22.11.20

The Woman at the Well

 


                                                     Woman at the well Diptych is a painting by Joan Columbus 

At Jacob's Well

From which she gathered water;

Coming late. An empty vessel.

Not knowing the promise of this font 

was also hers to partake.  


A mark of the consecrated, dug deep into the earth

Was forsaken by brothers and sisters

For, Jerusalem was the Holy Ground.  


She was forgotten --

Deemed too changed to be worthy.


But he waited for her at this place.

He waited, specifically for this woman,

Knowing all she had done.


The Living Water,

Seated upon the symbol

Of the promise,

Picked the forgotten and scorned woman 

to declare: 


God is not a temple.  Is not a place. 

Oh, If thou knewest the Gift of God...

You would drink freely-


Then, making her the conspirator of good news,

He declares;

I am He.  I am here, 


for Her

for Me

for You


Isn't it beautiful? They way He 

Loves each one of us?


Knowing all I have done.





12.10.20

Mid Life Miracle.


10.12.20

Having just come home from a date and feeling peckish, I stood facing the open fridge, searching. 

I heard her voice down the hall. My nineteen year old daughter was playing guitar while singing my eight year old son to sleep. 

Strangely and suddenly, I went back in time. I was sixteen and sitting on the shaggy red carpet in my bedroom. It was one of those days I tried to contemplate my future - one of those times I wondered what my life would bring.  Usually, those visions were fuzzy.  More of a feeling than a picture.  But this time, my young self was getting a vivid glimpse of the adult me, standing in front of the fridge, hearing a pretty song carrying through the hallway. It was such a beautiful sound. Wanting to investigate, I follow the song down the hallway and peek into the bedroom.  A lovely and grown girl, about my age, is playing guitar.  She is familiar, but nothing I could have constructed in my mind. She is singing a song about hope.  I am awed by her.  Above her in a loft bed lays a sweet boy, safely tucked in.  The softest cheek and longest eyelashes peek from the covers.  I want to know him and all about the ample collection of sea shells and rocks that rest on a shelf beneath his bed.  

Sixteen year old me seeing this is thrilled at what her life had become.  She would marvel at the beauty, the goodness.   She would think, "Yes.  This is exactly what I want. To the last detail."  There are other glimpses of the future which would have left young-girl-me utterly terrified.  But this one - this was magic.  

This moment.  Facing the wide open fridge with my hand mindlessly gripping the handle while being caught in a short vision.  I knew instantly what it was, this merciful and strange gift of presence. So, I stood there and accepted it. I let it fill me up.  Brim full.  I said,  "Thank You." 

I closed the fridge. I took my 43 year old self and followed the beautiful sound down the real hallway of my real life so I could see and wonder at it all again. 



11.5.14

Like a Rolling Stone



Yesterday I was driving with my daughter.
We had the music on loud
we were singing.

Like a flash, I saw you- in her place.
I heard your laugh, which I love so much.
We were road-trippin'.  Remember?

Loud music
Bob Dylan
"This is my personal anthem"
you said.  And you sang every word, with feeling.
Swaying, eyes closed.

When you are happy,
the light that shines from you is the
sweetest
warmest.

You introduced me to the White Stripes that day
I became obsessed.
It was a thing we could share,
which was nice, because - let's be honest

We didn't share a whole lot
It's hard for you
To find a place to fit in.
Hard for me, too, to meet you where you are.
The prettiest misfit I ever saw - that's you.
How does it feel?

We all have our stuff, the stuff that makes life hard work.
But your lot, dear girl - it's a puzzle to me.
So I struggle
But not with liking you, or loving you.
You make that really easy.  It's a gift you have, I think.

And so when I saw your vision there
My eyes stung and my heart broke.
Last week I said some things I shouldn't have,
(even though I meant every word).
Still,
I should have taken more time.
I forgot about the fine print-
that part of you that says;

More patience required. 
No, more than that... 
but it's worth it.

I lost sight of the bigger picture.

