Category Archives: Think

Truth Rocks

18 Sunday Dec 2011

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Art represents both communication and restoration for me. It helps me revel in the joy of every beautiful, blessed breath I take today. It also allows me to explore and share the hardest parts of yesterday, so that I can grieve my losses and discover the goodness that will undoubtedly come from them.

To me, art is also about relationships, about voicing the feelings and truths that might otherwise go unexpressed. I love that both my children are artistically inclined in their own ways, and I treasure the artwork they share with me; every piece is like a little window into how they feel, what they think, and who they are. Kids are complicated, always changing and questioning and becoming, and I value the glimpses of clarity their art provides.

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A few months ago I wandered on to an art site called Brave Girls Club, and the name alone was enough to win me over. It is run by a pair of sisters whose main focus is art classes that give girls and women opportunity for creative fun while encouraging some real soul-searching, honest reflection. When I saw they were hosting a three-week on-line art retreat for mothers and daughters, I knew it was an opportunity I didn’t want to miss. My daughter was equally excited about the prospect of making art and memories together, so we signed up and gathered our supplies.

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Each week there are new projects with how-to videos, detailed directions, and pdf’s to print out. Last week, we made Truth Rocks. Brave Girls Club provided gorgeous little inspirational phrases, which we printed and cut out, then decoupaged on to the backs of large glass pebbles. The last step was to cover each one with polymer clay; I also stamped mine for texture and brushed on metallic mica dust to give them a little shine.

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I love the sentiments the Truth Rocks express, and there is something so special about reading them, about holding a small piece of something real and beautiful in your hand. It has been touching and more than a little revealing to discover how my daughter perceives me, what needs she senses and what strengths she values.

I appreciate this kind of focused quality time with her, and it also gives me a bit of peace to know she is carrying away something concrete to show her how I feel. An 11-year-old girl’s memory might get hazy with time, and I won’t always be around to tell her how greatly she is valued and loved; but I know the art projects we’ve made in the last few weeks will keep on echoing those important truths.

Comfort

10 Saturday Dec 2011

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It’s been a rough week around here. With a bad case of viral ick making the rounds, we’re all in cocooning mode, cuddled on the couch with fuzzy blankets, our highly sympathetic pups, and our favorite Miyazaki films. When I’m achy in body or spirit, I seek the comfort of routine and closeness; spending time with the things I know and the people I love soothes me like nothing else.

This time of year also brings its own brand of comfort for me: kids in footie pajamas; steamy mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallow froth; the smell and crackle of a wood fire; a room lit only by tiny twinkling lights. Other comforts are less seasonal and a little more personal. I love to curl up on the couch with a big stack of my favorite cookbooks and browse until “my brain is storming,” as my daughter would say. Some people have comfort food; I have comfort cooking. (When life hands you lemons, zest them and make lemon herb butter for a roast chicken… :)

It strikes me that the ways we find solace and rest are often more individualized than the pain and grief we experience; what helps us heal depends so much on our memories, gifts, and values. The ultimate stress relief for one person may be cringe-inducing for the next. For instance: open-air camping, or read in the recliner? A long, hot bath or a long, early-morning run? Order restaurant take-out, or cook it all from scratch? Period romance drama, or campy 1950s sci-fi? (I know which I would pick.) I love that we share so much of the human experience in our need for comfort, yet we are still so singular in the ways we are consoled.

So in this season of scratchy throats, grumbly tummies, and traffic jams, here are three top-ten lists of my family’s favorite comforts. These are the things that speak to me of contentment, reassurance, and calm, and I wish you all three this winter. If you feel like commenting, I would love to hear about what comforts you too.

