How autocorrect attempts to correct the word snaggle
It is not snuggle, although I’m thankful for that as well
How one grandchild solemnly said Thank you, Mother Earth after collecting empty bean pods from the ground to use in her play…and how her sisters chimed in, Mother Earth echoing in the world they create here, away from the “other world” so close by
and this leads me to remember the young ones who used God as She and Her and how sooner or later we are all corrected—all along the way—when maybe in fact we really do know and like auto-correct, we sigh and roll our eyes and continue…
How everything does not have to be corrected
And this reminds me of my current textile exploration/practices where mistakes are welcome and the only rule is leave them in
and it makes sense to me
and I celebrate the knowing of all that does not have to be perfect or understood
…
and the moon is full and the jonquils are giving us new iterations daily
And somewhere someone thinks of us as we think of them
and
some among us are suffering and struggling and trying to continue and in that place, those days, we have an opportunity to provide welcome and blessed peace.
I hope you are able to recognize the need before you this week, and offer a simple smile. May you be well. May all be well.
days are picking up speed and those few days off have come to an end. Every year I know this, and every year I am once again caught by surprise.
My art table is overflowing with various projects in progress. A holiday arts market is upcoming, and that will likely be my focus for the next few days.
I pulled a vintage scrapbook down from the shelf—-a purchase from some forgotten point in time—and nine black and white photographs spilled out. I don’t know these people, but their pics tell a story. I’ll share them at the bottom of this post and maybe you can fill in some story pieces, too.
What else…well, grateful for time to create. A good week with decent sleep. Hot glue guns. Ideas. Red bird notification from my granddaughters who are also on the watch. Updates from friends far and near.
We will enter December this week, dear readers. Let’s join her with joyful hearts. 🌟🕊️❤️✌️
June is here, dear readers. May she be good to us all.
I’ll start this week’s seven good things with a simple one: lullabies. Do you have a favorite? Did someone sing to you as a child? Recently, a granddaughter requested one that I often sing from my childhood: Tura lura lura…it’s a sweet one. Music holds so much good. Another frequent request is She’ll be Comin’ ‘Round the Mountain, but we add Yee-haw after every verse, so it’s not really in lullaby genre, but hey, it’s ok.
Clean sheets. Something about freshly laundered linens, especially when the weather gets hot. I remember as a child my mom would pop the sheets on super hot nights ( I did not grow up with central AC) , and I’d feel the cool billows of air on my skin as a nighttime ritual. I think we often crave nostalgia and the good feelings of past childhood days. Returning to those small feel good things— even small things like clean sheets—can make the immediate moment better.
Lots of little ones are in my house this season, and we have adopted our own rituals and routines. Sometimes a prayer, sometimes a song, most times laughter and stories and planning for the next times. Sweet words from young mouths. I wish we all could hear those.
Other sweet moments from the past week:
The grands wanted the plastic baby Jesus this week — the Christmas yard decoration one that ended up being one of their beloved babies. I located him, and watched as they kissed him, checked him for ticks (we may have adopted a ritual here 😅), and “fed” him all the snacks. Little precious moments that the world does not see. Moments that have great power.
A repairman came and I watched from the window as he took extra moments to play with our dog. You can always tell about someone based on how they treat an animal, especially if it’s not theirs. ❤️ Another one of those moments that the world didn’t see—a moment that made my heart happy to see the kindness of strangers in action.
Oh, it’s been a week filled with art, too. The Index Card a Day (ICAD) has started again. It is a daily creative challenge and one that has become a tradition for many of us. If you are interested in learning more, check out this link:
And, last for this week, I have more art on display at our local gallery. A potter friend and I are alternating months so that we can keep the space filled with fresh art and still have time to do all the other things we like to do. I’m a believer in the power of art to change the world for the better. It’s nice to have a place to share.
Sometimes we are making memories that will become only memories. That’s good. Sometimes we are making memories that become rituals, routines, traditions. We may not realize how important those things are for a really long time, but then something or someone reminds us.
I’m in a different routine this particular Sunday, so my greeting to you is coming earlier than usual. As I was journaling early this morning, I started thinking about surprises…and that will be the focus of this list today. 🧚🏼♀️
When was your last real surprise? Did it rely on someone else’s actions, or was it more internal…a real knowing of sorts?
The natural world is filled with surprises…
A bird’s intricate nest
The hole that the honeybees return to each year
The iris about to burst out of their bud-rooms
Not surprises to them, of course. They know what they’re doing 😉…but sometimes we are caught by surprise when we dedicate time to look, to watch, to savor.
