Tea Cozeys and Pregnant Bellies

This past week felt overwhelming. We packed in too much up-and-outtime with not enough in-and-downtime. And I began to feel it in my body. I woke up with a headache, sore throat and cough mid-week. My energy felt low-low-low. And I have been on neutral, coasting through the days. This morning, my energy levels are rising up, and I am starting to feel out from under the heavy water. I need to remember to let my tank fill all the way up again before depleting it.

We have a lot on the go! I've been encouraged and supported by my church family to coordinate a MOPS(Mothers of Preschoolers) group at our parish. We will begin in October, so I will have the summer to prepare and a weekend away in late September to attend the MOPS conference in Florida. We had a couple of meetings this past week, and I spoke to our Women's ministry group on Saturday morning. There has been an enthusiastic and supportive response to my needs for establishing a leadership team. And it looks like some of the more difficult positions to fill (Preschool-age Childcare Leader and Discussion Group Leaders) are almost completely filled! And with women who are just as excited as I am. I am thankful.

I've been crocheting long, thin, stripped scarves and sewing tea cosys this week. I suppose I have needed the creative outlet to still and quiet my soul as life around me whirls with busyness.

This is the last week before we leave on a month-long roadtrip through the states. This will be our first long, camp-as-we-go trip as a young family. I've been planning on paper and gathering tips for traveling with two kids under 4. It has been more work than I first anticipated. We'd like to bring homebaked snacks along and buy most of our food at grocery stores with some eating out. I've been really busy this week gathering supplies and ingredients for cooking and baking and planning activities to keep miss precious-precocious occupied. I would love to hear some suggestions from the more experienced moms who might be reading this. Please feel free to share your traveling expertise!

My dear friend Meghan is near to having her third baby. We've kept the tradition of taking pregnancy photos of each other. This morning she arrived in her maternity finest with a Tim Horton's coffee (double double!) in hand. How did she know I had run out of coffee this morning?! We enjoyed our brew and then spent an hour in the yard, celebrating this coming child by capturing the final in-utero days on film. I included a couple at the top of this post.

This feels like a random post, in part because I have felt uncentered this week, and a bit random. sigh. I think this is the beginning of getting back where I can breathe the air again.

Just for Now

I have gone into my friend Tamie's blog countless times to watch this You Tube video. So, I figured I should give her credit and then post it on my blog. The performance of this song is exquisite. Please watch and enjoy.

Guess who's 1!

Our strapping Soul-boy is one-year-old. We celebrated at our home on Saturday with a pancake breakfast. His morning nap is usually 8:30-11:30, but I decided to wake him at 10:00 (halfway through HIS party) so the celebrants could at least see the boy! I suppose it was more for the older siblings, parents and friends anyway:). He seemed to absorb that something special was happening when we all looked at him and broke into song, a cheery one with HIS name in it.

The first 6 months of his life flew by. He SLEPT ALL THE TIME. Seriously. He was our "4-naps- a-day" boy for 6 months. When he was awake, he was nursing or smiling. Then he went to 3 naps and now he takes two long ones: morning 8:30-11:30 and afternoon 1:30-4:30. His daddy is 6 foot 8 inches, so he was doing a whole lot of growing in his first year and needed sleep and food.

And now he is walking, and playing ball, waving "goodbye" and "hello", signing "more" "food" "milk," and fully weaned (2 days before his birthday). He drinks locally collected goat's milk and eats a pureed version of whatever we're eating.

When Alethea was younger, birds and fairies were an emerging theme in her life. They continue to hold symbolism for her, and for us, as we think about her character and personality and about our hopes for her. I will write more on that later.

And for Solomon, it is rocketships. Over the last 3 months, we've been given a lot of "Rocket Ship" stuff: sweatshirt, pajamas, t-shirts, robeez shoes. I started to notice this last month after I had folded and put away a load of laundry. I started thinking about this symbol and have chatted about it with my husband.

Astronaunts are dreamers and visionaries. They have to believe that the moon and the planets exist, that they can walk on the moon, that they can arrive, can survive. They have to be brave and willing to go "where [few] men have gone before." They have to stay calm under alarming circumstances. It's important that they are adaptable within varying environments and unafraid of change. They have to prepare meticulously for a journey into darkness, hoping to find what they are looking for. Astronaunts also carry the hope of those they leave behind as they shoot toward the sky.

