Self-made!

One of the best things about making something with your hands is, if done well, it will last far longer than you!  I come from a family that likes to make things.  My dad is a carpenter, and he has made a number of things – from rabbit hutches and birdfeeders to whole houses! But one of his creations is most special to me.  In our basement we have a cradle, hand-made by my dad for my only daughter. Though she is nearly graduated from college, I hope to never give up that cradle.  I hope it will still be around when my great-grandkids are born! 

My mother also made things.  I still have the Barbie doll clothes she patiently stitched together when I was a kid.  In addition to making most of my clothes while I was in school, each of my cousins probably remember receiving a stuffed animal or two made by my mother.   

 Thankfully, my parents are still alive! But loving memories will live far longer in the things that they have made.

Such is the case with the old quilts my great-grandma Strohm made.  I’m fortunate enough to have the Sunbonnet Sue quilt she made for my mother.  I’m even luckier to have finished an unfinished quilt top that she hand-pieced who knows when.  When I first started quilting, I took it upon myself to take this quilt top and finish it!  It was my first experience with anything the size of a bed quilt.  The quilting I chose to do was very simple, as I had not done this before.  I made a lot of “mistakes” – for example I used a white bed sheet for the backing, something I know now, isn’t recommended for hand quilting, as it is more difficult to make tiny, quality stitches with such a tight weave as in a sheet—most sheets are not 100% cotton which makes the best backing for hand quilting.  No matter, I did the best I could, and for a beginner, it turned out all right.  But even after I finished the quilting, it sat there for a few years.  The phenomenon of UFO's--unfinished objects--is a common one among all quilters!  Because I absolutely hate to bind quilts, this particular UFO stayed in a closet, before I could get the impetus to finally bind it.  Anyway, I finished it a couple of months ago, and here it is!

There are several things I find special about this quilt.
1) It was hand-pieced by my great-grandmother—she may have had a sewing machine, but it was evident that this quilt top was hand-pieced…which is how I started piecing my quilts.
 2) It’s still around—nearly 50 years after she died!
 3) While “retro” fabrics are popular right now…these fabrics are the real deal!  In this quilt, each block has a unique, fascinating fabric.                      

4) It’s the first bed quilt I actually hand-quilted.   Since then, I've made two more bed-quilts and a few baby quilts.  I'm hoping to start another bed quilt in the near future.   In the meantime, here’s to all things hand-made!  

Being "Borne"

This morning, I read a bit from Fr. Richard Rohr’s book, Falling Upward: a Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life.  Fr. Rohr is a very wise, spiritual man, and like most wise and spiritual people, he is not well accepted by some parts of the Christian community.  Others may not like him, but I never fail to learn something profound from his writing.   In this book, Fr. Rohr confronts the work we all do, that we must do during the “first half of life”  as we establish an identity, a persona—a word he explained came from the Greek and Latin words meaning “theatrical mask”! The more difficult, spiritual work of the soul is to dig beneath that persona to the True Self—that self that is in union with God, that God has planted within us from the beginning.  It’s especially interesting that the elephant I chose for this Friday’s “elephant of the week” points to that very idea.  Or at least that’s the lesson that I am gleaning from it perhaps because my mind is still thinking about my morning reading.

This elephant is actually two elephants—an elephant within an elephant!  Carved from some kind of stone, the outer elephant is about the size of my fist with the smaller elephant inside the size of a walnut.  Mika, my step-daughter gave this elephant to me years ago when she, her husband and then baby Katie lived in Atlanta.  Up until recently I’ve only seen it as a representation of a mother elephant with a baby elephant still inside.

The “baby” elephant is more difficult to see and one has to really peer through the holes to get any of the detail. Even so, it can not be seen in its entirety without the shell of the mama blocking the view. Naturally, you can imagine the difficulty I had photographing it without a professional camera. (I also wonder, of course, how this carving was done – and I’ll probably have to search the internet—a project for later!)

Anyway, most of us Christians believe we are “born again”, but that term means different things to different Christians.  As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to believe that being born again is an on-going process…something that does not happen in a flash of a moment because of a decision I made.  Some of my Christians friends might disagree with me. Whatever, the small “elephant within” is a symbol to me, of that spirit within me that is clamoring to get out; my True Self, as Richard Rohr might put it.  The outer elephant  (the mask or persona or false self—whatever you want to call it) is always there, but hopefully, as we grow spiritually, the Voice of that inner spirit—that Holy Spirit—makes itself more and more known.  It’s a daily undertaking, and mostly a difficult one.  Thank God He is there with each of us every step of the way!

