Three Beauties

Wanting to be wanted
Is a hunger that keeps you light and thin
It's been a long time now
Since I floated off
A maiden in the air
My scent turning heads
My glance
Pouring wine onto thirsty hands

Satisfaction and love's labor won
Have made me heavy and fruitful
There is such beauty in the earth beneath your feet
It turns wine into sweet milk

My breasts are no longer high and firm
They lie softly against my rib cage
And spill into my husband's hands
A shiny web
Shaped like a flame
Crowns my belly button
A banner announcing
That my body has also been a home

Where once I was smooth muscle
And shining skin
Incredible and desirable
I am now soft and folding
Flesh
Ordinary
And well loved

This mother
Has played the melody
And danced the rhythm
And has begun to discern
The Crone's staccato
Every now & then
A little frightening
But not unwelcome
It cuts and will make me light again
And I will float not in air
But down through the earth
Then up and out of Time

Hum

It is late in the Season
The Leaves drift now
Like ashes
After the bonfire has done
Winter will be here soon
With nothing to hide her beauty
Her aggressive stillness
Will calm and satisfy me
As the old songs rise in my heart
My tongue singing the sober praises
That have no part
With the glamour of warmth and sunlight

Clear

His Hand on my heart
Rubs away guilt
like so many smudgy fingerprints
on window glass

I stand under the leaves now
the light in them
So impossible-
Autumn makes the whole world
A stained glass cathedral

Days like these
I stand so still
Slowly and steadily
I drink and drink this beauty
And the story under my skin
streams out of my wide-open eyes
in tears

Who could know
better than I?
is there one who could accurately tell
what this love is like?

I am an exploded star
come back together
Spun into orbit
intensely captured and
teetering, drunkenly wobbling
Wailing my loneliness into the darkest corners
But it isn't my echo I hear bouncing back
It is the voice of the Friend

If I am never good,
May I be clear
And let me be loved...

In this lucid sanctuary
Every breeze through every leaf whispers
You are, you are.

To Be Human

I am no goddess
Just a flesh & blood mortal,
Skin clad muscle and bone
Struggling since a too early birth
To be human.
To walk some way
Other
Than the clear trod paths of beasts.

Crouched low,
Under the tangling thicket of my
Desires
And urges,
The patterns that come so naturally,
Ancient memory
Imprinted into
Every crease of my palm...

Here in the close space
Between what is & what is not,
Between reality & all that is false,
This narrow way
Where a soul is birthed,
(Is this not the way all life emerges?  A bursting, a response,
To restrictive pressure
Giving way just enough to allow
Progress?)
Here, the horizon is wider
Than I could have possibly imagined...

A sureness beyond my control
It is not magic I seek
No power over the current
No conjuring-
What could I dream up this untamed
This majestic
This wondrous?

My only longing here in this place,
One breath to the next-
Oh! Do I dare to?
Come ever closer
See ever clearer
Apprehend this Beauty,
Attain a humble understanding?

These bones crush to dust...
And I cry tears of joy at the absurdity.
I am no goddess,
But to be human,
To be human.

That is glory enough.

Mama

I have been waiting since the day my sweet Cub was born to hear him say "mama".  And now, right before he turns two, he is saying it.  "Maaa-muh!", when he wants me to come attend to something.  "Mama?", when he wakes in the night, making sure I am still there in the dark and quiet or that he is really awake and not dreaming.  "Mama, Mama, MA-Muh" when he just wants to hear the way it sounds and hear me say "Yes baby?" to make him smile.  Mama.  I like my new name.  I like knowing that this is who I am to this dear little boy.  Whatever a mama is, that is who I am to him.  That is how he knows me.  I am the one who feeds him, plays with him, talks to him, holds him.  The first face in the morning the warmth and comfort throughout the night.  The one who makes toys out of pots and pans and whatever else is lying around.  The one who stands over the stove and squats down to listen and lifts up to kiss away tears.  The one who makes him take his medicine and sit through face scrubbings and nail clippings and hair brushing.  The one whom he will one day break free from because he will know that, really, we are never apart.  The one who shows him that love is a link as I hold him, standing next to Daddy and all our arms go twining around each other.  Mama.  Mama.  Mama.  Yes baby, that is me.