Pushed too hard, and you say you're through. done.
That's new for me (but probably inevitable).
So now you're in the dark
(again)
And we ever wait.

To hear you laugh again, dear girl.
That would be sweet music.
Because that personal anthem of yours has a few things wrong;

You are known.
You are loved.
You have a home.
And we ever wait.

6.4.14

Bread is the Word.

Some people wear emblems on jewelry, or as a tatoo: It might say,

Peace. 
Or Light.
or Love
or Om
or something in chinese that is supposed to mean one the above words.


and no explanation is needed.  You seet it.  You get it.  It may even inspire you.

Well,
My new favorite piece of jewelry has raised a few eyebrows and I feel I need to expalain:



That's right.  This chubby girl is walking around with a necklace that says "Bread 2014".


It's not because I love bread (even though I really, really do).

At Christmastime, My grandparents challenged each of us to look at all the names in the scriptures that have been given to Jesus Christ.  (The Savior, The Redeemer, The Holy one of Israel, The living Water, The Bread of Life, etc etc).  Then we were challenged to pick one, and look for ways in which Jesus fulfills that name.

I'm embarrassed to even write this, but this name stuck out to me partially because  I have been struggling with my weight ever since Bo was born, and it was becoming a real negative focus in my life.  The instant I read "bread of life" in relation to the Savior I realized that I am really missing something.  It wasn't just that I was carrying extra weight.  I just wasn't well in general.  I realized in that moment,

My focus needs to shift in a big way. 

Fast forward a week or so into the New Year, and I received an email from my mother in law asking me and all my sisters in law to pick a focus word for the year.

Not wanting to be overwhelmed by too many resolutions,  I timidly submitted "Bread" with an explanation, knowing that it didn't sound that pretty.

About a month later I received this wonderful gift.  My necklace.  It came at a time when I was losing my initial zeal for the name I had chosen and it rekindled my desire to focus on this name.


I love my necklace! Such a sweet and thoughtful gift.  My husband loves to tease me about it ("Mmmmm, bread!" he says, whenever he sees me wear it).

I am making a goal to submit something I learned about "Bread" each week (hopefully)...


24.3.14

Monday's Memoir: Mercy Me! (Mercy You.)

I went before the King
bowed, begged, pleaded
pure in intent, hope
despite knowing the impossibility
of restitution in even a lifetime of servitude.

I asked

and all was forgiven.

all.

but when I returned to my day
I noticed, like a piece of food stuck in my teeth,
a gnawing irritation.
an injustice, which

every so often I would pick at
and my irritation would grow.
my soul would burn
with self-righteous entitlement, for

I was right.  I had been wronged.
There was no relief, no changing this.

It wasn't until I told the first story out loud
(about my insurmountable debt that was forgiven
by that great King)

did I see it.

How could I miss it?



What does being right have to do with anything?   
When mercy has been poured over me in full abundance, 
surely I have some wealth to share.

I am no widow clutching her last mite,
no
this mercy, this forgiveness?
infinite

I laughed inside at the thought - the ease of letting it go.
I was light.
I was free.
I was sorry for my blindness.
Best of all, I was filled with love.
and so it was  
Mercy bestowed to me, in even greater proportion.

That was a sweet Sunday.
That was yesterday. 

{Matt. 18:21-35}
 

5.1.14

10 things I've learned in 2 days:


1.  Bo calls feathers "fly" 


2.  After 16 years, I finally succeeded at making a yummy pot roast.   I hope it wasn't dumb luck. 

3.  Flannel sheets are the BEST.  The BEST, I say.
4.  There is such a thing called "Glacial Silt" - and it makes quicksand sound like a cake walk.
5.  Blogging at night leaves me tired and not wanting to post.
6.  My 1970s house comes equipped with this bad boy.  It's a heat lamp on the ceiling in the bathroom.  I really like it.  


