Oops . . .

I made a boo-boo in my last post. I musta been so caught up in the joy of finally posting after a long four months away . . . or maybe I was carried away by delight in painting something new and fresh.






Anyhoo, what I forgot to do was to share that the artwork shown in Saturday's blogpost was inspired by one of my favorite artists, who just happens to also be my daughter. To see more of her vibrantly beautiful art, and to hear her honest/tender/wise insights on her thrice-weekly blogposts, visit her at http://www.persistentgreen.blogspot.com/.



A few days earlier, I had just returned home from several days out of town, and my sweet daughter had surprised me with a "welcome home" painting--a brand new kind of image she was trying. It so intrigued me that I wanted to play around with the same colors and techniques and materials. I had great fun, but ended up "copying" her work. That's not bad, in and of itself--that's actually one of the ways I learn best--but I neglected to cite her as my muse, my inspiration. And in my eagerness, I shared MY art on MY blog, before Amanda even had an opportunity to share HER work on HER blog. Oh dear. NOT good.



I humbly apologize. And I publicly give thanks to Amanda for the myriad ways she inspires me, not only in my art, but in life itself.

Welcome home, Maureen

A new friend just asked me, "How come you haven't done your blog since May 7th?"



That's a question I've asked myself often these past few months. A few blogreaders have even said they've missed me.



Well, I've missed me, too.


And the answer to "Why?" has become clear after much introspection.

[pause here for a floral interlude]

The answer to "Why?" is . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . because.

Yep. That's the long and short of it: because.

I remember when my children were little and traveled frequently on avenues of wonderment and inquiry. These journeys of theirs often set off waves of questions that, in turn, triggered much wonderment inside me. Sometimes what I was thinking and feeling was so large and complex that I couldn't find a way to answer their questions except with a feeble "because."

(Hey . . . something just occurred to me: maybe they didn't want answers from me, so much as a companion on their wonder-full adventures . . . )

Anyway, this current question of why I haven't posted on my blog since May 7th has engendered the same overflow of feelings too big for words, at least for right now.

I went back yesterday and re-read my last post, from May. Honestly, (and hopefully without sounding as if I'm full of myself), I was pretty impressed with that entry. The woman writing it seemed pretty on target with her understanding of crossroads in life, and choices.

For now, what I CAN say, is that that woman made some choices these past few months, some pretty brave and messy and raw and beautiful choices. The road she took then, has led her to this place, now.

She will likely choose, at some point, to share some of her adventures in the Land of Because, because she wants to understand them better, and for her, sharing often brings clarity. Also, because those travels WERE brave and deserve to be honored.

But for now, thanks to encouragement from a very very VERY special fellow-journeyer, that woman is painting again, and can once again see sunlight, even on a cloudy day.

How are you doing, on your journey? I'd love to hear.

Loving what is

I just rolled out of bed on this spring morning, May 7th, and here's the scene that greets me out my beloved picture window.

Now, here's another picture. I'm in the middle of a second, utterly fantastic, e-course (go click the button to the right to see what The Creative Playground is all about). I was asked to look out the window of my mind and dream and show at least a little of what I see.

Hmmmmmm . . . now, do any of you see a difference between what is framed in these two windows?????

Is it any WONDER that I dream of the second, while living with the reality of the first??

Now, all those obvious contrasts aside, when I rolled out of bed this morning, even before I saw the winter wonderland that a spring day in South Dakota has "gifted" me with, I got hit with a choice: complain or cheer. Love what is, or fuss about what is not.

Other fellow journeyers through this life have graced us with wonderful quotes (and I'm NOT gonna do research to get them word-perfect, or this post will never see the light of day.)

"When life hands you lemons, make lemonade." A-nony-moose?

"In the midst of winter, I found within me an invincible summer." Camus

"Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain." A-nony-moose.

Plenty of other people have been faced with current circumstances that they would gladly trade for something else. We all stand at crossroads, multiple times a day. The direction we take greatly influences HOW we feel and therefore ACT, as we continue down that chosen path.

Would I prefer a warm sunny day today? Yes.