Bear Good Fruit

I love life and I am pro-life and will stand with anybody and proclaim that message and hold out hope.  Joined in with 40 Days for Life, a movement started by the Catholic church and committed to coming out this morning to pray in front of the abortion mills in my town.  I got there at 9am, me and Cub.  We were there for about an hour.  I prayed, with others there, for a couple as they pulled in before the mill opened.  The woman never lifted her head.  Her boyfriend sits in the driver's side coolly smoking a cigarette, smoke and rock music drift from his slightly rolled down window.  Shortly after they arrive, a family with another group, Cities for Life arrives.  The mother sets up her loud speaker and in the sweetest, clearest, most loving and truthful words, pleads with the mother to change her mind.  15-20 minutes go by.  The mill opens.  The couple get out of their car and go inside.  Once, the mama looks over to us...then walks through the door her boyfriend holds open for her, into the place her baby is scheduled to die.  Minutes later her boyfriend walks out.  Leaving her there, he gets into his car and as he speeds out of the parking lot he yells "GOD DOESN'T EXIST."

My heart brims with tears that somehow won't fall from my eyes as I watch a mother and father taking their young daughter into the clinic.  Her child...their grandchild...dying for inconvenience or embarrassment or the hope of a career...young girls literally bounding like colts as if this is a game and they are at play; older women stone faced and stone hearted, walking determinedly to offer up their children to death.  They do not seem to know that this freezing, this hardness, will not just leave them...not even after it is done; men passive and uncaring as their sons and daughters are ripped from the bodies of the women they claim to love...it is such madness.

A car is coming, slows before it reaches the driveway as the same mother on the loud speaker walks over to ask the mama driving if she will take a minute to talk before going in.  I go around to the passenger side.  the young lady in the seat tells me she is here to support her sister.  "We are Christians.  We prayed, but we don't know what to do."  I tell her about my experience.  "Your sister is already a mama.  The only choices for her now are to have her baby and raise it, to have her baby and give it up or to kill her child today.  Whatever her choice, she will live with it for the rest of her life.  This will not just make it 'go away'.  And the baby she is carrying, that is not just her baby that she will kill.  That is your niece or nephew.  Your father's grandchild...I know how she feels right now.  Here's my number.  Don't do this.  I'm praying for you.  If you do go in, there is hope and healing after,  but I hope you don't need it."  They drive on into the parking lot.  They sit there for a long time.  Then the doors open and they go in.  My heart sinks...but I know there is always hope.  I keep praying.  We all do.  An hour later she comes out.  Smiling and waving at the "religious nutbags" on the sidewalk, bouncing for joy in her seat.  SHE CHOSE LIFE!

A tree is known by its fruit.  I have never seen a mother leaving the mill with joy after an abortion.  There is no joy in death.  The mamas and dads that choose life experience the relief that comes when a decision is made as well as the joy of knowing they have chosen the good.  Right action comes from right belief.   Love life, protect life, CHOOSE LIFE!

