Sunday morning pleasures

Our regular Sunday mornings are great.  We get up a little later than during the week, get ready at a comfortable pace, and head out the door in plenty of time to get to Sunday school, followed by worship.  We love our usual routine, but today I am reminded of how great it is to change things every once in a while.  Like today.  Jeffrey & Sloane are on a scouting trip as hunting season is about to begin.  I decided to take the day off, just for me.

I have had the most delicious morning.  I always ask Jeffrey and Sloane to wake me up when they leave early.  What's a little sleep when compared to not saying, "Good morning, loves."?  Since I was awake so early, I decided to just stay up.  I spent hours in bed reading Etta and Otto and Russell and James.  The room was chilly as the October breezes crept in and I snuggled under our cozy duvet.

When I finally got up, I saw that Jeffrey had left me muffins ready for the oven; a reminder to have a nice breakfast and take care of myself.  The muffins are baking, fill the house with the smell of sugar and cinnamon, and I thought I'd stop by and say hello. Tell me, what are you doing with your delicious October Sunday morning?

not forgotten

I met a little girl tonight.

Suneela is from Uganda.  She is eight.

Two years ago she came home and saw four neighbors surrounding her mother's covered body.  One of them put their arms around her and told her that her father had hung himself after murdering her mother.

The only other family Suneela had were her paternal grandparents.  They wanted nothing to do with her and her brothers since they blamed the children's mother for their son's death.

If any person on this big, spinning world of ours has a right to be hopeless, to feel forgotten, it is Suneela.  But she was not hopeless, she was full of joy.  She had traveled over 8,000 miles to tell us this one thing:

I am not forgotten.  I am not forgotten.  I am not forgotten.  

God knows my name. He knows my name.  

Help for the helpness.  Strength over weakness.  Joy over sadness.

He knows my name.

Father to the fatherless.  Friend to the friendless.  Hope for the hopeless.

He knows my name. 

I met a little girl tonight.
I hugged her small body and felt her arms squeeze me tight.
I looked in her face and saw only joy.  He knows my name.


You can help spread the joy I saw tonight.  Click here and learn more about Watoto. 

Minimum Daily Requirements

I've been thinking about priorities lately.  Jennifer Louden recommends sitting down and thinking about your personal minimum daily requirements.  I'm not actually sure about her whole theory since I was only skimming the book, but she got me thinking.  The list that follows is what I consider my own minimum daily requirements.

Recipe for a Happy Life
Ingredients for a good day:

• count my blessings and offer thanks
• have a personal prayer time
• spend time reading the Bible 
• sing
• smile
• thank someone or give a compliment
• listen to music
• get in touch with a friend and offer encouragement (Facebook, email, text, phone - whatever)
• call my parents
• learn something
• read for pleasure
• write in one of my journals
• forgive offenses
• let go of annoyances
• play with the dogs
• notice beauty
• kiss and hug Jeffrey and Sloane
• hug and say, "I love you." to students, friends, and family
• end the day with family prayer time

Mix well.  Add same ingredients daily.  Add spice to the mix with a variety of adventures and encounters and a few long walks.  Serving size: one happy life.

Color

You need color!  Everything is happier with color.

~ Sloane, age 10

She's right, isn't she?

Just think.  Who would ever buy white cotton candy?  Or black roses?

How much fun would it be to ride a gray merry-go-round?  Or an all-white carousel?

There's just something about a blue, blue sky and lush green grass. 

Something special about striped circus tents and swirly striped lollypops.

Color.  Everything is happier with color. 

make your own dreams come true

Have you ever had something you wanted to do so badly
that you could almost taste the desire?

That's how I was with riding a hot air balloon.

I had longed to do that since the first time I saw
the incongruous, nearly magical thing.

Imagine!

Floating high over the Earth, held up only by heated air.
As a kid, I thought it must be pure magic.

I was right.

This summer we made my long-held dream come true. You know how it tasted? Sweet.

9.10.11

Do you know what today is?
Have you said the date outloud yet?
Today is 9, 10, 11.
How cool is that?

Ok. I know I am kooky and silly to love things like that.
But, I do. I really do.
I love dates that are odd
and other silly things.

I guess I just wanted to say it again.
Silly is good.
Celebrating is good.
A habit of celebrating the silly is even better.

Happy counting day.

Two of my friends, being silly - of course.

in praise of silly

I've written before about how much I love being silly.
I believe silly is a main ingredient to a happy life.
Silly makes you happy, makes people around you happy,
and, if you're lucky, makes for a great family photo.

