Friday, November 6, 2015


Change seems to be the only consistent thing in life. 

Seasons of the heart seem to mirror the passing of time. Plants outgrow their pots. Doesn't mean there's something wrong with the pot or that the plant is bad- they were meant to be together for a time. A time to strengthen, to grow, to support each other in their own way.
Hearts are like that. We shelter each other for a season. Grow together. But, seasons change. 

Sunday, October 18, 2015


I love the word "Ascension".... Its definition is both spiritual and natural- meaning to move in an upward motion; it's very definition encompasses everything that we, as spiritual beings, should seek. I feel like the last few months have been an experience of ascension...coming up from a dark place within me. A slow, but steady uprising of many things that have been dormant within me:  inspiration, creativity, magic, sense of curiosity, sense of being. I have make an explorative ascension outside of  myself - with a clear forecast of unlimited discovery!

This may seem crazy- but some of this experience of  "untethering" has been joyful because, you see I'm a person that truly suffers from anxiety. I worry about the little things, the big things, the mundane things. I worry about worrying too much. I worry that maybe I don't worry enough. I don't have panic attacks (anymore) nor do I pace the floor fretting (anymore)....but its really, really hard to  exorcise fear that blatantly claims its rights in a Worry Warts knotted core.

You know, there's so much in this world that tethers our spirits to the mundane. The obvious binds are those which it takes to exist- the 9AM-5PM grind, the self-inflicted trail of tears that we daily march in order to have all the luxuries and what-not's that are hawked to us. It's soul crushing, really....or can be.  The less obvious ties that bind us are fear, anger, self-loathing, did I mention fear?

About two months ago I made the conscientious decision to cut the binds that inhibit me from creating and exploring the right side of my brain, the good parts of my heart and my love to create.

I may not be a poet, but I love to write rhymes and stanzas. Writing helps me figure things out, you know? It also helps to remind myself that things will be okay.

I may not be a world class photographer but I love capturing images, moments....memories- for the times when its hard to remember the happy days. I'm not an artist- but I have scenery in my soul that wants to be painted and lyrics in my heart that wait to be sung. Chords that need to be strummed  into a melody of my own making, that no one else may ever knows the lyrics to. It feels to me that suddenly, the ticking of the clock just rings and rings in my ears, each passing moment making an echo through the chambers of my heart---and art, creativity and the worship of the creator for all the wonderful creations that He has imparted to us helps me to embrace the moment. It helps me feel as though those more happening then the clock tick-tocking and time racing away.. The need to create has pierced my armor like a concentrated prism of light through a magnifying glass. I feel like there's light that needs to escape, light that needs to shine, light that has built up to a warm glow of inspiration for all things.
Sure, at some point the light will dull (its part of the process) ;Embers will snuff out with the winds of life that blow through...but while its burning, while there's a glow-- I'm writing, singing, painting, photographing, cooking, gluing, weaving, building, sewing and designing. It's like a sickness that once you succumb to it- makes you whole.

I feel a fire-- for the first time in a very, very long time.  I'm going to enjoy the journey  and (in spite of my fear of heights) I will embrace the ascension! For once, there's a glowing of inspiration deep in my belly-  instead of a burning knot of anxiety...and this in and of itself is a reason to glow!

Shine on, dear ones.

The photographs were taken at the Carolina Balloon Festival on October 17th 2015 in Statesville, NC.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

A Silent Phone

Sunday was Mother's Day and my son didn't call. The girls organized a lunch at our new home- making my all-time favorite dinner: Enchiladas, guacamole, and bean dip. I kept my phone in the kitchen, in case he called. Rebekah and Sam, Jake and Sarah and myself set the table, served the food and enjoyed each other's company over a great lunch.
We rented a DVD and watched The Penguins of Madagascar. I had my phone in my lap- in case he called.
We cleaned the kitchen. Opened a beautiful gift from my girls that Rebekah so thoughtfully picked out and wrapped. Later in the evening Jakey and I walked the Skip around the new neighborhood....and I carried my phone: in case he called.

I set up my bookcases upstairs. Hauled a million boxes that weighed a million pounds up the flight of stairs....thinking out loud how wonderful it would be if he were there to carry the boxes.

I wanted to vacuum my room but was afraid I wouldn't hear the phone ring over the noise.  So, I organized my closet. And my bathroom. And changed sheets. I checked my phone umpteen times to see if it was accidently on a silent setting? Or set to vibrate? But it wasn't. Not any of the umpteen times I checked.

Eventually, it dawns on me the one day set aside for all sons to call their mothers....and your son has something more important that requires all of his focus. But I understand, because he's being trained to protect and serve. He has a higher purpose. He must be doing Army hero stuff- in classes about saving lives and overthrowing terrorist states. He's learning to put other's needs ahead of his own.  If he can put other's needs in front of his own, then I can too. I can wait until who knows when... for that call to come. I will be waiting....checking to make sure my phone isn't on silent, making sure I have a fully charged battery.

Saturday, January 3, 2015


I like traveling and seeing the changing scenery whirl past me. I crave the changing of seasons- the mellow mushing of hot to cold, reds to browns....I love to rearrange furniture and see things from new perspectives.... In most cases- {most} I instigate CHANGE.  Always eyeing where one thing can be put somewhere else- or how things can be repurposed, or painted or new buttons to an old jacket. I can imagine it and usually make it.

But for the life of know the very, very deep down marrow of my soul.....I do not like REAL changes...not life altering, reality veering, forever and ever, til death do I part kind of changes.

And with's inevitable. Even when you hover and ducttape and super-padded, bubble wrap them...those little stinkers wiggle out into the real world and changes begin to happen. Like girlfriends,  rings, engagement parties and meeting of other families. And just when you warm to the idea and can think about the changes of life seasons without  hyperventilating....and without the thudding loss of a child into manhood......just when you can keep it together without bursting into "hovering momma" panic attack tears.......

Your daughter goes and does the exact same thing.

And you can't help it. Tears fall. Stream....actually, like an open hydrant on a street corner in summer.

And your world implodes. Or, at least your heart does. Not in a bad way...not in a way that says NO NO! NO he's not right- you're not for each other- I'm locking you up and throwing away the key.... it's not like that.
No, it's more of an internal, slow-mo implotion.
A bombardment of happy tears, sad tears, fearful tears, Oh my gosh- I don't have enough money tears! And in the policy of complete transparency to anyone who may read this:  you look at your little girl, and you can't help but be afraid....a little...okay, actually a lot of fear because of your own experiences....with all the what ifs- and "you knows" of life and reality of the tweaking of dynamics that take place because of marriage.

So, Sam (Rebekah's now fiancĂ©) came and spoke to me at work. I cried the whole time- for all of the reasons above and then some. You see, we had just had Gabe's engagement party the night before. Not more than 12 hours before I was standing with Cate's parents and Gabe's dad and prayers were being offered over the young couple....and I held it together, because I had time to process.

What Sam didn't understand is that I am a very slow processor...and the question of an additional proposal so close to the engagement party was just really, really overwhelming. I need breathing space. Like at least six months (???).

So the Double-Whammie-Blammie hit me with a BA-BOOM- right square in the heart- and I didn't react with the pose and tenderness that I know that I feel regarding the proposal. I think they are for each other, and I always knew that we'd all be standing together in front of a church and her saying "I Do's"....but I guess in a mommy heart time kind of stands still. Your eyes see the maturing, aging and moving on of children on the outside but somewhere that reality never settles in your heart- they are a baby....a little tiny girl who just had her tea party birthday party....

There you have it folks. May as well face reality and take it in small doses than to ignore it and have it all slam you at once. Take it from me, the queen of denial.