45 Pines

1.27.12

2012-01-28T06:13:00.002-05:00

{lost}

1.26.12

2012-01-28T06:10:00.002-05:00

{messy ~ not the good kind}

{a little better}

1.25.12

2012-01-26T04:23:00.000-05:00

{and this is how you find that your mother had surgery. . .with complications}

I Found A Lie

2012-01-25T05:39:00.003-05:00

I found a lie inside my heart.
It said that the body of Christ didn't matter.

It said that only the blood -
Only that elusive spirit of Jesus
would be enough
for the absolution for my soul.

And I could do that much on my own.

So I chased that mist
which was breathed and blown
by the movement of the wind.

I chased the dance
of his creative soul.

alone

Then I realized
that grace is never about giving
me what I want. . .

That's a silent hallelujah.

So all I want to say is this -

Don’t give up
on this thing called church.
This body of Christ -
It's as simple as a gathering of hearts across the distance.

It is more than sitting and standing and unanimous voices of song.
And it is more than fancy words.

Life will continue in its
strenuous
aching
briefness.

But there is glory. There is love,

and this,
this body of Christ,

it is a Good God’s dream.

{written after a long struggle to find my place in a faith community - and to celebrate becoming a covenant member of Journey at Christ Church}

1.24.12

2012-01-25T05:31:00.000-05:00

{messy}

1.23.12

2012-01-24T05:34:00.000-05:00

{lunch fortune}

1.22.12

2012-01-23T05:31:00.002-05:00

{nap time}

1.21.12

2012-01-21T17:15:00.002-05:00

{photography installation}

1.20.12

2012-01-20T19:35:00.001-05:00

{a secret message}

1.19.12

2012-01-20T05:33:00.001-05:00

{it's $3.69 one day and $3.29 the next. i only had $10 on me today.

guess i picked the right day to spend it.}

1.18.12

2012-01-19T05:24:00.000-05:00

{heather defaced my renoir}

1.17.12

2012-01-18T04:27:00.000-05:00

{preparing for my first, and likely only, photography showing! i'm putting together some matted prints to be shown for awhile at Journey}

1.16.12

2012-01-17T05:39:00.002-05:00

{homemade cinnamon rolls}

1.15.12

2012-01-16T07:14:00.003-05:00

{the altar table at Journey at Christ Church}

1.14.12

2012-01-15T04:32:00.000-05:00

{for $5.95 each my karma is intact with a live trap. let's just pray mice like peanut butter}

Winter Morning

2012-01-14T19:23:00.001-05:00

the dog and I step into the silence
of before light

he takes a deep breath -
the scent of winter visible
in his joy

the moon is a fingernail of light

the bony fingers
of the walnut tree seem
stitched into the prospect of the sky

our little corner of earth's
bounty
is
fallow. dormant. resting. bare.

there is a holiness
found in resting.

and a promise of being
restored.

written and submitted at Abbey of the Arts

1.13.12

2012-01-14T05:36:00.002-05:00

{"abandon hope, {of good hair anyway} all ye who enter here. . ." it was -2 with winds over 25 mph here today!}

1.12.12

2012-01-13T04:58:00.001-05:00

{while wiping muddy paws this morning i heard samson's hip pop. he's been limping a little every since. i feel terrible but hope some rimadyl will do the trick}

1.11.12

2012-01-12T05:22:00.003-05:00

{my friend Frank, who inspires me to keep trying this Project 365 thing; who had a big part in helping me the job that just might have saved my life}

1.10.12

2012-01-11T05:21:00.000-05:00

{buddha light}

1.9.12

2012-01-10T04:47:00.002-05:00

{broken phone, six days from being eligible for an upgrade. . .}

1.8.12

2012-01-09T04:26:00.003-05:00

{mya, the black lab puppy next door • they got her at halloween after losing their 11 year old black lab chloe}

Word

2012-01-08T06:28:00.004-05:00

Being up at 4 a.m. every day has it's upside. I guess. Lots of time to stumble upon things on the internet that really make me think. And smile. And question. And occasionally laugh out loud.

I found Jim LePage this morning. And he made me do all these things. In a nutshell, he's a graphic designer who's project Word took each book of the Bible and summarized it in one, bold graphic. I'm in love. . .

And in case you don't "get" this one from 1 Timothy 2:11 –

"A woman should learn in quietness and full submission. Do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet."

More of his work I love. . .

Go. Look. Buy. I am.

1.7.12

2012-01-08T04:55:00.001-05:00

{winter angel • maple grove cemetery}

What Happens to the Questions

2012-01-07T04:03:00.003-05:00

what happens to all

the questions that go

unanswered?

all the whys

the how comes

the what if i had onlys

what space do they

fill?

what mirror reveals

their reflection?

sometimes i think they

wait in my dreams

to smother me with

their weight and heft

while i

restlessly

ponder what doesn't matter

anymore

and maybe never did

perhaps the old unanswered questions

are the mists that settle like dust

on grandmothers furniture

are they waiting for me to write

my name in their legacy?

here is what i think

these questions that have

no answers –

with time

they disband, dissolve, disperse

and become the compost

that feeds the dreams of my soul

1.6.12

2012-01-07T03:52:00.003-05:00

{it was 60 degrees on January 6! • sitting on the porch with no coat in ohio!}

A Joyful Mind

2012-01-06T05:18:00.003-05:00

What might a joyful mind be?

When your mind does not need to be right.

When you no longer need to compare yourself with others.

When you no longer need to compete — not even in your own head.

When your mind can be creative, but without needing anyone to know.

When you can live in contentment with whatever the moment offers.

When you do not need to analyze or judge things in or out, positive or negative.

When your mind does not need to be in charge, but can serve the moment with gracious and affirming information.

When your mind follows the intelligent lead of your heart.

When your mind is curious and interested, not suspicious and interrogating.

When your mind does not 'brood over injuries.'

When you do not need to humiliate, critique, or defeat those who have hurt you — not even in your mind.

When your mind does not need to create self-justifying story lines.

When your mind does not need the future to be better than today.

When your mind can let go of obsessive or negative thoughts.

When your mind can think well of itself, but without needing to.

When your mind can accept yourself as you are, warts and all.

When your mind can surrender to what is.

When your mind does not divide and always condemn one side or group.

When your mind can find truth on both sides.

When your mind fills in the gaps with 'the benefit of the doubt' for both friend and enemy.

When your mind can critique and also detach from the critique.

When your mind can wait, listen, and learn.

When your mind can live satisfied without resolution or closure.

When your mind can forgive and actually 'forget.'

When your mind can admit it was wrong and change.

When your mind can stop judging and critiquing itself.

When you don't need to complain or worry to get motivated.

When you can observe your mind contracting into self-preservation or self-validation, and then laugh or weep over it.

When you can actually love with your mind.

When your mind can find God in all things.

An Excerpt from The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See by Richard Rohr

1.5.12

2012-01-06T05:15:00.000-05:00

{there's a mouse moving in to the bathroom drawer}

Getting Real

2012-01-05T04:52:00.005-05:00

Last night I was too tired to do anything productive so I was just bumping around on the internet when I found this site – What Real Women Look Like. I've known for a long time that I don't have an accurate inner picture of my body. {i won't say my self because i believe my self and my body are not interchangeable concepts} Walking down the street, or seeing someone in a store who I think is my size and shape, I will say to Ali, "Do I look like her?" Usually she will laugh and say no, but what I'm really trying to do is sort out my inner perception of my body.

I don't remember a time when my body wasn't big and shameful.

From fourth grade on I've always been the big girl. Taller than everyone else, I got boobs way before the rest of the crowd. I've always worn baggy clothes to hide them. I've never been terribly overweight but I've never been comfortable with myself. My whole life I've felt awkward and less than graceful.

So, I arrive at my 47th year weighing 170 pounds at 5'8" and I have no idea what I really look like.

