they meet and get to know each other, they are finding happiness. As trust begins to grow between them joy develops. They are growing into the stage of self-actualization. Psychologist Abraham Maslow says it is the top of “The hiearchy of human needs;” the process of realizing and fulfilling your own potential, which can lead to personal growth and a meaningful life.

Happiness needs someone or something else for reference, and can fade or fall depending on that other person. Joy is more like an Oak tree, calm with secure roots of sinking deeply into clay earth reaching a constant source of nutrients feeding its life.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2025

“Imposter Syndrome:” according to Health and Balance Guide Imposter syndrome is when you doubt your own skills and successes. You feel you’re not as talented or worthy as others believe, and you’re scared that one day, people will realize that. It is not a mental health diagnosis. It can hobble your well being.

Pretender is a similar word, but not malicious. There is a difference between The Imposter Syndrome, and an Imposter. Buck Ram wrote a song for The Platters, The Great Pretender. who made it a number one hit in 1955. Imposter and Pretender are often used interchangeably. Specifically, an imposter implies a more sinister motive. My college roommate was an Evis Presley impersonator, which thrilled my tween-teen youth group. His was not parody, nor is there usually any among most of the professional Elvis mimic entertainers.

The Imposter Syndrome usually means that the person has risen to heights never dreamed of and fears she/he doesn’t deserve it. I have a friend who, upon graduating college, applied for an entry-level job, but was needed in another position, a dream-job. As a result, it launched an astonishing future. A person arriving at such an accomplishment, may feel, “I don’t know how I got here, Do I deserve this choice position?”

Then, there is the person, like a recent Congressman, who forged his resume, rose dramatically on lies, and becoming a convicted felon, was kicked out of Congress. He was an imposter, of the worse sort. Then, there is someone like Mary Prince, from Plains GA. She came from humble circumstances, was asked to care for Amy and Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter’s baby. She grew into the magnificant caretaker, and later cherished author, but was unpretentious.

Great integrity, persistence, and clear focus can help anyone to significant achievement. A person who chooses wisely with authentic honesty can be successful. Shakespeare put it plainly, in Act 1, Scene 3 of Hamlet; “To thine own self be true” is spoken by Polonius, giving advice to his son Laertes before he leaves for university.

The Apostle Paul speaks to this in clear terms, as he advises; Don’t let the world around you squeeze you into its own mould, but let God re-mould your minds from within… It is that inner core that grows the strength of moral fiber.

Copyright © Willis H. Moore 2025

A call in the night can jolt you in your jammies—-even if you’re expecting it; you are awake and waiting to hear; — your fledgling college student arrived on campus safely, the final report from the hospital as a family member retires for the night. It doesn’t matter; your circadian rhythm has already kicked in;— your whole body has begun whatever relaxing it can do beginning to rest.

When a call in the night is expected, you wait eagerly for it. Back in the day, you would sit by the telephone eagerly awaiting the news. If awaiting a report of a new baby, unless you had an extension phone (that was another phone on the same line–this paragraph is in code for those born in the 21st century), the family gathered around the phone, like a moth to a flame, to get the news as quickly and as directly as possible. Depression Babies, and a few Baby Boomers remember the Party Line, which added excitement every time the phone rang.

If you want to take a really deep dip into early telephones and their usage, visit The Georgia Rural Telephone Museum In Leslie. GA, not far from President Jimmy Carter’s home in Plains, GA. His having been President skyrocketed Sumpter County straight into 21st century communications. But I digress.

I have made a couple of calls in the night. I remember the earliest call in the night I made; when Melanie was born —four weeks early. I called my former roommate at 4:00 a.m. He was not only astonished, but being single, had no concept of my enthusiastic call–he was still single. Only emergencies should qualify for a call in the night.

With smart phones, we can now avoid annoying calls. It is wonderful. Speaking of our circadian rhythms, it is not only calls in the night that upset our sleep; it is staring at a blue screen, whether on the TV, Computer, or cell phone which can dramatically interrupt our sleep patterns.

Young Samuel, an apprentice in the Temple was awakened in the night. He thought old Eli called him. It was not Eli. After sending the kid back to bed a few times, Eli told him to listen. It could be God’s voice. As it turned out. It was a dramatic call in the night. A call to Samuel’s life vocation.

Copyright © Willis H. Moore 2025

I climbed trees when I was growing up. A Chinaberry tree grew near our front porch. Lower limbs made it easy to climb that tree. One limb was an excellent place to practice “chin-ups”! My cousin, Donald, tackled challenges in his grandfather’s yard, climbing huge, sturdy hardwood trees. At their tops, it felt like seeing beyond the horizon!

Along the dirt road in front of our house was a prolific stand of rogue Sweetgum saplings between the road and field. Tall, slender, and limber, they were alluring to my cousin Donald and me. It was great fun in climbing them. The top would bend dramatically. Holding on, I would swing my feet to the side, the sapling would bend, swinging me over the sandy road. Timed it accurately, you turned loose and dropped onto the sandy road beneath. Sometimes the treetop broke off; I still dropped onto the sandy road. Thus, simply one less tree for climbing. Full disclosure: those trees were unwanted saplings, already interfering with the fence line; so no offense.

There is something about climbing trees that can wonderfully enrich childhood. The challenge, discernment, and excitement touch on so many brain (and muscle) cells. Growing up in the country, I was surrounded by trees, it was easy to choose a tree to climb—and decide if I should; Grandmother’s cherry tree (weak limbs) was an absolute “No-ne” inspite of it’s attraction.

In our first year of marriage, Paige and I lived in Coastal Georgia. We enjoyed flying kites on the beach. It was easy—there was always a sturdy breeze and the beach was fun. One Saturday afternoon, while flying a kite, I was careless with the kite and it landed in the fronds of a palm tree. Trying to impress my new bride, I shimmied up the palm tree in my shorts. I had not thought clearly about climbing a palm tree in my shorts. My bare skin gathered spines from the palm tree. So instead of being impressed, Paige became first-aid-nurse for my tortured legs when we got home.

Jesus told a funny story about climbing trees, Zacchaeus wanted badly to see and talk to Jesus; public official that he was, he willingly embarrassed himself and climbed a tree to catch a close view of Jesus. He not only got to talk to Jesus, he also got a dinner invitation.

Copyright © Willis H. Moore 2025