I made this collage from a photoshoot I did with one of my best friends and her family.

the key to living artfully...

Someone once said, "I think everything in life is art." I think that's true. But, I think the key to living artfully, and savoring this beautiful life we've been given, is passion. We must live passionately.

Three years and one month ago, I wrote this:

Living passionately is important to me. I think if you asked my husband, Jeffrey, to describe me in three words, passionate would be his first. I couldn't resist. I just asked him. I was right.

Here it is. I live big. At least on most days I do. I believe that life is better when you laugh. That laughs are better when they are loud and long. I believe that you should never miss a chance to ride an upside-down roller coaster. And that when you ride it, you should keep your hands up and definitely scream your head off. I believe that dreams are valuable in their own right, but that the best dreams have hands and feet. I believe that life is too short to waste. So turn off the TV and start talking. I believe that to live passionately, you must live with intention. And thoughtfulness.

So.

Let's think. Let's think about how we live. How we choose to spend our time. About what is important to us. And what isn't. About what brings us joy. And how we can bring joy to others. Let's think about our personal passions. Won't you join me?

For one month each year, I invite blogging friends to join with me in a celebration of passionate living. April is that month. Let's celebrate personal passions. There will be frequent posts, special guests, and a give away or two. I hope you'll plan to join us.

heaven in a wildflower

... or a single twiggy plant.

What I love most about hiking is the tiny things you notice.
The moon out at four p.m. and framed by branches above you.
The red cheeks on my child after she raced up the hill ahead of us.
The splash of water as you tromp across a stream.
The brilliant green moss peeking out from under a carpet of leaves.
The curving shadow a branch makes on the ground.

heaven in a wildflower...

Spring Green

This is the second day of our spring break and we are all full of bounce. Sloane has her best friend over and Jeffrey and I are attacking the garage. In fact, I only have a moment to say hello. We're all loading up in two cars and hauling off the recycling. We usually do this once every three months or so, but we let it get away from us this school year. Sheesh! We make a lot of recycling.

Speaking of recycling, I was at a women's event at my church recently and the theme was Going Green. We went around our table and shared the green things we all do at home already. I have to say, I was shocked at how few people recycle. It's just a way of life for us and I guess I assumed it was for others as well. What I found was that many people are willing to do the "green thing" if it is only about money - say changing type of light bulbs. But, not so willing if it requires a lot of time and effort - say recycling when there's no curbside. No criticism here, just an observation. We all live such busy lives, I wonder if that is true in general.

So my questions are these:

• In what ways is your lifestyle already green?
• What plans to you have for becoming even greener?
• Do you even think it's important?

Coming soon... tips on easy ways to live greener.

That picture is about the greenest one I've got. It's still pretty winter-brown around here.

Rocket Day

Week 6 of Wednesday lists
Is it just me, or did anyone else notice that yesterday's date was 3.2.10? BLAST OFF!!! I called it Rocket Day and my class celebrated blasting off toward our goals. I use goal setting extensively in my classroom, and this was a fun way to reinforce those lessons. Don't you just love super-silly celebrations like that? In honor of Rocket Day, I offer a list to help us all blast off toward our own goals.

3 things to get you started when you set a goal

• Dream Big - Dream as big as you're willing to work.
• Tell Somebody - Make it public and you're ten times as likely to achieve it.
• Break it Down - Immediately break your big goal into smaller, more doable pieces, and set a deadline for the first step.

2 things to keep you going

• Reward Yourself - Small achievements deserve big recognition, and maybe a small treat or two.
• Reevaluate Your Goals - Now that you've gotten started, is this still really what you want to do? If yes, great! If no, feel free to change it. It's your goal after all.

1 thing to remember

• You can do it!

0... Blast Off!!

Happy Rocketing, friends.

Amazing photo by 4pizon.

Happy Saturday

Hello, everyone. Just stopping in to wish you a happy, happy weekend. We're enjoying my favorite gift of winter: the kind of unseasonably warm weather that lets you know you can hold on till spring. It's a delicious day.

~ the paper whites are nearly ready to bloom in their pot on the table
~ the bread is rising on the counter
~ the room is full of clear, spring-like sunlight
~ my daughter is finding more and more strong, determined women to admire
~ our family has gasped and cheered and sighed along with the rest of the world
~ Sloane is currently hanging upside down from her swing set
~ the library bookshelf is full of books I'm dying to get to
~ the camera is fully charged and Jeffrey has scouted out a place to take us for a photo-walk

And, so, I must go. We have photos to create, conversations to have, and tonight... more Olympics to watch. Have a great day, my friends.