This body image gallery asked women to take a real photo of themselves and submit it so that other women can begin to see what "real women look like." Not models selling clothes. Not actresses selling sex. Not fake women trying to sell us a diet version of bliss. Real women.

This is a real woman who is 5'8" and weighs 172.

I thought she was lying until I looked at the rest of the women who were the same height and weight. Then I started kind of frantically looking through the rest of the galleries looking for someone who matched the inner perception of myself.

Here is what I think I look like.

Don't misunderstand me. The part that's troubling me isn't whether I look like this woman. {who is courageous enough to tell the truth about her body} The problem is my inner perception. . . My inner picture tells me that I weigh 70 pounds more than I really do.

70 pounds??

And apparently I'm not alone. The purpose of this website, which is now getting attention from all over the world, is to give women a clearer picture of themselves. I have to admit that I'm shocked at my own inner distortion. When I woke up this morning it was the first thing to come to mind.

The next hurdle? Now that I have this information, what in the world do I do with it?

1.4.12

2012-01-05T04:41:00.002-05:00

{part of the snowman display i created for the school office}

A Messy Book of Days

2012-01-04T05:07:00.003-05:00

To begin this year of messy I'm loosely following this year-long, online art experiment called 2012 Book of Days. The woman who is doing this huge outpouring of creativity is Effy Wild and her website's tag line is "flinging glitter and taking names." Sound messy enough?! So far it has been much, much fun beginning the project with people from all over the world - and did I mention it was free??

I'm beginning to be able to put 2011 away. I realized while I was working on my Book of Days journal cover that getting the new job in August might have saved my life - at least my spiritual being. I'm feeling a little of the old creative joy returning.

Here is the cover of my new journal. {this whole are journaling thing is completely new to me, so be kind!} I took an old hymnal – how's that for symbolic – and am remaking it into something else, while still allowing the old notes to shine through.

The poem on the front is "Bluebird" by Charles Bukowski.

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say, stay in there, I'm not going

to let anybody see

you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I pour whiskey on him and inhale

cigarette smoke

and the whores and the bartenders

and the grocery clerks

never know that

he's

in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say,

stay down, do you want to mess

me up?

you want to screw up the

works?

you want to blow my book sales in

Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too clever, I only let him out

at night sometimes

when everybody's asleep.

I say, I know that you're there,

so don't be

sad.

then I put him back,

but he's singing a little

in there, I haven't quite let him

die

and we sleep together like

that

with our

secret pact

and it's nice enough to

make a man

weep, but I don't

weep, do

you?

1.3.12

2012-01-04T04:59:00.003-05:00

{izzy finishing up my lunch preparations}

my word

2012-01-03T04:41:00.000-05:00

A single word can be a powerful thing. It can be the ripple in the pond that changes everything. It can be sharp and biting or rich and soft and slow. From my own experience, it can be a spark for enriching your life.

In 2009, I chose one word for myself - a word that I could focus, meditate and reflect on as I went about my daily life. That year I chose gentle. It was a great choice and influenced me in ways I still feel. In 2010 I chose vitality. Again, a very good selection. It was motivating and kept me feeling alive.

I didn't choose a word to guide my 2011. {perhaps that's one of the things that i did wrong last year?}

These little words have been, simultaneously, what I needed and what I didn't know I needed. They've helped me to breathe deeper, to see clearer, and to grow.

I did not choose this year's word. It chose me. It's a word that makes me feel all clinchy and uncomfortable. It's a word that strips me of control. It's a word that conjures freedom, creativity and chaos. It's a word I desperately need, but don't really approve of. My word for 2012 is messy.

messy |ˈmesē|

adjective

sullied, spotted, stained, smeared, smudged;

disheveled, scruffy, unkempt, rumpled, matted, tousled;

bedraggled, tangled, disorderly;

in a muddle, chaotic, confused, disorganized, in disarray;

untidy, cluttered, in a jumble;

complex, intricate, tangled, confused, convoluted

confused and difficult to deal with

Lord help me. . .no doubt it's exactly what I need. . .

1.2.12

2012-01-02T18:14:00.004-05:00

{delilah's eyes • shot with Hipstamatic on my iPad}

i did

2012-01-02T06:05:00.004-05:00

I'm not sorry to see 2011 go. I'm sure I'm not alone in that sentiment but, as a person who tries to be a "glass half full" kind of girl, it's tough for me to admit that 2011 was mostly a "glass half empty" kind of year.

Rather than dwell on all the things that 2011 wasn't, I'd like to release it with some kind of dignity and move on. I feel no need to critique, scold or berate myself any longer. {i'm quite sure I will have plenty of opportunity to do that later. . .}

Every brand new year offers this rush of optimization, tweaking, improvements and overhauls. It's all too much, too quick. So here I sit, wanting to honor 2011 while dipping my toes carefully into 2012 and not getting overwhelmed. My solution is to make a 2011 "i did" list. {and there won't be a single "i didn't" to be found!}

here's what i did in 2011 {in no particular order. . .}

1. i told the truth. not always easy but quite spiritually freeing.

2. i struggled with depression but i'm pretty sure it didn't win.

3. i accepted the challenge from my pastor {his facebook words might not have been directed at me, but i felt the sting of conviction in them, so they might as well have been} and i stepped up when he said, "those who are content will never effect change. those who are discontent and walk away from the problem won't either. be part of the solution."

4. i studied my mistakes. i pray that i learned life lessons from them.

5. i laughed. often at myself.

6. i wrote.

7. i won a blue ribbon for photography.

8. i read a lot of books.

9. i almost became a mama.

10. i "kept calm and carried on."

11. i mostly quit watching television.

12. i got a new job that just might have been my salvation.

13. i made new friends.

14. i kept my old friends, at least all the ones i started 2011 with.

15. i survived.

See ya later, 2011. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. . .

1.1.12

2012-01-01T16:23:00.001-05:00

{2012 n. main st., findlay • Happy 2012!}

Silence

2011-12-30T08:07:00.000-05:00

a week of no words.

unexplained, not on purpose,

the silence just descending.

stories stopping mid sentence,

poems hanging

mid thought

mid breath

mid wish

words clinging by ragged fingernails to what

was.

The Best Christmas Card. Ever.

2011-12-22T04:26:00.003-05:00

{the front - it didn't scan very well because it's three dimensional}

{the inside. . .}

Friendship {Day 15}

2011-12-21T04:52:00.003-05:00

Day 15: What kind of friend do you want to be in 2012?

In 2012 I could be a better friend in quite a few ways, with quite a few people – I could be more open. I could be more generous with my spirit. I could be more responsive and less afraid of pain.

But, at least for right now, I'm going to sit right here with my book and my coffee and be a better friend to myself.

Let's Do Lunch {Day 14}

2011-12-20T04:45:00.003-05:00

Day 14: If you could have lunch with anyone who would it be?

Only one person? This is easy.

My gramma.

But let's say we get to have a lunch party. . . now here's my invitation list!

Jimmy Carter (he left the Southern Baptist Church because of their treatment of women, among many other things I admire him for!)

Amelia Earhart (I went through a phase in my early teens where I was completely fascinated with her)

Alton Brown (who would cook!)

Maya Angelou (no explanation necessary!)

Jon Stewart (witty, smart, a great conversationalist)

Mary Oliver (having two poets can't be a bad thing)

Marie Alford-Harkey (my extremely bright, interesting friend)

Bill Clinton (we need more men at the party and he would have great stories)

My friend Steve (who I would love to watch work this room!)

Loathing: In Perspective {Day 13}

2011-12-18T05:28:00.003-05:00

Day 13: Who or what did you loathe in 2011 and how have you expressed it? {i try to make it a practice not to get too involved with things that bring out loathing. . . but here goes.}

Loathed: {kind of a strong word, don't you think?}

The financial industry in general - corporate banks in particular

Corporate Boards of Director and most CEO's

Television - If you don't count sports, I watch less than an hour a week.