Solomon is very calm yet determined. He has a quiet, inquisitive gaze. He seems to set the atmosphere with his strength and peacefulness and doesn't seem to be swayed by unrest or chaos; he remains unruffled by what is happening around him.

We believe he has the heart of an astronaunt. We believe he will have a unique vision in his life, that he will want to pursue at all costs. And we will be right behind him, cheering for him at each step of the way.

It seems a lot to put on a little one-year-old! I suppose to balance these high hopes and prayers we have a lot of simple joy in being his parents and in seeing how he surprises us! We feel immense joy in seeing our children grow and deepen and become who they are meant to be. And we are thankful for this first year in his life.

Monastery on the Hill

I woke up around 6:15 this morning to go for a walk with my mother-in-love who lives just down the street. As I stepped into the coolness of the morning, into the early wee-glimmer light, I heard the bells.

These pictures were taken this afternoon during the kid's nap. My husband works from home and graciously agreed to let me spend some time at the Abbey while the sun was still shining.

Endless Worlds

The Public Library is one of my favorite places to be. The kids and I go at least once a week to return and borrow. It has become a journey through endless worlds, as though we are taking a trip together, wondering wide-eyed what we'll come across, what we'll discover.

During the past two months, I've started to borrow cookbooks. One of my favorites is called FROM A MONASTERY KITCHEN: The Classic Natural Foods Cookbook by Brother Victor-Antoine d' Avila-Latourrette.

It features recipes like :"Cloister Molasses-Apple Cake", "Epiphany Bread", "Benedictine Rhubarb and Raisin Pudding with Pentecost Cream" and other such shananagans. A thoughtful quote is printed at the bottom of each page. I have loved so many of the quotes that I thought I would write out some of the best.

" In the midst of winter, I realized that deep within me was an invincible summer." Albert Camus

"A brother who had been visiting with a hermit said, as he was taking his leave: "Forgive me, Father, for hampering you in keeping your rule." The hermit answered: "My rule is to welcome you with hospitality and to send you on your way in peace." An early desert father

"Our hope is that the winter of humanity will gradually be transformed to the bursting forth of love, for it is to this that we are called." Jean Vanier

"Fickleness and indecision are signs of self-love. If you can never make up your mind what God wills for you, but are always veering from one opinion to another...from one method to another, it may be an indication that you are trying to get around God's will and do your own with a quiet conscience. So keep still, and let God do some work." Thomas Merton

"Whatever else be lost among the years, let us keep Christmas still a shining thing." Grace N. Crowell

"To find is to seek Him unceasingly. Here, indeed, to seek is not one thing and to find another. The reward of the search is to go on searching. The soul's desire is fulfilled by the very fact of its remaining unsatisfied, for really to see God is never to have had one's fill of desiring him." Saint Gregory of Nyssa

"We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." T.S Eliot

"If you wish to put in order the inner dwelling-place of your soul, prepare the material necessary so that the heavenly architect can begin his work. In order for the dwelling to be light, so that the light of heaven can come in, there must be windows, which are our five senses. The door of the abode is Christ...who guards both the dwelling and its inhabitants." Saint Seraphim of Sarov

"It all adds up to one thing: peace, silence, solitude. The world and its noise are out of sight and far away. Forest and fields, sun and wind and sky, earth and water, all speak the same silent language." Thomas Merton

"I believe that without the impetus of love, it is not possible to begin or continue any journey of the spirit. But love, too, must know its measure and its limitations." Sister Thekla

"If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence." George Eliot

"Courage is an inner resolution to go forward despite obstacles; cowardice is submissive surrender to circumstances. Courage breeds creative self-affirmation; cowardice produces destructive self-abnegation. Courage faces fear and msters it; cowardice represses fear and is mastered by it. " Martin Luther King, Jr.