Throw Me a Lifeline

This post is a formal and heartfelt apology to every mother and child I ever judged before I became a mom.  I would like to say, with greatest sincerity "I am sorry, so very sorry. And moreover, I. Was. Wrong.  To every mother whom I judged as being inadequate for not disciplining (and by disciplining I mean "tanning the hide" of) her tired, tearful and yes, even, raging toddler. For every inner scoff at the oft given reason/apology for behavior I found unacceptable "He's tired.  She missed her nap.  He's probably just hungry."  For every irritated face scrunch to exaggerate my displeasure over the noisy tot at the next table over in the restaurant.  For every policing stare given to mothers whose children were not properly strapped into the seat of the shopping cart, but riding shotgun in the place that the GROCERIES are supposed to go.  For everytime I thought that every baby was supposed to like every adult and tolerate being handled whether they liked it or not.  Because they were babies, dang it.  For every parent whom I thought, in my abject ignorance, had failed to show their kids just WHO was BOSS, thereby making my very important life more pleasant...again I say I am sorry and I was WRONG.  I was wrong to think that my experience at the grocery store or the restaurant was any more important than yours.  If I had taken the time to notice, I would have seen that my displeasure (misplaced and obtrusive) probably made a difficult situation more difficult and made you focus on how you APPEARED and what total strangers were thinking of you and your child, instead of the need of the moment...your child's distress and the best way to handle it.  It never occured to me as I sat in the restaurant that as a single woman, I could go out to eat anytime I pleased, but that for you and your family, eating out was an orchestrated event. Just making it to the table was a feat of coordination, pacification, timing, patience and planning.  It never occurred to me that maybe my condescending attitude was ruining YOUR dining experience. To all the moms who let their kids ride shotgun in the grocery cart...YOU WERE DOING THE RIGHT THING.  If that is the only place your child would sit, without crying, or pulling everything off the shelves, if that is what it took to gain 10 peaceful minutes in which to get your groceries or just 10 minutes of down time while you walked the aisles with no fire to put out, then yeah, you did the right thing.  And I salute you for doing it despite my condemning glare.  Instructions on that stupid seat flap thingy (which never stays down anyway) be hanged.

Now that I am a mom, I know much better.  My tot is rude.  He doesn't smile at everyone and loudly protests being held  when he doesn't wish it.  He spares no one's feelings.  Imagine that.  That said, he is a very sweet child, UNLESS, he is tired or he has missed his nap or he is hungry.  And I find myself saying this a lot...I know, I know .  I have no time to try and show him just who is boss.  I am too busy being the boss, which means being patient when I'm out of patience, taking care of his needs when I have needs of my own and looking for peaceable solutions that keep us both sane.  Nope, no time for power games.  When my face is hot from embarrassment because Cub is tuning up for a big cry and yanking up my shirt IN THE CHECK-OUT LINE, because he is tired and hungry and wants to nurse RIGHT NOW, and I can't decide if I should pay with cash or fumble around for the debit card and end up pulling out the credit card because "OH MY GOSH, WHERE IS MY DEBIT CARD?!!"  And the teen-aged cashier and the lady behind me in heels and a savvy pant suit just.can't. relate...I remember being like them. I remember only having to be concerned with myself.  Now I am not judging them, nor would I want to trade places with them.  But it does remind me...to stay humble.  Some days I am just hanging on for dear life.  And I know other moms are too.  I still try to make eye contact with mamas with, shall we say, difficult, children.  But it's not so that I can ice them with my stare and make them conform.  It's so I can throw them a life-line...tell them how beautiful their little one is and what a wonderful job they are doing.  I don't expect that the world will stop for me and Cub, shift to accommodate our needs.  But, the world shouldn't expect moms, dads, kids to accommodate it though.  I realize that now.  And, I dare say, I am a better person for it.  Certainly a better mom.

Perfect

Drifted through the afternoon with Cub sleeping in the crook of my arm.  "A Day Without Rain" echoed through the rooms of our home whilst the winter sunset streamed the colors of rosewater, golden pearl and periwinkle, finally fading to indigo.  It is so warm here, like spring, windy and rainy.  I was so worried about how brutal the winter might be.  Worrying is so useless I am beginning to see.  Hope your week was beautiful.  Hope your weekend is bright.

v'Dodi Li

Scrabbling for you

In the dust

The dirt under my nails

The scrape of shifting pebbles

Solid

Falling away as quickly as I perceive them

Looking for the Light

Yet here I am

In the coolness

The darkness

Of the earth

I have to laugh

How have you intoxicated me so?