Intolerance

Close-mindedness

Strongly Disliked:

the Republican party

the Tea Party

Fox News - I only get my news from NPR

Bitterness - in people, not food (see: Republicans, Tea Party and Fox News)

Feared:

Nonchalance

Going to the doctor

Just Found to be Bothersome:

The Democratic party (see: nonchalance)

Insomnia

A cough that wouldn't go away

Dogs and mud - when combined in my kitchen

Organized religion (see: Corporate Boards of Director and CEO's)

Pet Peeves:

Wasting time

Liars

Mean people

Bad grammar

Squeamish About:

Dead squirrels

Vomit (mostly the noise that comes just before the vomit, if I'm being specific)

The Bane of my Existence:

Laundry

A dirty kitchen floor (see: dogs and mud)

Middle age spread

Getting up too early (see: insomnia)

Fear

Loathing (see: wasting time)

Fear {Day 12}

2011-12-16T18:21:00.001-05:00

Day 12: What scared you this year? Did it teach you anything new about yourself?

Standing still and remembering the things I’ve lost.

Moving forward and forgetting the things I’ve found.

The black and white that can be truth.

The fact that grey is most often more like it.

Not knowing.

Knowing too much.

I learned to balance the neither/both –

the tension that is the space between

true

and

false.

Less {Day11}

2011-12-14T04:46:00.004-05:00

Day 11: What do you need less of in 2012?

i can pick many things  the whole world could do without in 2012:

war. poverty. hunger.

intolerance. abuse. disease.

hatred. cruelty. disaster.

violence. indifference.

inertia. lies.

after that is resolved,

all the things i don’t need?

well, they’re just

things.

More {Day 10}

2011-12-13T04:48:00.001-05:00

Day 10: What do you wish you had done more of in 2011?

laughed until tears poured down my face.

moved faster and harder and further.

watched the shadows dance.

hugged.

believed.

laid in the grass and stared at the clouds.

trusted in the grace of the divine.

said i love you.

listened to all of the music that i love.

worried less and smiled more.

read books until the wee hours of the morning.

accepted.

held hands beneath the stars.

spent lazy nowhere-to-be time with my family.

given less time to work and more time to love.

kissed.

ignored the clock and the calendar.

invited the birds inside.

collected all the words that spill from my mind.

nothing.

Superpower! {Day 9}

2011-12-12T05:33:00.004-05:00

Day 9: What was your 2011 superpower?

Smack in the throes of a year that I didn't really feel like myself in many ways the kitchen remained my place of contentment. I come from a long line of women who can cook and I find the kitchen a place of rituals that are comforting. From making a cup of tea to putting together a birthday dinner for company, there is nowhere that I feel more at ease than in the kitchen.

I think the challenge for the coming year is to push myself by relying less on recipes and more on creativity when I cook. I'm slowing moving away from following a recipe step by step to thinking intuitively about what should come next and what might make a nice flavor combination.

On Saturday, Ali and I were in the car listening to The Splendid Table with Lynn Rosetto Kasper on NPR. She is such a poet with food and she was explaining to a young man who wanted to impress his girlfriend with a meal how he could easily make Fettucini Alfredo. She laid out the steps, without amounts of ingredients, just beautiful descriptions. I looked over at Ali and she (who can't cook a lick) was entranced. She looked at me and said, "I want that!" We got the ingredients and with very little help from me, she did it.

I feel at home in the kitchen. And I like that.

My Best {Day 8}

2011-12-10T05:21:00.005-05:00

Day 8: What was your best photograph this year?

The judge at the Hancock County Fair thought it was this one and gave it a blue ribbon in the Human Interest category. I don't think it's all that great.

I like this one better.

And this one.

And this one too. But for different reasons. . . ;)

Ordinary Joy {day 7}

2011-12-09T05:11:00.002-05:00

Angel in the Window, a photo by piketanya on Flickr.

Day 7: Take us back to a day this year that you experienced joy.

I thought of quite a few days this past year that joy found me. The morning we did our first positive pregnancy test. The afternoon I was sure I got the new job and could barely see to drive through my tears. Watching Samson play in the water at Donnell Pond. Seeing the cardinal on the roof and watching him, watching me.

I know lots of people who are busy chasing joy.

I try to let joy find me. But I have to pay attention.

It usually finds me in the ordinariness.

It finds me in the kitchen making dinner and noticing the scent of the tomatoes when they are ripe and good. It finds me in the dancing snowflakes illuminated only in the streetlights in front of our house at night. It finds me in the muddy footprints of a dog, so excited to come in and get his bone that he can't wait to get his feet wiped off. It finds me in the silence of a flickering candle. It finds me in a song.

And ordinary joy found me one day, late in the summer, driving home with a car full of dogs tired from the park. We passed a country church and out of the corner of my eye I saw an angel with her back to the window. She looked so beautiful and yet so perfectly mundane.

I wondered what she was waiting for, standing there in the window like that.

Maybe it was to show us joy.

Addition Through Subtraction {Day 6}

2011-12-08T05:07:00.002-05:00

Day 6: What have you let go of this year? {the need to understand everyone else's noise} And what has that subtraction added to your life? {a little more peaceful silence}

a bird is my muse and her name is silence.

she makes her nest in inconvenient places

and i have to track her down and remind her

that her home should be with me.

i look her in the eye and i search for truth.

i expect her to look back at me and

we wait to see who will blink first.

i want to be a teller of truths.

hurtful,

funny,

sad and quick.

i follow her flights

and i write what she tells me

on the palms of my hands.

sometimes these truths fade

and sometimes they get mixed into

all the lifelines that crisscross

like star paths in the evening sky.

i mark the curves of the universe

and i hold my palms open

waiting for the all that is real to appear

Sound Track {Reverb 11 : Day 5}

2011-12-07T04:38:00.001-05:00

Day 5: What was your soundtrack for 2011? What songs were on repeat most?

This one was tough for me because I love music so much. To be honest, besides writing, music is my primary form of worship.

1. Through Smoke by Needtobreathe

Why it means something to me - there are an awful lot of people who chose to believe what is convenient instead of asking for what is true

2. Timshel by Mumford and Sons

Why it means something to me - life gives you choices. you get to choose how you react to pain. you transform it or it defines you. it's as simple {and as hard} as that.

3. Where I Stood - Missy Higgins

4. Undo Me by Jennifer Knapp

Why it means something to me - christian. loved her music for the last ten years. then this year she came out as a lesbian and released a new album. Undo Me is my fave. . . and did I mention she likes girls?

Five Guilty Pleasures {Reverb 11 : Day 4}

2011-12-06T05:02:00.002-05:00

{i had trouble finding things i feel guilty about. . .so mostly, these are just pleasures. . .except for number 5!}

1. I start every day by waking up and finding Sammy at the foot of the bed. He feels me stirring and wiggles his way up to lay tightly up against my body with his head on my chest. I spend the first five minutes of my day petting and him and scratching his ears and generally bonding with him before our collective six feet hit the floor for the first time in the morning. I read somewhere that doing something that brings quiet joy adds to the symphony of the universe. In these moments I hear music.

2. Sometimes I complain about being up at 4:30 in the morning but secretly I like it. I enjoy the solitude of spending the first few hours of the day alone. In the spring and summer I can't wait to have coffee on the porch, watching the sun rise and listening to the birds wake and sing.

3. Drinking orange juice straight out of the carton, with the refrigerator door still open. {it tastes sweeter that way}

4. Homemade peppermint and eucalyptus soap. It makes me smile every morning in the shower, not only because it smells heavenly, but because I made it myself. Making soap is like cooking on steroids - you get to wear elbow length, extra heavy duty gloves and goggles!