"God can bring summer out of winter, though we have no spring. All occasions invite his mercies, and all times are his seasons." John Donne

"The past must be abandoned to God's mercy, the present to our fidelity, and the future to divine providence." Saint Francis de Sales

"Don't think of God as a very stern judge and punisher. He is very merciful...We must not despair, for there is no sin that exceeds God's compassion. It is always the devil that brings despair; one must not listen to him." Letter from a Russian Monk

"Readings, vigils and prayer--these are the things that lend stability to the wandering mind." Evagrius Ponticus

"A person can show his religion as much in measuring onions as he can in singing 'Glory Hallelujah'." Shaker Brother

"He who sees things grow from the beginning will have the best view of them." Aristotle

"As I see it, we shall never succeed in knowing ourselves unless we seek to know God..." Saint Theresa of Avila

"Love God's young creation, love it as a whole and every grain of sand in it. Love every leaf, every ray of God. Love animals, love every plant and everything. If you love everything, the mystery of God will be revealed to you in things...And finally you will love the whole universe with a comprehensive, all-embracing love." Fyodor Dostoevsky

"I like the fact that 'listen' is an anagram of 'silent'. Silence is not something that is there before the music begins and after it stops. It is the essence of the music itself, the vital ingredient that makes it possible for the music to exist at all." Alfred Brendel

"Just as water when it is squeezed on all sides shoots up above, so does the soul when it is pressed hard by dangers often rise to God to be saved." Saint John Climacus

"Monks should practice zeal with ardent love. They should anticipate one another in honor, most patiently endure one another's infirmities, whether of body or soul. Let them try to outdo eachother in obedience. Let no one do what is best for himself, but rather what is best for another." The Holy Rule of Saint Benedict

***Our family lives just down the hill from a gorgeous Benedictine Monastery. On clear, early mornings, we can hear the bells from the tower. I have always been drawn to the gentle peace and quiet of monastery grounds. Living near one is an immense gift.

The brothers are loving and welcoming. And they are accepting of children. When I was pregnant with Solomon, Alley and I would have picnics in front of "Saint Mary Lake."



I have a three-part series of pictures of her eating a banana during a sunny afternoon. In the first, she is holding a peeled banana. The second picture shows her taking an enormous, full-faced bite and the third is a wide-eyed, full-cheeked Alley with small squished pieces of banana on her chin. I hold wonderful memories from that summer with her.



When the weather allows, I take walks up the hill. I rest awhile in the light reflecting through multi-colored stained glass windows, and I breathe slowly in the silence. The fountain in the foyer tinkles in the distance like garden-party wine glasses.



I guess it is the monk in me. The "monk" in the mama, that draws me there.

When I next venture up the hill, I will take a few pictures to share.

Simple Goodness

The smallest, toddling man in our family has learned to walked. He took his first step on March 22nd, the day of his Uncle Jack's birthday. His large, cloth-diapered bum waddles back and forth. It seems the momentum is what knocks him down. I've wondered if I should try some light-weight disposables on him for a few days to see if it helps. But the waddle is too cute!

At this time last year, I was extremely pregnant. Twinges of pain were shooting down my legs. I was sleeping very little at night, wanting to sleep all day. I was very eager to go into labour.

We had joined some dear friends for Easter Dinner and I was sure I would go into labour by the end of the evening! But, it dragged on into the next day. And on the evening of April 17th, the day after, I went into labour. Soul-Baby was born just after 2 am on April 18th.

It has been a full year already. A full year of loving this small human who has changed our life. As I see green-stimmed daffodils flinging out their vibrant yellow trumpets, I remember seeing them the morning after giving birth and being amazed at their boldness, at the way they beckon spring.

Last night, we drove to the public library together. My husband shuffled through CD's with Soul-Baby while I helped Alley pick out books and a couple of children's DVD's. For some reason, the combination of simple goodness made my heart literally throb. It felt bursting with love and thankfulness. When we got in the car, I said: "My heart expands near to bursting multiple times a day. I love this time in our life." And we felt thankful and humbled at the simple gifts we've been given, quieted by the fleeting fragility of these days and moments.

It seems appropriate as Easter draws near, to take some moments to give thanks for what has been born in our life, making room for new mercies every morning.

From a Lump of Clay

"But now, O Lord, You are our Father, We are the clay, and You our potter; And all we are the work of your hand."

(Isaiah 64:8)

"Does not the Potter have power over the clay...?"

(Romans 9:21a)

On Tuesday nights from 7-10 pm, after the wee ones are in bed, I drive to Matsqui prairie to take pottery lessons from Herman Venema of "Venema Pottery." He and his wife own a gorgeous property off Harris Road with a renovated farm house and immaculate, artistically-landscaped gardens.