Just near enough to drive me mad

With greater longing

I would not

Cannot give you up

I tremble

I whine

I groan

in desperation

And then a spark, a flash,

You shine there, just there in my periphery,

So close that

I shake my fist in confidence

And dance in exaltation

I trace your footprint on the path

And then fall back bewildered and lonely

Straining to find the direction of Your Voice

But echoes bounce and it is hard to tell

I move forward inexorably though

This heavy search, the longing is enough sometimes

Because it reminds me

How could I desire you this much

If you were never there?

My tears fall like sparkling diamonds

Will they  make a worthy diadem?

My Heart is Dancing

Fall and winter have always been my favorite times of year.  I am made for cooler weather.  I love the deep and quietly fading beauty of autumn and the austerity and stillness of winter.  It makes me feel more alive and this year is no different.  Each day I spend so much time drinking in the view, watching the panoramic spectacle of the leaves changing colors outside my window.  The sun is coming down, to the ground, in wiggling droplets, through the woods behind my house, no longer buoyed up by the thick, green leaves of summer.  My garden bed is spent.  Only the leafless stalks remain in the cool, wet dirt.

I go out everyday with Cub, trying not to waste these last days that are warm enough for playing in the park or strolling down sidewalks window shopping or weekend hayrides.  As night comes quicker and cooler...we are making our peace and saying goodbye to our sweet summer together.  Goodbye to the heat and sweat and buzzing bees and wasps and hot kiss of sun on face and arms and the nape of the neck.  Goodbye long days and waiting for tomatoes and watering the flowers.  Goodbye to sunny weekend trips and time spent at the lake and summer weddings and parties.

This time last year, I held Cub in my arms, nearly all the time.  Now he wriggles down and walks proudly and boldly wherever he wants to go.  I have to laugh!  It seems that time moves forward slowly, but the backward glance is the blink of an eye.  In the blink of an eye the still time of the year has come again.  I am eagerly anticipating the gifts that await; mornings spent with my family sipping hot chocolate, maybe a snow or two for sledding down our hill, the oven hot and steady, baking love in the shape of cookies while care simmers on the stovetop in my beef stew.  Drawing close under blankets as we read stories together under the inky black of winter night, all a-shimmering with icy stars.  Joy, joy everywhere.  I pray we are all less sick this winter.  I give thanks for the family and friends that give my life purpose.  My heart is dancing, what about yours?

Glory

I had a revelation the other day!  Let me tell you...

So, my husband has been working out over the past year and a few months ago, he went through his closet and pulled out all the clothes that no longer fit properly.  We bagged them up and drove out to a local charitable organization but they were closed.  So, not wanting to keep the clothes sitting around the house any longer, I decided to take them to the homeless shelter.  On the way there, I passed a building whose sign out front read "God's Glorious Church".  It was closed, no one was there.  I drove on and even closer to the men's shelter, there was another church, "Our Lady of the Assumption".  No one was there either.  I made it to the shelter...didn't even make it in the door before a man came up to me.  "You got clothes?  Can you just give them to me?  I am sure they will fit.  If you take them in there, I won't get them.  They won't give them to me."  I protested a bit.  I could not tell if the guy was running game on me or not.  But I quickly decided I didn't care.  Here was a man with no home.  He wanted clothes.  I had them to give and so I did.  There on the sidewalk.  His name was Ellis.

Earlier in thesame day, I was aware that in the Messianic community, it was a feast day, Yom Teruah, a day of shouting and praise and blasting of trumpets followed by a day of fasting and prayer.  The weeks prior to these feast days are called the days of Teshuva or repentance; a time to examine our hearts, to make ammends for any wrongs we have done and to restore broken relationships.  I always struggle with the meaning of keeping Torah, law and grace, YHVH's will for my life.  I, wasn't going to congregation to shout with the blowing of the shofar, wasn't fasting the following day.  Sometimes, my liberty frightens me.  And as I always do when I feel unclear, I turned to my Abba, seeking His will for my life in His Word.  "What do you want me to do??!"  I cried out.  I opened my bible.  Joel chapter 1.  The heading of the section my eyes fell on: A call to repentance.  "Ok, Abba.  I am listening.  What are you saying to me?"  And then His voice, clear as a bell, "Amos."  I flip to the book, right to chapter 5, my eyes widening as the words of YHVH leap from the tissue thin page; "I hate, I despise your religious feasts; I cannot stand your assemblies."  verse 21.  The King says away with the songs and music, but to "let justice roll on like a river" and "righteousness like a never ending stream!"  In Isaiah, The King says that the fast that pleases Him, the fast that He has chosen is "to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?  Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter-when you see the naked, to clothe him and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?"

