Passion Flower

Ok, I realized that I have been giving in to 'blogging' for an audience as opposed to just doing my thing. No more of that. Yuck-orama anyway.

So here I declare to myself - get over it already and stick to the task at hand - tell your story for yourself, for your daughter, your family, your fantastic and amazing grandchildren, for all the interesting and unique people who came before you, who have no one else to tell their story. Play to my strength, my passions, and let the rest go.

Get on with it, then.

Random is as Random does

I hear I've been 'tagged' with a meme task. so ...
1. I was born in Louisiana, learned to speak, walk, and sing in Louisiana, West Virginia and Texas. Had quite a nice lil' accent for several years which I can relax back into on a moment's notice. y'all. Lived in 8 states total so far - Colorado still rules. But I know what it means to miss New Orleans.

2. I have been a vegetarian since birth.

3. My favorite color is red, but I don't generally plant red in my garden. I find it difficult to blend with other flowers that I like, which are primarily in the cooler shades. I did paint my former bedroom and bathroom a deep rich red, which I loved.

4. My first day of college was spent as a nursing student. Oops. My second day (and the next 4 years) was as an art major. Studied art history (especially the Italian Renaissance era) and illustration for three years, then switched to graphic design. Later received B.S. in Psychology, which, curiously, isn't all that different.

5. One great great grandfather was a Confederate soldier in the Civil war, David Wiley Hanes of Alabama. His wife, Sylviania Hanes, is my namesake. She bravely stood up to the Union soldiers when they came to take all their horses, and was able to negotiate keeping one horse for the farm.
Another great great grandfather was on the side of the Union, Theodore Dickinson of New York/Minnesota. Two of Theodore's brothers were in the same company, all survived. Three of their cousins also fought alongside them, two died in the infamous Andersonville Prison, and one in the Old Soldier's home in Lordsburg, California.

6. I'm left handed and learned to paint signs from right to left from my dad, who was also left handed and a part time sign painter.

and that's all I have to say about that. except that now I tag MARK.

If I could make a day for you...

Once upon a time, I fell in love with a talking pig movie. Now, first of all, I really, really hate animal movies. But for some reason I took a chance on this one, and was delighted. It is a charming folk tale of "an unprejudiced heart." And I think a gentle propaganda film for vegetarianism. But, more importantly, God used a part of this film to impact me in a way that few things ever have. The music and the visual has become a sort of touch point for reminding me of His notice of me, and His keen knowledge of how my rather quirky spirit hears His voice.
The scene I refer to is where the little pig, Babe, has run away from home and gotten too sick and depressed to eat, because the farm cat has informed him of a pig's "purpose". Which, to the pig's horror, turns out to be that he is born to be eaten by humans. The farmer finally finds the little pig, brings him home, and tries to get him to take nourishment, to no avial. Suddenly, ... well, I'll let you watch it for yourself. Let me just say, God dances over us, no matter how sick, depressed, broken we are, or how long we have been dwelling in the pig pen, no matter how many lies we have been told and chosen to believe.



One morning a few years after seeing this film, I was pouring out my heart to God as I was driving, asking Him to please, please, please let me know He was there, that He saw and understood what I was going through. The very next second, Saint-Saens Symphony #3 flooded my ears, with that majestic organ sounding like Gabriel's trumpet. I cried and and laughed at the same time, reminded of the scene from "Babe", and knowing that God was in it with me all along.

My hero, part two

Once again, my dear husband Mark has surprised me with his simple grace, wisdom and beauty. He is truly one of the few people I have met that is without guile.

I never would have guessed that he would enter blogworld, much less blow me away by what he offers here.

I like surprises.

Thanks, Mark.

Through the looking glass, darkly

I used to have a recurring dream as a child that was terrifying and incomprehensible at the same time. I still cannot properly explain the content, except to say that, like Alice's tumble though the looking glass, it involved my becomming smaller and smaller, thinner and thinner, until at last I was about the size of a single piece of spagetti, and I knew that it would only be a matter of  time before I would cease to exist and there was nothing within my control to stop it

I had forgotten all about the dream until a few months ago, and I'm not sure what triggered the memory, except it was something in a discussion with my friend Terri about being invisible, and how close we have sometimes gotten to achieving it. The problem with trying to be invisible is (at least) two fold. Number one, you might suceed. Number two, you might become invisible to yourself, a very strong possibility for me.

An introvert by nature, my growing up years projected me into the spotlight in ways that I didn't choose. My family was somewhat conspicuous in our community, my mother was in a wheelchair, and my father was teaching in our midsize church-run school. (Comet Dust, Time after Time) We had few material resources when many around us were wealthy. Toss in the added attention that came with a gift of music, performing and being complemented on this regularly. If that sounds like it might be fun, it was not. It felt like an invasion of privacy for strangers to be giving compliments, when they didn't KNOW me at all. Just as it was an invasion to have casual acquaintances pry into the circumstances of our lives, or give a look of pity for our family's difficulties. I realized that I was in some way invisible in that moment. I noticed I couldn't seem to project who I was beyond and above being part of a particular family, part of a particular tragedy, more than talent, beauty or intellegence just handed to me through my dna.

There is one thing I have struggled to achieve all my life, and that is to get the inside and outside to match. Maybe feeling like I was invisible outside, I tried to be invisible to myself on the inside. I have almost succeeded many times.

I am aware that I will never really match the inside and outside perfectly, that what people see will always be through their own filters, how I imagine I am projecting myself will never be completely accurate. My dream, with the help of God and others, is to have the looking glass become more of an honest reflection, until there is less distortion between who I am and what I 'be.'

I invite all who venture here to be part of that process. If you notice me trying to be invisible, maybe it will help to know you still see me.

My hero

My husband, who is my best friend, favorite companion, and my go-to guy (among other attributes!) has ventured into blogland. He is a man of action and not a lot of words, but the ones he shares are choice. His first post is up, so give a welcome to Mark if you have a minute -


















http://www.jusbeinginthemoment.blogspot.com/

There are angels on earth

My three angels, 2008 April, Isaiah and Peter

Anyone who knows me for about 15 seconds will learn that I have the most beautiful and intelligent grandchildren ever born. I am so grateful for them, it is hard to explain. When my April-precious was born, it was like a clean slate for me, a message that God still had faith in me somehow, after all the mess ups, all the failures, all the pain I had inflicted and suffering I had caused, here was another chance. That could be seen as really, really risky on His part, as indeed it is. To entrust me, even at the once-removed post of grandparent, with a child as beautiful, spiritually in tune and magnificent at this little girl was a gift that changed me forever. I think I was born then. I awoke again.

Of course I adore all three and each are equally wonderful. But the initial wake up call I was graced with upon the birth of April Rose is forever lit in my memory with a incomparable glow. She is my twin flame and she, along with Isaiah, Peter and my fantastic daughter, Lauren, are one of the most important reasons I was born. I guess God loves me after all.