Off we go . . .
Off we go into the wild blue . . . the wild orange . . . the wild pink . . . the wild flaming yonder
. . . climbing high into the sun ♪♫♫♪
Lilly Green--Everything Changes in the Light
Sunday, September 30, 2012
This silence . . .
9-22-12
This silence is not the fresh fingering of morning, the moment before the awakening.
This silence is not the pure blank of night when only bugs and night owls are about.
This day-to-day lengthening of sorrows strings out over miles and memories
and missed opportunities.
This silence feels like loss.
This silence is not the hushed reverence that hovers over just born life.
This silence is not the sad sigh that respects a passing, one weary and worn out.
This breath to breath searching of answers that reaches from earth to heaven
and from heart to head–
this silence feels like loneliness.
Rod Starling Stewart
“And when you finally fly away,
I’ll be hoping that I served you well;
For all the wisdom of a lifetime,
No one can ever tell, but whatever road you choose,
I’m right behind you, win or lose,
Forever young, forever young.”
Son, I told you all that rock n’ roll would mess with your voice!”
Cut it out, ma, I was being tender.
Well, I guess that’s better than when you think you’re sexy!
Monday, September 24, 2012
The Color of Trust
9-22-12
Comes the dark wind and unsettling storm–
Still.
Rises the smoky swell of doubt, and as sparks rise, so troubles rise–
Still, breathe.
Roars the purple thunder, quaking my stable ground, my naive expectation–
Still, breathe, pray.
Help in the trouble, adequacy in the brittle moment–
Still, breathe, pray, rest.
God is.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Highs and Lows
Life is full of highs and lows, and often back to back. This week on Monday, we rejoiced with the addition of a beautiful new grandbaby. Last night, we got that call no one wants to get. “Dad, I’ve had a car accident.”
Our youngest crashed his new car. But any crash you walk away from is a good one, and cars are only things. 2008 he did not walk away from a crash, was cut out of his car with the jaws of life, medivacced to UCLA trauma, and spent months healing.
Last night gave me flashbacks, and I am sorry his little black KIA will have to be reconstructed some, but I am also thanking God that he is uninjured and that my stomach is almost back to normal.
Sometimes, I think I was not cut out for the real world.
Our youngest crashed his new car. But any crash you walk away from is a good one, and cars are only things. 2008 he did not walk away from a crash, was cut out of his car with the jaws of life, medivacced to UCLA trauma, and spent months healing.
Last night gave me flashbacks, and I am sorry his little black KIA will have to be reconstructed some, but I am also thanking God that he is uninjured and that my stomach is almost back to normal.
Sometimes, I think I was not cut out for the real world.
The Real Fly By . . . Endeavor!
Though my hummers were not impressed, the school children certainly were. I thought I had missed my chance to see Endeavor’s last piggy back flight, but it had been delayed one hour. So all I had was my point and shoot Kodak.
Here are the kids waiting. We did not know where exactly it would appear and whether it would be in a place for us to see, but here it comes just north of campus.
It flew right over the school–front row seating! We all cheered, except me. I don’t cheer well when I’m choked up. A bit of history flying by!
Here are the kids waiting. We did not know where exactly it would appear and whether it would be in a place for us to see, but here it comes just north of campus.
It flew right over the school–front row seating! We all cheered, except me. I don’t cheer well when I’m choked up. A bit of history flying by!
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
I am the big sister . . .
(Picture by proud daddy)
and I have been receiving propaganda for what seems like a huge part of my life:
months of talk about sharing and cooperation.
What in the world is that! I am queen of the kid room, am I not?
So there’s to be this new little thing that will
wear my clothes,
sleep in my crib,
play with my toys . . .
and KISS MY DADDY!
No one asked for my vote.
No one asked if I wanted change and progress–Forward!
Oops, sorry. That is just something I heard on TV.
But holding this thing that somehow escaped Mommy’s tummy,
I’m rethinking my aversion to a live doll.
Her middle name is Sarahn, which is Mongolian for moonlight.