As I was heading back home after giving the clothes away, driving back past the empty churches, the verses above came to my mind again and I was suddenly so ashamed!  Hot tears began rolling down my cheeks.  How dare we assume that God's Glorious church has anything to do with a brick building or stained glass saints or bellowing ram's horns???  There is no church other than those who are walking with YHVH loving Him and loving other people.  Knowing Him and making Him known by the love we show.  Cleansing and seasoning salt.  Warm and unwavering light.  If we love Him, if we share food with hungry people, stand up for the oppressed, clothe those with nothing to wear, protect those who have no defense, this, this is glory!  "Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you and the glory of YHVH will be your rear guard...If you do away with the pointing finger and malicious talk and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noon day."  Isaiah 58:8-10

"Thank you Abba." I breathed, feeling His clear love erasing my shame.  And there, in my van, with Cub happy in the backseat, I did celebrate Yom Teruah, shouting and singing the name of my Father whose glory  I truly long to live for.

Rescue

Some days, it is just enough to make it from sun up to sun down. Some days are long and stretch you thin. And then some days are just so full of joy and light that you feel as though you may burst. Both kinds of days are blessings and I am so glad to be learning that...

I had two packages to get into the mail. One has been ready to go for about a week, but I could never quite get it together enough to make it to the post office. Today, I wrangle Cub into some clothes (he is protesting clothing these days), make myself presentable and get all the way to the post office before I realize that I left the packages at home. I sigh and shake my head at the predicament...the waste of gas, and time, and I still have to get these things mailed...

I head back to the van. Strap Cub back into the carseat. It is hot. Across the parking lot, I see a figure coming in my direction, "Hey sister-". Sure he is trying to sell me some bootleg DVD's or body oils or demo's of his latest rap album, I ignore him. It's just too hot. In the driver's seat, I look up just as he gets to my vehicle. He holds up a flyer. I smile politely as I wave and shake my head "No, thank you." (Refusal can be polite. Southern home trainin'). I pull off. But, there was a Cross on that flyer. The struggle lasts about 3 seconds and I turn the van around, pull up beside him and roll my window down. "I saw the cross on the flyer..." I say. He gives me a big smile and tells me why he is standing in this parking lot in 90 degree weather. His life had been going nowhere. He used to be a drug dealer. When he'd gotten out of jail, he'd had no place to go. Somebody saw him on the street one day. A pastor. "I was driving through this neighborhood and saw you standing there. You got any place to go?" the pastor asked. "No." was the reply. "I have a place for you, if you want. Here's my number. You can call me." As night was coming on, the young man tells me, he made the call. And the pastor came immediately. "It is amazing what just a shower, some clean clothes and a shave will do for someone.", the young man tells me. He talks about the ministry, but even more than what he is saying I see an honest and clear person before me...I can see what love does to people. I put money in his plastic bucket. He gives me a flyer. And then I notice a woman asking for this ministry too. She is sweating. I drive back and purchase some bottles of water. "Stay hydrated." I tell them and they were grateful for the water. Cub and I go home.

Last week, a scripture came to mind and impacted me in a really new way. "For the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost." Luke 19:10. Yeshua said that he came to seek and save the lost (The same words are in Matthew 18:11). I have always focused on the "save" part, but never the "seek" part. The pastor who rescued the young man I met was out seeking the lost. The rescued ones were in turn out seeking those who were ready to come in from the cold and those who want to help. And as I looked over the flyer, Luke 19:10 was printed at the bottom. I could have cried.