These are a few of my favorite (comforting) things…
Books:
+ Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland by Lewis Carrol
+ Journey to the Centre of the Earth by Jules Verne
+ the Discworld novels by Terry Pratchett
+ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
+ The BFG by Roald Dahl
+ How To Be a Domestic Goddess by Nigella Lawson
+ The Complete Tales of Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne
+ the Lord Peter Wimsey novels by Dorothy Sayers
+ the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency novels by Alexander McCall Smith
+ A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table by Molly Wizenberg

Films:
+ Ponyo (2007, director Hayao Miyazaki)
+ Wild China (2008, BBC documentary series)
+ Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961, director Blake Edwards)
+ My Fair Lady (1964, director George Cukor)
+ Dr. Doolittle (1967, director Richard Fleischer)
+ Jeeves and Wooster (BBC TV series based on P. G. Wodehouse books)
+ Agatha Christie’s Poirot TV series
+ any episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K)
+ Dr. Who (especially episodes with the fourth doctor)
+ Star Wars (the original trilogy, episodes IV-VI)

Food and Drink:
+ Mighty Leaf tea, Vanilla Dulce or Chamomile Citrus
+ Almond and Cherry Jam Cookie Bars (recipe coming soon)
+ Sharp English cheddar, smoked turkey, crackers, and spicy honey mustard
+ Steel-cut oatmeal with maple syrup and pears
+ Udon noodles with ginger and soy
+ Creamy chicken and dumplings
+ Mashed potatoes with mascarpone
+ Spiced apple cider
+ Banana bread with cream cheese
+ Orange-banana-vanilla smoothies

Order

29 Tuesday Nov 2011

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Some artistic types thrive on chaos and regularly find the greatest inspiration amidst the biggest mess; I am not one of them. :) I spent the last weekend cleaning up my studio because the piles had started to outnumber the empty surfaces, and I realized anew how important organization and continuity are to me. I love color and texture, and my design sense leans more toward warm eclectic than clean modern. But I crave order; I take comfort in the sorted tubes of beads in my studio and clearly labeled containers in my pantry.

This is no real epiphany to those closest to me. My husband realized it years ago when I pronounced a newly installed shelving unit “the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me” — and really meant it. My friends probably got the idea when my tour of our newly remodeled kitchen centered around all the great storage space. And those who saw me so eagerly anticipating the grand opening of our local Container Store might have suspected. :) It’s how I got on this path that might be a bit of a surprise.

The truth is that I spent most of my twenties cleaning up for other people. Anyone who’s lived with toddlers knows that they are capable of a sustained campaign of destruction, seemingly for years at a time. But my problem wasn’t ever who I was cleaning up after, it was who I was cleaning up for. Every time company was coming, I transformed into a temperamental, tidying tornado, shoving toys into closets and dishes off the table. Given a little notice, I could transform any cluttered room into a clean one, but it never lasted. Once the daily business of parenting and homeschooling reclaimed my focus, my cleaning standards inevitably downshifted again. Then one day we were picking up in the living room and my then-eight-year-old son asked, “Who’s coming over?” That stopped me in my tracks.

I realized that I was unwittingly reinforcing the exact opposite of lessons I worked so hard to teach him: that loved ones come first; that we shouldn’t judge others by appearances; that the point of this life is peace, not perfection. I also finally recognized that cleaning for others generated so much stress for me, in part, because I yearned for that same organized, welcoming space every day. I was on a slippery slope that found me valuing others’ opinions above my own heart’s cries. And I believe that whether our souls ask for order or spontaneity, companionship or quiet, our efforts to honor those needs are never wasted.

I wonder sometimes if God gave me a gift for organization — the ability to find and appreciate order — because He knew how unpredictable my life would become. Even as chaos threatens in the form of daily questions about my health, there is a special grace in being able to appreciate a precisely arranged bookshelf or an ordered row of kitchen spices. There is also grace in knowing that there will be times when those books are in disarray and someone else put the groceries away, and that’s okay too. Peace, not perfection. We have chore charts and family rules around here, just as we have days when the dust bunnies outnumber us 10-1. But when we clean, I am confident my children understand it is for us, not about what someone thinks of us. And I am thankful every day for the order in this world, for the things that remind me that there is a purposeful, intentional, loving Plan with a capital P.