5. Nutella {need I say more?}

A Single Moment {Reverb 11 :: Day 3}

2011-12-05T19:05:00.002-05:00

Day 3: Tell about one moment in time this year that you will never forget.

At some point in the summer I started reading "God in the Yard: Spiritual Practice for the Rest of Us" by L.L. Burkat. The premise of the book is that the author spent time sitting, every day - rain or shine, snow or sunshine - in her back yard. She did it, looking for God. Her assertion that there were other ways than the classical spiritual disciplines that one could experience the presence of God was intriguing to me.

So, over the summer we redid our front porch to make it a little more "sitting friendly." We put a small table and two chairs on our tiny porch, looking out over our gardens. We started eating all our meals out there and I started just sitting and watching for God. In the waning days of summer we took to calling our little porch refuge "Paradise."

The exact moment that I will never forget came one evening after dinner. The tiny table had been cleared. The sun was setting and I was studying the potted plants right in front of me. Earlier I had noticed that we had a "volunteer" tomato plant that had found life in the pot of rosemary. It was stubborn little tomato, growing taller by the day and, even though it had absolutely no chance of ever bearing fruit because of its late start in life, it was busy making all kinds of little tomato blossoms as though it had all the time in the world. I had been watching that stubborn little plant, dancing in the breeze for weeks, but that night I noticed its shadow.

The shadow of that plant was beautiful. I saw the outline of every leaf. Every bump and wiggled stem. Every mapline of life was right there in front of me in black and white relief. For just a few moments I saw that tomato plant as more than the sum of its parts. It became art. And at that moment I woke up to the artistic power of shadows.

Now I see patterns in shadows everywhere. And often they are far more beautiful than what gave birth to them.

Leonardo DaVinci once said, "Do not despise my opinion when I remind you that it should not be hard for you to stop sometimes and look into the stains of walls, or ashes, or a fire, or clouds, or mud or like places, in which, if you consider them well, you may find really marvelous ideas. . . By indistinct things the mind is stimulated to new inventions."

She Will Hear A Different Song {Reverb 11: Day 2}

2011-12-04T06:05:00.002-05:00

Day 2: If you could chose one thing your child will do or experience in a different way than you have, what would it be and why?

the hymn that i heard

sung by a tired choir in

tunes that were flat with accusation

sharp with prickles of fear

who do you think you are

you are no one

you are nothing

you are just a girl

the refrain of your childhood

to be hummed and sung

shouted and whispered -

you are good

you are wise

you are loved

it will be written in your palms

embossed on your heart

you are good

you are wise

you are loved

now

and every tomorrow

Wanderer {Reverb 11::Day 1}

2011-12-03T06:35:00.003-05:00

"May you finish 2011 well and may 2012 be filled with amazing possibilities."

I saw this as a Facebook post on a friends page the other day and I wondered how I could live this into reality for myself. Nothing was really resounding with my heart. Until this morning. Surfing around the internet at 4 AM on a sleepless {night? morning?} I found these writing prompts. One for every day of December, encouraging the writer to look back at 2011 with honest clarity and look forward to living 2012 with some kind of intentional joy.

Maybe because I've felt lost since May, perhaps because I need an assigment to feel motivated, my soul wants to "finish 2011 well."

Day 1 - One Word. Encapsulate the year 2011 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2012 for you?

My one word came easily. It's wanderer. Not a word I'm comfortable with and certainly not a word I would have chosen for myself at the beginning of 2011. I like paths. I resonate with plans and stability; directions and clear-cut formulas. {hence needing writing prompts to actually plant the seat of my pants in a chair and put pen to paper to clear out my head}

And this year has had few formulas, directions or prompts.

I got a new job - which I adore - but getting that new job meant more hours, more stress and less time for pondering and writing. It also meant leaving something I was comfortable with and moving into this unknown year of learning the expectations of new tasks, new people and new routines.

I navigated the very turbulent waters of extreme financial stress with no one to tell me how it would all resolve itself in the end. To date, this has been the most gut-wrenching, failure-inducing, painful thing of my life.

It seems, in this past year, that I've left the institution of church and am wandering in this new place of finding a spiritual home that doesn't oppress and choke my soul.

Together, Ali and I are wandering the path that may {or may not} lead to motherhood. This year we got pregnant on our first try with artificial insemination and miscarried about a month and a half later. Since, we've tried three more times without success.

And so, I arrive at the beginning of December bone-tired.

But with this nagging desire to "finish 211 well and enter into 2012 recognizing amazing possibilities."

As I sit here and wrestle with these words, who's journey from my brain to fingers seems so rusty and slow, the phrase "all who wander are not lost" comes to me. Turns out those are the thoughts of J.R.R. Tolkien. And his words made me weep - sitting at my kitchen table in my pajamas, with my wild hair, old-lady reading glasses and thoughts about how hard it is to be a wanderer.

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

And, for today, I will sit with these words and ponder the "fire that shall be woken" in 2012.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-24T08:23:00.001-05:00

Perspective

2011-11-04T05:23:00.000-04:00

Grace

2011-11-02T19:41:00.001-04:00

Good Work

2011-11-01T18:53:00.002-04:00

{this sticker that says 'good work' is on the floor of the women's bathroom where i work. it's been there for about a week. i'm not commenting on the quality of the cleaning. . . somehow this message to smile must have been meant for me!}

So. . . I've been coughing for awhile now. A while meaning somewhere in the neighborhood of seven weeks, give or take a week or two. I mean, really. . . after a month or so who keeps track?

Ali has it too. She gave up a while back and went to the doctor for antibiotics. Didn't do a thing for her but lighten her wallet so I didn't go.

By the way, she's still coughing.

Last Friday morning I woke up feeling like a cranky old woman. My back hurt. My lungs were full of crud and a had a new, terrible pain in my right side. The kind of pain that hurt to breathe. That made me feel nauseous. I was just positive I was having a gallbladder attack or something.

All I could think was, "Damn, it really sucks getting old! What in the world is going to go bad next??"

The pain in my side persisted. Finally on Sunday I gave it up and took myself to the urgent care place where, it turns out, I learn that I've broken my rib from coughing so much. {Seriously?? Do I now have osteoporosis or what??}

As the 12 year old nurse was writing out a prescription for some antibiotics {i have bronchitis too} she casually asked how old I was. When I answered "46," her next question made me question my non-violent values.

"And do you remember when your last period was, or are you all the way through menopause now?"

She's lucky that I'm old. And have a broken rib. Because I sure did want to punch her.

Curling Inward

2011-10-25T19:18:00.001-04:00

When I was 26, my mother was 46 and that's the year she began to disappear.

It didn't happen all at once. Like a leaf curling inward as the hours of sunlight grow short in fall, it seemed as though she grew smaller every day. Where her smile and energy had been infectious, weariness began to find it's home in her soul.

There was a wedge of distance between her and the world and every day it seemed as if that slice of remoteness expanded in the tiniest of increments and she became a boat that slowly drifted away.

I tried to talk to her about it. She wouldn't hear any of it. "I'm just tired. I don't have the energy to care about all the things I used to care about. Maybe I'm sick." But no doctor ever found anything wrong. And her energy didn't come back. And she never started to care about all the things that had once brought her joy.

Somewhere in her 46th year she began to disappear.

Now she's 66 and she's housebound.

Depression is a thief. It takes the things most precious to your soul and hides them so far away you forget they were ever good to begin with. At first you remember the energy and vitality and you wonder where they might have gone. And then slowly, you stop caring that they are gone as you struggle just to get through another day. The urge to create beauty becomes too much to contemplate and you bide your time, watching the clock so you can go to sleep for just a little while longer. The words that used to swirl and tumble in your head, demanding to be released through your fingers are now introverted and unapproachable.

Silence becomes the noise of your mind.

