agnestirrito

"Whatever you think you can do, or believe you can do, begin it, because action has magic, grace, and power in it." Goethe


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Lent: Thursday—3/14/2019

The post I planned for today changed because I became distracted by a terrific tutorial by @happilywego on Instagram.

A video link for you to make your own paper bag journal should you so desire:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=U5sRNSuS-Sk

This little project got me to thinking about generosity. How some people easily share ideas and tips and goodness with others. No strings.

A nice way to live in this world.

So, go grab a bag and a pair of scissors and make a simple book for yourself. You don’t have to sew it. Tape will work. You don’t have to paint it. Plain is ok.

Enjoy a few minutes of simplicity. See what ideas come to play around when you make the decision to create.

Repeat as often as you can. ✂️🖍📖

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Open Your Eyes: A Lenten Journey 3/18/17 (Saturday)

Week 2 of Lent is in the books, dear readers.

An unexpected gift during this time has been an awareness of how creativity blossoms when we make time for it. 

Showing up day after day to journal, to blog, to see things anew. These moments of trying have paid great dividends already. It’s encouraging to know that when we make a decision to step outside our comfort zone, a reward will come. Open your eyes and watch for it. 🌟

Maybe you’ll see a friend in a new light. Maybe an opportunity will land in your lap. Maybe you will discover a truth about yourself. Maybe you’ll wait a bit longer.

Whatever your path, trust in the process. So much happens along the way. 

I leave you with a prayer tonight:

Lord, bless the person reading this. Show each of us what is good for us. Show us how to know, love, and serve you in this world. Protect those we love and bless those who we find it sometimes hard to love. Help us see with new eyes all you put before us. Amen.
 Enjoy tomorrow’s “Little Easter” and I hope to be back to walk with you next week. Peace. 


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Well

Some of my readers know that we tore down my childhood home a couple of weeks ago.
There was the surprise of a book found in the remains…and the surprises keep coming.
I asked my husband about the well out back.
Will it go, too?
No, the guy is leaving it, and the pump house.
I was comforted by that in a way I couldn’t explain… until last Friday.
Last Friday, Kimberly Willis Holt gave us a handout with the image of a well.
She talked over and over about writing about what matters: dipping into the well.
I sat in that gray university conference area, but I was home.
I was sitting inside an art studio yet to be built.
I was looking out at jonquils, Grandma’s roses, a late crepe myrtle.
Out to my well.
Intact.
Waiting.
It’s been there forever, literally my forever days.
We used it when I was little, that one and one that was uncovered down the road at a neighbor’s house.
It’s my metaphor now. My waiting place.
It’s filled with all my thoughts and stories and things that matter.
The old house is gone and she left something for me again. The backyard well…waiting.