“What we do to the least of these…”

Lent, this year, has brought me into a discussion with some friends about some world issues along the theme of “What we do to the least of these…”. The discussion, at times becomes rather heated, in a good way. Tissues are very present among us as we look at the inhumanity of man around the globe. With that in mind, I felt inspired to do a series of sketches in this theme. As they say, sometimes a picture says more than a million words, and so on.  So, with that in mind, here are two of the sketches I’m working on. They are nowhere near complete, but will be in time…


The image put before us for week one was that of a little oriental girl. The discussion included how little girls are treated in China, including being killed before or at birth. It further went to a discussion of the rampant sex shops, sex-tourism, and human trafficking in Thailand. From there, the discussion came back home to our thousands of homeless children in the United States. The statistics were sobering. The reality frightening and disturbing.


Week two found us discussing homelessness both at home and abroad. At home, we discussed the sheer volume of homeless veterans… our heroes whom we’ve put down and let down in some of the worst ways. Gentleman heroes like the one in one of the images that was placed before us. It reminded me of a quote from a patch I once wore on my regalia “The Nation that forgets its defenders will itself be forgotten”. So many of these heroes have suffered some of the worst inhumanity to man imaginable. The horrors they’ve seen alone would have most of us cowering in corners. Many came home to a less than welcoming Nation, many suffer from mental and emotional issues brought on by their war experiences. And yet, we continue NOT to do all we can for them. It just sickens me….

So, Lent continues. The discussions continue, and I will be adding sketches to the series. In the meantime, I’ve got these first two to complete.  Let us not forget what our Savior died for, and let us learn to become more aware of our world and to take action to improve it for all.

Three Roads Converge…


Kampala, Uganda, Africa google map image for What Pegman Saw.


We’d walked this road for hours, jungle a handsbreath away. Axle breaking ruts filled with muddy water. Our situation was grim. We’d lost our packs two days ago. Ambushed. We were lucky to be alive… but we wouldn’t be much longer if we didn’t find drinkable water soon. Imagine dehydrating to death in the middle of a bloody rainforest!

‘Don’t think about it.’ Stephen said as he reached out to touch my shoulder.

I rolled my eyes. How did he know? How did he always know where my mind was going.

‘We found the road. There wouldn’t be roads without people. The jungle would take over too quickly.’ He paused, wiping his brow as the jungle broke into a clearing where three roads converged. ‘See, signs of civilization… literally.’

I looked at the little signs, bursting into tears as I realized what they were.


Date – hyphen – Date.


Thank you once again goes to What Pegman Saw for taking us to the beautiful continent of Africa and giving us a glimpse of the land of Uganda and it’s people. If you’ve enjoyed this little story, morbid though it is, then please, come out and enjoy some others at: https://whatpegmansaw.com/blog/ . Just follow the prompt tag to the little blue frog… your adventure awaits.



To Be So Loved… and then some more!


C. Carribean Journal


I never thought that a story written as a challenge from a friend would turn out to be such a rewarding experience. The story opens with a young girl of fifteen leaving her family, her home, and even her country to start a new life on a distant island. OldMan, who started me on this writing adventure is just eating it up as quickly as I can write it. I am shocked and amazed at all the readers who’ve come along and joined the ship as it travels on this journey. I thank them from the bottom of my heart! 🙂 ❤ Your continued likes are an encouragement to this venture.

Due to space limits, I had to move the story to it’s own page. If you’re interested in the most recent serial you can find it here at “To Be So Loved” : https://exoduschronicles.wordpress.com/2017/03/16/to-be-so-loved-34/.  You can find the story from its beginning in the Archives on the right hand side of the page. I love likes, and especially love comments. Thank you again for your continued support.


The Atomic Clock


C. Jennifer Pendergast

The rusted hulk was transported all the way from Terra Firma, decontaminated, and then mounted here. Humans still came and flocked around it, their children listening to the old stories.

‘We destroyed our world… This is the only thing that can save it.’ Mother explained.

‘But – but… It’s all rusted and doesn’t work. How can it save anything?’

‘It is a reminder to all of us who are left. Time heals all wounds, and only time will heal our world. Until then, we must live here, in this sphere and watch our world spin below.’ Mother choked on a tear.



If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/03/01/3-march-2017/



PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma


‘Catch it…Quick!’ She squealed.

He snatched up the grasshopper and held it, dangling between his fingers. ‘What do you want with this ugly thing?’

‘Just keep ‘hold of it and come on.’ She rushed him inside the building and up to their apartment. ‘Don’t let go of it.’

He stood between the kitchen area and the living room area of the dinky efficiency apartment, watching her grab a skillet, throw in some butter, and set the heat to high.

‘Seriously?’ He asked as he put two and two together.

She paused, lid at the ready. ‘Oh, yeah, tastes like chicken.’

Wc: 100

If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/03/01/3-march-2017/

Tiki at the Wheel…


The blur is Tiki-tiki enjoying her new wheel. She was chewing the bars of her cage, pacing, wringing her little paws, biting, and such. I was concerned so I did some research into hamster behavior, and emailed a local small animal vet. The conclusion: her cage was too small. So, last night, I got her a large cage with more levels and such for play. She instantly found the wheel and stayed there ALL NIGHT! She’s a happy little hammie!
Of course, sometimes she just tuckers out. At which time she just lays down in the wheel until she catches her breath. Then, it’s off to the races again.
And, none of this escapes Maryjane’s attention. She watches Tiki-tiki for hours at a time. I can only imagine the evil plans she’s formulating in that feline brain of hers…