Celebrity by Alberto Complejo. Spotted first on Creature Comforts.

Being Brave

You know, I never would have described myself as fearful. I happily sky dive. I don't scream when I see snakes or mice. I frequently fly in an airplane and do so without a qualm. I feel comfortable driving alone from Tennessee to Missouri. I eat alone in public and go to movies by myself. I walk around downtown at night. I do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Not scared. Just not.

Since I'm among friends, I'll even admit that at times I've been a little smug about this lack of fearfulness. When I am around someone who is a little bit more than cautious, a bit fearful, I would sometimes think to myself, "How silly."

You know as well as I do that it is a dangerous thing to be smug. Soon enough something will come along to knock that smirk off your attitude. In my case, I began to realize all the ways I wasn't brave.

OK. OK... All the ways that I was fearful.

Here's one: I hate introducing myself to strangers. Hate it. I just know I'll do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, or somehow turn them off. I'll have something in my teeth or laugh too loudly or at the wrong joke. Or trip and fall. Or break a dinner plate. (Which by the way, I sometimes do.) I am always afraid that I won't be right somehow and will ruin that potential friendship before it even begins. Silly, huh? Because instead I don't introduce myself at all, and am left with a trail of missed opportunities littering the path behind me.

I am still working on this one thing. Still.

But there are others. Other fears that are more limiting.

Like this one: I've always been either very hesitant or completely unwilling to publicly try something new. I just wouldn't audition, try a sport, play an instrument... Nothing new unless I was already pretty sure I would be good at it. When I was five I waffled back and forth about joining the kids' choir till I was in tears and my mother very nearly was. I really, really wanted to sing. But, oh, I was afraid I might sound bad and get laughed at. My mother finally got tired of all my waffling and told me to choose right now: choir or we would go home. I choose choir and immediately changed my mind. Thank God Mom gave me no choice but to stick with it. I love to sing. And I almost never tried.

There are many other things I didn't try. I didn't try out for cheerleader or drill team. I never learned to play an instrument. I was five foot eight when I was twelve and I didn't play basketball. I was afraid I might not be any good. I was afraid I'd be laughed at.

So many missed opportunities.

It's funny how parenting can change you.

Wanting better for your children can bring home truths you knew but never really lived. Not too long ago Sloane was scared to try something new. So we talked. And I told her about me. And I told her about her Uncle Brett. Uncle Brett never let fear stop him from trying new things. He wanted to play soccer, so he did. And, so what if he was never a starter? He was on the team. He wanted to play an instrument, so he did. He played the trombone in a great jazz band in high school. He wanted to be an actor, so he became one. He had never acted, but he tried out anyway. And earned a part. And eventually was featured on the front page of the Lifestyles section of the Chattanooga Times. "Be like your Uncle Brett," I told her. "Be like him. Don't be afraid to try new things. Don't be like your Momma was. Be like your Uncle Brett."

Like your Momma was...

One thing I am is a truth teller. Like your Momma was is. Is.

Afraid to try new things publicly. Afraid to fail in front of people.

Be like your Uncle Brett...

And so I will. I will try. I will become more like my brother, Brett. I will. I will be brave.

And I'm going to start here. In this place. With these friends.

Tomorrow.

Are you laughing? You are supposed to be laughing. It's funny. But, really, I'm not copping out. It's just that it's late. Really late. Besides, I'm a dramatic sort of girl. I like to build up some anticipation. So I'll be back here tomorrow. Ready to be brave. I hope to see you then.

Good night , sweet friends. Good night.

Circus image found here.

Contentment

This is another SOOJ post. For those of you who don't know what SOOJ is, it means straight out of the journal. From time to time I copy things exactly from my journal and post them unedited. If you like this, you might click on the SOOJ tag at the end of this post for more.


Saturday night
at home
January 2, 2010

This is what contentment looks like:

It is two people who have shared a long love. Two people who sit together in a room, each happy to pursue their own pleasure. It is a low hum of voices as they reach out and briefly draw the other into their realm. It is the quiet accompaniment of a dryer stolidly doing its chore while you sit and ruminate. It is a good book, half read. A steady companion who does not mind its conversation being set aside frequently because you have other things you wish to think about. It is the cheery sound of applause that the red-faced ember men give the dancing girls in their dresses of flame tinged with blue. It is a perfect piece of music. It is a place to prop your feet. It is a kiss on the neck when your love gets up to stoke the fire. It is the funny way the star has gone crooked on top of your tree. It is the one more late night at home before winter break truly begins to end. It is a blank page and the scratch of a pen. It is the magic of language that turns emptiness into a perfect evening, captured forever.


