Cracking Open

In the previous post I made reference to "years and years of hardshell hurt cracking open." The past few weeks have been gloriously, painfully, messily, joyfully more of that same newbirthing.

These precious tulips, right outside my front door, open up to the sun, just like I've been doing.

Here's what's left of my heirloom peony bush in its original space. Because of needed repairs to my house, it has to be relocated to another part of the yard. Last fall I excavated as much as I could, but this clump remained, its heartroot exposed all winter.

And yet despite all my rough shoveling and an inhospitable winter, nothing stops its persistent growth.

In just a few weeks, these homely stubby shoots will bear the weight of the most glorious blossoms, a fushcia and marigold explosion of joy.








These sturdy flowers will have to survive more transition, though. Their home for nearly 20 years needs to be relocated. So in this spring warmth, I will go out and dig as deeply as I can, yet as gently as I am able, and move them to another garden.

I have no doubt that they, too, will find a way to survive . . . to blossom . . . to thrive.

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.

Feeling Hopeful

It's 2:00 a.m.

Yep, I shoulda been in bed hours ago.

Instead, I'm here, paying tribute to beauty . . .

. . . to having survived a bitter long winter of the soul . . .

. . . to feeling the uncomfortable yet exceedingly welcome itch of new growth.

May you, too, experience the unutterable joy of having your heart come back to life.

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.

Day by Day

Ah, growth. You can't force it. You CAN try to provide the most optimum conditions, but in the end, you must simply let growth happen. Things grow because that is how they are designed.

Remember my little green buddy from the last post? Here's how he looks today:

That's pretty much a photo of me . . .broadening, stretching, not yet fully unfurled.

My Big Plan for 2010--daily work on my cluttered house, and daily energetic movement of my body--has continued to NOT go according to my rigid and humanly perfectionistic plan. And I guess I'm glad, 'cause I've had my fill of impossible expectations.

What I HAVE done, since the last post, is walk outside in City Park. Three hard-and-fast round trips past my favorite stretch of creek works out to exactly 30 minutes. And all the family memories of time spent in this place are able to be lovingly thought of. That's real progress.

And regarding a relationship, I gathered courage and prayed real hard and talked to a friend about stuff that I thought he would get mad about and walk out over. He didn't. We had a wonderful hour-and-a-half of honest, loving discussion. I considered that a minor miracle and am still giving thanks for it.

When I knew he was coming over, and I knew I was praying for the gumption to tackle the difficult topic, I was too jittery to sit. In the midst of prayer, I could feel God leading me to get up and go upstairs. I went into this room.

In a little under two hours, I had THIS room.

I'd had no conscious intention to tackle that area, or even to work on the house at all that day. But God showed me how I could take that "nervous energy" and let my hands work, even while my mind and heart were thinking and praying. Is the room anywhere near "done?" Oh my no. Is it improved? More importantly, is it at least minimally functional? Oh my yes.

So, I'm now 19 days into The Great Reveal of 2010. I'm tickled to see visual differences in the house. I'm pleased that I have walked inside in bad weather, and outside when the sidewalks allowed. And I'm peaceful, having felt God's tender touch and His quiet reassurance that yes, I am following His lead.

And my dear friends, how are you? Any new plans or projects you want to share? Are you finding new ways to let joy and love flow out of you?

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.

I'm back . . .

Yes, I'm back. And the weird part is that I didn't even realize I'd been "gone." Ever since I started blogging in January, some internal calendar sent me to the computer every few days to post a message. But in May, that evidently didn't happen.

I do know that I've felt particularly unsettled the past few weeks. A dear dear friend finally talked to me, and persisted, until I was able to see that something was indeed out-of-whack. Yes, I had made a commitment early in January to follow where God was leading me, even though it felt very uncomfortable. God had promised to be my partner in the dance of life and He was urging me--actually He was inviting me quite insistently :)--to stay out on the dance floor with Him and not to worry if I didn't know the steps (He did). And I was not to run for the chairs along the wall in between songs. Just stay out there, smack dab in the middle of the world and new experiences and evolving relationships and listen for the music.

I obeyed. A result of this was that I often felt uneasy, uncomfortable. I was definitely thinking things and saying things and doing things that were not "usual" for me. True, I was uncomfortable, but I was with the Comforter. I let that assurance support me and gradually I got more accustomed to NOT feeling comfortable.

But these past few weeks, as my dear dear friend helped me see, I had lost the joy. As I prayed in private, what God revealed to me was that in those early months, it was very appropriate that I feel sort of twitchy and at times, gritchy, due to being far out of my comfort zone. But now I had grown quite a bit. And actually, I had OUTgrown that twitchy gritchy feeling and was now feeling it only out of habit. It was time for me to lay aside what was appropriate THEN, and move forward. With joy.

As nearly as I can tell, this need for emotional recalibration is what made my internal calendar go whacky, resulting in my being oh-so-sure I had left several posts here during May, when in fact I had not. (Gee, how much MORE have I thought I've done and really, I haven't???? :)

In a sweet blessing from God and the universe, even during this time with only one post for nearly 3 weeks, several new people have visited my blog and left wonderfully supportive comments. Thank you to everyone, both new and familiar, for the responses. They mean the world.

See you soon.

Self-Portrait

Yes, odd as it may seem, except to those of you who really know me :), I'm considering this lovely bloom as a pretty accurate picture of yours truly.

This is one of a cluster of geraniums I had growing outside last summer, and which I pulled in before a frost killed them. They have wintered beautifully indoors, right next to my "sit and think and read and write" chair.

As they inevitably grew toward the sunlight in the picture window, they would lean over my shoulder and drop luscious petals of hot pink and lipstick red, some on my lap and many more on the beige carpet below.

Nope, I didn't vacuum these petals. Too pretty. Too much of a gift of bright and brillliant beauty during a loooooooong winter.

I pinched off the tops of the several plants, thinking to "manage" their growth--hoping for thick versus leggy, concerned that leggy might snap off . . .but my sweet plants had their own ideas. They continued to strain toward the sun and shot out new splindly sprouts.

I surrendered my efforts to tell them how best to grow and just took a little easel and upended it in their soil and provided a couple loops of cotton twine to loosely secure the tallest stems. They seem safe enough now.

At last count, 9 clusters of buds are in various stages of bloom. I've never had so many at one time.

I've also never felt so much bud and blossom in my own life.

Yes, the winter of my journey has seemed very long and drear, but all during it, I also insisted on blooming. The light has also irresistibly drawn me toward it. During times when I just wanted to give up, God was there to reassure me: "Even if you let go, dear one, I'm still holding on to you." And dear friends and family have also reached out to express very specific love and tender encouragement. For that, I give my deepest thanks.