Here's a poem I wrote on Christmas Day a few years back that hopefully speaks a bit toward that Incarnation of Spirit...known as Christ.

Incarnate Love

started as a gift

undeserved

not desired

for which there was

no proper preparation.

larger than its package

unconventional

not convenient

for which there was

no previous portrayal.   

finished as an offering

sacrificial

sacramental

for which there was

no perfect price.

Which is greater

the gift or the giving?

 

Squirrel Antics

I like my life right now.  Some would think it boring.  One good thing about getting older is that it takes less to “entertain” oneself.  Here’s an example:

Every day while eating lunch, my husband and I “look forward to” watching the squirrel antics that occur on one of our birdfeeders.  Of all the birdfeeders we have, this particular one, located under our cottonwood tree, is the most unstable.  But, probably because of the black sunflower seeds that I put there, the squirrels visit that feeder often. (And if I’m truly honest about it, I place the sunflower seeds in that feeder for that purpose!) The amusement is watching the contortions into which these squirrels will twist themselves,  while simultaneously maintaining their balance as the feeder swings wildly back and forth--just for a mouthful of seeds.  I guess that’s true greed—engaging in dangerous things just for “more!”

You can learn some fascinating things by watching animals.  During one of our lunchtimes, one of the three squirrels that frequent our yard--I’ll call him “Moe”--was “riding” the feeder while feeding his already very fat body.  Suddenly, quick as a dart, he flew across to the trunk of the cottonwood.  And in that split second, another squirrel, “Curly” had taken his place.  (Who knows where Larry was at the time!)  Anyway, Curly was sitting on the top of the feeder, seeming quite agitated.  His bushy tail was flicking in short “Morse code” fashion.  I wondered aloud to my husband about the possibility of the tail flicks being some kind of communication.  So with my curiosity piqued I had to get on-line.  Isn’t Google wonderful?  Instant answers at a few clicks of a keyboard!

Anyway, my hunch was confirmed. Scientists actually get paid to stare at animals (they call it research) and sure enough, there had been extensive studies done on the communication among squirrels with their tails.  What they found out was that the most prolific “tail-flicking” between squirrels took place at, where else? Birdfeeders!  Establishing territorial dominance, I imagine in order to feed their greed.  (That sounds much like lobbyists in Washington!)

So what’s the point of all of this? Nothing really, except that paying attention to even seemingly small things can be satisfying, entertaining and enlightening.  Here’s to the "ordinary"!

It's all in the details!

One of the problems with memory is that it is not fail-safe!  There are scientists who say that everything we have experienced is stored somewhere in our brain, but it’s the recalling that becomes a problem as we age.  And it might be a blessing, actually, because some things are better left forgotten.

Memory becomes an issue with my elephant collection--I have nearly 150!  If I had been thinking, I would have started early on labeling each elephant I received, from whom or where and the date.  I didn’t start that until recently, when I realized that I cannot remember those important details with many of the elephants I have in my collection.  Today’s elephant is sort of like that.  When we travel to a new place, I always try to find some kind of elephant that is different, unique.  I have a memory around the origin of this elephant, but I can’t remember if I got it in Mexico or San Antonio—(or somewhere else, even!)

What I do remember about it is that I purchased it in a shop where people indigenous to the area created beautiful, intricate beadwork.  (As I later researched this, I found a clue as to where I probably got this elephant--the native people who do this kind of beadwork are the Huicho people located in the Jalisco and Nayaret areas of Mexico. Puerto Vallarta was one of our destinations a few years back, and since it is located in the Jalisco area, my guess is that was location where I purchased this.) 

This particular elephant is small; many of the animals and other beadwork were of greater size which only meant more beads, more time, more patience, placing each tiny bead on the animal and consequently more dollars out of my pocket! So I opted for one of the small elephants. We were fortunate to actually watch a couple of these artisans working on their creations and I marveled at the patience and skill which the artisans employed.    Unfortunately the battery on my decent camera needs to be replaced and I was forced to take these photos with my Blackberry.  And I can safely say, the photos do not adequately capture the intricacy and detail of this marvelous beadwork. 

I’m reading a fascinating book right now, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard.  It’s an essay, in a sense, of an entire year of her careful observation at the creek near which she lived.  It’s a challenging book to read in many ways, because the vocabulary is extensive, the amount of science and philosophy and detail in her descriptions are daunting.  The complexity of the detail in her writing, is rivaled only by the complexity of the detail of that which she is writing – the natural world.  She has a deep fascination and appreciation for the complexity and detail in nature. It’s hard to imagine, unfathomable really, the infinite diversity, complexity of the created world.  As Dillard displays in her book, the more one gets into the “hidden” spaces of nature, the more “hidden” there is yet to find.