The image is from a little corner in my home. I love, love, love art and have a few small collections of original watercolors. These were painted by Dorothy Klyver, who became a very good friend after I wrote her a thank you note telling her what her work meant to me.

Every Year, the Same

Every New Year's Eve, like everyone else I know,
I sit down to take stock.
And, what can I say here to you?
Every year my findings are the same.


In the year of our Lord, two thousand and nine...


It came.
We lived it.
We laughed and played as much as possible.
We were too busy.
We tried hard, but didn't always live our priorities.
We had a lot of fun. A lot.
We had a lot of laughs. A lot.

The year was good.
They are all good.
If only because there was much love and the difficulties brought with them important lessons.
For me, every past year was good, at least in reflection.

Do I just have rose colored glasses permanently attached to my rearview mirrors??
I think I must.


Hmmm....
I like that. I do.

What a great way to live.
No regrets.
No sorrowful musings.
Just gratitude for the lessons.
Gratitude for the blessings.
Excitement about the future.

Here's to rose colored rearview mirrors.
Happy new year, my friends.
Be safe tonight.

The image above is by the glorious Michael Kahn.

Not Quite Over...

I like the European custom of Christmas extending past the 25th and lasting into the new year. I love the days after Christmas. All the hurry and scurry, hustle and bustle is over and our family has time to just settle in and enjoy. Enjoy time. Enjoy laughter. Enjoy each other. Enjoy games and baked treats and time together. It's the absolute only time of year that we plan nothing beyond pleasure and time with family and friends. Even vacations, as fun as they are, can leave us exhausted. But this glorious, quiet week is our best gift to ourselves. The gift of time to just be present. Be here. Be happy.


Wishing you quiet time with your family this week. Time to read, to blog, to laugh, to play games, to bake, to sit and talk for hours after a delicious dinner. Wishing you time to be present, be here. be happy. Merry After-Christmas, my friends.



Just a few glimpses around our little enchanted cottage this Christmas. More tomorrow. Listen.

As the Years Pass

My birthday was on Wednesday last week. I turned 39. Thirty nine?? How on earth did that happen? Some days I'd swear I was still 12, stuck in Jr. High Hell. Some days I'm 17, full of life and adventure and excitement, with everything ahead. Most days I've just turned 30, went skydiving on my birthday, am feeling strong and happy and good. How could I be staring 40 in the face?

I have a confession to make. One that doesn't make me proud. I've spent too much time this past year feeling vaguely bothered at the thought of turning 40. Feeling awed by that inexorable march of time. It never ends, does it? Won't slow down for even a minute. Worried about where my life is heading, and feeling far too stunned by mere numbers.

Yes, yes, I know. You are only as old as you feel. Your best years are still ahead. Life is sweet. Old age is better than the alternative. Blah, blah, blah. I do know all that. I do. It doesn't help much when you're the one turning 39. Thirty nine sounds so... so middle aged somehow. How on earth could I be middle aged??? No way is my heart middle aged. Not my mind either. But, well. My body just might be. I've occasionally heard these little groans come out of me when stand up after sitting for a while. YIKES!! I've noticed that I squint and adjust my arm length when I have to read the small print. And, what's the deal with needing to go to the bathroom two or three times a night? MY GOSH! My Mom was right. Getting older's not for sissies.

So there I was up until a few weeks ago. One part of me was feeling disgruntled and sort of lost. The other part of me could hear my internal drill sergeant yelling, Get up soldier. Age is just a number. Get up! Get moving! What's your problem anyway?

I still can't tell you what my problem was exactly. But, I can tell you what helped. Actually turning 39 helped, of course. More than that, friends helped. Christina turning 40 and confiding that it made her feel sexy and powerful helped. Robin being so strong and confident and happy and past 50 helped. Grammy telling me that she's happier in her 60s than she's ever been helped. And Meri. My friend Meri really helped. This is what she told me:

I think the key to growing beautiful old is to keep learning, to stand in awe at the wonder of the universe, to stay open to whatever arises, to do what makes you happy at least once a day, to express yourself creatively in whatever form suits you, and to laugh. It means treating yourself like a queen especially no one else does and always wearing comfortable shoes. It means saying no whenever you feel like it and shedding your guilt at not martyring yourself for the whole world. It involves having friends of all ages and mentoring younger women. It requires taking risks.

