A Delight for Sore Eyes

After informing my husband that I need to completely focus so that I can whip out this stream of thoughts, my eyes begin to itch and burn. My visual ability is impaired but my mental focus isn't so bad....unless the allergy medicine kicks in!

What is a delight for your eyes? Assuming that you can see clearly, what do you look at that gives you a sense of sheer delight? My desire to capture beauty is something that comes from my soul. That seed of desire was planted while I was young. As a child, I enjoyed looking at things closely, mainly because I didn't have much to distract me and I could use my imagination. A half of a walnut shell could be a baby's bed, for example. A flower could be an umbrella. When I became a "Grown Up", my husband gave me a Minolta camera. My capturing-beauty-on-film endeavor came alive!

Studying objects, faces, and scenery through a lens brings it, them closer to me. The delight for my eyes travels to my spirit and gives me a happy, satisfied feeling. By doing this, I believe at times, that I am also studying God. I see His creation up close and personal, which gives me tremendous respect and admiration for what He has done for us. I love Him and I want to be a good steward of my part of the earth, without worshipping the earth. I worship my God, the creator.

"...all that is in the world- the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride in possessions- is not from the Father but is from the world. And the world is passing away, along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever." 1 John 2:16,17

Someday, hopefully soon, God will give us a new earth that is fully bathed in His glory and righteousness. I will no longer need a camera to capture images in order to own the beauty. I will be owning it, seeing it with renewed, glorified eyes. THAT will be a delight like none other!

Beinng a Princess

My beautiful little grandgirl, Grace is already FIVE years young. She was so thrilled to receive this "Princess" dress that she twirled and twirled around. Yes, we admired her and watched her enjoy being the center of attention!


When I was five, I was not ever the center of attention. Not that I can remember, anyway. I had an older sister who required more help than I, and a baby sister who was the latest and cutest attraction. I simply was in the way. Or so it seemed. Therein began my quest, my need, to be loved and admired. It took many, many years before I EVer felt adequate or even admired. Or truly loved for who I was and am now.

A woman's soul can finally relax when she KNOWS that she is the apple of someone's eye, whatever that really means! The star that lights up the sky, the cherry in the pie, the beginning and end of a special someone's universe. That's all I ever wanted.

These days I am learning and accepting that my need is misplaced, as far as wanting a human to fill the void. Oh, let me assure you that I do own a big spot in my husband's heart and he fills a mighty large place in mine. But....I really and truly am not selfishly demanding that he treat me like a royal princess, fulfilling my every wish and making every one of my dreams come true! No human is capable of doing that. Not that I have ever seen, anyway.

The quest for contentment is to give up what you want and dig deeper to find out what kind of God-given desire is in your soul. As you let go of your own will and seek the Lord, praise and thank Him for who He is, worship Him and use your gifts and you will find that the void you thought you had is not there after all. The void I've thought I had was actually unused space that I had to allow God to fill. He has surprised me with His ways and the events He uses to grab my attention.

Because I am a woman and I was created after God's own image, I shall not allow the enemy to make me feel insignificant in this world. I shall continue to be a cheerleader for the women in my life, encouraging them to embrace the process of being perfected. Being a princess.

Steady Drip of Prayer

The snow has melted, the icicles have all dripped their way into the ground. Icicles are gorgeous, especially when they reflect different colors of the objects around them. While they are hanging with an invisible grip on the gutter or roof or even trees, they put on a quiet, mysterious show. They change shape. They look so very sincere.

As I talk to God, I think I am a bit like an icicle; steadily dripping, firmly hanging on. Not begging to be looked at or listened to, just quietly there, acknowledging who the Lord is. I trust that he hears me. I KNOW He does His will, no matter what I may want. I do ask for help for many people and for myself, knowing and believing that He will do what He does best.

Comfort comes in the middle of the night when I mentally throw up my hands (so as to not knock somebody in the face) and say, "Okay, I'm not going to fuss with this mess anymore. YOU know what's happening and only YOU can really fix it!" I can't even Play God. It's too exhausting. So like the icicle, I drip away into what seems like nothing, but actually still is something. Evaporated. Invisible. But really still there. In the state of memory, the truth in having been heard.

I Don't Like Blah

Sometimes, this town really drives me nuts. I go into this slump because I guess maybe I'm sick of the way things are. I'm not really a country girl at heart; I tolerate it. But it gets to me when I really want to be out in the evening but there's nothing to do after seeing the grandwonders and their parents, or if we don't want to see a movie, or if it's not Fellowship group night and there's nothing going on at church and the mall closes at 8, so the whole area closes down and looks like the entire town died or is almost dead. So, we're at home, glazed over...me at the computer 'cuz I can usually find something interesting here, my boy is playing with his dog, and Hubby is at the other computer. I need to put music on; that always helps. It's too dark for photography, besides, I already used up my clicking energy taking birthday shots of my dear little Andrew, the 4th Grand. The absolute cure for this slump, I think, would be to get out of Dodge and visit the big city this Saturday. I dream of having the time to go see something classy and civilized like a ballet or the Art Museum. I've never gone to a ballet and only twice to the Art Museum in all my 53 years. Life is zooming by and I have alot to live for and experience. But I feel I am being squelched, closed in, inhibited, because I LIVE HERE.

