My daughter says this personality profile is EXACTLY me ...

You are a highly spontaneous person who always likes to try new things. Novel and unpredictable situations don't bother you; instead you find them challenging and exciting.

You tend to be focused and resourceful and you are able to juggle a lot of projects at the same time; as a result you are sometimes a whirlwind of activity.

You have a firm grip on reality and enjoy living in the present tense. But you have a keen imagination that enables you to lift off from time and space to beremarkably creative.

You are humorous. You are able to laugh at yourself, and you like entertaining others.

You have a deep sense of compassion. You can show genuine insight into the needs of others; you aregood at listening and talking; and you express agenuine desire to be helpful.

Your tolerance for others and their beliefs, your lack of prejudice, your ability to compromise and youroccasional antics make you popular with others and a great companion.

Context

A beautiful tree was evolving on the concrete bridge ... an unexpected surprise as I went to take photos of the band playing in the park.  I love the moments that capture creation.  I love seeing a soul express art.  When I looked at my photos, I realized that my perception may have been very different if I saw this man in another setting - even if he happened to step away from his artwork and went to another area of the park to enjoy the music.  The blackened feet and hands alone may have been enough for me to think he was filthy and probably homeless! Oh what we miss when we take things out of context.  Oh what injustice we ascribe with our assumptions.

Regatta

re·gat·ta (r-gät, -gt) n. A boat race or a series of boat races. [Italian dialectal, a contention, regatta, from regattare, to contend, perhaps from recatare, to sell again, compete, from Vulgar Latin *recaptre, to contend : Latin re-, re- + Latin captre, to seek to catch, frequentative of capere, to seize; see catch.]

I am now a three year veteran of this wonderful thing called a regatta ... but NOT as a sailor!  I am the one capturing the images.  I loved this definition and word origin.  Capture.

These beautiful crafts capture one another.
The Center (a non-profit behind this particular regatta) captures support.
I capture pictures.
The lake captures me.

I love how everything smells like the lake when I get home.  I don't want to wash anything!  The nostalgic side is so strong.  It brings me back to the land of 10,000 lakes and growing up in Minnesota.

While I am too tired to be eloquent, I did want to make sure I shared at least one adventure of my own.  This is one of the highlights of my year!  Even Miss M looks forward to it and now has two years under her belt as my sidekick.  Thanks to one of our boatmates who was playing sneaky paparazzi (and of course she would, she "IS" the media!), I actually have a photo to share!  (Yes, that is me as the scarf-wrapped, photo-snapping masthead.)

Remembering

I've written about my time in Hawaii a little ... the impact of the oil still bubbling up to the surface after decades submerged in Pearl Harbor. Today I find words difficult to come by.  This afternoon my daughter and I will do something for the first time ... be part of a flag ceremony and help retire the flags of the fallen.  I am sure the emotion and significance will quickly ursurp any desire for words.

Those who dedicate themselves to the freedom and goodwill of others are at the top of my list.  Whether lives are given in battle or in a sense "given" in dedication to a life of good ... I admire those who hold integrity and honor close at hand and reach out to the world around them.

Express

It was effortless (well, almost) when I was young. Less filtered. More bold. I love seeing this in my kids ... At least when it is in a positive light! It does my heart good to see a talent expressed, enjoyed, pursued. It challenges me!

Honestly, even "negative" expressions challenge me. I shouldn't be afraid of the authentic emotions around me or even within me. It's an opportunity in a way. It's a window into the inner world that may go unacknowledged if left alone. It may need some nurture, some guidance, some encouragement, some prayer, some action.

The beauty of expression is something deep and wonderful. I don't know if it's possible to know that fully in one's lifetime, but I have a feeling it is a treasure to be gained when one can find the freedom to wear one's heart upon his or her sleeve. I just hope the effort is rewarded by the people who mean the most when it is!

