Monday, May 13, 2013

It's been awhile since I've killed a spider with my bare hands.
It's been awhile since I've looked at the family photos in the box on the shelf.
It's been awhile since I've painted anything except walls.
It's been awhile since I've thought wearing shorts might be a good thing.
It's been awhile since I've taken a walk just because and not out of guilt or shame or the dog needing to wee on every blade of grass standing upright in the universe.
It's been awhile since I've been able to see stars without my glasses.
It's been awhile since I've looked up, actually.
...enjoyed plain vanilla with chocolate syrup without guilt.
...laughed out loud at something I thought was funny without having to explain it to someone else.
...tried to discern the difference between the "snap", "crackle" and "pop" in my cereal bowl.
...written a letter.
...written a story.
...written anything worth reading out loud.
...not wondered if it would be a waste of time if I actually spent time reading every book on my bookshelf.
...not thought about my parents.
...not wished for things that I could probably make happen with a little effort and self-discipline.
...thought about either of my ex husbands and everything that goes with that.
...enjoyed wearing pink without fear that someone will suspect I have cancer.
...called someone, just to talk, out of the blue, without texting to make sure I wasn't interrupting them.
...cried so hard I wanted to throw up.
It's been awhile since I felt like I have all the time in the world put things aside to do later.
why is that?




Sunday, October 28, 2012

prayer journal

new entry.... comments welcome.


Thursday, June 28, 2012

Thursday, June 14, 2012

resting...

"lift up your heads, you saints of the Lamb..."
Resting.
This is not a bad place to be.
Resting and learning and singing.

Learning to be comfortable with stretched boundaries, open doors and red lipstick.

Learning to fiddle around, listen for hidden things, improvise without fear and abandon myself to the joy of it all, even if I don't know the melody line or who sang this song first or best.

Learning to enjoy life's sweet things in small and tasty portions.

Singing old songs, new songs, songs from the heart and from the bottom of my soul.

Singing out loud for once, and not from the back of the choir.

Singing, even when others might be listening.

Resting in small spaces, in between, off to the side and just a step behind.

Resting in truth, promised provision, Someone Else's Plan and well worn shoes.

Resting, even if the winds kick up a notch.

Not a bad place to be.
But I'm glad this place is not my home...



Monday, February 14, 2011

pending...

When I was growing up in the Northwest, the 30's and 40's (weather-wise) were something to bundle up for and brace yourself against.
Now? Well, in the past two days I've heard the terms "heat wave", "warming trend", "Spring has arrived" and "Coat? We don't need no stinkin' coat!" used alternately and in a single sentence without taking a breath. Of course, those who know better remind the overly exuberant that we do still live in Wisconsin and it's only February and not to get too excited.
Well, I'm home sick with a cold, so today I'm a realist. But I am also hopeful, so I will post a happy Spring-like picture for those who've gotten ahead of themselves or are simply biding their time, waiting for the warmth to finally settle and stick. Which, of course, they will immediately begin complaining about and crank up the AC whilst pining away for cooler weather. Sniff. wheeze... never happy, these Mid-westerners. Where's the Pug? I need my foot warmer and another pot of tea...

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

kindred spirit

Met a young lady today who knits. She was bursting over with the joy of it: patterns to plan for, projects to dream about, wrestle with and oh, the excitement of sharing with someone else who understood the fascination, the compulsion, the sheer love and madness of the craft. She spoke of soft, squishy fiber, wooden needles that click as you go along and wondered about the meaning of and how to execute a "T3b".
What is it about taking a long skinny piece of string and messing about with sticks that brings out the twinkle in someone's eye and connects two people who've never met in such a way that you feel as if you've always known each other and could probably talk for hours even though you've just met and there are at least 35 years difference in your ages and would probably have nothing else to talk about otherwise?

Wednesday, July 07, 2010

funny...

I've been reminded lately that my life is not my own. My time, my thought life, my goals, my dreams - every breath I take was bought and paid for by the blood of the Lamb. I am NOT my own...
How many days do I fritter away, accomplishing nothing of what I imagine to be either earthly or heavenly merit? I'm not comfortable with the true answer to that question.
Even so, I am overwhelmed with the sense of His presence, even in the seemingly unimportant and frivolous moments of each day. A bit of sweetness in a random snatch of melody, heard in passing. An unexpected fresh, light breeze in the middle of a humid afternoon. A note from a friend reminding me that I am not alone and someone has been thinking of me.
Being reminded that, "before you were born, I knew you"...

funny.

I've always thought I had to be doing BIG things for God for Him to be pleased with me. Maybe it's enough to simply whisper "thank you" to the One who calls me His own and reminds me in the small things that He is so very, very close...

Saturday, June 12, 2010

oh that's right... I have a blog.

The knitting has been put on hiatus for at least 1 year so I can concentrate on other things.
The pug is still annoying.
I'm not bored with writing, just not sure what to post about anymore.
I've been working hard, and playing a bit more, too, which is a good thing.
Friday Night Worship is on vacation for the summer, so not obligated to rehearsal time - which I love and would really rather be doing nothing else BUT that, but there is eating and providing shelter for my kids - which makes work necessary, I guess.
I still feel like I need to pack for some reason... like I'm not going to be in this house for another Christmas, but I don't know why, really.
I should be doing laundry right now, or cleaning something.
Instead, I'm spending 3 hours attempting to upload photos to Facebook "successfully".
Thinking about going to my high school reunion - I've sent the money for the dinner, but i haven't bought the plane ticket yet... what does that say about me?
It says, 'you are a big fat chicken' is what it says.
I bought a new camera - one that actually makes you think, if you want to. The Princess is taking a pre-college course this summer, which includes drawing and photography. I figured her shots taken with a point-and-shoot are great...she needs something more professional to work with. Because it was expensive, it's officially mine - with visitation privileges.
I'm having fun with it, too. Next up: PhotoShop lessons.

Monday, March 01, 2010

six sentences

The swollen Molly rests in the lower left corner of the brightly lit tank, fins spinning like propellers to keep itself upright in the shallow indentation it had made in the aquarium gravel. The bulging belly, says the pet store attendant and internet photos of other bloated Mollies, will last nine weeks or so before the fry appear, wiggling free in the miracle of live birth. Kyle and I wait, heads together resting on forearms and kitchen counter, eyes forced wide to keep from missing the moment in the wee hours of the morning, together in concern and curiosity over our scaly ward.
The fish rocks and wobbles, the small round mouth opening in rhythm to the swaying, it's unblinking eyes staring past us to a focal point on the wall behind and I am in the delivery room eighteen years ago focusing, breathing, rocking, eager to meet the boy standing now so silently next to me. Focused again on the small white mouth - open, close, open, close, open.
Hearts caught in throats, the sweet soundtrack scratching to a halt just as the flutes begin to swell, we stand in disbelief, wondering if it's alright to cry when a fish dies.

(check out http://sixsentences.blogspot.com)

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

you never can tell what you'll find...

I was looking for colored pencils...