I look at my elephant and marvel at the tiny beads perfectly placed within an order, a pattern that creates beauty.  And yet this man-made craft, beautiful and special as it is, in no way approaches the intricacy of the natural world, the natural order of things.  And for me, anyway, it’s further example or of a master Creator.  

"...then I saw all that God has done. No one can comprehend what goes on under the sun.  Despite all his efforts to search it out, man cannot discover its meaning.  Even if a wise man claims he knows, he cannot really comprehend it."  Ecclesiastes 8:17

Rock Chalk Jayhawk!

One of the great things about living in Kansas in the winter  (Yes! There is something good!) is watching KU Basketball games. Of course, because of cable and satellite TV, one could technically watch them from anywhere.  Anyway, when it's cold and gloomy on a Kansas winter day (or night), it helps if you're near a TV and there's a KU Basketball game on.  

Monday night against an undefeated Baylor team was especially exciting! The Jayhawks were in Allen Fieldhouse, better known as the Phog—the building named after the legendary coach Phog Allen.  The court has earned an almost mythical aura which helps to fuel the excitement.  Being a KU Fan is almost an extreme sport itself! We celebrated one of our anniversaries one year by going to a KU game--something we've not had the privilege to do.  Here's the "extreme" part of being a KU BB fan -- you never get to sit down...standing for the entire game, if you wish to see any of the action, and you risk deafness, being exposed to a highly intense noise level.  (Lucky for me, I can shut my hearing aids off and not be affected!) 

In order not to violate copyright laws I decided to photograph my sweatshirt!

This past Monday night was no different, as we watched the game on TV--the ESPN commentators could hardly be heard above the roar of the crowd--which honestly, isn't a bad thing! The Jayhawks were pumped as they handed Baylor it’s first defeat of the season.  Winning by the margin they did (about 20 points) doesn’t begin to tell how good this game was for the Jayhawks in terms of execution.  Yes, there were some “throw-aways” and some missed  shots, but their defense was about as good as I’ve seen this year.  And their execution of plays worked consistently.  Consistency has been difficult to achieve for this team.  It’s a team that so many (including myself) have had doubts about at the beginning of the season.  With so many of last year's starters having left for the pros, few felt this team had the talent to work itself up to the level of a “true “ Jayhawk team this year.  But Bill Self is a phenomenal coach.  How he shapes these guys and smooths out their rough edges is amazing.  He’s a teacher, pure and simple.  We'll see how they do the rest of the season...but the other night, they truly played as a team, working together with purpose and intention.  I felt bad for Baylor, but if they had to lose their first game, this was an “acceptable” place as any team and coach will have empathy--they all know how difficult an environment the Phog is for visiting teams.   "Beware…of the Phog!"

Leaning on His Everlasting Arms

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?  If I go up to the heavens, you are there, if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.  If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.  If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me, and the light become night around me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day,  for darkness is as light to you.”  Psalm 139:7-12 (NIV)

I’ve had a number of instances lately, which remind me that our daughter is now an adult.  She makes choices that sometimes have me wondering, and worrying.  But it is her life and not mine, and her choices, whether good or bad, are hers alone to make.  Just because I have some 30 years on her does not mean I know the best choices for her, now or later.  This is the threshold I am crossing—the gradual releasing of my daughter to the sky of her own life.  Though challenging, there is some sense of relief in trusting that God makes all things good according to his will.  That does not mean that he makes all things good without pain.  Often, pain must precede the making of good.  The real struggle, then, is leaning on that trust, daily…leaning on the everlasting arms, as the hymn says.  Not just during the times free of pain and disappointment, but leaning--heavily, perhaps--on Him within the storms.

I get great comfort in leaning against my husband’s shoulder when sitting next to him in church, or elsewhere for that matter.  Should I not get even greater comfort in leaning on His everlasting arms? Before I can lean, though, I must remember He is there to be leaned upon. And that takes trust, because I can’t always “feel” His presence, as I do my husband’s shoulder when sitting next to him.

This is where my daily quiet time come in.  This routine has been a staple of my daily life for years now.  Often I don’t feel like reading scripture or praying, and during those times, I may not do either.  But I always “show up”.  Like the popular Nike slogan a few years ago, I “just do it”. And it’s been during my quiet time through years of highs and lows that I am learning (this will always be present tense as we never stop learning) how to trust God.  Even when in the throes of some depressive state, or obsessive worry, I “show up”.  Sometimes I’m even angry that God has the “nerve” to always be there, especially when there is something I wish to hide!!  I know what the psalmist means when he wrote the scripture above so long ago.

