Gray sweatshirt

We had the most wonderful Honeymoon. It was a three week road trip up the east coast from Florida to Maine and back. We stayed in every state along the way accept Vermont where we only ate lunch and enjoyed the greenness.

We drove our green Pathfinder loaded up with camping gear and suitcases, but we left plenty of room for what we might find as we scavenged the coast for treasures. In the end we did come home with a bench made from reclaimed wood and old theatre seats, a handful of skeleton keys which I had to have b/c they were old and elegant, 3 maple syrup catching tins from an antique barn in rural Maine, chocolate covered cranberries from a haunted Bed and Breakfast we stayed in for a few days, a corner cupboard (that doesn't actually fit in a corner b/c it has a strange angle) from an art/funky furniture store in Asheville, NC., and many more random things, but one of my best memories is conjured up each time I wear my touristy gray sweatshirt that says: "Nantucket" across the front.

Have you ever had a time where it was so ridiculously comfortable in that moment that the only thing messing up the moment was that you knew it couldn't last and that realization made it kind of painful? Nantucket was like that for me. It was like a time warp. Perfect weather in July, beach, town, art, great food. Wonderful. Christo and I rented bikes (which is hell on a cobblestone road) and we went into the town for ice cream. We sat on a bench and I just laughed at how everything was so wonderful right then. I could eat strawberry ice cream on a warm and sunny day, on a bench , in Nantucket , with the love of my life, every single day for the rest of my life and that to me would be Heaven.

The comfort of the moment did pass and we have not been able to get back there again, but I am painting this piece of my heart now. My canvas is sketched and needs paint and other junk on it, but it will get done and hang over that bench from Maine one day, right next to the wall with the key ring hanger, where the skeleton keys will be, and I will have my little honeymoon shrine and we will sit on that bench and eat ice cream from Publix and it won't feel the same, but it will still be sweet because what made Nantucket and that day so wonderful wasn't any of that stuff....it was him.

Inspiration /wooden spoons /Motherhood

I took a break from blogging for awhile because if there is one thing that I am, it is inconsistent. I am constantly switching my passions- that is why I began to blog in the first place. I wanted to have a space to relay my dreams and desires with others and give myself a platform to write about my ideas. So since my last post in late October I have begun writing a book, making jewelry, painted some canvases, taken a fabulous trip with my kids and husband and started a hunt for the perfect vanagon. Yes- I am a little busy. Today is my first day back at home since the trip to Virginia with dear friends and I have washed the curtains, started post-vacation laundry, done quite a bit of Christmas decorating, made roll out Christmas cookies with the kids and iced them, did a decoupage project with 3 of the 4 kids, and it is only 2:30- at this rate maybe I will actually complete a project for myself.

I am mostly not very excited about domestic tasks such as cleaning, cooking, and child rearing. I prefer to work alone painting, writing, day dreaming etc...but hey, God gave me 4 children and a desire to homeschool that currently outweighs the desire to put them in school, so here I am fighting against the clock and trying desperately to carve out time to do what I want to do instead of what I HAVE to do. It is a losing battle. I love my kids and love to have them home with me, but I do get frustrated with the constant messes and the endless wants and needs and whining. I love Teddy Roosevelt's quote: "speak softly and carry a big stick" but I find myself often yelling loudly and carrying a big wooden spoon. Just being honest here...

I do most of my day dreaming at night now when I can hear myself think. I dream of spotless houses with large organized art studios and shiny new supplies for creating incredible works of art. But then I consider that my inspiration will have had to have flown the coop if those dreams were a reality. No children could live at this dream house and thus my art would be somewhat less fulfilling to me. Empty. And who knows if I could hope to be more inspired when I could day dream during the day- perhaps the silence would then be deafening and I could no longer hear the pure ring of inspiration in my ears.

So for now I must steal away to an art room with a few laundry baskets filled with folded size 4 star wars underpants, a rubber ducky that somehow made it from the tub and onto my sewing machine, a board book with tiny baby teeth marks where love for a story has made them want to literally consume it, and pages of journals of fabulous ideas just wait for the day to be created...

Someday when I actually hear myself think, I can start working on these things, but for now I will embrace the inspiration, all four of them.

Being Relevant WHILE Being Faithful

photo: rio de gente - people river by z e n g a

I want to be relevant.
I want to read books that keep me aware and informed.
I want to help causes that need my help.
I don't want to put on lenses of prudish, pious, puritanical protection from the outside.
I want to see the job that needs to be done and then actually do it.
I want to be able to walk into a bar, a shop, a club, a market, a carnival, a festival, a church and be in the right place. Not be a sore thumb, not be a snob, not be a freak, or a self-righteous show-off.
I want to be calm in places that make my heart beat fast, and not too comfortable in places that seem like home.
I want to feel the itch that pain is near and I could possibly be the balm.
I want to see humanity with a simple scope and clear hope.
I want to walk with a plan and yet let the plan fall to the wayside if the moment craves some spontaneity.

