Fresh Start

Hello, dear ones.


This spring for me has been juicyfull with growth and new beginnings. I do so hope you have been having the same. Don't get me wrong: a lot of that growing has felt like the hacking of a hoe as it breaks up winterhard ground. Given a choice, I would have wanted to decline, except for the knowledge, hard won, that prepared ground receives seed far more easily.


During the past couple of weeks, I've been away at a Bible study conference in California. Deep diving into the Book of Books, at Asilomar ("refuge by the sea") on the Big Sur coast . . . for me, it doesn't get much better than that.



I've been home a handful of days now, spirit-saturated with an overflowing of gifts from the Divine: peace, direction, possibility, wonder, gratitude, hope, and so much more that dances just beyond the reach of words.


I'll let these images of the vision board I made yesterday speak to what I'm feeling. If the text is too small to read, try clicking on the image--that should enlarge it. [Nope, I just tried clicking and nothing happened. I'll add the text.] [Ah . . a lesson in dropping perfectionism--the first image was supposed to be last, but it got jigglebumped into the first spot, and I can't move it. Okay. I surrender. Happily.]

that big pink "empty" spot insisted on remaining "empty"

(the whole picture)

Something beautiful is happening.

Rediscover

. . . you owe it to yourself to experience

a true breakthrough

effortless and fluid

as if lit from within

emerge

lean into the mirror and say . . . wow

Dear fellow journeyers: may you feel God's tender touch today. Share with me, if you like.

How Sweetly . . .

"How sweetly this day nourishes and inspires."

That's the quote for today on my daily calendar. And here's the picture that accompanies, both art and words courtesy of the artist Robin Pickens.

Isn't that just a luscious image? And don't her words leave you feeling thoroughly hugged? I hope so, since that's the effect they have on me--as though the Creator of this one-of-a-kind day has handed me (Her one-of-a-kind Maureen) a gift (which She has), and I've just unwrapped it and am in the midst of a happy sigh of acceptance and gratitude.



Perhaps somewhere in the world, right now, people are experiencing temperature warmth and garden beauty, as hinted at in that calendar artwork pictured above. For me, I'm standing at my front door in my jammies, shivering, taking some pictures. Here's a view of down the street and up onto Crow Peak, my personal mountain.












Slightly to the left, here's a view of where I sit when weather allows, under my willow.













The chair I curl up in is around the corner, blown there by the last winter storm, or two, or three. The chair pillow is up and over the deck, buried in the last snowfall, or two, or three. Right near my knees is the outdoor thermometer, proclaiming 9 degrees at mid morning, and the high today is supposed to still be in the single digits.



And if I turn just slightly more to my left, here's a current view of my living room.












Yes, Virginia, while there may be a Santa Claus, there are definitely NOT Christmas elves who come along after and clean up all your gift-making mess while you sleep. And yes, folks, I am well aware that it is over two weeks since Christmas. And perhaps by someone else's definition, any self-respecting person would most certainly have restored order to their home by now.




Yeah. Well. To that I say . . . (I can't spell out the sound for blowing raspberries so I'll have to substitute.) . . . phooey. My last two weeks, which from a calendar point-of-view bridged last year and this new year, have been wonderfully full of spiritual growth (see previous post). God has taken me on some incredible journeys of the soul, which haven't left much time for much else. And believe me, if you ask me to choose between traveling with God, and cleaning up my house, it takes less than a heartbeat to decide to grab His hand and hold on for the ride.



Here's one joyful benefit that I'm finding comes from standing ready, each moment, to follow God: the other stuff gets taken care of, too. Last night I kinda reached a saturation point with the mess in the house. I had new projects to start, and my house wasn't functional for them, since it was covered (literally :)) with the aftermath of some wonderful Christmas holiday art/gift-making. Well, tonight is the time I have invited my kids over to "receive" one of their Christmas gifts from me: a pizza party. Handmade-to-order personal pan pizzas, some munchies, some desserts. Not our usual potluck gatherings, but all made by me, for them.