Originally from Holland, Herman is a hardworking Dutchman, with an "I can figure out anything you throw my way" air about him. He seems to know a little bit about everything, and though his teaching style is blunt and gruff, he still manages to be extremely supportive and kind, asking questions that convey a sense of care about each student and an awareness of what's important to them.

Herman has worked with clay for over 25 years. He loves what he does and is a true master of the art. His style is simple, precise and earthy and he seems to find great spiritual significance and solace in what he does.

A Pottery lesson usually lasts 3 hours. For the first hour, Herman trims what he threw the previous week and then demonstrates a new throwing technique. We are then free to create on our own, asking questions along the way. He's not too strict about the time we finish and clean up; the last one out for the night, turns off the light and heat. His studio is open every week night for practice time, which I love. It reminds me of learning an instrument. If I only practice during the weekly lesson time, progress is very slow. But if I practice all week, doing the same new thing again and again, I can more completely build onto my foundation of understanding and move closer to mastery.

I first learned how to throw from my quirky highschool art teacher Mr. Gillis. He used to call me "K.C. and the Sunshine Band." Shortly after I completed my first piece on the wheel, I dreamed about it all night long. I remember the sense of power I had after watching a lump of clay turn into a mug, a plate, an obscure sculpture-like vessel with a chunky lid. I was addicted. And I was overwhelmed with metaphor.

Clay is hunted down and collected from the earth. (He brought me out of the horrible pit, Out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my steps (Psalm 40:2) It is purified and filtered to eradicate uneven textures, and to prepare it for the potter. Force is required to first cut and wedge the clay, to pound it into a ball and to throw it against the bat so it sticks in place. The single most important step in throwinga vessel is properly centering the clay. This takes time and strength and control. The lump of clay must yield and spin to a column, curve down into a low, even beehive shape, spiral back up to a column, and then lean over to mix and surrender once again to a low, centered mound. To do this requires unrelenting pressure from the potter and modability from the clay.

And every creation is different. Even with the same amount of clay and vision, there are no two hand-thrown vessels exactly alike. And if the clay is overworked, too dry, too wet, rushed or poorly centered, it will fold back into a formless mass to be reclaimed. ANY clay can be reclaimed, some lumps just take longer to rework and to once again pound into a fresh ball, ready for recreation.

I am grateful for this chance to create with clay and to revisit an old love. It brings me joy and peace and is another tangible reminder of the moldability of my clay-self and clay-soul, lovingly centered by a strong potter who recreates me daily with passionate vision and unrelenting love.

(photo from Vijaya Morrison at Rainforest Pottery, where I was first reacquainted 3 years ago)

A Little Sunshine Everyday

The weather in this part of British Columbia is unruly and unpredictable! A few days ago, I was sporting a tank top as I loaded up the Landcruiser to take my kids and their friend Ava for a day at Heritage Park. Sunday and Monday brought POURING rain, so much that major intersections throughout the lower mainland were flooded, traffic detoured in all directions. And today is drab and dreary-feeling, the sky gray with a hovering breeze, just enough to create an eery silence and chill.

On days like today, I turn on my brightest light in the kitchen, light a few candles and crank up Bob Marley. I open all the curtains, dress in bright colours, and light frakincense and myrhh to enliven the stale air with a warm-spicy aroma. Baking something yummy first thing in the morning helps. I've been enjoying the Blueberry Bounty Buns from the cookbook Vive Le Vegan! Even though we are not Vegan, I enjoy cooking a lot of Vegan/Vegetarian meals. And since my husband is extremely allergic to Dairy, I find a lot of great recipes from these sources.

Thankfully, my daughter loves rainy days. We spend time cuddled up with books in the morning until the embracing heat from our woodstove rises through the floorboards and warms our toes. She loves to have a rainy day tea party, dance to music, help me with indoor household tasks. In general, she has a very sunny personality and thinks everything is a party. I really believe God knew I needed her in my life; she is my sunshine on these dreary coastal days.

(photo: www.flickr.com:Ester76)

Where does the time go?

