31 Days on Coming to Grips with My Age ~ Day 16: Sip by Sip
To steep ourselves in every moment. This is how we should live, no matter our age. Types of Tea and Their Health Benefits Tea should be taken in solitude. ~attributed to C.S. Lewis Do you drink tea? Alone or with company? What’s your favorite kind?...
You’ve Got to be Dreaming! Plus Making Music (or Not) and a Retreat
I had a dream. It came in a big walnut box banded with black and white. It was the first piece of furniture we bought together after our wedding, and when I closed my eyes, I could see my fingers fly up and down those keys. I took lessons weekly after work, and she made it fun. But when we moved and my new instructor heard me play The Entertainer (my goal), he told me I wasn’t ready for it yet and needed to go back to square one. I quit taking lessons. I had a dream. It came in a maple package, striped with steel. I could see the hammers fly over wires just like my great-grandfather’s did. But I could only plunk, and I never found a teacher. I don’t even know how to tune it. I had a dream. It came in a cherry frame, double strung to 56. I drove...
Who Knew?
I joined Facebook four years ago. I began to blog three years ago. I linked up with The High Calling network two-and-a-half years ago. And somewhere along the line came Twitter–now over 16,000 tweets. (Am I too noisy?) Who knew anyone would actually read my words? Who knew I’d Jesus-walk in cyberspace? Who knew the sharing of links and spilling of lives would lead to the joining of hearts? Who knew the forming of the Society of Sticky Sock Sisters? Who knew real writers would become real friends? Who knew a community would become family? Who knew I’d find my way to a place in Texas I’d never heard of–that I’d discover its first director wrote one of the first faith books I ever read? (Maybe he mentioned the place, but I...
Looking Full in the Face
She hands me the green and takes the blue. And we stretch and swipe and watch the birdie flop in the grass. And when it falls apart, we superglue it. We maneuver ourselves into places that block the sun so we can see more clearly. Because sometimes sight is better in shade. We avoid scratchy brown crackly and choose soft bendy green and do an awkward flip-flop dance. And I think I should be playing in something more sensible. And sometimes she flops and rolls and we giggle. “Oh, g-ma, you almost got it.” And I feel the burn in my shoulder and the back of my thigh and remember the years that stretch behind. And I can’t hide from that. And we take turns throwing rackets at the tree to dislodge the birdie that rests on the branch we can’t...
Five Minute Friday: It’s Beyond Me
I’m having one of those feelings. I can’t put my finger on it, and I can’t describe it. Like where part of me has separated from this body that houses me. Does it ever happen to you? I know it sounds weird. And it’s beyond me. The air is fresh this morning. The grass is damp. There’s a woodsy fragrance that reminds me of my childhood home. The corn tassels stretch for His tassels. Thank you, but still more water please. And I’m thinking, “Who am I? What am I?” I scoop some black oil seed from the metal trash can into an old Tupperware container and shuffle out to the feeder. I stop abruptly not five feet from a tiny chipping sparrow (hear it sing here) pecking on the ground. It’s not...
Epiphany on the Porch
I’ve taken to the porch this morning with a cup of coffee and my camera. It’s supposed to be over 100 today, and I can feel the humidity rising. But there’s a breeze, and it’s comfortable. I love this porch. I don’t think I could ever live anywhere again without one. Of course I know I could if I had to, but I wouldn’t want to. We added this porch when we moved in. The house used to have a porch, but my inlaws removed it when they moved the house to this site and never added it back on. Stories swirl in and around this house. I move from west side to south side, just looking, watching, thinking, snapping photos. I sit in rocker and then swing. And I see, maybe for the first time. I see deep. That everything I see has a...
And. Did. Nothing.
Downy woodpecker with an itch. I woke up at 6 this morning. On my own. No alarm. And I did something I hardly ever do. I lay in bed. And. Did. Nothing. Well, I closed my eyes and breathed deep the cool breeze through the open windows. I pushed all thoughts of what I ought to be doing under the pillows. I dozed. I watched leaves ruffle and birds flutter. I studied light patterns. I listened to natural music in surround sound. For three hours, I lay there. And. Did. Nothing. Because art is born in expansion, in a belief in sufficient supply, it is critical that we pamper ourselves for the sense of abundance it brings to us. ~p.108 Pampering, Julia goes on to write, could include a vintage pair of tweed trousers, a single daisy on the night stand, a special CD, a...
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