Sometimes the surprise isn’t of the natural world…it is that simple amazement when things line up for us:
the random text
the unexpected note of appreciation
The lives we live unfolding in chaos or flurry or wonderment (or all)
Sometimes I say Well, I guess I’m doing this now and that can apply to the salad that falls from its precarious angle in the refrigerator to a messy heap onto the floor,
or to the prolific (for me) amount of large canvases lined up in my hallway awaiting a new art show,
or like yesterday when I hit “submit” on a computer keyboard and a rush of deer walked out in unison and I knew, I knew they, too, were witnesses to the good in life.
Sometimes surprises are not as obvious as a crowd of deer coming to greet us, but they are there…simple decisions that turn out to be moments of wonder and simple joy:
This day I’m not celebrating the same way as I have some bigger Easters in the past, and the gift and surprise of the holiness in that is its own surprise:
A long burning candle is lit for all of us today, and as I see it throughout the day I’ll utter these simple words and hope they land for whoever is reading this:
I know Sundays are really thought of as the beginning of a new week, but I often think of them as the opposite…closing the door on a few days and getting ready for what is next…a winding down day of sorts.
I hope you’ve found some reasons to celebrate over the past few days. I surely have.
My daughter celebrated a birthday …
My son and I spent a full day together …
Art I created is hanging on a beautiful museum gallery’s wall in Shreveport until May 8 …
There were walks in solitude and in the company of others …
There were wildflowers and children picking flowers and trees bursting into bloom …
There were sweet conversations and affirmations …
There was love.
That’s a lot.
Before I write here again, I’ll be celebrating a birthday. The numbers on the outside get bigger, but inside they really don’t seem to…and I’m grateful.
I wish you the abundance of good I’ve seen this week and the realization that it matters that we acknowledge it.
Obviously, there is a lot wrong in the world today. As I go about my days trying to look for the good, I realize how very easy it is to find it. I could be in another human’s place in a war torn country. Yet, here I am.
A full moon shone in on three of my grandchildren late last night. It had been a busy evening of playing and dinner and teeth brushing and potty patrol and finally, quite late, all were sprawled, sleeping peacefully in my bed. I, too, slept peacefully, without worry of bombs. I’m aware of how that sounds, but it’s the truth. So many of us enjoy such abundance. Does it matter that we recognize it? Doesn’t a Ukrainian grandmother deserve the same freedom and privilege? Don’t her grandchildren? Don’t we all?
Until the day comes when we can all live without fear of evil, my power is in paying attention to my life. In honoring the days and moments. In noticing the gifts.
News reports show a lot of tragedy, but they also show spirit and resilience and art and music and care in the midst of great danger and harm. I’m grateful for people who know one act of defiance is to carry on. I honor the Ukrainian people here tonight with their great and powerful spirit.
Other good things to note:
Time spent digging in the dirt this week, with some eager helpers…
Maya Angelou quarters found their way to me, finally. I’ve been searching my change for weeks. Haha. But it happened. And I’m glad I care about it…
Quiet solo time spent on the patio. It was a daily refuge early in the pandemic, but I rarely spend much solo time there lately. This week, I did, and was rewarded with a woodpecker concert. The beauty of nature. How much goes on that we miss…
Coffee with a dear friend this week and the gift of catching up on each other’s lives in real time…
My daughter’s birthday is this week. We won’t be able to celebrate it in person, but I’m thankful for her, her life, and her care for the world…and I hope her new year is filled with goodness and light.
It’s a gift to wish people well, to honor them, to support them, to be present with them. I recall author Ray Bradbury’s words: “We are here to witness and celebrate.” We are.
I’ll stop with that thought: let us witness and celebrate during the coming week. And pray for peace.
Reaching into a jacket pocket this week and pulling out a handful of stones. Immediate smile as I recalled that momentarily forgotten moment with a sweet five year old who deliberated over each one before settling on that pocket of mine for safekeeping. Things forgotten and remembered. Things found.
A random winter weather day at home this week. Laid a fire in the wood stove, watched flames catch. We didn’t get much more than a flake or two, but it was nice to have a bonus day at home. Surprises and self care.
Two of my art pieces made it into a local show, and I found out this week that another made it into a show in Louisiana at a museum I like a lot. That one includes artists from all over the world, so yeah…I’m feeling the art happy vibe. Doing things I love. Adding a little creativity to the world.
