About angels ~ angels all about:

This Angel
And the heavenly angels
Said to God -
Why
Must he have
So many children!

And God chuckled -
He is just so expert
At spreading angel dust.

They went on -
But this earth angel.
He cannot feel the dust
Himself.

He has.
He has felt
The dust.
He has felt its magic.
There are times
He feels its lightness
All around him,
Inside of himself.
But now
He sees not the sparkle,
The shimmer.
There are only the tiniest
Of glimmers inside of him,
About him.


What do we do?

Quiet,
Stillness.

God speaks -
There is strength,
So much strength.
This angel has strength.
You
Have strength.

Earth's angels
Have strength.

This -
Is the time to be still.
It is the time to watch,
The time to listen.
Feel
The strength.

Fountain:
I wrote this mainly for the folks at HPS but there have been numerous helpers along the way.

Sometimes I feel like a fountain -
gratitude bursting forth
from the core of my being -
shiny, glimmering threads
of gratitude
for all that is,
and for all that has been.
Mostly they burst forth
for those who have heard
my pleas for help.
Those threads spread out
for you, for many.

Angel Bears

Angels about our house:
Though I can take pictures of some of the angels about our house I prefer not to think of them as an "angel collection". I believe they tend to be innumerable. Cat and I must have hundreds of them - guardian angels and helping angels and guiding angels and angels to pick us up when we fall. Often they come to visit us in disguise. Only later do I realize they graced us with their presence. And when we go out - at HPS alone there are so many that the air seems almost glimmery with them. I feel very blessed to have so many angels all about.

Art by Naomi:
About six weeks ago when I was planning to do this blog I encountered Naomi. When I entered her blog I probably turned the colour of new spring leaves. I was so envious. If you're from Saskatchewan you will remember that we had MUCH snow at that time. On Naomi's blog appeared a large scrumptious picture of a flowering "weeping Japanese plum". I've been following Naomi's art since then and have been SO inspired. Thanks Naomi for letting me put a link on my blog. In Naomi's post for today called "subtle but striking" Naomi talks about cold weather. We are the lucky ones now with some fantastic summery days. Hopefully we can be sharing them.

Chasing Blue - birds that is. To get a photo that is. The turquoise colour is breath taking. They would not let me get close. The sun was probably too bright. Didn't help that the dogs were chasing ahead of me. Not the blue - birds that is, but always the dogs are chasing ahead. There would have been numerous compositions - sitting on a post, perching on a stop sign, posing between fence posts. Eventually our paths diverged. The fence and time separated them from me. My eyes caught sight of the turquoise. It was the neighbours truck, down in the creek. I wondered how the truck happened to be the same blues. This photo was easier to catch, no chasing required. I modified the picture. I'm not really excited about machines. The colours - they suit me quite fine.

"These are a few of my favourite things" -
Treasures, old pieces, coloured glass, arrangements, reflected light, the colour blue - "...when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favourite things, and then I don't feel so bad." (Rodgers and Hammerstein)
Sharing bits of my "favourite things". Please review "my photos" for the blue glass collection.

Two Beautifuls:
Cat and I chose to stroll in the nearby park between appointments on this gorgeous summery day. We encountered these "Two Beautifuls" having a chat.
"And I think to myself - what a wonderful world." Ray Charles (by George David Weiss and Bob Thiele).

Moods and Expressions of Cat:
April 21, 2006
Sad

Moods and Expressions of Cat
April 21, 2006
Glee!
"Please can I take him home with me?"

If I take any amount of time to breathe in the splendour, I see pure rapture. Check the "my photos" link for more. And enjoying fun as I do I am especially tickled watching photos as a slide presentation (click in appropriate location for the viewing). Let me know if your funny bone delights.

Looking for Colour: Though my senses are being bombarded with the sounds of spring, I am getting frustrated with the continuation of earth tones. I love the mother earth, but these dull browns and dry browns and beigy browns are, well... I need to search for colour. I need to search for every single drop of colour that is being placed on the canvas. If I make any effort at all I see glorious shades. I must only let my eye take the time to look.