And I think I know all this because now I am 46. I am 46 and I feel like a leaf curling inwards. I am 46 and there is a thin slice of remoteness poking at my soul and the joy of creating words and pictures has become muted and desaturated.

I am 46 and perhaps depression is genetic.

I watched my mother curl inward and slowly drift away. I don't want to do the same.

2011-10-24T19:09:00.000-04:00

Scenes From A Birthday Weekend

2011-10-23T18:20:00.001-04:00

{Yellow Springs, Ohio}

{my girl's new girl?}

{birthday pumpkin pancakes!}

2011-10-21T06:59:00.000-04:00

2011-10-19T18:22:00.002-04:00

The train rumbles through
and I shift in my seat.

Could I jump on and
ride right on into tomorrow?

Could I could be hobo material –
with red handkerchief
knotted to rough stick
carrying my belongings?

The train rumbles through
and I shift in my seat.

I feel that rumble
and it feels native, instinctual –
ancestral.

The voices of other word gypsies
scream to me in train whistles
and I can’t translate them quickly enough.

The train rumbles through
and I shift in my seat.

And all the while the boxcar artists,
the word junkies hopping trains,
they give me hope.
Hope in the rumbles
and hope in the whistles.

They tell me
that I am, in fact, on my way.

My own unique way.

Everything

2011-10-18T05:46:00.000-04:00

October Afternoon

2011-10-17T05:07:00.001-04:00

An October afternoon -
in the grey rain of autumn,
I practice God in a single tomato
dangling on a twisted, dying vine.

I find divinity in this rain-damp

wasting away
and the turning inwardness of a garden,
collapsing into dreamless sleep.

I am learning to trust in the Being
who dreamed of winter darkness
and reminds me –

The flame turns inward now.

Where Have You Been?

2011-10-16T15:55:00.003-04:00

where have you been?

you need to be here
{you can be one stubborn woman}

because right here – 
{this moment?} 
this is really all you've got

so live it all into reality 
{all of it}
shake off the who-do-you-think-you-are
little girl fears 

and live it 
{live it big}

and then rest 
{for as long as you need to} 

and then do it all again
{one step. one breath. repeat. repeat. repeat.}

2011-10-13T06:09:00.000-04:00

Pass It On

2011-10-12T05:16:00.000-04:00

{i wrote a note to my friend Frank Wilson, who photographed the We Are the 99% protests in Findlay, telling him i had used his photo without permission and asking him if he wanted me to take it down. this is his response. and his answer is one the reasons he's my friend.}

"I'm thrilled you used my photo. I wish I knew her name. I wish I could sit down with her and connect with some of that long lost energy. I watched (and photographed) as she made her own sign. GREED was her idea and her creation. When finished, she jumped into the bed of the truck . . . but this was not good enough for this girl . . . she went for the rail. You ever try to balance yourself like that? Don't try. Balanced on the rail . . . and with her dirty knees from being on the groud making the sign . . . she reaches as high as her arms can reach and thrusts her message for all to see. The sign says GREED but the picture says FREEDOM. When I saw it I thought of that famous scene in the movie "Titanic" where whats-her-name is stretched out from the bow of the ship as if she is flying. You know the one? I knew in an instant I had my picture for the day and much, much more.No, don't take it down . . . . PASS IT ON!"

On The Fence?

2011-10-11T05:04:00.000-04:00

"I believe in God, but not as one thing, not as an old man in the sky. I believe that what people call God is something in all of us. I believe that what Jesus and Mohammed and Buddha and all the rest said was right. It's just that the translations have gone wrong."

~ John Lennon

Now What?

2011-10-10T07:11:00.000-04:00

There is this knowledge that has been growing inside of me for quite some time. It's a knowledge that scares me.

I'm tired of being a Christian.

I first said it, out loud, in church a few weeks ago. And no one gasped {at least out loud} and no one threw me out the front doors with a scowl of disgust or a sigh of arrogant resignation. But, deep down, I believe those things were all right there. Waiting.

I'm tired of being a Christian if being a Christian means I'm supposed to be in lockstep with those who don't know me and don't know my heart.

I'm tired of being in association with those who use the word Christian to abuse and control my brothers and sisters.

I'm tired of being a Christian if being a Christian means that the gospel is reduced to a list of texts to ensure the prosperity of America, viewed through the backdrop of the American flag and heard through the background noise of the Star Spangled Banner.

I'm tired of being a Christian if being a Christian means I have to explain everything I do to some invisible score-keeper, busy tallying my actions. I'm just having a beer or two. . .I promise I won't get drunk. I'm going to skip church today to experience the wonder of creation. . .but I'm not abandoning the "gathering of believers." I might be gay, but I promise I will make up for it by being the finest, most busy believer you've ever had on your rolls.

I'm tired of being a Christian if it means censoring every word that leaves my mouth on Sunday morning so as not to make anyone feel uncomfortable with my presence.

I'm tired of being a Christian if being a Christian means I constantly have to apologize for being me.

And I think all this exhaustion began to creep in when I first began to understand that God doesn't fit in a nice little box with a steeple. It got hard when I started paying attention to the desires and curiosities of my soul and I had the nerve to wonder whether these new yearnings and cravings might actually be as important as the guilt-driven actions of going to church, or reading my Bible or helping out with the next church sponsored thing.

And what if ignoring my soul has actually driven me farther away from God?

I am tired of being a Christian. And yet God tells me, "It's just a name. And I have given you new names. You are Thinker. You are Writer. You are Photographer. You are Creative." But you don't just go around blurting that out at church now do you?

So now what?I want to follow Thinker God - not Christian God. I believe in Writer God and Creative God. I want to be led by this wild, imaginative God who delights in the mysterious, who created the wonder and the joy of life and doesn't force me into compromising my values and my self just to fit into an institution.

And I believe this God will let me wrestle as long as it takes.

I don't owe it to God to be a Christian. I owe it to God to listen to the truth of who I was created to be and I owe it to God to make the most of that creation.

And all of that might, or might not, involve a pew and a steeple.

*Even writing this makes me feel guilty, as I've spent my entire life building up a church, one way or another. But I can't help but look around the world and see the way that everything is changing. I see the We Are The 99% movement and I think that they have the nerve to look outside the institutions they have grown up with and see the devastation that institutional power has. Whether it's Wall Street Power or Church Row power, it's often corrupt and abusive and far more interested in the status quo than the empowerment of creation.

This photo was taken on one of the most conservative street corners in America - the corner of Main and West Main Cross in Findlay, Ohio. It gives me great hope. It was taken by my friend Frank Wilson, and more of his shots from this ongoing protest are available here.

Love What You Do

2011-10-09T08:41:00.000-04:00

A Time and A Season

2011-10-08T07:51:00.001-04:00

We move forward, even when convinced we are standing still.

That's the lesson I've learned through this summer of silence.

The seasons change around us, times change and regardless of our plans, our personal failures, our bouts with fear or grief, one day we look up and notice that we aren't quite in the same spot we thought we were.

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately,” she said, and I knew what she meant; what she was feeling, because I felt it too.

All I felt was tired. Too tired to keep up the running conversation I had been having on paper with myself for years. Too tired to lift my camera from its resting spot and see the world through different eyes. Too tired to experience my life as anything more than a task list, with each hour carefully planned and precious few seconds to remember that there is a time and season for everything.

And then yesterday, standing under our massive old walnut tree that has absorbed at least a century of knowledge, I noticed it. There were golden leaves quietly falling all around me and I knew what had happened. The season had changed.

My season had changed.

And for a moment I wondered how it happened. And then I didn't any more. Because the miracle isn't in how it happened.

It's in the fact that somehow, without my permission, it just did.

I Think We've Moved

2011-05-28T07:09:00.001-04:00

I think we've moved. Here.

Perhaps this old blog has served her purpose. She gave me a voice to explore things that hurt. Things that needed to be examined. Things that needed resolution.