So, Lord, I must accept that even if I want to get away, You are there…and if that is true for me, it’s true for my daughter also. You are there with her in all her choices, good and bad, just as You have been with me through all my choices (and believe me, they “ain’t all been good!”).  Thanks be to God for His everlasting arms!


Here's a poem I began a couple of years ago, then completely re-wrote today!  I felt it went along with today's post.

Songbird

The first time was also the last time

my first-born and youngest, wrapped

like no other, hatched

in our hearts and home

and then, one day, flew away,

to a sky of her own,

singing a singular melody,

naming all the dreams, like clouds

around her.

Simple Musings

It seems like everything we do and are as humans ends up relegated to “containers”.  Few of us can tolerate any ambiguity or “bleeding out of boundaries”.  Most of us go through life navigating from box to box or within several boxes. And here are the names of some of the boxes I’ve found myself confronting:

With spiritual and faith matters – the box called Doctrine

With political and public issues – the box called Party Affiliation

With physical appearance – the boxes called Youth and Perfect Body

With ethnic identification – the box called Race

With financial status – the box called Class

Every label is a box, every box is a container and containers may protect, but also confine. Persons outside of each box are not as safe, but very necessary for the survival of civilizations.  Such are the prophets of all ages.  Martin Luther King, Jr. was certainly a prophet for our time. 

To be a prophet is to risk the security of the boundaries of a box (or multiple boxes).  I wish I were a prophet, but I’m afraid I lack the courage.

An Explanation

This will be brief, as today proves to be a very busy day, but I must try to explain a little matter about formatting!  Posting my blog entries is fairly simple, now that I have the basics down.  However, I post most of my entries on my daughter's old Mac notebook, which I keep upstairs primarily for my writing.  We have another laptop downstairs which is a fairly new Dell. 

Here's the problem.  I use a different browser on each computer.  I prefer Firefox on the Mac and Internet Explorer on the Dell, because that's what my husband is used to.  I have discovered that occasionally I my posts will look different--sometimes with poor consequences--on each browser.

Such is the case from Friday's post.  If you viewed it from Internet Explorer, you may have noticed that the "Johari Window" didn't look like a window at all!  However, everything was "up to snuff" when I posted it on my Mac. 

I haven't yet figured out the basis for this, so be patient with me. If anyone knows the answer, I'm "all ears"! Thanks!

Masquerade?

If you read Wednesday's post "Collectivitis", you know that each Friday I will be sharing one of the elephants from my elephant collection.  I hope you enjoy it.  Here's the very first elephant to be featured.

Its markings are like that of a giant fingerprint with the eye the center of the whorl.  This zebra-elephant is one of my favorite in my assorted collection of elephants: given to me years ago by a little boy—now a successful young man—who spent two and a half years in our home with his sister as foster children.

I like this elephant particularly because of its black and clear stripes marking it, but also it’s super thin frame, antithetical to its live counterpart.  Everything about this elephant screams “I’m NOT an elephant! I don’t want to be an elephant!”

How often have I gone through my life—daily?—undercover, so to speak, to the world, projecting the persona, feelings, thoughts, ideas, appearance of what I think I wish the world to see in my real soul’s place.  Why? Is it camouflage to protect myself?  Is it fashion through which to make a statement? 

There’s a theory—the Johari Window--named after the first names of its inventors, Joseph Luft and Harry Ingham, which describes human interaction including our illusions of self.

	Known to Self	Not Known to Self
Known to Others	OPEN	BLIND
Not Known to Others	HIDDEN	UNKNOWN

Window pane number three (things known to self but hidden from others) allows us to erroneously believe that we can truly hide all those things about ourselves that we don’t wish others to know—the elephant creates the illusion of “thinness” or “zebraness”.  What my poor little elephant and hence my poor little ego tend to forget is the existence of the second window pane (things about self known to others but not to self).

Those most disconcerting events in my life are those which cause me to see, if only for a second, that the camouflage is just a thin veneer—after all, even with the stripes, the thin plastic body, everyone can still see it represents an elephant.

The true self, is that self that God knows.  Though only He knows how often I’ve tried to fool Him, thinking I can pull a window pane 3, when in fact, it’s window 2 through which He sees me…and still He loves me.  He works with me, no matter what I show Him—and the world. 

Grace, incredible grace!

Yet We Cannot Fathom

 He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.  