So I’ve got to thinking: If she is the reflected moon’s light, then I get to be the SUN!!!!
I am big sister, and my middle Mongolian name is smile.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
My Birthday Orchid
I was just as pleased to visit the orchid place and snap away, snap away. But hubby decided I should have one for my very own. Funny, if I care for it according to the directions, the owner said it could outlive me. I asked him if he was a prophet.
So happy birthday to me today. It now has 10 blossoms to bless me with.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Still Humming Along
I must tell you my nose is a bit out of joint.
Nose? Do you mean beak?
Don’t get all anatomical on me here. I’m serious!
Oh, sorry. Go on.
Well, it just seems like you have not been paying as much attention to us lately. With all those stupid storm clouds and sunsets, you have completely neglected your responsibility to our egos and our adoring fans. I mean, after all, sunsets don’t give you love.
Hmm, I never thought of it like that. I truly am sorry.
I never meant to offend your extremely erratic beating heart. I mean
after all, I still feed you.
Oh, are you the one that fills the fake flower thingy. I never noticed.
Thanks a lot! I think we need to re-examine our relationship here.
You first. I’ll be back when it’s convenient. Big hug!!!
Love you, too!
On That Day
One of the most horrifying news photos from that day
The towers, a matched set, an invincible imprint
set against an Atlantic horizon,
immovable steel hemmed in by city planning.
Streets, vendors, subway lines, muggers,
offices, traffic lights, and schools.
Bipeds, quadrapeds, and no-peds.
Planes like arrows fly and pierce;
flames like wicked wings beat the air, and then they fall—
one by one, two with hands linked.
Silent the fall, inferno above and beyond
an innocent blue.
Shooting in the Desert
9-9-12 Another wonderful cloud day, and rainbows, too.
Rainbows and rain,
promise and blessing, swirling in fomenting skies
with me and the coyotes parked in the desert,
vulnerable
but having too much fun to care.
Bolts and forks and stomping giants above my head . . .
click, click, click.
Adrenaline, serotonin, and souls captured in my camera.
My Meta Metaphor
Well, now,
I have filled all your feeders, and I’ve cleaned up your messes.
I’ve protected you from rats, cats, and this and thats!
You pleasure me as I view from my prized place, my all-seeing window, but . . .
the question would arise:
Why do you scatter when I open my door to you,
open my life to you, fill your spaces with warm words full of love and provision?
Why must I view through a double-pane? A double pain?
If I go out, you wait in the trees, holding aloof, half ignoring, wary,
willing to eat but not to come close,
willing to drink but not while I’m present—too much of me there, I suppose.
. . . I’m sorry, Lord, did You say something?
Friday, September 7, 2012
Hope is a Prayer . . .
a bruised knee kind of prayer,
Overwhelming the inner pain with cleansing tears
and constant “please Gods,”
Pressing in to Someone stronger than my impotence,
more capable than my imagination allows,
Expectation firmly fixed in spite of contrary evidence
and plaguing doubt.
Monday, September 3, 2012
For more orchids . . .
For more orchids, you can view a slideshow at my other blog:
http://apronhead.wordpress.com/2012/09/03/aliens-and-muppets/
http://apronhead.wordpress.com/2012/09/03/aliens-and-muppets/
Orchids,Orchids, Orchids
Our last hurrah before school took us once again to Santa Barbara. If I was a multimillionaire, I would live there–as a maid! That being said, they have so many things to pleasure the senses.
These orchid pictures were taken at a place called Santa Barbara Orchid Estates, which is really appropriate since they grow orchids and they are in Santa Barbara!
After the orchid place, we got lost trying to find our way back to the freeway and ended up driving up hills on tiny streets with gazillion dollar homes on either side and a fabulous view of the blue Pacific. Incredible! The only thing that keeps me from lusting too badly after their homes is the consolation I get from knowing I am much further inland if a tsunami hits.
ORCHcat
I know I’m wicked, but I’m working on that. I should be thankful for what I have; and afterall, I have just as much sand as they do, it’s just not attached to water.
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