And for that I am grateful.

But lately I’ve felt the need to explore more outside myself than inside.

This forum may be the new place and way to share. It’s quick. I can blog from my phone and keep track of ideas, inspirations and things that made me smile. It’s also a space I can write in depth if the mood strikes – just like the “old days.”

I don’t know how long I’ll be over there. Maybe a week. Maybe years. It just feels right to try something new right now.

We'll see.

See you there?

Haiku

2011-05-26T05:20:00.001-04:00

{photograph taken at Riverbend Park, Findlay}

Assignment: Write a haiku based on a season. Illustrate it any way you choose.

What The Hail?

2011-05-25T20:14:00.003-04:00

{the size of the hail at our house}

{hail across town!}

Been an interesting few days. . .

:: the worst stomach flu I've ever had.

:: the biggest hail I've ever seen.

:: a desperate push towards Friday and a much needed day off which will make a four day weekend.

:: because of the aforementioned stomach flu I'm terribly behind on my creative challenges. it's catch-up this weekend for me!

Ordinariness

2011-05-22T07:03:00.002-04:00

Creative Assignment: Day 7

"Today, I want you to replace any old ideas you have had or currently have about the word ‘scrapbooking’ with this one phrase… ~artistically combining words and images~"

I've never thought of myself as a "scrapbooker." I've always thought of it as cutesy and cotton-candyish. Neither of which describe me very well.

But I dove into the assignment anyway and decided to do the whole thing digitally. There were no scissors, no glitter and no glue sticks in sight!

And I loved it.

If The World Ends Today

2011-05-21T06:18:00.004-04:00

If the world ends today. . .

I will be sitting on my front stoop, sipping coffee and watching the sun peek over the back fence.

I will be examining my flower beds for glimpses of bright color among the green fronds and emerald blades of foliage.

I will be making breakfast and putting a load of towels in the washer.

I will make a half-hearted attempt to do some cleaning but secretly I will be wishing I could take my book into the sun and disappear into words for awhile.

I will be taking dogs for walks at the park and meeting a friend while we all raise money for cancer research.

I will be firing up the grill and adding something good to the symphony of scents floating from grills all up and down our street.

I will be cracking open a microbrew after watching Ali mow the lawn.

I will be singing in the kitchen and looking forward to a softball game tomorrow.

I will be getting a full night's sleep and anticipating coffee on the front stoop tomorrow morning.

I will not be counting on the rapture. I will not be fearful of hell.

And I would not change a thing about today, tomorrow or yesterday.

A Tree

2011-05-19T19:56:00.004-04:00

Assignment: Draw a tree that is you. The trunk is the most important thing about who you are as a human being. All the branches radiating upward should be expressions of the trunk of your soul.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

~ St. Francis of Assisi

Scribbles

2011-05-18T07:05:00.002-04:00

The assignment for last night was to scribble. Doodle. Close your eyes and draw.

Good Lord. I sat there staring at my paper planning how to scribble. Seriously???

There is something wrong with me. . . I'm just sayin'.

This art thing is messin' with my head. After I finally un-planned my scribbling and just did it I remembered how easy this all was when I was four. I could scribble and doodle and draw all day. It was easy and it was fun. When did I lose that? And more importantly, why did I let it go?

I painted for quite awhile last night and felt so relaxed.

Then I went to bed and had a very uncomfortable, restless dream. It was about my parents and had vivid themes of their avoidance of me, abandonment and selfishness. I woke up feeling very confused and uncertain. As I sat down, still feeling groggy, to write about what I had dreamed I realized that the themes of my dream were the same root reasons that I have ignored the drive to create – avoidance, abandonment of something I loved and selfishness.

Maybe dreams are more important than I have the tendency to give them credit for. And maybe it's all hogwash. . .

While I was painting last night and thinking about all the things I used to know as a kid and had forgotten one of my favorite Dar Williams songs came into my head. It's called "When I Was A Boy" and is such a sweet, melancholy song.

I won't forget when Peter Pan came to my house, took my hand
I said I was a boy; I'm glad he didn't check.
I learned to fly, I learned to fight
I lived a whole life in one night
We saved each other's lives out on the pirate's deck.

And I remember that night
When I'm leaving a late night with some friends
And I hear somebody tell me it's not safe,
someone should help me
I need to find a nice man to walk me home.

When I was a boy, I scared the pants off of my mom,
Climbed what I could climb upon
And I don't know how I survived,
I guess I knew the tricks that all boys knew.

And you can walk me home, but I was a boy, too.

I was a kid that you would like, just a small boy on her bike
Riding topless, yeah, I never cared who saw.
My neighbor come outside to say, "Get your shirt,"
I said "No way, it's the last time I'm not breaking any law."

And now I'm in this clothing store, and the signs say less is more
More that's tight means more to see, more for them, not more for me
That can't help me climb a tree in ten seconds flat

When I was a boy, See that picture? That was me
Grass-stained shirt and dusty knees
And I know things have gotta change,
They got pills to sell, they've got implants to put in,
they've got implants to remove

But I am not forgetting...that I was a boy too

And like the woods where I would creep, it's a secret I can keep
Except when I'm tired, 'cept when I'm being caught off guard
And I've had a lonesome awful day, the conversation finds its way
To catching fire-flies out in the backyard.

And so I tell the man I'm with about the other life I lived
And I say, "Now you're top gun, I have lost and you have won"
And he says, "Oh no, no, can't you see

When I was a girl, my mom and I we always talked
And I picked flowers everywhere that I walked.
And I could always cry, now even when I'm alone I seldom do
And I have lost some kindness
But I was a girl too.
And you were just like me, and I was just like you"

"DisasterPiece"

2011-05-17T07:09:00.003-04:00

I woke up feeling all out of sorts this morning. Not cranky. Not overly tired. Just out of sorts. And I don't know why.

I spent last night creating for the Creativity Boot Camp: Spring Training Workshop that I'm taking online. The assignment was to get messy. To create a "DisasterPiece." There were no more instructions than that and my follow directions, do as I'm told brain kind of freaked out.

Eventually I took a black and white photo from last summer of a cemetery sculpture and painted the background with bleach. That was the only plan I had. The bleach looked like fire. I didn't know what else to do, so for the first time in my life I turned my brain off and just went for it. I crumpled up the photo and tore it into pieces. I smudged it with oil pastels and then tried to put it back together. I thought the background needed something so I destroyed pages from an old Baptist hymnal and glued them down first. Then I glued the photo back over it.

Something about a cemetery, flames and old Baptist hymns just spoke to me.

It's my disaster I guess.

I loved turning off my brain and just doing something.

But this morning I think it has me feeling off kilter. Overexposed.

I hope it fades today. I don't like feeling this way.

And, of course, there is another assignment for tonight. This one involves drawing/scribbling/doodling. And that never goes over well with a control freak who draws like a four year old and expects perfection. . .

What the hell have I gotten myself into??

How I Said No to Fear Today

2011-05-15T16:47:00.003-04:00

How I said no to fear and yes to silliness today. . .

. . .I cooked breakfast wearing no pants. {they were still in the dryer and we were hungry!}

Not something i would normally {or really ever} do!

Ali's comment after walking in the kitchen and she finally stopped laughing? "Oh, if I had a blog you would so be on it today!" And I thought, what's fair is fair. So I hereby confess.

And it felt good to laugh at myself.

To Dance

2011-05-15T06:37:00.005-04:00

{warning. this is stream-of-consciousness writing. i've been unable to write lately so this is kind of raw. perhaps i should warn you with "danger will robinson! danger!"}

Writing. . .the antidote to self doubt and self forgetting.

That's exactly where I am right now and where I feel like I've been. And I didn't even know that I had forgotten.

The daily-ness of life took over and being on auto-pilot seemed like the only way to keep going. Sure. It was devoid of some small amounts of stress. But I guess it was also empty of the spark of interest and vitality that keep things smoldering and sprightly.