7. Bo's new favorite thing is to put bubbles on his chin right when he gets Into the bath. 

8.  Teenagers like to talk to parents.  Mine do, anyway- Usually when I'm laying in bed at night.  But it's a sweet surprise and I am grateful for the time with them. 

9.  My list of potential excuses for not getting in shape got quite a bit smaller.  I got a trainer for my bike. 

10.  I realized that I've become a baby lady.  I loooovve them.  I used to be really scared of babies.  But look at some of our newest family members:  Aren't my nieces the sweetest?  I wish I had taken a picture of my nephew while he was here.  He's such a charmer, with the warmest smile.  Heart melting.   


3.1.14

Have you ever fallen asleep while saying your prayers?

How about mid morning?  It was 10am before I got to saying my prayers and I woke up kneeling at my bed to the sound of Bo asking "codor?" --he was holding a pencil in his hand.  I haven't found where he "codored",  yet...


so this is going to be a sleepy and sloppy post.  

  today Bo was in full swing toddle-mode, I'd say...


Haha, this picture cracks me up.  

By 430pm, I felt likeit really, really should be bedtime.  It was the kind of day where you feed your toddler refried beans and corn chips, sprinkled with sixlets candies.  He started with an orange so I feel no guilt.  


...

It has taken me three days to figure out where my holiday husband has gone.  He's been acting different... Oh yes, holiday is over and it's back to work and that requires some sobriety.  He's such a good man.  


I believe him when he says he would be the most impressive, honorable 
And even affable man of means and leisure there ever was.  He says it with a laugh, but he's kind of serious.  I know people often speak of Mr.  Darcy as this silver tongued hottie-  but if you've read the book, you would know that he is pensive, no nonsense, and abrupt-  all while being so good, full of integrity and a possessing a compassionate heart.   Put him in a frilly shirt and trousers, on a massive estate with beautiful English gardens, and my handsome Sam is as close as it gets.  


...finally,
As I try to wrap up this post, I am once again interrupted by my daughter's excited explanations of the episode of Dr. Who she is currently watching.  I blame all grammatical and spelling mistakes onthese many  interruptions.  To say she is a fan, is not saying enough.    She's fun. 


Day three.  My life is good.  We are safe.  I am grateful.  

2.1.14

Recalling the day:

The highlight was listening to Dad (Sam) make up love poems with words that had changed endings.  You know, so it would rhyme with some girl's name that our boys new.  We laughed a lot. 

Another image, is that of a woman who I just met.  Who is brave and fun and tries so hard to be good.  She is a mother.  She has heartache somewhere.  I can see that, too.  She has shown love and kindness to me from the start.  I found a treasure, is what happened.

There are other things lurking.  Things like insecurity and even suspicion.  But, I am trying to not feed those thoughts.  I am trying to try and be a good girl, I am.  That's as clear as I'm going to get on that topic.

I am missing the clean air... I'm not depressed though, because I found this autumn photo, taken from my porch and know pretty days will come round again: 


That was a great moment, too. 




1.1.14

The best year

Started today, because when I went to drop off Eddie at the slopes this morning, I was caught up in the beauty of the winter mountains and the following text ensued: 


I love that at a moment's notice, my husband was willing to hold down the fort all day so that I could have some spontaneous fun.   

***
Also, as I watched my 15 year old shove an enormous forkful of rolled up ramen with green onions into his mouth, my heart swelled with gratitude for being able to watch such a sweet boy grow up.  That I get to call him mine.  This very tall, deep voiced, dimple-faced, son of mine.  

It is these things, and easily 50 others today that make me think; 

Oh yes.   This is one of the good years.  

Happy 2014!!!  

14.10.13

Baby Dear

I hold him at night
and sometimes pretend
it's every one of my babies
because I ache for each and every one
of those tiny bodies
warm against my heart
nuzzling those soft jawlines
again and for always.

Oh the sweet days past.

But really,
I am so tired.
It's the middle of the night, for heaven's sake
and
to do it again
would be utterly exhausting.

what a lovely paradox a baby brings to the night time.