It's been too long since I added a post. And for the life of me, I can't figure out where the days have gone. I woke up with Mastitis two mornings ago and have been feeling pretty crummy, but in many ways, that is no excuse, because writing usually makes me feel better. Our two little ones got ear infections and have not been their jolly selves. We've had a couple of sunny days that have pulled us outside, the laundry had been backed up and my husband helped me do load after load this week, visitors have made their way into our home and to our table, which has been a great blessing. I guess it's all just *life*. And suddenly, days pass in a flash and I realize this hard truth when I see the date at the top of my past post.

I am organizing a Blessingway today for my good friend and the midwife for my first child. She is having her third child, after experiencing a sorrowful miscarriage. A friend of mine organized one for me before Soul-baby's birth and I was immensely encouraged as I walked forward into the experience of birth once again. I hope my friend feels similarly encouraged today.

Last night, my husband made dinner (yummy tostadas) and we watched a documentary on Bob Dylan called No Direction Home, that we borrowed from our local library. It was a wild glimpse into the young life of an incredible poet and lyricist. He was a quirky individual with a lot of heart. I especially enjoyed the interviews with Joan Baez and others who knew him intimately. For Bob Dylan fans such as I, this is a "must see".

I guess I'm full of random "catching-up" thoughts this morning, hoping to get back on track. Part of the reason I love to blog is that it is a discipline to write regularly and this is something I long to grow in. It reveals my priorities in black-n-white. And as I visit other blogs, I am encouraged when I see busy moms keeping up with the part of blogging that balances their days and their souls. SO, keep visiting! I will bring out some fresh topics in the near future. And as always, feel free to comment as it encourages me when I know my words are being read.

From The Mouth Of Children

Earlier this week, my husband and I received this write-up from his grandmother. She is a vibrant, 80-something matriach who blesses us immensely and sends glimpses of light our way. I was touched by these answers. And reminded of the nuances required in loving another.

A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds,

"What does love mean?"

_____"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."Rebecca- age 8
_____"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."Billy - age 4
_____"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."Karl - age 5
_____"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."Chrissy - age 6
_____"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."Terri - age 4
_____"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."Danny - age 7
_____"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"Emily - age 8
_____"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."Bob by - age 7
_____"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,"Nikka - age 6
_____"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."Noelle - age 7
_____"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."Tommy - age 6
_____"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."Elaine-age 5
_____"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."Chris - age 7
_____"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."Mary Ann - age 4
_____"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."Lauren - age 4
_____"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you."Karen - age 7
_____"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."Jessica - age 8
_____And the final one --

Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.
Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."

Magical Moments of Make Believe

My daughter is 3 and 1/2 and full of intense energy. She wakes up jabbering about what she will do during the day, asking me what I am doing, looking around for anything that has changed in the house while she slept. Yesterday, I had shifted a chair into a slightly different spot so I could do Yoga. The moment she woke up, she tilted her head and asked "Hey! Why is that chair there?" She notices everything! This also means that she remembers everything I say, and holds me to it. I have to be ultra careful with what I suggest or promise, because to her, it's set in stone and WILL definitely happen, post haste! I have grown to love this as it forces me to say what I mean, and act on what I have promised. Her full name means "truth", and we have discovered how appropriate this is to her discerning, inquisitive and detailed-oriented personality.

We have decided to help her funnel her intensity into creative play as much as we can. In many ways, she develops her own play and it naturally overflows from the changes in her age-appropriate development, ideas from friends, and the expansion of her fertile mind. But I make a point to carve out specific time each morning for adventurous, creative play.

From the beginning, my husband and I decided to have no more toys than would fit into a medium-sized Tupperware Tote. We have gone beyond that somewhat with larger items like Alley's small, wooden highchair for her doll, a rocking horse, and one of those bead maze things with loopy pieces that you slide the bead over. And beyond the toy box, we have a Costume box and a Puppet box.

I find the greatest costumes at the MCC thrift store in our town and Value Village in an adjoining town. So far, we have a monkey, lion, tiger, ladybug, princess, caterpiller, angel, fairy, hawaiian hoola girl (grass skirt and funky floral dress) , doctor bag, and various little scarves and purses and high-heeled shoes. I have so much fun watching her merge into character, and I play along. She often wants me to call her "dentist", or "ballerina", "doctor" for an hour or so as she glides around the house and listens to my elbow or stomach with the stethoscope. Actually, after a recent trip to the doctor, she now listens in all the right places.

