Monday, December 31, 2012

A Year

This year.  What a long, weary road.  And so beautiful. Beauty has crystalized the tears that fell, and gilded the edges of all of our storm clouds.  I see results of good efforts and answered prayers, and children who demonstrate faith and intelligence and kindness.  I've known sweat and anxiety and depression and loss.  I've known community and grace and reconciliation and generosity. I've lived, sometimes well, and at other times not so well. Pretty average, maybe, but I feel very rich in the permanent things.

I'm going to make some New Years resolutions.  To write and to draw and to paint.  I will not let life and circumstances bulldoze some of the most life-giving creative outlets that I could have.  I'm going to try to write something everyday, hopefully here.  I'm also going to draw a 5 min something-or-other every day, as well.  Which I may also post here.  It would be a good way to archive my progress, since I tend to lose everything...  

First 5 min sketch:

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

some things just shouldn't be true

Deep breath.  I am trying to unpack some thoughts here. My mind and heart have been swirling lately; doing a bit of a dizzy dance, round and round, trying to grasp an idea that doesn't make a whole lot of sense.  I am reminded that this world is so very broken.

9 days ago my family lost a member.  A beautiful, young, vibrant, graceful woman.  Natasha was my cousin, the daughter of my Mother's youngest sister. She was diagnosed with non-Hodgekin's lymphoma 10 months ago.  This was a shock in itself, but we all thought this fearless girl who really seemed to live life to the fullest would pull through. It wasn't in her to give up.  And she didn't.  But somehow this happened.  She was 30.  I am not really getting it.  But I know those who were closest to her, especially her fiance, with whom she shared a home and 8 wonderful years, are suffering a profound and horrible daily loss.  I have not lost my soul mate. 

I saw her more in this last year than I had probably seen her since she was 1.  I was blessed to have her live in this area, the first time I have ever had extended family within 30 minutes.  I didn't take proper advantage of that.  It was as if, having lived my life up until a few years ago without having cousins or aunts and uncles around more than once a year, I didn't quite know how to bridge the gap that had suddenly become so small.  I have been absorbed in parenting, and allowing myself to be preoccupied and overwhelmed.  

But now there's this.  I missed out.  I could have known her better.  She was like a sponge, always learning.  On the few occasions I got to really chat with her without the chaos of large family gatherings, she asked so many questions. Walking through the house, she looked at art work and asked me about printmaking processes, woodcuts, etchings, and other artsy stuff.  She was such an interesting person, and confident, but she didn't talk about herself.  She was born in Puerto Rico, lived in Kentuky, grew up in Alaska, went to college in Minnesota, taught English in Japan.  She was a singer and a musician.  She was kind and soft-spoken, but  brave and principled.  

Through her cancer battle, she didn't stop planning, living, thinking of others.  She got engaged, and together, she and Garrett planned to move to Ithaca in August, where he had been accepted to graduate school.  Life went on.  Right after her diagnosis, she cut off her long hair, and went to Puerto Rico for a wedding.  She celebrated.  Here she is with her sister Naomi, at that wedding, I think.  She was so beautiful.  She kicked fear to the curb.  May I learn from her example.  May I learn.



Tuesday, June 12, 2012

rainy day, happy fish

When I'm feeling a little bit uninspired by motherhood, a bit of ennui, there is one thing that never fails to lift me.  The beauty that my little people create.
Here is a sample of the latest in 5-year-old artistic efforts. The top one is Rowan's, and contains a school of goldfish surrounding their clownfish "teacher", as well as a happily spouting whale. oh yes. the heart sings. pure sweetness.
 And secondly, we have a fishing scene. I will admit to drawing the blue fish in the middle, and then leaving the paper on the floor. I returned to find Genevieve creating a whole scene around it, more fish and bubbles, a distant fuzzy whale, calling out in his whale voice (the concentric semicircles), and herself with a fishing rod, on which she has caught a lady tadpole who just got married (the black shuttlecock shape).  There are also many ripples in the water caused by the fishing rod and the swimming fishes.  I may be biased, but I'm feeling MiroFor real, look at these two images, such fun!

Thursday, May 31, 2012

a little progress

Recently I got my act together a little bit and started to make our bedroom a place that is pleasant, and not a dumping ground for the things I don't know what to do with, or am too lazy to do the thing that needs to be done with them.... Our bureau was a trash heap of things to be filed, so I cleared it off, filed/shredded, and now you can see the surface.  I put some odds and ends that I have hoarded over the years into frames.  They are colors and textures that make me happy.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

back!

Ok.  I have not posted since January.  The reasons for this are simply that I have  not had regular internet service, and I have no interest in trying to type out a blog post from my iPhone.  Some people may be good at this, but I think the auto-correct might be the death of me.  One typo or wrong word substitution, and the enjoyment of a post is greatly lessened for me.


Don't you(all 3 of you) get sick and tired of hearing me whine about how hard it is to be a mother?  I do.  Seriously sick of it.  I am so easily taken off course.  I set out with the best intentions (on my way to Hell, apparently), and before I get too far, I am impatient and cranky, and expecting too much or overreacting, and I am missing the meaning of my life.  Here's to not missing it so much anymore. And to documenting it a bit more.  And maybe to writing on my phone, because then I can upload some photos, because what's a blog post without some good pictures?

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

fantastic


What is it about fantasy that so strikes my soul? I mean, I can read plenty of books, and I do, about regular people, and though I may love it, it never sucks my brain in quite like Tolkien, or C.S. Lewis, or even Harry potter or Twilight for that matter! Maybe it's obvious. I crave an alternate reality. Perhaps I am discontent with myself. I would prefer to have magical powers, or some kind of mythical secret friends... whatever it is about fantasy, it really just gets its hooks into my brain, taps into some yearning in a way that nothing else does. But I guess that is a reflection of my broken state, and that something within me reaches out for what I should have been, if the Fall had never occurred, or what I should be, were I living up to my full potential.

Stephanie Meyer may have been on to something with this vampire thing; a perfected version of humanity, at least the "vegetarian" ones... what with the super human strength, speed, indestructibility, and beauty; it reminds me of what we will be like eventually, with our new bodies. Does that sound crazy? Of course it does. But what seems to me like a bit of sense is when Paul talks about running the race in such a way as to win. And seeing ourselves perfected in Christ, our completion, the way that we are being perfected through our trials. And how now, we see but in part, but one day we will see clearly. That is what I yearn for, I think.

I do believe that someone else described our new bodies and minds in a similar way, how, though we are still ourselves, recognizable, we will be beautiful beyond compare, and our understanding will so surpass what we can grasp now... maybe we will actually use all of our brains, not just a measley 10%. Was it C.S. Lewis in The Great Divorce? I think I might need to reread that. I think that's what I am thinking of, though. Seeing those who had died, looking like themselves, and yet more glorious than any earthly person.

I had a conversation with my girls tonight, about heaven, and seeing Jesus. At times, my reaction is to shy away from giving them direct answers to their questions, or discourage them from thinking too literally about what heaven may be like. But what do I know? Didn't Christ teach us that our faith needs to be like that of a child? That is really hitting me lately, so I just listened to them tell me that they were excited to see Jesus, that they knew that they would be able to run so fast as to fly, and that they would be able to go with him into the clouds. This was all prompted by their telling me how unrealistic Jack and the Beanstalk is, since a cloud could never hold a heavy house, nor could a hen lay golden eggs. But they get that nothing is impossible with Christ. They are 5, and they are teaching me so much.