Moods and Expressions of Cat (from more than 10 years ago):


WHEEEE!

Moods and Expressions of Cat (from more than 10 years ago):

What do you mean the sun's not shining?

Laughing:
When I found this critter (a dry mushroom top about the size of my fist) I couldn't help but feel that she was laughing. At first I thought she was laughing at me but I really think she was laughing with me. I was so happy to find her that I could not feel very badly.
It was Saturday morning and I had my friend's camera with me. I was snap, snap, snapping photos in the creek on a ramble. This was my second day with the camera. I thought I was learning lots, certainly getting much practice. Suddenly I was struck by this huge honking. I glanced up to see twelve graceful swans migrating. I was awestruck. They were very close.
Instantly I thought of camera. I quickly turned it back on. The disappointment was only momentary. Yes, they were too far away and I was too slow to get a picture. What did it matter? I'd experienced the magic. And besides, I had someone to laugh with me.

I stepped over the threshold and breathed in the spring air. The murmur was already eveident. I continued on this evening ramble to the added sound of "ki-deer, ki-deer" while in the background the murmur continud.
Was this cacohony or symphony? My ears heard symphony. The frogs were never silent.
With darkness decending to right and dusk disappearing swiftly into night at left I could barely hear the scrunch of my footsteps on the road. The murmur had grown to a near deafening roar as I approached the stretch with water on both sides. There seemed the clucking of prairie chickens or ducks ready to take flight. The symphony continued with clearly marked dynamic fading and drifting.
I continued on the path with an ever growing appreciation for the orchestration.

HAPPY EASTER

I marvel at the glimmering, dancing lights in the north east sky. They are not brilliant - but distinct. I see the lengthening and shortening of the bright, white Chinese lantern - the moon, full, reflecting on the moving water as we drive slowly through the accumulation on the highway, tiny bit flooded. I marvel at the majesty as we return after foot washing on this Holy of Thursday nights. I wonder...

I Wonder:
This was written shortly after Christmas. I was thinking about Good Friday.

The fog
Has lifted.
The hoar frost clings to the trees,
To the dry grass,
As if, for its own dear life.
I am walking that glorious spot.
Perhaps, I have walked it a million times.
The trees, as a forest,
Rise up the hill.
With their white coats, dark bark,
They are dressed for a Cinderella ball.
They need no excuse.
Mother nature has clothed them.
I wonder
If this is anything like Jesus saw
When he was dangling
From that cross.
There is such cold, crisp beauty.
Yet the skies are SO grey.
Doom seems to hang from them.
The contrast
It nearly takes my breath away.

Stop: Unlike Simon Peter, in this piece I only denied two times. I fear that in truth I have probably denied so many more times. Hopefully as this Holy Week continues I will stop to take time to listen. That continues to be my prayer.

The touch was - gentle. The quality imparted was - strength. I had felt His immediate presence for a time. Today, now, He grasped my hand. Though no words were spoken, I felt them. "Come with me." Yes, we were to search for angel dust.
My protestations followed. I did not have time. There was far too much to do. I had many responsibilities. I was not allowed to make the choices right now. My mood was not in the appropriate place.
I felt the touch again. The words came again, "Come with me." I grew still.
My thoughts were swirling. How could I search for angel dust in this very, very horrible weather? There were no rays of the sun to warm my inner being. Everyone was making demands of my time, demands of me. I felt the tension in my shoulders, the tension in my jaw, the tension in my head. I did not need a headache now!
The third time - the touch, the strength, the words, I felt them deep within me. I stopped. I set all aside. I glanced about me. I looked for the gentle flowing stream. I looked for the long necked giraffe. I looked for the waterfall of jewels. I longed for the strength of stride. I wiped the tears aside. I felt the angel dust gracing my shoulders.

