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.

Thanksgiving

What a joy, on Thanksgiving Day, to host the gathering at my home. Daughter Amanda and husband Jason, son Ben and wife Jodi, son Matt and roommate Dave, Great Aunt Marge and I all shared a precious afternoon and evening.

We didn't lack for desserts!

After the meal, we chatted and played games around the table.

But just a few days before, that same area was completely torn up and "under construction." Many times I wondered what in the world I was doing, ripping up carpet and scrubbing walls, so close to company time.

But the desire for reconstruction of my home was too powerful to deny, or, evidently, even to delay.

The deconstruction part was nitty and gritty.

Housecleaning has taken a back seat in my life the last few years (or longer!), but even I was surprised at the amount of dust (allright--let's call it what it was: DIRT!) uncovered.

Dust. Dirt. Whatever you want to call it, every speck had to be uncovered, faced, cleaned up.

Into the bucket went every bent, rusty nail. Every scrap of worn-out, shredded wood.

Every old and broken dream. Every abandoned and outgrown hope.

No shortcuts. No easy way. Just inch-by-inch, slow and steady. Out with the old, to make way for the new.

Deconstruction. Reconstruction. Not necessarily easy, but oh my . . . how healing. How good for the soul.

For all this, and more to come, I give thanks.

[this is the end of the post. For some reason, I have a h-u-g-e amount of black space before the post ends. Sorry about that. I'm at the limit of my knowledge of how to fix it.]

Sturdy Soul

It's nearly midnight here. I intend this post to close out my first year of blogging. But then, depending on when I push a magic computer button, it might actually become my first sharing of 2010. We'll see.



I'll admit right here: the last few weeks of this year have been rugged. A part of me is ashamed to say that, since I know others suffering grave illness. Some mourning suicides. Others struggling with chronic bodily pain and joblessness and poverty. I have none of those.



Rational thought points an accusing finger to the mirrored image and mutters: "She better shape up. Stop complaining. Just shake off the past and get ON with her life."



I'm trying. I really never thought it would take this long or be this hard. I've prayed harder than ever. Flung countless streams of heartfelt gratitude to the heavens. Felt the presence of God more sharply and intensely than ever.



And still, such sadness remains. With every fiber of my being, I know that full healing is possible, since nothing is impossible with God. But some days I don't think I will ever fully come out from under the shadow of what my father and husband have done.



But I'm trying.



As the last few minutes of this year count down, I hereby make a conscious decision to focus my attention on some good things and share those, even while tears wet the keyboard:



Thanks to the loving prompting of my daughter, I painted today. It's not finished yet since it still needs some sharp contrasts, but here it is as a work in progress.



I also closed out this year watching the last three hours of So You Think You Can Dance. That's all I was able to see of the season, since I don't have TV access. My dear daughter recorded the final shows for me and I was overwhelmed, not just with the quality of dancing, but with the overflowing emotion and joy and enthusiasm expressed by the dancers and the judges. Truly a celebration of life.



I wasn't able to finish out my 100 days of writing, but I'm quite proud of the 57 days I DID write.



And in November, I wrote poetry every day. From that body of work I've distilled a collection which I've named "Sturdy Soul." It reflects the heart of me and I am very proud of it.



So, I finish out this year in my home, alone, tears freshly dried, a painting also drying, poetry speaking of my heart's resilience. My walk with God has reached new heights and depths. My commitment to live real and honest and fully alive and loving is stronger than ever.



For this, and for the friends and family who have been so faithful in their love of me, I am truly grateful.

"freeze frame"

My brother-in-law named this entry! Yes, he and I lept into the pool . . . well, in the interests of honesty, I should rephrase that: he and I crept into the pool, literally one inch at a time . . .pool temp was 61 degrees. My sister, who remained dry throughout and took pictures, insisted the air temp was in the 70s. I doubt that very much.

Anyhoo, we cavorted for a brief few minutes. I thought of my family back home, in the midst of yet another snowstorm. As of now, the airport I'm to fly into tomorrow is closed, due to "blizzard conditions."

If I'm gonna be stranded due to weather, please let it be here, with my MS family. But I've learned to take what comes and squeeze joy out of it. Perhaps an adventure awaits me in Dallas or Denver . . . for now, I have the memory of swimming (barely) in March . . . and maybe, just maybe, I'll warm up by bedtime.

Soon to Go Home

Late Sunday night . . . My niece and nephew and I went for a walk today in a forest filled with azaleas . . .what incredible beauty.

I'm due to fly home Tuesday morning. Been tracking SD weather and it looks like the new incoming snow might taper off Monday night. And tomorrow morning I'll check the backyard pool here and see if I can finally jump in for a swim!! My brother-in-law, Jim, and my nephew, Jon, worked endlessly to have the pool ready for me, only to discover the pool had leaks and all their laborious work literally drained out into the yard. Then rains and lightning and thunderstorms delayed repairs. The last couple days they have redone all the work, trying to have it ready for me to use. What sweetness on their part. The temperature has dropped into the 60's here (tee hee to my SD family, with wind chills in the single digits, according to weather.com), but I'm determined to honor all my MS family's hard work by getting into the pool tomorrow, no matter if it qualifies me for the Polar Bear Club. But I might wait until they are home from work to photograph the event. Then again, tomorrow might actually be in the 70's and maybe I'll actually laze in the pool before plunging back into SD winter . . .

My time here has been lovely, sweet, restorative, healing, and just plain fun. What a blessed time.

Grateful for family

I'm still away from home, 12 days into my 16-day visit with my sister and brother-in-law down in Mississippi. Brother and sister-in-law from Virginia here last weekend. (My nephew snapped this great family photo--I haven't asked him yet if I can post it--hope that's okay!! Aren't we a good-looking bunch?)

I've spent two days in my sister's classroom, as a visiting author and artist. Experienced the joy of introducing watercolors and haiku to 2 dozen eager and bright-faced second graders. I will take their joy and exuberance home with me as inspiration.

We've had tons of rain here, while home in SD they are still shoveling out from a heavy spring snow. I'm due to fly home Tuesday and my daughter just told me another storm is expected Sunday and Monday . . . so we'll see who flies where, and when.

I am filled to overflowing with gratitude for family, both near and extended; for spring with all its surprises; for new beginnings and hope and renewed joy; for a fresh commitment to dare to love, no matter the cost.

away from home

I've been down in Mississippi for a week now, with my sister. 60-70 degrees, sunny now. Back home in South Dakota is shut down with a spring blizzard. Yesterday I walked down a path by the library and had these azaleas tower over me.

Besides having a lovely time with my sister and her family, plus a two-night visit from our brother and his wife, I am also experiencing more healing regarding my own life. Being away from my own house for over two weeks enables me to gain some mental distance from it. I've been wrestling with what to do with my life--from the sublime "What is my life's purpose?" to the mundane "What do I do with all this stuff?" I'm experiencing the expected shifting and changing and renewing associated with the natural event of children growing and leaving home, and also the UNexpected shifting connected with the UNnatural event of an unwanted divorce.

This time--away from home, and with dear family--is filling me with new direction and purpose. For that I give heartdeep thanks.