This photograph was taken along the beautiful Shepaug river in Connecticut this month. I stood near Henry David Thoreau’s footbridge and meandered slowly. I absorbed the light as it played on the colors, listened to the sound of water as it rippled over smooth stones, inhaled deeply the smell of wet, mossy soil that arose from the trail. Later, as I paged through my photos, I was struck by this one.

It was as if brushstrokes from a paint brush had painted the water. I don’t remember capturing that. But I feel certain that God remembers painting it.

This photo made God so approachable to me. What artist doesn’t want a response to the art they offer the world? There God stands, paintbrush in hand, asking, “What do you think of this one?”

What did the Artist paint for you in October?

Words

I have been reading from The Journal of John Woolman, Quaker.

He describes a season when he faced a vocational decision in his early years. He did not want to pursue greatness in business but thought it best to learn a trade where he could live simply and be free to give his full attention to listen. The trade of a tailor made it possible for this simple Quaker to listen to God, as he would be free from the encumberment of a lucrative business.

“I saw that an humble man, with the blessing of the Lord, might live on a little, and that where the heart was set on greatness, success in business did not satisfy the craving . . . There was a care on my mind so to pass my time that nothing might hinder me from the most steady attention to the voice of the true Shepherd.”

John Woolman, The Journal of John Woolman, Quaker

Maybe you are unfamiliar with this man who was much, much more than a tailor. John Woolman, one of the early abolitionists against slavery, traveled as a persuasive leader in the Quaker church. I respond to the tone of gentleness I hear in his writings. I feel invited to seek simplicity and humility rather than wealth and renown. His choice to become a tailor was just the beginning for one who would shun exploitation of any kind, refusing silver, sugar and tea in its connection to slave labor. He traveled extensively to point out the inconsistency of a people who said they served God, but owned slaves.

“I believed the hand of Providence pointed out this business for me [being a tailor], and I was taught to be content with it, though I felt at times a disposition that would have sought for something greater; but through the revelation of Jesus Christ I had seen the happiness of humility, and there was an earnest desire in me to enter deeply into it; at times this desire arose to a degree of fervent supplication, wherein my soul was so environed with heavenly light and consolation that things were made easy to me which had been otherwise.

John Woolman, The Journal of John Woolman, Quaker

One decision of simplicity opened John Woolman to a life of listening to the Good Shepherd. Here are a few questions that arise for me:

What is a “tailor” decision I’ve made in the past or am making today?

How is this decision keeping me unencumbered with the heaviness of business and wealth?

In what ways has this decision opened me to more time to listen to God?

Are there elements in life I should “shun” to bring a voice to other’s exploitation?

People

I visited Seaman’s Chapel (New Bedford, Massachusetts) where author Herman Melville attended and referenced in his book, Moby Dick.

Fascinating.

There were “In Memory of” plaques everywhere, eulogizing sons and fathers who were lost to the sea. I can’t imagine growing up in a culture where this was a common reality for wives and daughters as they said goodbye to their fathers and brothers. Then I saw a plaque that stopped me in my tracks. If its difficult to read, here is what the plaque says:

IN MEMORY OF CAPTAIN GEORGE FRED TILTON

1861 - 1932

WHALEMAN

WHO, IN 1897, WALKED 3000 MILES THROUGH ALASKAN WINTER

TO SAVE THE LIVES OF 200 MEN ON FOUR WHALESHIPS

CAUGHT IN THE ARTIC ICE

I’m not going to say that I sense the invitation to join a whaleship. Nor do I desire to walk 3000 miles in an Alaskan winter! But I will admit that the mental strength this man had is not something I have, and I wonder if it’s an invitation.

Excuse me for a moment while I talk to George.

“Captain George Tilton, I commend you. I imagine you trudging through the snow for miles and miles. What did you eat? How did you sleep in the cold? How many days did it take you? Were you alone?

Wasn’t it tormenting to be alone?”

I can’t know Captain Tilton’s exact experiences (or hear a reply to my present questions). I cannot know what he said to himself over and over through the dark of winter. But I do know this: his crew was on his mind. He was a captain. Clearly, he was a man who took responsibility seriously.

Who do I “crew?” What mental strength have I yet to gain so I can help them in a time of need?

If other’s need a miracle, will I walk through the dark of winter on their behalf?

October’s Blessing

May you approach the Artist over the

Footbridge of Faith

To discuss with joy the colors He used

And the technique of light and sound

May you decide what’s simple

Over what’s encumbered

With fame

May your work leave room

To listen where Voice is waiting to speak

May your crew be safe

And may you be safe

As you trudge through winter’s cold

To gather sustenance for life and help for rescue

May you be mentally strong

In their time of need

© Kami Nadeen 2025

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