Summer Sparklers

The kitchen was abuzz with 4th of July dinner party chatter, everyone gathering round the island to fill  plates high.  Mine full, I glanced over at the bay seating.  Somewhat unusually, all the little kids had it pegged first.


My eyes followed on through the large windows to the deck beyond.  There, all alone at a long wooden table, sat three-year old Molly, her back to the house.

That’s funny, I thought.

Stepping outside, I greeted her.   “Hi sweetie!”

She patted a seat beside her tiny form.  “My mommy’s coming to sit next to me!” she announced, smile breaking across her face like sun on a summer daisy.

“That’s great!” I answered, slipping my plate in catty corner from her, making sure to reserve that space between us.

One by one, others came to join us, and to each one Molly flashed her ingenuous smile, informing again and again of her mom’s promise to sit next to her.

“Let’s tell stories!” her slightly older boy cousin piped up, sending lively conversations of fun and silly “remember when’s” round our group, like a game of duck, duck, goose.

Quite a bit of time elapsed, and still that spot remained, like a missing tooth, next to Molly.

Here and there, I wondered if her mom knew she was so fervently expected.  After all, she was the party hostess, probably caught up in some serving inside.  Maybe I should go find her…  But the stories, like sparklers, kept swinging my attention back to the laughter all round and I sat on.

I glanced at Molly’s face, faith and hope in her promise still beaming there like the banner of stars and stripes over the day…  until, unknowing of her little cousin’s space-holding, one of the college girls slipped her plate into that last seat beside Molly.

That one action seemed to be her last straw of hope, and without a word to explain the seat was reserved, Molly…simply…avalanched…into…tears.

“It’s okay, honey,” we all encouraged.  “Don’t worry!  Mags can move over here next to me… your mom will still have space!”

But, overwhelmed with gulping, she wasn’t hearing.

Suddenly, her dad appeared out of nowhere, right behind her.  Molly stood up on her bench seat and flung herself into his arms on a heartbroken moan, “OOOOHHHH!”

Questions spun through my thoughts as I put myself in Molly’s place. Was she feeling broken at the appearance that maybe her mom wasn’t coming after all?  Or was it that she had tried her best to save that space and now it just seemed like she was too little to accomplish that?  Her faith had been so complete, so unwavering as she continually spoke that truth out to each and every one of us at that table.  Love had promised… and of that she’d had no doubt.  But maybe… it had just taken a bit too long.

I could feel tears behind my own eyes, because I’d had that hope deferred makes the heart sick feeling myself lately.  Hanging on to the Father’s promises, declaring them out in faith, “saving that space” expectantly.  But sometimes… it just seemed like it was taking sooooo long.   Like my faith was too little, I wasn’t strong enough.   And… where was He?

I watched Molly’s dad, holding her close.  Not trying to “talk” her into anything.  Just letting her rest secure against his chest.

“That’s what I mean by ‘My power is made perfect in your weakness…’ When it seems like it will just never be, always remember…I’m ever working behind the scenes,” came a whisper to my spirit.   “Keep your eyes on the promise, for the breakthrough is near! My Word is true and unfailing!”

 Just then, the back door creaked, Molly’s mom holding it open with one elbow and one foot, plate piled high in hands, eyes filled with question.  “What’s happened?”  she asked with puzzlement and concern.

Voices vied across the table, explaining.  Someone must have taken her plate to set down as she quickly enfolded Molly in her arms.  “Oh honey,” she said, wiping her tears, “thank you for doing such a wonderful job saving my place!”

Soon, table now complete, mom and daughter hip to hip in their places, the stories and laughter resumed.   Watching Molly lean her head contentedly into her mom’s side, I smiled.  Faith, like a sunny, lemon yellow bird, fluttered its wings against my heart.

©  Pam Depoyan

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God Shed His Grace on Thee

America Flag Pageant

America, America…

And crown our good, once more, with brotherhood, O LORD…

from sea to shining sea…

Happy 4th, America!


I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people—  for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.

~ 1 Timothy 2: 1-2 NIV


sat eve post 4th of july

I love the Turn of the Century Americana of this scene in Pollyanna (my drawing up top), where the entire town gathers in Disneyland-style 4th of July celebration picnicking… with booths displaying seas of watermelon and fresh corn on the cob bob, huge homemade cakes sell by the slab, men in white suits with striped shirts and straw hats and women in long gown and parasol meander, and Hayley Mills and chums gather on a gazebo bandstand to belt out America, America…  

If you are in the U.S. — how are you celebrating this day where you live?