As I look around and see the "muck" part of spring I can't help but think about the following piece I wrote a number of months ago:

God is holding out his hands to you. They hold in them the Earth and the Universe and the Heavens. Now, they are being held to you.
In God's hands are pearls, beautiful shiny pearls. They are so tiny. Though tiny, you see them hiding amidst dust and grime and muck built up over the centuries. God is watching you. He is watching your heart, and your hands. He sees you wipe away your tears with your own hands. Now He sees you reach toward His hands and start to brush away the dust. He sees you trying to pick out the pieces of muck and grime. He is watching as you struggle. There are more tears. You forget. You go to brush them away. Your face also becomes marked by the muck and grime.
God reaches to you. His hands touch your face. They smooth away all the tears, all the muck. Then God bends down. In one soft breath, He blows all the dust and grime and muck out of His own hands. The shiny pearls of joy are left in all their glory.
You recognize them. You reach and grasp them. You look up. God has turned away. You lift the joy to your heart.

It's raining. Ohhh - "when the sun shines".
"The rain is God's tears", she informed me a few years ago. "Do you think happy or sad tears", I'd asked.

Regardless of whether the sun may shine today, the tears are washing away lots of muck.

I do believe in angels. I have also written a number of pieces about them. The time has not been right to post them. I will share them, perhaps soon. Until then - this thought:

"Was it a miracle? Or was it the right combination of personalities, hope, faith, courage, love, timing and hard work?
Maybe, just maybe, that is what a miracle is."

About hearts:
Last night I found a blog with a unique photo of a heart on it. http://mistyeyedart.blogspot.com/
As I wait to get a digital camera I'll post this little story which I remembered and couldn't have thought of at a better time. The modified photo is from my garden bench taken a couple of years ago. The heart is actually a stone. Oh, I love those treasures.

The Heart
It was a brilliant bright red. Most decidedly it was the shape of a heart. The heart was shaped like the hearts I draw, not perfectly symmetrical. I do not like perfection much.
The time was early morning, about 4:30. The day was Maundy Thursday. I happened to look in the mirror, as I often do when I am washing my hands at the sink.
Fortunately, I�d seen something like this before, and had gone through the worry and phone calls over a year ago. This time, there was only a glint of concern. Instead, I wondered what the brilliant, bright red heart was meant to tell me. Did it mean I was to love myself better? Maybe God was reminding me how much he loved me?
As I climbed back into bed I tried not to worry about the heart in the white of my right eye. I tried to think more about what the heart represented.
The day came and went. The heart lightened in colour as the days passed. Easter approached. As the heart faded, I decided to try to never forget about the heart in my eye.

Billy loves the freedom of the farm. Truthfully, so do I - especially when I'm "rambling".

Spring at the Farm

SPRING
I grew up on a farm with a creek nearby. To me spring is lots about flowing water, bluebirds and hills filled with crocuses.

Love - unconditional. I forgot to mention it in my previous post. I guess for me it's a given, understood. Still...

Friends?
extrovert
trying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

teenager
trying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

social skill issues
tying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

inappropriate
trying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

youth group - no
trying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

helper
trying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

little children - love
trying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

teenager
trying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

loner
trying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

brave
trying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

to please
trying so hard
friends?
who?
where?

TEENAGER
TRYING SO HARD

I'm scared. What's a Momma to do? What can I do besides cry, pray, try, pray, be available, pray, trust, pray, self-care, pray, try, pray, trust and pray?
I'm scared. What's a Momma to do?

Could I have done so well?
How dear is my Cat. She had left for school and only seconds later I heard pounding on the door. She was back, with tears. She'd fallen on some ice just down the driveway and fell in the puddle. I had just commented as she had departed that someone might say she looks like an easter egg - bright pink pants, burgundy sweater, pink short socks. She'd claimed at one time that she's "colourful". Now there was a very dirty egg and one that was broken - inside. Wow - didn't take us long to put those pieces back together again. She was chuckling as she went out the door. YES Cat! I love you.

Abyss: Though this was written just a few weeks ago it fits together nicely with Giraffe.