Since we will be gathering in the living room--yes, that room I just showed you a photo of--I will definitely be spending some time today not only baking and cooking, but tidying. So by tomorrow, I'll have memories of a lovely time with my kids, and I'll also have a home ready for new growth, fresh exploration.

I wish each of you a day overflowing with His grace and joy.

And if you feel so inclined, leave me a comment.

I truly love seeing evidence that you've visited my blog--that you and I

have "chatted" for a while.

I'm gonna close with what opened this post:

that warm and lovely,

tender and luscious photo and thought.

Hello, 2011

It's almost 1am, and long past any sensible bedtime for me. So if you ask me why I'm staying up even later to post here, I'm not sure I could come up with an answer other than . . . . "because."

"Because? That's it?"

Yep, pretty much. I last posted early in December . . . had a dozen great ideas for posts since then, but none of them actually came to fruition. The end of last year, and the beginning of this new year, have been kind of smooshed full of emotion for me. A recent awareness of tremendous growth during 2010 has left me, at times, breathless with gratitude. But it has also left me sort of dizzy, if that makes any sense.

I've been sad for so long. Healing has been taking place over several years, but much of it has been like the bamboo plant, with growth underground, invisible. Now that tender green shoots are poking up here and there, I am glad beyond belief. But it's so different. Wonderful, but different.

Don't get me wrong. I still have mountains to climb just about every day. But I look around me. I touch the formerly broken and bruised parts of my life and the horrible pain is gone. Really gone. Faithful prayer over countless days and nights has brought me, inch by microscopic inch, finally to this place where I can see joy. Feel joy. Believe in joy.

As I mentioned, over these past few weeks some terrific ideas for "wonderful, inspiring" posts have flooded my thought, but not quite made it into print. So I'm not at all sure why I am writing NOW. Nothing unusual has happened to finally prompt me to post.

Except maybe this quiet, very quiet, whisper that is saying: Maureen, don't let one single more day go by without saying, in some public way, that your days of mourning are over. Really over.

Yep. That's it. That's the "because."

And as much as I adore having photos in my posts, I can't think of a single image that would be adequate to express whatever it is that I'm trying to say here. I can barely find words for it. As I said, I'm in unfamiliar territory now. The land of joy.

Unfamiliar, yes. But not for very long. Because this is my home now.

Inch by Inch by Inch

I gotta be honest: for me somedays it takes a LOT of courage and heart to keep going. Progress seems so tiny. One of the physical projects I'm working on is the Purge of the whole house. Even though I keep inching forward in this work, and tell myself that the task truly is finite and limited, still the mountain of Undone towers over the anthills of Done.

[ARGH!!!!! And then I think of the people in Haiti . . . loved ones lost. Homes crumbled to the ground. Days filled with a struggle to literally survive. I feel so ashamed for uttering even a syllable of complaint. I have a roof over my head, a safe and warm and comfortable place to sleep. I don't worry about my next meal. I am swamped with gratitude for the blessings in my life. And I feel like a rat for whining about ANYthing . . . ]

But I guess that is a balancing act many of us work on. Our spirits can almost always be lifted by being sincerely and specifically grateful for what we DO have. But it also seems like we need to allow ourselves room for the sorrow in our lives. Sadly, we can always find someone worse off than we are. And yes, we need to STOP thinking about ourselves for at least part of the time--turn our gaze and our focus outward. But then again, it seems healthy to me to take at least some time and acknowledge when the load we are carrying has gotten particularly heavy.

Gee, can you tell this has been One of Those Days????

I could have easily stayed under the warm and comfortable covers this morning. But I didn't. I got up and got cleaned up. Prayed. Took time with my Bible study. Then I tackled one more small area in one room.