© Pam Depoyan

“God shed His Grace on thee,”… inspired by a scene in Disney’s Pollyanna.  Stop in and browse here – now available for purchase here:  Fourth of July Americana and  Memorable Movie Moments We Cherish

(Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)

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When you need a moment of refreshing…

 A Pretty Landscape Can Whisk You Away Like a Mini-Vacation Each Time You Look at It

England Oxford College

“Punting on the Magdalen,” River Cherwell at Magdalen College (University of Oxford), Oxford, England – now available in my newest gallery (to the right), European and UK Landscapes, Street Scenes (Full Pastel Color)


“Where is this place?” my friend asked, snatching up the print before I had a chance to show her.  “I think I’ve been there before!”

“I wondered if you had,” I smiled, knowing she once traveled quite a bit with her parents.  “It’s of England… Magdalen college at Oxford…”   


Join me for a jaunt over to England here to continue the story…



© Pam Depoyan

Stop in and browse more here – European and UK Landscapes, Street Scenes (Full Pastel Color) – to view more or purchase a print!

(Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)

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A Table Set Before Us

What’s the best thing in the world?
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;
Truth, not cruel to a friend;
Pleasure, not in haste to end;
Beauty, not self-decked and curled
Till its pride is over-plain;
Love, when, so, you’re loved again.
What’s the best thing in the world?
–Something out of it, I think.

~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

June rose


Wouldn’t it be fun if we could just imagine a place and be there?  

Wake to an indigo and gold morning rolling in from the sea along Italy’s Amalfi coast?




Breathe in the flower-shop glory set out by neighbors on a sunlit piazza in Positano… letting it linger long and lovely over us, like a breeze through a citrus grove…




Maybe wander around a peaceful part of Assisi, on such a floral-scented spring day…





If we could, maybe we’d stop and share hearts over lunch beneath a magenta umbrella arbor, much like this one…

Ponder with Elizabeth Browning what makes up the best and most refreshing and treasured moments in life… 

Bless the Lord together for leading us along paths of Hissomething out of this world – delights, setting a table of His Glory before us – in the midst of mockers on every side.

Turning our hearts from unworthy news to all that is lovely…worthy of praise…excellent… and beholding of light.


I’ve never been to Italy myself, but there is something in pictures that just whisks us across the Mediterranean, isn’t there?  🙂

Do these remind you today of a special place you’ve been,

  enjoy returning to in memory,

or imagine of journeys to come?

I’d love to hear of them…



© Pam Depoyan

Each of these drawings is from my newest “gallery” at Picture it in Pen and Ink… more being added each day.  Stop in and browse here – European and UK Landscapes, Street Scenes (Full Pastel Color) – to view more or purchase a print!

(Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)

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Beyond Time

More than most years, to me, this spring feels like being led to a key glistening on the ground in a patch of melting snow one day –  and finding that key, slipping it into the lock of a suddenly revealed door in the wall, to an amazingly perfect fit!  And thrusting that door open to a sensational secret garden growing there all this time.

A garden not just growing higgledy-piggledy there, but planned just for you, for me.

I’ve long felt it was no coincidence that a pink dogwood was planted beside my front porch – not a yellow or a white of neighboring homes — years before I would own this little cottage.  A not random jewel of love thought ahead and designed with me in mind, by Someone knowing how those rosy buds could soar my spirit and fill me with thankfulness – set there before I would even come.

Only one year ago, that lovely tree appeared to be dying.  Bare and brittle branches stuck this way and that, the few blossoms that did come forth seemed papery, crinkly and withering before they even fully bloomed.  Nothing to be done, was the consensus of those in charge of the gardening.

Well…nothing that is but — speak to it in the way the Lord spoke to the fig tree sort of prayer, I thought.   So I did – calling it to LIFE and bloom once more.  A prayer maybe even sort of buried and forgotten under the snow until a few weeks ago when I saw the first new buds appear.

And appear and appear and appear.

Lush and overflowing, every branch covered.

OHHHH, I breathed every time I sat by the window and drank in that rose haloed glory.  For three whole weeks of intense bloom.

Coincidence?  Are there really any coincidences?   I don’t think so. 

Recently, I was thinking of my favorite teacher and a of moment in an over 40-year ago classroom when for some reason her birth date came up in class conversation, and how I had filed it away in my mind.   I think it struck me at the time because it was the same month and day as a popular holiday and as a kid I simply thought it was a cool day to be born.    Just one of thousands of everyday moments over three years of taking every class I could with her… yet that memory of a date “spoken offhandedly” somehow stayed with me.

Now, having been back in touch for the first time just this past year, I thought maybe I’d surprise her with a birthday email.

“I’m not sure if I’m just conjuring this up or if today really is your birthday,” I wrote, “but if it is, I just wanted to let you know I am thinking of you and wishing you a happy day!”