We've gotten into the habit of going to the library once a week to pick out new books together. This week, I picked out one called Wishes for You by Tobi Tobias. It is a heartwarming reflection of a parent's hopes for her child. And beyond a deep yearning that my children know and love God above anyone and anything, these reflections hae become almost a prayer for me:

*I hope you will have moments when you're so happy, you'll feel the sun is shining from inside you.

*I hope you will have the strength and spirit to deal with bad things when they come your way.

*I hope you will be lucky.

*I hope you will always be curious.

*I hope you will never forget how to be silly.

* I hope you and I will have adventures together--just the two of us.

* I hope you will love to read.

* I hope you will learn to make things with your own hands.

* I hope you will want to make your body strong and quick and beautiful--and enjoy the way that feels.

*I hope you will love one special person more than anyone of anything in the whole world.

* I hope that, one day when you're grown up, you will have a child--different from you, but just as wonderful.

* I hope you will love being alone sometimes.

*I hope you will know what you think and feel and not let other people tell you.

* I hope you will be able to tell your favorite people the secrets of your heart.

* I hope you will always be part of a family.

* I hope you will always remember me and know how much I love you.


Sometimes after the kids are in bed, I tiptoe into their room and say over them the things I hope they will have and will experience in their lives. Remembering specific hopes like the ones above, gives me strength for each day I have as guardian of these precious large-souled children.

(photo: www.flickr.com)

Aging Gracefully

Dove (the soap and miscellaneous beauty product manufacturer) has launched a "campaign for real beauty." Their attempt is to uncover the lies that we believe about our worth as women based on what society portrays as "beautiful." Their website has a video clip of a woman undergoing a makeover in order to reach billboard status. When you visit the site, make sure to click on the short film.
www.campaignforrealbeauty.com

I have thought a great deal about this over the years, particularly since becoming a mother and observing the various morphings and stretchings involved in bearing another human being. My body is indelibly marked and most days these etchings shine for me as badges of honour to commemorate my motherood status. Otherdays, they burn as inconsistencies on the smooth skin I once knew. I value health and physical wellness and enjoy eating seasonal, nourishing foods that provide rich energy. And I have always loved to get out and MOVE my body with yoga, running, swimming or working out at the local rec centre. But even while maintaining health, and working toward a return to my pre-partum body, I have come to a place of acceptance as I observe the aspects of my bodily changes that simply will not return and are not able or meant to. This is part of my becoming, and it is beautiful.

Earlier this week, I spent an evening with a deeply beautiful group of people. We met to discuss traditional Anglican Creed Beads and their use within the cycle of prayer. The hostess answered the door with ease, dressed to the nines with a bright paisley dress, golden brooch and shiny black dress boots. She is a queenly, "put-together" woman in her late 70's or early 80's. Her head is covered gently with snow-white hair revealing her age, yet she always wears childlike earnestness and glee in her glistening eyes and pulling at the edges of her glowing smile. She exudes grace and hospitality and people are drawn into her presence. I was grateful for the chance to *see* and know more of her by sharing time in her home.

We were invited into the den where others were waiting. The darkness of night settled around us and we drew near to receive what we each needed. Toward the end, the hostess led us upstairs to her kitchen where she had lovingly prepared an elaborate array of teas, coffees and various pastries, breads and fruits. She showed us a few pieces of original artwork hanging on her walls, while explaining the history behind a certain miniature print she was particularly drawn to.

As the night wore on, I discovered things about her that I share in common. She is a nurse by trade, she passionately enjoys art and music, she has an eye for photography, and she writes poetry. I found myself inspired and encouraged by the sharpness of mind, grandeur of spirit and lively energy that swirled around her.

She and her husband walked us to the door and as I pulled on my shoes, we chatted about our lives. She shared about difficult circumstances from earlier in her life and the details surprised me and quieted my spirit with a sense of overwhelming grace. She experienced the reality of loneliness and alienation and judgement from others. And yet toward the end of her journey, in the winter of her life, she is able to stand with dignity and outstretched arms. She holds no judgement and the years are being redeemed.

I felt quieted as I thought of difficult and unwise choices in my life and the lives of others I love. And I felt in that instant that our lives are like a vast windswept plain stretching for miles in every direction. The blades of grass and sways of wheat combine to create gold. And no matter how trampled parts of the field become, there is a possiblity of rain, another harvest, redemption.