Ecclesiastes 3:11

Photo by Jessica White, KU campus

 Today is blusterly and cold.  Chilling to the bone when I went outside with the dog.  No one about and midnight black this morning before the sun had risen…waning moon still very bright, so intense, the stars were almost hidden.  I like that time of day when I have a sense of no one else with me but God.  Why is it usually easier to feel closer to God when outside or in rooms with very large expansive ceilings?  Perhaps that’s why the old cathedrals were built.  There’s a sense of God’s presence every time one looks up, especially outdoors to the sky.  The sky is never ending and it is easier to perceive God, if only a bit, when looking upward, outward.  Intuitively we know that God is infinite, not confined to space or even temporal boundaries.  Looking upward to the sky we see the limitless galaxy spread out before us and the recognition of something beyond nature, beyond measurement.

Even words, especially words, limit us to tiny understandings of the unfathomable.  Words are only symbols, after all, and the finite nature of symbols limits meaning.  In the realm of words, the closest thing to the infinite, the spaces between meaning, might be found in poetry…where meaning shifts and changes depending on when, where, or by whom the poem is read.

To some, art, music or dance may be even better in representing that which is not portrayable. In my mind, nature does it best.  If art reflects something of the mind of the artist, than nature reflects something of the mind of the Creator.  That’s why my spiritual life does best when I spend time outdoors—daily, if possible—reflecting, absorbing, drowning in the sensory experiences around me.  Nature is an open book that constantly draws me inside its story.  And so many stories it has to tell!  Every single one leads to the Creator!

Here’s a poem I wrote almost exactly a year ago….January 14, 2010, to be exact.  I’ve did some revising this morning, but it’s far from finished. 

Afternoon in January

My walk is nearly finished, the veil of winter

hides the sun, then briefly

I am gifted

with  rays of warmth and light

beyond.  The air is still,

and I am covered with grace.

Eyes shut I sense the waves of sea

sifting through grains of sand,

and I am not in Kansas anymore.

Collectivitis!

I come from a family of collectors...it's in my blood.  While I was growing up, my mother collected glass and ceramic hens and chickens--pretty popular in the late 60's, early 70's.  She also collected tea cups and saucers, and spoons.  (She still has her spoon collection).  My grandmother loved thimbles and being a quilter I love having her small but varied thimble collection.  One of my aunts went through a time of collecting an assortment of bells.  My little brother, Tim, besides collecting coins, had the most unusual collection of anyone I know.  He saved the wishbones from chickens, turkeys, and cornish hens which we had eaten!  Anyone who visited his bedroom would be immediately drawn to his "Wishbone Collection" on the top of his dresser.  (Of course, being the older sister, I was mortified that this creature/brother was related to me!)  The last I knew he was collecting milk bottle caps and has made it into an e-bay business!


My own collections included postmarks -- something my mother also did as a young girl; postcards, coins, which eventually became Tim's (a more respectable substitute for dried out wishbones) and buttons (the kind that make a statement, political or otherwise!)  I still have those buttons, but soon they will be going to my daughter who also has somewhat of a penchant for collecting...never mind that it may be clutter (a trait she inherited from her father!) 


It's ironic that I, a life-long progressive--dare I say liberal!--would get attached to collecting the symbol of the GOP--the elephant.  This is thanks to my wish-bone collecting brother and his first wife who, 30 years ago, gave me my first elephant to grace my coffee table.  And that's a story for another day.


So, anyway, while looking at my collection one day, I came up with the zany idea of showing them off on this blog!  One elephant a week!  The challenge I gave myself:  using each elephant as a springboard for a "spiritual lesson".  This may be harder than I think.  But I have the first one done. You'll have to wait until Friday, which will be my TGIEWD!  (Thank God it's Elephant of the Week Day!)  Perhaps I might even get to writing a poem or two!  Happy Wednesday!

Happy New Year!

The holidays are over; church activities have settled down -- for a bit.  Now I'm back to committing to a more regular writing schedule.  Here is my contribution for today (actually written December 30!)

One thing I like about this time of year is that it gives me a chance to review promises kept and broken, happiness and sorrows, successes and failings.  And it gives me a chance to make changes --for the coming year-- or at least hope for changes.

In reality, New Year's Day is just another day, a rising and setting of the sun, our moon in one night of its waxing or waning. The invention of the calendar must have come out of serious reflection and study of the cycles and rhythms of our Earth, but gives us a tangible way to mark the cycles.

No matter how disappointing a year might have been, having a "new year" just around the corner gives us a chance to hope and often the incentive to make that hope become real. How much more inspiring is that hope in One, the manifestation of the greatest Hope of all people, birthed in the form of divine human-ness.  Jesus Christ, born each Christmas, each day in the form of hope, born each moment in our hearts when we hear His Holy Spirit whisper.

Hope is truly holy.  As our pastor says, "Hallelujah! Amen!"