“Wow, you have some memory!” she wrote back almost instantly.  “You are right and I had even forgotten all about it today…”

I couldn’t help thinking that no one should forget their special day, and how if we lived close to each other, I’d have loved to stop by with a surprise birthday bouquet…

But then again… maybe, in a way, I had.  For in God’s time, He knew and arranged for the teen me to hear and take to heart that date, in that really non-standout classroom minute  — knowing that forty plus years later He could use that remembrance to touch someone with a bit of His heart…

I don’t know that she recognizes Him in it.  But the thought of God doing that — sitting with us in that classroom and planting that fact in me – keeping the memory of it alive there for just such a time as this — and all the while seeing so many years ahead to how it could become a blessing sent “out of the blue…” stuns me with the magnitude of His knowing us inside and out…

Somehow in the words behind her words, I feel it was a blessing needed.

Letting her know.  You are not only thought of, but specifically, uniquely remembered and cherished today.

And letting me know…just how wondrously He weaves the colors and threads of tapestry in our lives – even decades ahead.

Just because He is always thinking of us.

Beyond time.

Revealing His heart in the most un-imagined ways.

And creating ways for us be a part of it… one to the other.

©  Pam Depoyan

Have you seen God’s Hand in a way that makes you recognize something He planted years ago is now revealing His tapestry in and through your life today?  I’d love to hear your stories…


Inside The Child Corner of an English Garden drawing — above: mine.  This is one of several new full color pastels in my Bluebonnet gallery at Picture it in Pen and Ink.  (Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)

See More of My Full Color drawings celebrating the beautiful bluebonnets — in my newest gallery over here:

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A Rose for you on Mom’s Day

Nobody knows this little Rose —
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it —
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey —
On its breast to lie —
Only a Bird will wonder —
Only a Breeze will sigh —
Ah Little Rose — how easy
For such as thee to die!

~ Emily Dickinson



To Mom, who walks in the Garden of all gardens…

and to all of you,

Happy Mother’s Day!

 “Most of all the other beautiful things in life come by twos and threes by dozens and hundreds. Plenty of roses, stars, sunsets, rainbows, brothers, and sisters, aunts and cousins, but only one mother in the whole world.”

— Kate Douglas Wiggin


©   Pam Depoyan

“In the Garden with Blue Enchantment,” , little child drawing above: mine.  (Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)  ) 

Celebrating moms, you can see this child portrait and more like it here:

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Oh Baby! Celebrating Moms and the Merry Month of May

Baby with Bonnett

“No,” she responded, after considering my using one of her photos as a “model” for a baby portrait idea and running it by the child’s parents.   I wasn’t soliciting a commission, simply admiring the sweet snapshot for something I wanted to create… just for the joy of it… but it wasn’t to be.

I couldn’t help slumping shoulders a bit as I read the answering email, because I’d loved the unusual shape of the baby girl’s eyes, her cute and wobbly smile beneath the old-fashioned cream bonnet, and my fingers itched to draw them.  I thought then of all my favorite artists of the vintage magazine era… all those charming, fresh-faced children they painted… and wondered if they, like Norman Rockwell, had simply invited their community of friends and acquaintances in to be models to their inspiration.   And how many “no’s” might have been sprinkled in among the “sure‘s!”   I thought I could see some of the same child subjects recurring in various scenes they’d painted, and for that, I love the people who said “yes,”  intriguing the storyteller in me… and giving me the pleasure of so many of those favorite paintings!

“Ah well,” I thought – “Maybe I can find a similar style photo to work from…”  I pondered.  Until I’d spotted the one in question, I hadn’t been on the tack of adding to my baby portrait gallery, not having any such commissioned pieces at the moment, but now the anonymous little one in ruffles and bonnet had inspired me afresh…

Mm… sometimes God can use a “no” to lead us on to even more gems than we’d yet envisioned.

For if not for that “no,” I might not have searched further — or found such other lovelies I’d long to put into illustration…

Then as I looked… there it was – the photo that inspired this new bonneted lassie – and I was smitten all over again!   Oh! That crisp white eyelet!  I love this little girl’s unusual almond-shaped eyes –  they even reminded me of the curve of lovely little birds as I drew them.  And more than just a smile for the camera, I like the wondering look on her face, as someone caught her naturally.   In her pretty white ruffles, she also reminds me of my mom creating spring dresses for my sister and I… and the familiar hum of her sewing machine in the background of so many of my childhood memories…


Continued over here… won’t you join me for the rest of this story and a May basket of baby joy?






©   Pam Depoyan

In My Eyelet Bonnet, little girl drawing above: mine.  (Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)  )

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