That brings me to item #4: the focus of that art piece was a jonquil—and the only one I’ve seen all week—-it was waiting on a pond’s bank…so, a last minute decision to take a walk gave me sweet inspiration and a completed piece of art to share with others. Acting on instinct in life and art.
A serious one, but heartfelt gratitude for healthcare workers, medicines, and all the ways bodies and babies heal. I’ve said a lot of thank you prayers this week.
A cleaned out junk drawer…oh, I tell myself don’t get too excited…after all, it’s only a drop in an almost bottomless bucket of things that need clearing…but it’s something. And that’s a good thing.
I’ll end with a fun one: eggs.
I cracked several today while making a pound cake and this thought crossed my mind: someone along this road of life showed me the miracle of eggs on nests, waited while I collected them from henhouses, cooked them for me, taught me to scramble them. And someone took a few seconds and showed me the art of tapping, cracking, even separating yolk from white in one quick movement—and it is an art. I wish those people still walked this earth, but they live through this little story. And those eggs surely make cakes taste delicious.
Have a good week, dear readers. Show someone a little love. Teach them something. Give them something—your time, your attention—maybe a rock for their pocket. Maybe scramble them an egg. ❤️
Hello, dear readers, it’s been a busy week that began with fielding emails about students on quarantine and/or with Covid. Then, the word of the season —pivot— where we change teaching plans, locations, platforms. Or we don’t change anything at all. Throw in a second job on the other side of a state line, and the rules change. One college requires masks; one does not. Here we are in America. Not on the same page. Still, good came in many forms, and I’m here to write seven moments of it.
I think the context of the time is important, and that is why I bring it up. We each walk a path and live in the reality of a world that has commonalities, but in so many minuscule and major ways, we live entirely different lives.
A glimpse into some good of mine:
A college student who greeted me with Ok, Ms. T…we are ready to talk about this story. It was not dry at all. 😉 And then they talked. And thought. And analyzed. And shared connections. And I thought while standing in front of them how grateful I was to witness another group of readers and thinkers making their way and knowing most of them will be transformed by literature. They will find their voices and use them. 🌟
A different campus/class with adult GED students and their concern for each other. How small a thing to tell someone You can do this because here you are doing it and seeing another sit up a little straighter or picking up the pen to try again. We move people with our words far more often than we might know.
Presence with a dear relative while she goes through the hard work of deciding what to keep and what to let go. When people allow us to accompany them through fragile spaces, it is a holy gift.
Texts of the same rainbow from two different women who looked up and saw it as gift and then shared it…the power in knowing a gift shared is purest good.
Technology that allowed a traditional goal setting party we call Goalsmas to take place across several time zones. From Texas to New York to Prague laughter rang out and bells in an assortment of modes clanged as we reviewed the past year and look ahead to what surely, surely will be better. The young people that keep that tradition with me and the addition of another member this year. The gathering. Making time for good. 🔔
Finding a long lost handwritten recipe that is in my father’s handwriting. I knew it was here somewhere, but as I cleaned another cabinet out this week, it appeared. Pencil on faded paper. This time, I’ll frame it. ❤️
Attending a textile class online with my daughter and then sharing our process and progress. So much good comes from creativity—just the decision to act helps bring forth new ideas and ways of looking at things. Plus, gathering materials reminded me of lots of projects waiting in the wings. 🧚🏼♀️
The new week is beginning the same as the prior one: emails are dinging with lots of students notifying me of a Covid quarantine, diagnosis, and/or the “not sure what but feeling bad” message. So, here we go…we are still in this. Please keep your guard up.
Stay safe.
Look for the bright and beautiful. Share it with someone else. 🌈
New class of college students to teach 🌟(It is a bonus that I love my job.)
Clearance racks 🌟(Did somebody say Santa shops all year? Yep…she surely does.)
Teething rings for four month olds 🌟(If you know, you know.)
Coffee gift cards from my daughter🌟 (Double win: caffeine hit and happy thoughts of her.)
Willie Nelson’s Stardust album…and an almost 2 year old who kisses the cover and lifts her hands up to dance-dance-dance. 🌟 (Well, it is beautiful on all counts.)
Love and light to you. I’ll close with a line from a podcast I heard this morning:
A blog reaching out to victims of abuse and others in need, providing insight about abuse, hope for the future, and guidance to see THE LIGHT that lead Secret Angel out of the darkness of her own abusive situation and helped her to not only survive but to overcome.
agnestirrito 