Would I prefer not to continue to be plagued with residual difficulties from a divorce I never wanted? Yes.

Would I prefer that the current man in my life were the man of my dreams? Yes.

Would I prefer . . . (gonna stop here, 'cause the list SEEMS endless!!)

Instead, I choose:

--to laugh at the silliness of snow in May; at snow covering a yard half-mowed; at a dirty-laundry basket filled with just-worn capris and tank tops, while I search for clothes warm enough to wear today.

--to say a sincere "thank you" for the prompting I received from the divorce lawyers, which "forces" me to review my finances and see if I can live on less.

--to stop ruminating over why he hasn't called and just pick up the phone and tell him I need to hear from him.

Right here, right now, is the only real moment. I can ruin it with the disappointment that bleeds from the brokenness of unmet expectations. Or, I can choose delight and laughter. I can choose tenderness and love, independent of current circumstances. I'll state the ridiculously obvious: I cannot change the snow. I cannot change what other people do towards me. But oh, here's the flip side--the equally ridiculously obvious flip side: I CAN change me. I CAN decide, right here, right now, that NOTHING can dispossess me of my God-given joy and kindness, nor my divinely natural inclination to bring those feelings to any set of human circumstances.

How about you? What crossroads are you standing in right this moment? I am NOT dismissing the severity of certain human events, nor unmindful of how some happenings can wear on our souls. What I'm saying is that we--you, and I--have a choice in how we respond. And our first response, if it sucks us down a traditional path of "Alas, woe is me!", does NOT have to be the response we stick with. We can choose to embrace whatever lies before us, and face it with the joy and love that is native to us, native because our Creator put it in us at the beginning.

Here's a picture, snapped a couple weeks ago:

Same scene, taken a few seconds ago--and PLEASE appreciate my dedication in sharing this with you, 'cause it meant sneaking out the front door in my bathrobe and flipflops, and sheltering my camera from the still-falling snow :)

Do I prefer the day in which the first shot was taken? An hour ago, my answer would have been a resounding YES! But the second shot is a moment of TODAY--a snippet of what lies before me in my here and now. And I choose to LOVE it. I choose to take the example of those brilliant hardy tulips and say, "Yep, I, too, am blossoming in the midst of inclement weather, and nothing can stop me either, from growing and blooming, just like I was created to do."

Now, all that brings to mind another quote, or a version thereof:

"Tu-lip, or not tu-lip--that is the question . . ."

Sorry, Shakespeare!!! And love to all of you!! I'm off now--got a lot of tu-lipping to do today!!

Welcome, April

I'm not quite sure where I disappeared to, since my last blog post on my birfday . . .I'm not gonna spend much time, here, analyzing WHY I haven't posted in so long. Many journal pages already have tons of footprints from the zigzagging journey of these past few weeks.


Suffice it to say that I am here, now. And here's a picture of me that I ended up quite liking. It was sort of a "before" picture for an assignment in an e-course I took. And when I saw it, I said to myself, "Self, look at those legs . . . look at their strength and curve . . . " I can't remember the last time I so thoroughly enjoyed the sight of myself in skin-tight clothing.


Another assignment in this e-course was to define ourselves through images and perhaps a word or two: again, I surprised myself by what I chose. It actually took a lot of oomph to "name" myself this so publicly. But hey, I think I am beginning, teeny step by teeny step, to allow myself to love the best of me.


Yet one more assignment in this e-course that I've just completed, was to have a photo that could serve as an advertisement for ourself. Instead of creating something new, I ended up taking a fresh look at a wall in my living area that, piece by piece, has accumulated over this winter, to end up being a pretty accurate depiction of me.




I'm conscious that this post, so far, might seem to be all me/me/me/me/me. And aren't we so cautioned about getting wrapped up in self? But here's the thing: this post doesn't reflect the all of me. Actually, I spend most of my active time helping others. During this month of being off-line with my blog, I've been with an elder relative every day during her two emergency room visits and ten days in the hospital. On behalf of a friend in deep need, I was awake all night and prayed, except for a brief hour+ nap. On a day when my own heart was hurting and felt in need of comfort, I went instead to another friend's bedside, took her flowers and loving thoughts.