Giraffe: Before I close this chapter on "the Beautifuls" I have decided to share this poem I wrote a couple of years ago. The poem is about me. And even as I type the words the tears start to flow. When I did the poem I was just starting to slowly climb away from the "deep, dark hole". I'd been in a place where "I'm stupid" words, were frequently voiced either aloud or to myself. I sometimes sought dark, hidden, cramped corners, not figuratively, but literally. For me to recognize this beauty when I did was a huge step. I was able to take the step because of a few very wonderful "helpers". Now I am ready to share the poem with you.

The power of words:
You have noticed that I like to imagine I am playing, and actually do even indulge occasionally. You will also have noticed, I hope, that I like very much to play with words. "Poring" - I don't think so. I liked the image it portrayed - even stronger than "pouring".
I also hope that I know, enough, when it is extremely important not to play with words. I hope that you've taken time to read "the Beautifuls". If you haven't please do so, soon. If you already have, read it again or at least take a moment to think about it.
This morning I was taking a moment to think about it. Cat was near ready to leave for school. Out of my mouth popped (not quite) the words - See you later "beautiful strong angel". The strong word was new. The rest wasn't. My private soak in the tub was invaded. Oh well, this was important. She - What? I repeated. She - No, that's you. I - Thanks, but it's you too.

She's going out the door. She - I love you.

Part of today's talk with God, a larger part than I would like to admit:
Dear God, please forgive me for being so scatter brained, so often. Please help me to remember to take some time to sit down and listen. (OK - I hear you now - the tears are starting to fall as rain, my shoulders are heaving). Thank you Lord.

Why?
Do you ever feel you are not being heard? My head was bobbing uncontrollably in response. Oh yes, often.
I was conversing with a new massage therapist . She was testing the waters of my TMJ situation. Not good. Those jaws have been giving me problems, forever - it feels. Clenched teeth - of course. Clenched body - near always.
I'd never had anyone ask about "not being heard". She was making a suggestion and I could totally see the connection.

Shortly after I started my writing I was asked why did you share them? Initially my writing was totally therapeutic. It seemed to come poring from my being. It felt that I was not even thinking about the words appearing on the pages. Yet the tears, were flowing.

You may be wondering also why I have chosen to share - to share a part of my life.

I feel a need to be heard. I feel I have something valuable to offer, even though it may be to only one or two individuals. I feel free when I can create. I feel we need more beauty in our lives. Furthermore:

Why Did I Share Them?
You asked me Why?
Yes,
Maybe it is a baring of my soul.
It is also
Much, much more.

Art is to be shared.

I am helper, too.
I want others to find
A part of themselves.
A part that may be
Difficult to find.

Why did I share them?
I want to be heard
To share thoughts,
Feelings.
I want you to know
What is inside.

I want you
To share more -
A part of yourself.

Maybe you can see
My pain,
And your own
More clearly.

Why did I share them?
The answer
May be simple -
God asked me to.

Happy Birthday dear TW. We hope your day brings you whatever you most desire. Until I have time, hopefully later today for something new, I'll remind you of these thoughts. Love you forever, W. Of course sending hugs.

"Return to childhood" or "self portrait":
This day as I walked in the country I was doing one of my typical little childhood games. Please don't tell Dear techie H. I put them into zip-lock and stashed them in my treasure bag - together with my books and art pad and drawing supplies (unused). I like to pick up tidbits on the road or at the sea shore. This was no seashore but treasures abounded.
As I held each gem and observed, trying to picture it's setting at this venue, I realized I was thinking on myself. I started to see more my hand and it's positon, as opposed to the actual pieces I was holding. I knew too, that the words I had in mind were probably more to do with a self portrait as opposed to the actual little stones my dry hand held.
Self portrait - it probably requires a novel. I think you would agree. You've already discovered part of me. What more might you behold?
The return to childhood - it's definitely a good thing. Do you experience days when you so wish you could just be a child again? Everyday life is far too complex. Sometimes I'm right there for a split second. When I stop to ponder it, however, I realize perhaps my childhood was not so carefree either.
Hmmm....