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Thankful

24 Thursday Nov 2011

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Just wanted to take a moment in the quiet hours this morning to say Happy Thanksgiving. I have so many reasons to be thankful every single day. I am especially grateful to be up and moving well enough to cook and share with friends and family. In both 2007 and 2008, I was too sick to celebrate this holiday at all, unable to walk unaided or breathe comfortably. What a beautiful, tender mercy it is that finds me not only alive and mobile, but also awake at 8 AM with a meringue in the oven and bacon sauteing on the stove. No, those things are not what make life worth living, but they are important to me and I am thankful. I am also thankful to all of you who read this blog and comment, who share my days with me and listen to what I have to say. What a blessing you are!

I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving. If this finds you far away from home or family, please know you are here with me in spirit and I said a prayer of thanks for you. If you’re the one responsible for feeding your loved ones, may your turkey stay moist and your pies never burn. If you have a relative coming that drives you crazy, I hereby pronounce them powerless for the day, unable to disturb the peace and joy of this moment. You are treasured.

Our Thanksgiving Menu
Smoked Turkey
Orange-Mustard-Thyme Butter Roasted Turkey
Apple-Sage Stuffing
Mashed Potatoes and Gravy
Roasted Maple-Glazed Sweet Potatoes
Peas with Bacon and Onion
Broccoli with Lemon
Spinach Salad with Apple and Gouda
Custard Cornbread
Parkerhouse Rolls
Fudge Pie
Pumpkin Pie
Meyer Lemon Pavolova

Beauty

14 Monday Nov 2011

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Why, yes, that is a jar of gummy bear vitamins on my counter, thanks for noticing. :) That little jar sums up a lot about what is important to me.

I take those gummy vitamins as part of a regimen designed to give my bones and joints the best chance to get stronger. With severe osteoporosis and four spinal fractures at age 35 (here’s why), stronger bones are a priority for me. Given the choice between capsules the size of small submarines that give me fish breath, and yummy cranberry orange-flavored treats that make me smile, I’m going with a handful of gummy bears every time.

I’m a lot better about remembering to take my vitamins if they’re sitting out where I can see them. And while the gummy bear vitamin industry has my wholehearted approval, their packaging efforts leave a lot to be desired. Vitamins in an industrial-sized plastic bottle make me think about hospitals and bone scans. Translucent orange gummy bears in a mason jar make me think about giggling kids and making jam. Pretty easy choice.

Even taking your vitamins is an opportunity to choose joy and beauty. A lot of life’s challenges are non-negotiable, but the way we receive them is completely in our hands. I choose gummy bears and mason jars because I don’t get a choice about broken bones and sick days. All of us have adult-size problems to deal with, but we don’t have to abandon fun or settle for the status quo while we do it.

Take what you need

10 Thursday Nov 2011

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I really enjoy artist Kelly Rae Roberts, both her artwork and her attitude about life. (She is one of those featured in Art Saves.) She often writes about the notion that small acts of kindness have the potential to bring about big changes, and I agree. The sign above is part of her most recent campaign for kindness, and I love the idea — I’m putting up copies in a few places around Nashville this weekend. You can make your own or download it here and spread a little inspiration yourself. I’d love to hear about it if you do. :)

Change

09 Wednesday Nov 2011

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Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. ~ George Eliot

To borrow from writer/filmmaker Gordon Parks, half past autumn has arrived. I love this time of year. It seems obvious that I should hold some extra regard for my seasonal namesake, spring, and I do still love those months of buds and blossoms. But as the years go by, I find my allegiance shifting to autumn: trees the color of fire, the arrival of honeycrisp apples and little white pumpkins, the rustle of wind through dry leaves like the too-loud whisper of a 4-year-old in church. If I had to choose one example of how color moves me, it would be of a brilliant scarlet maple in early November.