There's no choice but to grow old. The challenge is to become beautiful old. Are you up to it? I think you are......

I am. I am up to it. I will become beautiful old. What about you? How do you think we become beautiful old?




I love that picture of me. It was taken by Tangobaby when I was in San Francisco this past July. She's an amazing photographer and makeup artist and I have several very nice pictures from our time together. I probably even have a few that are more flattering. But. I love this one because it is so me. I'm laughing, and talking, and looking up. Looking up. That's the real me. The me I plan to be as I grow beautiful old.

Speaking of Wishes,

I have more. Of course I do.

I wish you

the same sense of perspective that time at the ocean always seems to bring

magical moments that make you feel all lit up inside

the feeling of freedom you had when you rode downhill on your childhood bike

days when you know and enjoy your own beauty

empty spaces and room to breathe

Be well my friends. Be happy.



All photos were taken by i.Anton and are used with permission. You can purchase some of her wonderful images here.

When Thelma Met Louise

It's been a month since I returned from San Francisco, and I still haven't written about the people portion of my trip. Funny since that was the most important part. Meeting friends was the real reason for the trip. I think I haven't written about meeting blogging friends because I hold that experience so close to my heart. The relationships we formed feel far too precious to write about casually. I feel like my "blog camp" friends deserve a trumpeting fanfare, a parade with them waving from the back of a cherry red convertible. They should, at the least, be showered in confetti and gifts. All I have are words. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
This picture, taken by an obliging stranger, is my favorite of the entire trip. Look at us. See how much we enjoy each other? It's all right there, in our faces. Real affection, laughter, kinship.

These pictures are of Robin and I. Our SF pals are much too camera shy for these posts. But, the kinship exists with them as well. How could it not? We laughed until our sides ached. We walked until we needed foot reflexology. We took more pictures than you can imagine. We inspired and challenged each other. Most of all, we talked. We talked about goals, about our pasts, about our passions, about old hurts and new joys. We were real. We connected. We looked deeply at each other. We saw each other. And we liked what we saw.

Dutchbaby and I met the most wonderful couple on the beach. They were both in grad school, and were building their first sandcastle. Those two were delightful, so full of life they fairly sparkled. As we talked DB mentioned that we were blogging friends that had only met the day before. Our new friends were shocked. The girl said,"Really? I just knew you two were lifelong friends." My answer? "We are. It just goes forward instead of back." And that's it. Those two sentences sum it up. When you meet a blog friend, when you spend time together, you become lifelong friends - going forward.

The Art of Silly

Don't you just love jumping on the bed? And on a trampoline? Don't you love polka dots, spring sunshine, and excited little puppies that crawl all over each other just trying to get to you? OK. Back to jumping on the bed...

Sloane and I have a tradition that drives Jeffrey crazy. The first thing we do in any hotel room we enter is toss down our stuff and jump on the nearest bed. We jump and jump and jump. We reach up to try and touch the ceiling. I usually have to jump on my knees. Otherwise I'd crack my head on the ceiling.

I have a special gift for silly, for fun. I believe in wearing those pointy party hats, singing off key to get a laugh, squirting Silly String at unsuspecting people. (Actually, I've always wanted to squirt grumpy cashiers with Silly String, but I can't go quite get myself to do it.) I think toots and other stinky smells are hilarious, and I laugh every time someone toots near me. I often peer into other classrooms and make fish faces on the glass. In Lawsonland, we have Stupid Human Tricks Time once a month on Fridays. We also practice groan-worthy Knock Knock jokes and burst into song at random times when the moment seems to call for it.

I think being silly is underrated. Most people outgrow silly while they are still in their twenties. And that just makes them older faster. It is a little known fact that silly is an art form. It is another fact that silly makes you laugh and laughter makes everything better. As usual, Shel said it best:

Put Something In
by Shel Silverstein

Draw a crazy picture,

Write a nutty poem,

Sing a mumble-gumble song,

Whistle through your comb.

Do a loony-goony dance

‘Cross the kitchen floor,

Put something silly in the world

That ain’t been there before.

Silly lets you get away with things you'd never try otherwise. Silly gets a laugh, which is a gift to the laugh-er and the laugh-ee. Silly keeps you from being embarrassed and helps make the most of tiny moments. I say, "Bring on the silly!"

Now. Where's that hotel bed when I need it?




Art by Tricia Tusa, one of my most favorite illustrators. This silly post is especially for my love, Jeffrey. Who shows me his silly side every time I need it. Happy birthday, my love.