Aunt B's Bakery

Today had a section in it that was actually quite lovely. Well, breakfast was nice; my man put romantic music on and we both sat down at our little new/old round oak table, eating our oatmeal together, quietly like we were little old people or something. But rather than piddle around the house thinking of what all needs to be fixed but not feeling like doing anything about it, we decided to go to the Courthouse Square and look at the Corvette Show. Beautiful cars, they are. However, on my way around the block I asked Hubby if he'd like a brownie. "Sure!" came the reply from the guy with a sweet tooth. We walked into Aunt B's Bakery to buy a brownie. I knew, however, that we'd be blessed by more than a brownie. Aunt B herself was there and if you are having a glum day (or not even), Aunt B is the gal to see. I am tempted to believe that she is made up of the same thing as cupcakes, cheesecake, brownies, cinnamon brioche...and no, I'm not talkin' about sticky sweet. Sticky sweet people are more put on; fake, trying way too hard. I have dealt with that kind before and can pretty well spot them. This Sweet B is authentic and has just enough mischief, I think, to make her charming and fun. And KIND. NICE. CARING. Just like the swirled top on the cupcake. Only better. You tell her something and she listens, actually listens. So, she's not haphazzard with her friendship. Her little shop behind the old, historic bank teller counter shows how she is. Oh NO, not OLD! I mean....charming, like I said before. Beautiful, earnest, sincere. And I mean all this from the deepest butter-filled artery of my heart. Now, maybe I'll get a free cupcake. JUST kiddin'!

Wistful Thinking....

When I was at the beach, I saw this adorable little girl dancing and darting around, always close to her mommy. The thought of such allegiance between mother and daughter made me sad, but it was a beautiful sight to take in. Sad? Yes, because I knew at the time I didn't enjoy that close relationship with my own girl who is now eighteen. When my girl was little like this beach ballerina, she was perky and friendly, always calling me "Mama", always wanting to talk about it. Whatever "it" was, she'd talk. And talk. AND talk. And sing! Brianne would sing late at night, which was horrible, only if we were crammed into a motel room, trying desperately to sleep because it was midnight! Somewhere along the way, like around fifth grade, she began to change. Her disrespectful -to-parents friends were rubbing off on her and she was shutting me out. One day while shopping for a special occasion dress with her, I said "NO" to her favorite one because it was too revealing. Beautiful dress, BUT. She was FURIOUS! She leaned toward me and viciously whispered to me, (as if almost demon posessed), "I just want to PUNCH you in the face!" She was NOT kidding, she was NOT smiling. She was seriously mad. I was so upset, I tightened my face, turned around and walked out of not only the dressing room, but the store. Fortunately, I caught Hubby/daddy on my way out and let him know why I was leaving. Eventually, I came back because, of course we all had to go home in the same vehicle! If ever I wanted to give my girl away, it was that day. She denied she was angry and tried to convince me she was kidding. In my heart I knew that I saw and heard what I did and that the absolute truth was, she really wanted to sock me one! I gave birth to her, I closely observed her, I knew her capabilities and her faults. I knew about lies, sneaky attempts to fool me, manipulate me and I knew when she was truly sweet and caring. She never wanted to believe that I knew her as well as I did; that God gave me a special ability to see her as she really was. Intuition in top form! "Sorry " was a word she could never really say honestly. A girl like this only changes when she loses something or someone she deeply cares about. Maybe she won't even realize who or what she deeply cares about until it's too late. That happened to me on May 23rd, when I almost lost my own "Mama". My love for her grew into a whole new realm as I spent hours, bent over her feeble body, praying wholeheartedly that she would survive! God granted my wish...my mother survived and I enjoy this new, God-given love for her that wasn't really there before. We have an allegiance!

Someday, before it's too late, I want this allegiance with my girl, my little songbird who used to prance around in her own pink tutu with the Nutcracker Suite playing in the background. I'd love to see honesty in her, remorse, sensitivity for other people's needs and feelings, deep love and caring...respect! Maybe I have to wait a lifetime.

Children

My Brianne and my Ryan. She's 18, he's 16. They are my younger two and they are the ones who help me feel very young on some days and very old on others. The red head has a red mouth because he was feasting on Doritos; probably because there was "no food" in the house. The blue eyed blonde was excited and happy, forcing brother to smile, because she was officially finished with that dreadful place called high school. I, the mother, had no problem smiling. I've had enough of the drama that comes along with high school girls, particularly bipolar ones whose mothers are also that way. All these years of mothering...my oldest son is almost 27...have me feeling like, "OKAY, may I have a REST now?" It's not that I didn't/don't enjoy mothering, it's just that my children don't always enjoy being mothered. I did say mothered, not smothered. I remember how I was as a teen. I just wanted to have fun, no responsibility and everything on my terms and under my control. But I was very quiet about what and how I wanted things. How do you balance teaching your children to be responsible, respectful AND how to rest!? When they get to this age, they're being pulled in different directions from different people for different reasons. My heart needs an adjustment. They are still children, my children. But not really. Ouch.