Love is active. It has no time for judgement or lectures. It is busy going about rescuing and sending people on the way of peace. This makes me so happy. Sometimes, love is what stretches you thin, but oh if it doesn't fill you with the greatest joy too!!! Photo above taken by Mary Chind

When the Gang's All Here

I love it when my family comes to visit. We all live in different cities...from New York, NY all the way down to Savannah, GA. There is so much magic, so much beauty when you are spending time around the people who have loved you and known you all your life. Even through hard times the thread of love between us is a life line...we get together, we cook, we argue, we laugh, we make each other mad, we forgive each other, we serve each other, we get to know each other, counsel each other, encourage each other, make allowances for each other...and we understand each other; even when we run out of words. My family has taught me this...love is life, service is joy, and honesty is a gift. Simple and amazing and wonderful and I don't take the moments we have together for granted. I am so grateful...

Do Over

So, I am making a large rug for my living room by stitching together several smaller ones. I will tell about this project in another post...but right now, I want to talk about something else. I stitched together 9 rugs. It has been time consuming and a bit laborious-not in a bad way, but it has taken time. Yesterday, when I had finally knotted the stitch on the last one, I was so very excited-until I opened up my fold and realized that I had stitched the very last one on backwards. All my knot work and loose threads were showing on the face of my rug. My first thought after the initially disappointing realization was "I wonder if it will look bad if I just leave it like that." I flipped the rug back and forth, squinting a little, tucking in knots and threads, trying to make the obvious defect seem "not quite so bad." I finally decided that the best thing to do, indeed what must be done was to unstitch that last rug and sew it back properly. I was less than eager as I sat down today with my scissors to undo my previous work. But as I worked two things became clear to me...how often our spiritual lives are just like this. It is so very important what we do in a moment. I am a firm believer in Grace. I cling to the love and mercy of my Abba in heaven. I know that He understands me and He forgives and cleanses away my mistakes, my sins. But I think it can become easy to mistake grace for no consequence. But there is always a consequence...it's physics. And though we can always ask for forgiveness (and of course, we are going to need to in life), there is something to be said for not having to. It is so much better to hold our tongue and keep our peace than to go back and apologize for words or deeds that can't be taken back. The time and materials I used yesterday are gone and I cannot recall them. We should strive to do things the right way the first time and thank YHVH for grace when we do not. And the second thing I realized was how instant and natural the desire to cover over a mistake instead of rectifying it. How soon do we learn this? What makes us so...lazy? I am glad I have decided to fix my mistake. Even if no one else noticed it, I would always have known it was there and leaving it would have cheapened all my other labor...the hundreds of correct stitches I made. It is not fun to go back and try to fix a problem you have made. But acknowledgement and effort bring a freshening and a maturity that is really impossible to come by any other way. Long one short; life, time, materials, relationships-be careful with them. Stay open and have the humility and the strength to try to ammend your mistakes. I think remembering these two things will make for a much sweeter life. Definitly better looking, homemade rugs!

While Cub Sleeps

Who Is My Neighbor?

Have you ever heard of "intentional communities"? Neither had I, until recently, when a friend of mine introduced me to the concept. Intentional communities are made up of people who are convicted to live a life of voluntary service in and among the poor and disadvantaged. It is far beyond charity, it is pure relationship. There is such a community in the city where I live, and yesterday, my friend invited me to come and see for myself, what it was all about. Friday nights are for community meals. So, between getting my house cleaned, doing my laundry and getting Cub down for his nap (twice) I managed to bake a batch of cookies and google directions to where I needed to be. From the address, I knew that it was in a "sketch" part of town. And when I pulled past the place, looking for a parking space, I have to say my first thought was "What the h-e-double hockey sticks am I doing here??" All I saw were faces of people, with whom, it seemed obvious, that I had little in common with. I got out of my van, slipped cub into my sling, grabbed my plate of cookies and set off down the sidewalk. I felt very awkward as I approached the house. I scanned the yard quickly for my friend. I did not see him and so I decided that the best thing to do was to make myself at home. I introduced myself to a lady named Joanie...she and her husband with their young children have made the decision to follow what they believe to be the call of God on their lives and live in a place and among people that are very different from their own culture, ethnicity and social background. And then there was a man there, with a beautiful little girl and he knew me from my days working in a health food store. It didn't take long for me to feel that I was among familiar people...that common ground is as easy to find as saying "hello". I ate good food, met good people, had a good time talking about scripture, gardens, chickens, backgrounds. I stayed there, with my friends, old a new, until it started to rain. Cub and I walked back down the sidewalk, got back in our van and drove back to our world. Back under our own roof and our four walls I felt a happiness knowing that "mission work" isn't always about traveling to some far away country. Sometimes the people who need to be reached are as close as the neighborhood you don't want to drive through and the person to change the most is the one in your bathroom mirror.