How to get back?

It seems to be the question of my ages. The question that keeps returning to me in the endless cycles that my life seems to be engaged in. I get a few areas of myself "together" and then something else seems to fall apart. I change my focus to try and heal that and something else falls out and exposes it's warts and ugly hair for the world to see.

Perhaps I spend too much time analyzing. Too much time staring at my navel and wondering if everyone is as messed up as I am.

Perhaps it's all my illusions of control. The world has been spinning for millions of years without my help and will continue to spin long after I am gone. Surrendering myself into the great unknown of that creativeness and life sustaining-ness calls to me. But the process of letting go seems so novel and strange.

My brain longs for order in the chaos. Neatness in the mess. A plan in the empty slate of the day. That's the way I've spent my life. And it has worked for me. Perhaps the reason I can't just plunge myself into the chaos of creation is that deep down I'm afraid that it just can't work. That if I empty myself of my "plans" and my "control" I will lose.

Lose what??

{Seems crazy when I write it, but there has to be a core of truth in there.}

Planning has worked. I'm "successful" if mostly broke. I have a house, a car, a job, a partner, three dogs, a cat. People who don't plan don't have those things. Do they?

Surrender means what? to cease resistance to an opponent and submit to their authority

But, if I surrender my fears isn't that different? Right now my fears are the opponent. Right now I already submit to their authority. They win. I lose. They shape my decisions and my future.

{fear is a thief. it takes and never gives. how many times have i preached that sermon?}

Tired. Of. It.

I want to paint. To create. To write. To think. To sing. Maybe even to dance.

But I can't do those things when my brain screams YOU MUST HAVE A PLAN. CREATION IS MESSY. YOU ARE UGLY AND STUPID. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ANYWAY? YOU ARE NOTHING. NO ONE LIKES YOU. YOU AREN'T GOOD.

And so far, no amount of wishing, pretending, gratitude list-making has made any of those voices any quieter.

So maybe it's time to surrender. To make a mess of things. To lay down the fear of doing something wrong and having someone laugh at me. To tell my brain to shut the fuck up about how no one likes me.

We started the ball rolling yesterday.

And perhaps today I will take one more tentative step towards a dance.

Missed?

2011-05-14T06:00:00.002-04:00

{Blogger was down the last few days so I couldn't post. Trying to decide if or how much I missed it. This is the lilac shrub next to our front porch.}

Seven Small Things #197 - 203

2011-05-10T19:00:00.002-04:00

197. That I did not design this billboard. Whoever that designer is, s/he is having a bad day.

198. That when Delilah threw up on the bed this morning Ali was in it and I wasn't!

199. I'm thankful that people in our community who need assistance often have a case manager who goes the extra mile, even though it means that this evening it's just me and the mutts.

200. For cruising past two hundred with no repeats!

201. For a project that's pushing me to learn more. I'm much better at Photoshop than I am at Illustrator.

202. That there are Coconut Hershey Kisses. Just a couple will satisfy a chocolate craving.

203. For a new book waiting to be started right now!

Seven Small Things #190 - 196

2011-05-09T18:49:00.002-04:00

190. The difference in our poppies between this morning and this evening. {see below}

191. Dinner on the patio.

192. Someone to put antibiotic creme on the cut on my arm I can't see.

193. An afternoon in the 70's.

194. Iced tea.

195. Scheduling vacation days ahead of time.

196. Pulling weeds out of the big patch of mint and coming away smelling so sweet.

Back to the Sweetness and Light!

2011-05-09T07:13:00.003-04:00

{this is for everyone who has said those dolls are creepin' them out! back to sweetness and light, cotton candy for the eyes!}

Seven Small Things #183 - 189

2011-05-08T19:24:00.003-04:00

183. Homemade breakfast sandwiches :: one toasted everything bagel, one fried egg, two pieces of bacon, one slice of cheddar cheese. . .better than anything at any fast food restaurant I can think of!

184. A slight sunburn on my face and arms. I got my dose of Vitamin D today.

185. Our valiant attempt to keep Delilah from being able to jump the fence. It isn't pretty, but it sort of seems to be working. {not holding my breath though}

186. Ali's first softball games of the year. A double header. They won both. She made the play of the game diving and making a rolling catch in left field.

187. A really, really good weekend.

188. That trees suddenly have leaves they didn't seem to have even yesterday.

189. For laughter. And giggles. And simple smiles.

A Few More

2011-05-08T07:54:00.003-04:00

{i think they are delightfully creepy!}

Seven Small Things #176 - 182

2011-05-07T23:21:00.000-04:00

176. The first flea market of the season in Tiffin. I love shooting the flea market because there is such a wide variety of subject matter. For some reason I am drawn to things that just touch the edges of creepy. {more of these to come soon. . . i heart these!}

177. Amish fried pies you can only find at the flea market. I got lemon and raisin!

178. Playing in the dirt and getting all our annuals planted. The front of our house looks really good right now!

179. Helichrysum italicum a.k.a. Curry Plant. We found some at the greenhouse yesterday. It isn't what curry is made from, but just brushing up against this plant makes my mouth water!

180. Waking up before dawn and quietly listening to the birds singing in the trees before getting out of bed.

181. That it rained very gently just after we finished planting yesterday. Nothing like not having to water your new stuff!

182. That my cold is finally making it's exit. Slowly but surely.

Seven Small Things #169 - 175

2011-05-06T23:48:00.000-04:00

169. McDonald's coffee when you've run out of cream at home.

170. Fridays!

171. The grace found in laughter, even when a mistake has been made.

172. The library calling to tell you that a book you requested is ready to be picked up.

173. Doing a favor for a friend.

174. Milkbone Sundaes x 3 = much entertainment!

175. Wondering why dogs don't get brain freeze!

Seven Small Things #162 - 168

2011-05-05T07:07:00.005-04:00

162. Sun flare in my camera lens. Because it means there's sun!

163. That the trees in northwest Ohio are getting leaves.

164. Families.

165. Dogs with big ears.

166. Birthday boys who turned 11 today.

167. Steak on the grill to help the birthday boy celebrate.

168. My camera.

Seven Small Things #155 - 161

2011-05-04T19:07:00.003-04:00

155. That in spite of a headache, sore throat and general malaise, I got a big project mostly done and off my desk at work today.

156. For the grace of skipping Bible study when you're sick, even though you can't skip work.

157. How happy dandelions look, popping their heads up all over the yard.

158. Hearing the first ice cream truck roll down our street tonight playing Music Box Dancer.

159. Remembering that I played Music Box Dancer at my fifth (?) grade piano recital.

160. Hearing J. Vernon McGee on the radio in the guardhouse tonight. When I was about 12 my mother would make us come inside during summer vacation and make us listen to Thru The Bible with Dr. J. Vernon McGee on the radio. It was pure. torture. to. listen. to. that. when. you. were. 12. years. old. and. the. sun. was. shining. and. you. wanted. to. go. play. That radio program made me hate Christianity for a long, long time. {I got over it. Hearing it on the radio tonight made me smile.}

161. Watching our dogs eat frozen carrots. They spend more time watching each other than they do enjoying what's right in front of them. Just like some people I know!

Seven Small Things #148 - 154

2011-05-03T08:03:00.005-04:00

148. That feeling conflicted means I'm thinking.

149. The smell of lilacs on my desk at work.

150. The way robins, hopping through your very muddy garden, don't seem to mind that their feet are just a mess.

151. Lunch dates that give you something to look forward to all morning.

152. Just enough caffeine in one cup of coffee to keep me going in the early evening.

153. A freshly mopped kitchen floor.

154. Goodwill hunting. . .and finding things that fit!

Conflicted

2011-05-03T05:54:00.002-04:00

I awoke yesterday to the news of Osama bin Laden's death. {i go to bed early} I found it on Facebook. The first message I saw was from a friend who I've known a long time. I've known her to have strong Christian faith and values. Her post read, "Thank God the bastard is dead."