The picture at the beginning of this post is at the top of this one area. The sun is my first (and so far, only) attempt at stained glass. The poster shows what I feel like when my spirit is light and lovely. The little circle is a poem someone framed for my mom, with a butterfly escaping its cocoon.

Here's what was under the artistic beauty:

First step was to strip off everything. (Off the shelves, that is :) )

Hmmmmm . . . . there's enough dust there to build something, isn't there????

Started sorting stuff and then it was time to go get my daughter and take my aunt up Spearfish Canyon to her favorite restaurant. We had a sweet time making plans for her 89th birthday party next week.

Came home ready to flop, but sweet daughter encouraged us both to work for an hour before flopping.

So I plowed ahead with the sorting, dusting, and vacuuming and ended up with this:

What are you all working on? Is there anything I can encourage you with?

Renamed Blog Post

Hey, I know . . . some might say I'm a little late with my New Year greeting, but what the heck: today is the 11th, and my clock reads 11:01 am . . . that's a lot of ones, isn't it???

Here's one of my little green friends that smiled at me this morning. Can't you almost HEAR the unfurling growth? the persistence?

I think the leaf above looks like a little tornado, ready to unleash itself . . . and down below, I see a dancer, full of grace . . .

So, why has it taken me until the 11th to greet the New Year? The gentle truth is that [long pause here while I sit in front of the keyboard and wonder how to say it] . . . the GENTLE truth is that I've been aching, from the inside out, this past week or two. It's not been the same depression from the past, which has felt like an unrelenting sadness. Honestly, it has puzzled me, because I have known, with great certainty, that God has been working in me since November, doing something at a very deep level. I wonder if I'm currently mourning stuff that I am being divinely urged to let go of.

My Big Plan for 2010 was to blog nearly every day, updating on the plan of action God has led me to, which I've called The Reveal. This involves clearing away all that does not "belong" in my house or my body. I planned to, methodically, move through my house and purge all the Stuff, to the bone. I also planned to start again to walk and go to Curves, and hopefully thus "reveal" more of the real me in my body.

Well, in my life, Big Plans often sort of go the way of Good Intentions, i.e. they pave the road to youknowwhere. But my dear daughter has been encouraging me to take baby steps. [If you want guaranteed uplift, visit her blog at http://persistentgreen.blogspot.com/].

Last night was one of my lowest times, extremely raw and heart-painful. But something in me, the seed of the real me, kept turning to God, from darkness to His light. At one point, Amanda urged me to paint. She wasn't being at all dismissive of the despair she heard in me. Rather, she was reminding me that especially when feelings seem too deep for words, I can allow myself to put color on paper, with no particular purpose, just letting the wordless in me find expression.

Well, here's what I did.

And again, at Amanda's suggestion (doesn't she have wonder-full ideas?), this morning I added words. They are from a poem I wrote during the November Poem-a-Day challenge, entitled "Radiant."

To love is to live. /I insist on my right /to love without restraint. /No mortal act possesses power /to dispossess me of my birthright. /Outward, from the very heart of me, /love flows.

As far as my Big Plan for this year: no, I have not, at all, made daily progress, except to commit to being very gentle with myself. I HAVE made it to the Recreation Center 4 times, to walk for 30 minutes. And here are Before and After pictures of two areas in my house:

How are all of you doing? Do you want to share any ways you are experiencing growth? or finding more joy? Do you want to share anything you are struggling with?

That's all for now, folks. Thanks for listening. And for loving.

Almost Midnight

The last few minutes of today trickle away. The rational part of me says, "Be quiet. Tomorrow you'll regret saying anything. Besides, what you're feeling is likely due to 'an undigested bit of beef.'" (courtesy of Mr. Scrooge).

Well, to my rational self I say: phbtphbtphbt (or however you spell out the sound of blowing raspberries.)

All too often I have overlooked, stepped around, stepped on fresh new beginnings because I didn't recognize them as such. At best I might have credited them as momentary blips of fantasy, too impractical for Real Life, or (here's the meanest one), not something I could really pull off.