God's Decree

Isaiah 54:11-17 "Afflicted city, storm-battered, unpitied: I'm about to rebuild you with stones of turquoise, Lay your foundations with sapphires, construct your towers with rubies, Your gates with jewels, and all your walls with precious stones. All your children will have God for their teacher— what a mentor for your children! You'll be built solid, grounded in righteousness, far from any trouble—nothing to fear! far from terror—it won't even come close! If anyone attacks you, don't for a moment suppose that I sent them, And if any should attack, nothing will come of it. I create the blacksmith who fires up his forge and makes a weapon designed to kill. I also create the destroyer— but no weapon that can hurt you has ever been forged. Any accuser who takes you to court will be dismissed as a liar. This is what God's servants can expect. I'll see to it that everything works out for the best." God's Decree.

Symphonic Musings: Bartók and Banov and Giants and Walls

There is no photo to accompany thoughts (gasp!) ... But a great deal of musing (plenty of which I won't share simply for ease of thumb typing on my BlackBerry!).

Symphony.
Sumphonia.
Music.
Ministry.

This is the chain of words that comes to mind. There are awakenings in these words and also great resistance.

Last night I found myself in the delightful atmosphere of music (much thanks to a friend who appreciates the same) and found myself enamored with Bartók. I think one of my professors mentioned him as a favorite along with Debussy, and at the time I didn't easily distinguish between many composers, so it slipped far off my radar. Funny how after a quarter of a century it can come flooding back. Béla Bartók ... I even know his first name! As both a pianist and composer, it's no wonder my professor liked him (she was a pianist, violinist, and conductor and loved to conduct the more expressive pieces - and the piece tonight was certainly that).

Tonight at the symphony (well, it still feels like tonight!) I wanted to be invisibly in the midst of those musicians ... But not playing. I wanted to be lying on my back in a meadow, sensing breezes and butterflies and fragrant clover, staring at the sky or my own imaginations scrolling by, swallowed up by sound. A few times, I closed my eyes, but couldn't lose myself too far in a reverie because I didn't want anyone to think I was sleeping!

All this came on the heels of getting weepy as I passed by the pianos in the music store a couple of days ago.

Again, it makes me wonder if God is up to something. These little intersections of musical emotion are not new. I keep bumping up against these bits of abstract glimpses and feelings. Yet there is a great resistance within me.

I just remembered how Georgian Banov said he saw a sleeping giant within me. Ironic ... I think he is also Hungarian like my "new friend" Béla. His music also easily impassioned like breathing, just in a whole different genre ... Praise and worship.

So how does one go about gracefully wakening a sleeping giant? I don't think it's an embrace easily enjoyed.

I probably need to pull out my "I Project" again and continue capturing/remembering/accepting those significant moments. Even now as I am remembering, tears are coming as I recall the great parade of people who have been a voice into these things already. It's awfully humbling. And I think, "Who am I to resist?"

But it's not as much willful resistance as it is fear, I think. And fear started with doubt. Doubt started with trust ... Trust misplaced. All along, I could have trusted my heart.

Last night I was reminded of how G would kick me under the table if it appeared to him that I was enjoying a conversation too much. And I remember being at many a table with amazing ministers, men and women of God who were inspiring and deep thinkers and enjoyers of life, and the signal would come to disengage.

But I also wonder now if the motivation for that signal was insecurity or intimidation? I remember in 2004 before the grand unveiling and crumbling, G said he thought he might be ready to accept my gifts and talents without being intimidated or afraid he'd lose the spotlight. Maybe that's part of the picture throughout!

Intimidation so easily turns around and intimidates. And me? Because I so easily trusted, I so easily accepted. I wrestled but believed it was for my own good. And I ultimately imprisoned myself with invisible walls.

It's time for them to come down. (I almost didn't write that because the thought scares me ... But I feel like I need to say it. GOSH does it ever scare me! I'm fighting myself to delete it even now. Yet I'm leaving this moment here. Evidently it's important.)
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Looking Up

Looking up ... Side by side.  It would be so easy to write about looking up and gaining height and momentum in life, but this photo is more significant than surface principles to me.

My daughter has looked up to an older dancer in her studio as long as we have attended.  The last two years, she has worked with my daughter on solos.  And to watch the young lady dance is to feel as if one has just witnessed a secret being unveiled for the first time ... exquisite!

So when I heard that my little one had been paired with her mentor for an upcoming recital performance, I knew it would be meaningful to her.  What I wasn't prepared for was moments like this!  In tandem, full split leaps, in sync with the one she admires.  WOW!