It kind of made me gasp. And it set my mind whirling. My heart became uneasy.

Osama Bin Laden orchestrated unspeakable acts of violence, terror and death. {yes. i was there.} He was an enemy of the state, an enemy of peace, and a man who sold out to a misconstrued theology of the teachings of the Holy Quran.

He was also a human that was created by God. The same God that created me. And you.

My heart still feels heavy this morning.

What is my posture supposed to be when something like this happens? So I did what we do in 2011 when we are confused. I went to Facebook.

Me: I'm conflicted. Is anyone beyond redemption? Is that even our decision to make? Or do actions prove that someone is so evil that they can never be loved back into relationship with good? I don't expect answers. It's just what's on my mind.

G.A.: I don't think anyone is beyond redemption. Keep hope alive!

T.W.: I'm disturbed that American patriotism has superseded the sanctity of human life. I understand the pain associated with 9/11, but I don't see how this definition of justice is celebrated or justified.

Me: My only response can be humbleness before the only one who can judge. . . and I am not S/He.

H.K.: Preach It, Sister!

R.F.: This is exactly what I've been thinking. I hate to rejoice in the death of any human being. Doesn't that make us just like "them"?

R.C.: I had a great prof in college talking about how if we lose our perspective we eventually, on some level, begin to become what we hate...thanks, Tanya, for putting words to my gut this AM

D.R.: Wow, it took an elusive decade to kill a man, making him a martyr among his zealot followers. I wonder how long it will take to kill a myth?

And I read a few more posts.

N.R.
"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." —MLK

J.S.
Now I lay me down to sleep, one less terrorist this world does keep. With all my heart I give my thanks, to those in uniform regardless of ranks. You serve our country and serve it well, with humble hearts your stories tell. So as I rest my weary eyes, while freedom rings our flag still flies. You.. give your all, do what you must...with God we live and God we trust.

And I close my computer screen and my heart is still heavy. Moments like these find the prayer uttered from my heart can only be, "Lord, teach us to love."

Heading North

2011-05-02T05:09:00.000-04:00

{sign on the wall at City Barbeque • taken with my phone}

Is it just me, or does it seem like crazy is winning here of late?

Crazy weather, crazy politics, crazy tragedy.

Sometimes it just makes we want to yell. Sometimes it makes me want to cry. And sometimes it makes me want to move to Canada.

The questions are always more clear than the answers.

Should we allow a very rich, supercilious celebrity to question the legitimacy of our President? We do.

Should we continue to ignore the changing global climate and hope that it will just go away, or fix itself? We do.

Should we keep fighting change, in our medical system, our fiscal structure, our energy policy, because we fear it? We do.

I don’t have the answers. But I am starting to understand this: we have to stop letting crazy win.

The extreme ends of the spectrum keep getting all the attention, and the voice of the middle – you and me – we keep getting drowned out.

I want to stand up and be counted.

Before it’s too late and I book that UHaul headed north.

Seven Small Things #141 - 147

2011-05-01T16:50:00.006-04:00

141. Playing with photographs. And bleach. Together.

142. That God is bigger than my whining.

143. Tiny little bottles that make seriously cute flower vases for violets.

144. That I don't have jury duty tomorrow.

145. For sandwiches on toast, where the cheese gets all melty.

146. For the doldrums. Without them I wouldn't remember what energy and life can feel like.

147. The flash of blue I just saw on our feeder and the happy squawking of the jay in the tree above the garage.

Good Enough

2011-05-01T07:18:00.004-04:00

Several things happened this week that reminded me that I'm not really good enough at anything.

I'm OK at a few things.

I'm acceptable. I will do in a pinch. I'm marginal, borderline, average, fair-to-middling, moderate and so-so.

I'm tolerable.

But I'm not good.

And these are voices that I've heard and wrestled my whole life. These are the voices that simply have to mouth the words and I will lip read them from miles away and fold like a house of cards. When I heard "thanks, but no thanks" this week my instinct was to become the cartoon turtle in Bugs Bunny, flying into my shell, battening down the hatches and raising the white flag of surrender.

And I'm still struggling. My words, my photos, my creativity, my thoughts, my offerings will never be the best mostly because there will only ever be one best. There will always be someone who is better than me. My challenge is to learn to keep going anyway. My challenge is to not listen to the voices who tell me to quit. To disappear. To avoid.

And so I will. And I will look at what I was not asked to do and I will not judge it. I will not think I could have done it better. And I will try not feel less than any more.

Because isn't that the point of creativity in the first place? It's mine, and it will just have to be good enough.

Seven Small Things #134 - 140

2011-04-30T15:46:00.002-04:00

{carside dinner at the rootbeer stand :: that's two Spanish dogs, french fries, onion rings and two old fashioned rootbeers :: and yes, they still hang the tray from your partially open car window :: and no, they don't serve you on rollerskates}

{the tin roof, over our car}

{since 1949 :: if you take your own gallon jug they will fill it with rootbeer for $2.90}

134. Dinner at the rootbeer stand

135. The local herb society's plant sale this morning. We came home with lavendar, basil, several varieties of oregano, eucalyptus, sage, rosemary and some poppies.

136. Black and white, spotty dogs who nap in a puddle of sunshine.

137. Girls named Ali who also nap in puddles of sun.

138. Going to the butcher store today. There is something reassuring about seeing exactly where your food is coming from and remembering that not everything should come covered in plastic and styrofoam.

139. Singing in the car.

140. How dog armpits are always warm.

Seven Small Things #127 - 133

2011-04-29T18:58:00.003-04:00

127. The cardinal on the roof next door.

128. That it's Friday evening. I wasn't sure I had enough in the tank to make it through today.

129. I vacuumed tonight while Ali mowed the yard. That's two tasks off the weekend to do list that leave more room for fun!

130. Offering of myself, even when it's not taken. At least I offered.

131. The possibilities that feel so real on the eve of the weekend.

132. That in the state of Connecticut, two very dear people to me are getting married this weekend. Married, for real. . . and they are both girls. They keep hope alive for the rest of us.

133. For farm eggs. Those pale, white things in the store are just an sad imitation of the real thing.

Seven Small Things #120 - 126

2011-04-28T23:27:00.000-04:00

{the birthday girl! happy birthday carol!}

120. Surprise birthday parties!

121. Finishing Rob Bell's new book Love Wins. Ought to be recommended reading for everyone who has opinions on Christianity and Christians. Ought to be required reading for every one who calls him/herself a "christian." {don't even get me started on how Baptists ought to read this one. . .}

122. For the sound of the wind in the trees.

123. Finding one piece of gum in the car when you desperately need it.

124. Getting the go-ahead from the doctor to try again. His words of warning – you were extremely lucky to get pregnant on your first try. Don't assume it will happen again.

125. Coffee.

126. That Gabby Giffords will be there tomorrow to watch her husband take off in his final mission on the space shuttle. You go girl.

Seven Small Things #113 - 119

2011-04-27T07:01:00.003-04:00

113. It's well documented that Samson hates thunder. It's also well documented that Oliver is possessive of what's "his." This morning we had thunder and lightening. Samson needed a place to go. This is Oliver's crate. . . That is Samson's stress drool all over Oliver's back. . . Oliver doesn't seem concerned about anything. . .

114. Lectio Divina and interesting people to share it with.

115. Pizza when you don't want to cook.

116. Sitting down together and compiling a list of questions for the doctor, mostly because I can't go along for the appointment.

117. Tiny flowers, in tiny vases, picked from your garden.

118. A benadryl, for when I need a little extra help sleeping through the night.

119. The dog hair on the floor, the dirty windows, the mud and the dust. . . because it means we have a home.