I don't mention ANY of this to say "Woohoo, isn't Maureen wonderful." Those actions I told you about were just some of the ways that God uses me. They result from my surrendering myself to God and asking Him to guide me. They are ways that He stops me from being so sad over MY life, and has me reach out to others.



But another thing that God is doing in me, is causing me to realize, in very practical ways, that the only way to truly "love my neighbor as myself," is to love myself as well. And that means being just as joyous about Maureen, as I am about others.



So actually, the first paragraphs of this post, where I WAS talking about me/me/me, I guess that I really WAS saying, "Woohoo, isn't Maureen wonderful." [ARGH!!! that was so hard to type!!! Little itchy voices all through my head are screaming "you are SO stuck on yourself!]



Hey you guys . . . aren't we ALL wonderful??? Truly wonder-full?? Do we have to wait for someone else to say it about us??? Can't we gently, lovingly, joyfully, acknowledge that we are indeed, an asset to the world around us? How are the rest of you dealing with this? Are you able, in some public way (meaning not just in the silence of your thoughts, or on a private journal page), to say really nice things about yourself? I'd love to hear what you think on this.

Happy Birfday

Happy birfday to meeeee . . .

Happy birfday to meeeeeeeeeee . . .

Happy BIRFday, dear Maureeeeeeeeen. . .

Happy birfday to ME!!

Sweet thanks to Amanda and Jason for my flowers!!

Hello March

I've had several ideas for blog posts swirling in the back of my thought for a couple weeks. But right now, they escape me!! Plus, I have to leave in just a few minutes for a mid-week church service. I'll admit I'm kinda proud of myself in that for the past year and a half, I've been faithful in leading a hymn sing before our regular service. I can't sing. I can't play any musical instrument besides the radio. But I can activate a CD player and make a joyful noise, along with recorded music.

More and more I'm learning to drop preconceived limits (like not being able to sing or play), and just trust that any deep desire will find a way to blossom.

The gorgeous geranium being showcased in this post is one of my favorite floral buddies. She was rather roughly yoinked from the ground a few falls ago as I dashed to bring her inside before a sudden hard frost. She has gamely survived my attempts to prune her back so she isn't so gangly. Thankfully she resisted all my attempts to harness her leggy growth.

She blossoms very reliably, spilling luminescent petals over my favorite chair. She keeps me company through some very long winters, of the soul as well as of the outdoors.

Morning After

Love. Love God. Love yourself. Love others. But above all, when in doubt, love.

Sometimes I think I'm making progress, or what I would call progress. I see a place in my life that I think I need to/ought to/should be, and try to get there. I know all about how the journey is equally important as the destination, and some would say more so.

But still. It has been hard for me to value my wanderings in the wilderness. Why can't I just get "there" and finally be "done?"

Those are the frustrations--the chorus of nasty voices that swirls around the edges of my thoughts at times.

But. [And this is a BIG but!!!!] I'm finally seeing evidence of true growth. Of groping in the dark, zigzagging through the wartorn pieces of my life, enduring self-inflicted wounding and STILL coming out of it loving myself and my babystumble from an old life into a new.

All these pictures? Evidence of the day-old Valentine's candy I bought for myself yesterday. And ate. The chocolate that kept me from sleeping. I knew when I ate it that I might be sabotaging sleep. But the tender ache, the still healing wounds from unrequited love, called out for something sweet. So I fed myself chocolate.

When I couldn't sleep in the dark of night, I got up and read a book. Went back to bed just before 4am and managed to sleep, on and off, until almost noon. Got up and showered. Went to my line dance class, groggy, grainy in my soul, a little wobbly in my dancing feet. But gentle. Oh-so-gentle with my emerging self.

Right now, I am doing the best I can. I am moving from darkness into light. Yes, I wobble. Sometimes I fall. Hard.

But I'm learning to hug myself. Maybe lie down with my self, and rest, until we can get to our feet again. More hugs. Wipe away tears. Blow snotty nose. Turn face to the sun and start again, one tiny, unsteady step at a time, into the light.