Well. All that nonsense is gonna change. HAS changed. As of now.

I'm declaring publicly, right here and now, that I have abandoned my sweet real self long enough. So many years trying to please others. Trying to behave so that they won't leave me. Didn't work anyway. And all along my sweet self was waiting for me to notice her and give a thought or two about pleasing HER. About MY not leaving HER.

God made me to be me. My only true job/calling/mission is to be the me God made. I'm the only one who can do it. If I don't be me, then I leave a hole in God's universe.

And that's all I have to say for tonight. The clock has just struck midnight and I did NOT turn into a pumpkin. I turned into ME.

[most of the photos sprinkled throughout were taken a couple days ago on a walk by my beloved creek.]

Happy Day

I'm thankful for today. For fresh starts. Grateful that I'm feeling peace and relief from sadness. Grateful even more that this came last night and this morning, even before the early morning fog rolled away and the sun came out, finally.

My sweet flowers say a lot of what I'm feeling. Miss Peony continues to stun with her enduring beauty, surviving hail and cold and rain. To me, her slightly ragged face only adds to her loveliness.

These dainty violas sprouted out in the lawn, were mowed a couple times, and still didn't give up. I honored their courage by transplanting them into a protected garden area. And they took root beautifully.

This batch of violas managed to stay put in the garden where they were first planted. Their claim to fame is that they lasted underground all winter and sprouted very early, under a cover of last year's old growth. Harsh weather deterred them not one bit. They were my first bit of flowering beauty this year.

I love the sweet face on this pansy. She tells me that she doesn't care some might call her a "one-in-a-bazillion," generic offering bought at Walmart. SHE knows she is a one-of-a-kind beauty.

And last of all, my California poppy. Isn't she just pure sunshine??? And every year, she comes back. No matter what. More beautiful than ever.

Amen.

Fresh Start

Had to post a follow-up to last night's musings. Rough rest of the night, sort of. Rough in that I couldn't fall asleep until past 2am. Sort of in that I prayed throughout the night and listened to hymns, all as oh-so-gently guided by the God Whose very name is Love. Climbed out of bed around 10am with a heart sweetly refreshed and comforted. Looked at the results of the watercolor splashings done just before bedtime and was surprised all over again.

Surprised because last night, I'd been happy I responded to the urge to do SOMETHING artistic to combat the blues, but disappointed that the watercolor hadn't turned out as I'd hoped. Surprised because evidently I had forgotten how much watercolor changes as it dries. REALLY surprised that I forgot this element, since that has always been part of that medium's appeal for me--that the artist can do her part in laying on the colors and choosing what paper or other surface and how much water to use and when, but that the colors and water and surface make the final decision as they dry and integrate with each other. This morning I saw lovely shadings and subtle variations where, last night, only puddles had rested. I was also delighted to find the picture I'd painted AFTER splashing on the journal pages--which I'd painted because it felt so good I just couldn't stop.

So, as tears dried throughout the night, so did the watercolors. This morning I could scratch out my thoughts on top this loveliness and be reminded all over again that I AM an artist. God made me that way. God has equipped me with all I need to express myself, in words and colors, in thoughts and actions. Heartdeep thanks to my Creator, and to my daughter for sharing, a few days earlier, her efforts to turn to the play with and production of art when she needs to shake herself loose from inertia.

Renewal

Fresh start. What an incredible feeling. Much prayer the last few days. Deep sorrow layered with a heart open to God. The scraped rawness was also tender skin exposed to healing warmth.

I made some decisions about relationships. Played with colored pencils and tissue paper and glue sticks. Helped my mother's sister celebrate her 88th birthday. Helped teach a dance class. In the middle of a very long and sometimes bitter winter, sat outside today in the winter sun and smelled hope on the breeze.

I will never give up on love. Never. No matter what.

Amen.