I want to be faithful.
I want to read the only Book that truly matters.
I want to be the good Samaritan and a Friend that helps to set the captives free.
I am a Mary Magdalene. I want to know her heart and feel her passion.
I want to focus on the man who comes riding on a white charger and not let my gaze be moved.
I want to walk into any place at all, any country at all, and know that I do not belong and I won't belong, because I am from another world and speak another language.
I want to be wise, loving, thoughtful and considerate.
I want to see humanity, my brothers and my sisters in and outside of this chasm of created order, with eyes that heal, and hands that help, and a heart that bleeds truth from the Faithful One.

The Country Drive

For two people deeply in love, anytime spent together is satisfying and yet also painful. Painful? Yes. We know that this time together is temporary and so we attempt to forget time altogether and sink fully into the moment. This of course is impossible because the sun eventually goes down, bodies need to be nourished and fatigue lingers closely behind us. This human form is not eternal and so we must take "time" to enjoy each other inside of this Earthly clockwork.

If you ask me how I do this, I would tell you that some conditions for this enjoyment are as follows: a sunny or partly overcast day, a car or truck but preferably an old VW bus, music by ipod, radio, tape, etc., windows that roll down, and my husband. In the sweet youth of our love, we also threw in a bag of Baked Lays and a bottle of Fruitopia. Those last condition no longer apply because Fruitopia no longer exists and we are older now and cannot eat an entire bag of chips without suffering for it later. (We replaced the chips with Hot boiled peanuts(a southern classic) and the occasional Slurpee or Gatorade.)

T. S. Eliot wrote "April is the cruelest month" and I shall add to that: "Sunday is the cruelest day". I attend church with my family, contemplate the sacrifice made on my behalf, share in the communion with brothers and sisters and sing the hymns with joy and thankfulness. This is a blessing and so it would seem that Sunday is the most Glorious of days. But that is just not the reality of it for me.

I bustle through my week with homeschooling, schedules, soccer, gymnastics, meetings, church studies, parties etc...By the time Friday evening comes, I am exhausted, and I want my husband back from work. His job is stressful and not always fulfilling. We have dreams and we have plans and they are not a part of of our daily life. So on the weekend we detox from our weekly drugs that keep us plugged in and engaged in the present. We sleep later, we read deeply, we eat at random times, we get dirty, we nap longer and we listen to a lot of music in the background.

Come Sunday, I want to fellowship with other people not on our planet. So when we go to church, we do just that. Then we pack ourselves back into our van and go home. I feel sick the whole way. I hate that the hamster wheel will start again in less than 24 hours.

So, I propose a country drive. What you love to do does not have to change just because you have 4 kids bouncing around in the backseat. We are all cowboys at heart. We want to explore and find a treasure like Cortes and chocolate. I feel that this desire is truly Human. God said "Go and take dominion" and while it may be a bit out of context here, I do not think He meant to stay just outside the Garden gate and set up camp for all time.

So, we set off, GPS ready, to get lost in the country. And a Discovery was made and what we found was something overwhelming. Not in an incredible mountain view way, or a munchkin land kind of thing. But for my husband it was like God saying to us, I love you, I know you and I know what you love and desire. This may sound silly, but what we found was breathtaking in a rusty, dilapidated sort of way. We discovered 2 (maybe more) acres of land absolutely covered in-------.

Why did you name it that?

photo by ardenstreet

So, this morning as we sipped tea with stevia and ate pitas stuffed with kalmatas, my husband told me that perhaps I need to explain my blog's name.

Is that like naming a baby something obscure and then feeling like you MUST justify it by defining it? For example, my son's name is Summit and in the past, after receiving strange looks and "come again" a million times, I would explain away the reason we chose his name and the love story behind it, but then who really cares about my love story except for myself and the man I love.

Suffice it so say, I eventually stopped giving in to the disconcerting stares and obviously disapproving murmurs about how "interesting" my child's name is. I no longer let them in on the reason we named him Summit because it is strangely akin to "throwing pearls before swine" in my book.

On another note, I thought it quite satisfying and humorous, that the very person who requested that I explain my blog's name is my husband. I cannot tell you how many high school afternoons we drove around in Sunnie, his 1970 Volkswagen Bus, with the windows down, music blaring, red and blond curls flying around until they were in dreadlocks. When we were forced to slow down due to red lights, the engine would quiet down and we could actually hear each other talking. My most common point of discussion would go like this " why is this band named------"?

(You fill in the blank because you know that band names are typically ridiculous and if they do not seem this way to you then you are either: A.) in a band with a funky name or B.) you actually read all of the books and have seen all of the movies that refer to these random titles, so YOU GET IT. ) My high school sweetheart and now husband would reply to this seemingly juvenile question with " why do these bands need to explain themselves to you? Why do you feel the need to have to understand the band name? It is poetic, it is artistic etc..." He was sooo "deep" (don't you love that word) and he still is. He is also a musician and has been in a band with a random name so he is one of those that "GETS IT."

I still catch myself every now and then trying to figure out the band names and attempting to make sense of obscure lyrics in an effort to better understand them.
So, I will explain the name, because it is only fair to people like myself who cannot handle not knowing "why." But not right now. You have to wait. And no this is not a giveaway blog- but it could be when my 1800 sq ft organic garden starts producing.