I am so thankful my daughter has people to look up to who pursue excellence.  She is certainly matching their stride!

Shoes ... Dead or Alive

Did you know point shoes can die? The technical term, from what I understand is ... (get ready) ... dead. They are just dead. So, thankfully, my little dancer has regained life with her new pointe shoes just in time for Parents' Week at her studio.  We are preparing for the recital (MAY 19 for friends and family in the area)!  She will be doing seven numbers, so it won't even be like one of those recitals where you sit through the whole thing just to see one dance.  Plus ... you will get to see the ever-dramatic solo, "Howl."  Maybe we can take over a restaurant afterwards.  You are all welcome to join us!

Smiles ... More Important Than Anyone Knows

This week has held struggles and smiles ... like most every week, it seems!  And as I work with photos of Girl Scouts (on Girl Scout Leaders Day, nonetheless) I see so many moments where adults have brought smiles to girls as they learn and experience and grow.

I am ESPECIALLY thankful this week because the smiles have made the difference in some of the biggest ways to the girl who is the most special to me ... my daughter.  It feels like God orchestrated some truly wonderful things from friends old and new to encourage both of us.  A few know the struggles, and if you're one who is reading this, you'll be glad to know that the smile you see on her face here was how the week ended and has continued.

Thank you.  Thank you to family and to friends and to church leaders and to Girl Scout leaders for bringing those smiles.  They are more important than you know!

The Thaw

Yes, I still have a few discoverable icicles on the underside ... but life is fast and furious, and spring is here, so before long the thaw will have absorbed the daggers that threaten to dislodge and pierce whatever lies below. 

Today? I am thankful for friends who breathe warmth into my atmosphere and inspire the flow of thought that frees me from paralyzing anger.  It sounds more ominous than it is.  But I am contemplating the value of melting rather than splintering.  That moment of a satisfying, icy shatter probably only affects my own soul.  Forgiveness is hard.  But unforgiveness is harder.

Encouragement

Springtime thoughts ... blossoms and blooms ... encouragement from a friend ... refocusing on new life brings blessings to my heart.

8 Minutes of Goodbye

There is a video. It is 8 minutes. It ends with the number 8. It was not planned. I think that says a lot!  Well ... ok ... so maybe I am just upset.  It is VERY uncanny, though.

Four Generations

This was a gift to me, to my mother, and most of all to my son ... time with precious Aiden.

High Intensity

Today was spent on the dance/competition floor at Talent on Parade. Miss M had HIGH hopes for placing first in her division and doing another round of Top Stars. Alas, a fourth place scoring prevented that (and we will be learning from the judges' comments for sure as I thought she really was strong)! But you know what I love? She received one of the "Judges' Choice" awards - only 10 in her whole age category.  That means that regardless of scoring, her performance caught the judges' eye and made her stand out.  Her award? HIGH INTENSITY ... She should be VERY proud (I know I am)!

I may have to post photos later of her creative surprise for her grandparents who came to watch the competition.  Let's say it involved a car "paint" marker and the windows of their Cadillac!  I have to laugh.

Blooming

Bloom where you are planted ... that's what they say.  I think "they" are right.  But the key is being planted.

For many years, I have not been completely planted.  I've had the hope of being planted, but one can only flourish in small ways while hope is held at bay.  Proverbs was right ... "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." (Proverbs 13:12)

All this rightness is something I've missed for quite some time.  I kept thinking I could catch up, make up, adjust, connect, somehow get right again when my world was right again. But I kept losing my footing along the way, limping in a sometimes-lovely limbo.  But loveliness was a bit of a mirage.

So, I'm planting myself.  I think my dwindling roots had been loose and ready for quite some time.  But hope does not easily let go.  So when the time came, though the pain of change was sharp and hard and reverberating, drawing from rich soil has brought new life.  It's been two months and deep places are reviving from the inside and beginning to spread.  And now?  I'm finally feeling right, too.

Blooming is not without its challenges.  But it is infinitely better than lying dormant.  I think again of Proverbs 13:12 ... Blooming is longing!  And my longings are beginning to find fulfillment.  There is a sense of awe in the air, and I don't want to miss another moment to breathe it in.