http://hyaets.org/about.html

"Unfurnished"

Starting my garden this year has taught me several important lessons, one of them being to make a plan and get started on it early. So, here, in the middle of July, I am trying to work out a plan for making Cub a quilt. I wanted to use some of his baby clothes, my worn nursing and pregnancy clothes and other such nostalgic fabrics. It is pretty ambitious for me...but another thing I have learned from gardening is that difficulty or inexperience are not always good reasons to not DIVE RIGHT IN! So, I have looked at several styles and patterns and I think I've settled on the one above. It is called "Unfurnished" and was designed by Ashley Williamson of Film in the Fridge for Robert Kaufman Fabrics. I love it! It is so lively and geometric. It is everything I think a quilt should be yet there's nothing, hmmm, grandma, about it (no offense Nana). And I think it will grow with Cub. What do you think? Where my quilters at? I am gonna' need some advice, I am sure! Check out more ideas here: http://www.robertkaufman.com/quilting/

Slow Down

I am very much over my cell phone. Texting is wonderful and I admit that there is a certain sense of security in knowing that I have an instant and portable means of communication...but, maybe I want to send and receive a letter in the mail...maybe I want to remember phone numbers by heart. Maybe I want to sit in one spot and have a conversation without multitasking with a 3"x 4" pc of hot, radiating plastic stuck to my ear...maybe I want to take my time and appreciate yours just a little better...maybe...I will get one of those rotary phones, with a real ring instead of those dinky electronic beats...now wouldn't that be nice. Brrring-ring-ring! "It's the good life calling to tell you to slow down." :)

More Than Streets of Gold

the more i get my hands in the dirt
the more i find and understand and know
that really it is me
i am the one
who is growing
pushing up higher
stretching for the Son of Your Love

my roots go deeper, seeking that which is essential
hidden in the dark it seems
i am clearing away to find what is
simple
this simple thing
this
thing
this...realness
that i draw up, like water from
the black earth,
flows from me in sweat and in tears
this work is pure
and right
but even as the green shoots have come up
even as leaves and tendrils and blooms unfurl
i know the earth is turning away
i know that all the vibrancy
will fade to brown and grey
what i need most still seems to elude me...

i want all the weeds cleared away
i want to know the nature and taste of the fruit of my life
i want to lay hold of You
and pass You out
in spilling handfuls
unfading
everlasting
real
this is what i want
more than anything
You here
my hands Yours
turning and giving
the abundance of forever

The Giver, Not The Gift

Yesterday I was feeding Liam some sweet potato. He was really enjoying it and as I was giving him a spoonful I noticed how he was gazing at me as I fed him, his eyes bright and beaming with intent trust. His eyes never looked at the spoon or the bowl, but stayed soley on me; watching my expressions sure that whatever I was giving him was good. It reminded me of somthing I read about a certain Native American culture, that when they recieved a gift, they did not open or inspect it in front of the giver, but looked into their eyes and expressed deep gratitude. Sometimes I think I forget that...it's not the gift that is important. It is the giver. The heart of someone who exerts effort to bless you, to help you, to care for you...that is something of great value.