There is also something to be said for this time of year that manages to be both riotous and predictable. For those of us who crave action, there is the daily shift from green to yellow, orange to brown; the potential for clouds that start cold and heavy to drop some sunshine in your lap a short time later. But if your favorite bedtime story has always been the one where you know the ending, then autumn is such a nice idea — much more comforting than leaping headfirst into the winter snow while your feet are still on hot summer grass.

I value transition more than I used to. I appreciate it when life gives me the chance to catch my breath and think, evaluate what’s happening now and make some choices. In my twenties, the word “gradual” felt about as inviting as cardboard and saltines. Now I find myself more inclined to set my internal cruise control to “one day at a time, thank you very much.” :) There is a heady sort of promise in newness and birth, but, for me, there is also much hope in the notion that all this change and growth are actually leading somewhere beautiful.

They must often change, who would be constant in happiness or wisdom. ~ Confucius

Hello, Chickadee

01 Tuesday Nov 2011

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The black-capped chickadee is a charming little bird found all over North America. It gets its name from the most familiar of its calls — there’s no mistaking that distinctive chick-a-dee-dee-dee. I love that they look like feathery little puffballs, and their shape and color is especially striking against winter’s bare brown branches and snow.

Chickadees tolerate humans well all year long, but in the winter they will actually eat from human hands. I find it fascinating that this small, undomesticated bird has learned to trust humans in order to obtain food during the leanest months. That willingness to take nourishment where he can find it, combined with a remarkable ability to use what he takes in efficiently, means the chickadee can endure harsh winter conditions that might otherwise threaten him.

It’s fitting that the last watercolor I did in 2007 was of a chickadee. I didn’t know at the time that it would be almost two years before I held a paintbrush again, and I never could have imagined the winter that was about to follow. I have that painting on display in my living room now — not because it’s the best I’ve ever done, but because it reminds me every day of how important it is to trust, especially during the hardest times; to take nourishment when and where it is offered, even if it means leaving myself vulnerable.

Art Saves

25 Tuesday Oct 2011

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I just finished reading Art Saves: Stories, Inspiration, and Prompts Sharing the Power of Art by Jenny Doh, and it is everything the title promises. Part self-help, part how-to, the book features short biographies of twenty artists who find strength, healing, and self-expression in creating art. The artists share their guiding principles and inspirations, examples of their work, and directions/prompts for artwork modeled after their own. I found the range and variety of artists compelling, and their words carried with them a sense of community and hope that made me want to head for my studio.

In the last four years, art has played an increasingly important part in my own life, especially when it comes to processing the emotional and spiritual challenges that accompany serious, life-changing illness. Although Art Saves largely features professional artists, I certainly don’t think you need create art for a living to appreciate the sentiments these artists share. The projects are accessible, and the stories honor our creative diversity while still being sweet reminders of all we share. I am planning several projects inspired by my favorite artists in the book and will share them in the coming weeks, but I encourage you to check it out on your own.

(North Light Books, Cincinnati; published 2011; ISBN 978-1-4403-0906-9)

Optimism

20 Thursday Oct 2011

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I’ve been reading The World I Live In + Optimism: A Collection of Essays by Helen Keller. Her writing is powerfully frank and fiery, but also remarkably humble and full of wonder. One of my favorite passages is from Part One of her Optimism essays, “Optimism Within,” which reads:

Most people measure their happiness in terms of physical pleasure and material possession. Could they win some visible goal which they have set on the horizon, how happy they would be! Lacking this gift or that circumstance, they would be miserable! If happiness is to be so measured, I who cannot hear or see have every reason to sit in a corner with folded hands and weep. If I am happy in spite of my deprivations, if my happiness is so deep that it is a faith, so thoughtful that it becomes a philosophy of life, — if, in short, I am an optimist, my testimony to the creed of optimism is worth hearing. As sinners stand up in meeting and testify to the goodness of God, so one who is called afflicted may rise up in gladness of conviction and testify to the goodness of life.

Can I get an amen?! :)

(Dover Publications, New York; originally published 1903 + 1908, new edition 2009; ISBN 978-0-486-47367-3)