So here I am ... before my beautiful Creator ... amazed by the beauty growing from what I thought I had neglected to the point of destruction.  It would have been enough just to breathe, but now I am blooming.

Emerging

This is my son ... nearly 19 years ago.  This is the smile and laughter and light in his eyes that made me so proud to be his mom.  What an amazing experience.  What a frightening experience!  Frightening because this life is developing its first impressions of everything in my care.  I made some mistakes.  But I also did some great things.  And I saw great things in him ... then and now.

As the years went by and some of the mistakes went unnoticed or more mistakes were made in trying to make up for the previous ones, the laughter all but disappeared.  It's been a personal heartache that the laughter changed, that the light in his eyes dimmed, and that he had to experience anything that got in the way of the amazing person God created to emerge into this world.

But I'm humbly changed and thankful and proud.  On his own two feet, he is experiencing not just some hard things ... but recently some wonderful ones as well.  I won't tell his story, but I will publicly say I am proud of him for following his heart.

And as I reflect on motherhood, it makes me reflect on godliness ... makes me want to be closer to God, closer to my children, and a better mother/daughter/friend/sister.  I'm so horribly imperfect and a workaholic and sometimes consumed by just making it through the tough places.  But I have my feet on the path.  And that's a good place to be.

Toeholds and Saplings

Toeholds and saplings ... small but determined holdings.

Sunday I felt a toehold in my soul and it was the sunshine of my day.  Then Sunday night it seemed as if all was demolished.  Like the day in the Secret Garden when we felled these trees and cleaned the branches.  Before you knew it, the slender branches and trunks were lying in piles.  The "destruction" was quick ... but it was a good thing.

They had been taken from areas where they were intruding, laid to the ground, stripped and sectioned ... ready to be used.  These beautiful and bare branches just hours before reaching to the sky but draining the soil where the grew wild were now the building blocks of restoration and design.

They were put up, taken down, reworked, redesigned, and after all the prototypes were built and torn down, found their place in the project as the centerpiece of serenity adorned with art.

Tonight that sunshine moment started to peek through again.  That toehold in my soul which was the first glimmer after months wasn't extinguished long.  And even if it was torn down in repeated swaths of broken hearts around me, it is an opportunity to prepare the fallen ... to clean and make beautifully bare these new building blocks life created from the things that were growing where they were never meant to grow.

It's like beauty from ashes.  Maybe my life will be a picture of this ... and end up in the centerpiece of a clever, efficient design bearing the artwork of many hands and bringing serenity to the future.

Shattered

I love how when I was in England, people used the word "shattered" to describe being exhausted. Such a descriptive word!

Today, I am shattered ... but not without hope.  I don't think I've ever had more happen in 24 hours EVER in my life.  (Well, a couple things come close in extremes - but nothing in sheer amount combined with extremes!)  I have to admit it makes me reach back into the ministry days and think that I must be doing something right to have this much chaos erupt.  I don't know if that's solid thinking any more - I'd have to go study again - and right now, I'm too shattered.

I remember my grandmother's poem ... One Shattered Splinter.  In the poem, she receives a gift from God (a crystal cup?) and because it wasn't what she wanted or expected, throws it down into shattered splinters.  After realizing what she had done, she picked up a splinter and began to write. I'll have to find that and post it.

Photo from Havering Park in the Secret Garden with Imogen Heap, Clear Village and the Garden Angels.

Heartstrings

My mind goes back to the "heartstrings" display at Living Arts in Tulsa.  I wish I had a full view photo that did it justice!  A series of suspended frames held these "heartstrings" where motion was initiated by tweets containing either "heart" or "love" (I can't remember which) where a brief opening appeared and then closed again.

I look over my life and see these myself responding to life as it unfolds ... sometimes subject to the whims around me, briefly opening and closing to the opportunities that come my way.  I probably shouldn't look back too much.  I wonder about the "what if" too much.

When my heartstrings are touched, I usually cry.  Good, bad, inspiring, significant ... my heart is moved and tears come.  And I do love that.  But I wish I could just make sure it is all orchestrated well!  Things move both slower and faster than I would like.  I am at once impatient and dragging my feet!

I wonder if my role right now is just to yield to life, to open my heart, to breathe in the beauty around me.  Moment by moment I can.