What a glorious day it was today, even if a bit bright without sunglasses!
Chelsea, Brooks, Brian and Beckett – 30 March 2024
I joined Chelsea, Brian, and the boys for some Easter festivities at a church in Johnstown. It was VERY popular, but everyone was cheerful and patient in all the long lines for the various activities, including a petting zoo.
Beckett in the petting ringBrooks taking it seriously!
The bunny was a big favorite.
Brooks and the bunny
The Easter egg hunt was genius. Everyone picked up empty plastic eggs, then dumped them in a bin and went and picked up a bag of candy that was the same for everyone. No hand-to-hand combat required to get the good stuff.
I love when I get to spend time with my people. I hope you have a chance to celebrate with those you love. Whether a holiday or not, time together is such a gift and I’m grateful for it.
Today I’m also remembering other Easter seasons in other places, like Santa Fe in 2013, in the Loretto Chapel with the miraculous staircase and this gorgeous statue.
Both spent with David, who is still very much missed. So today I am especially grateful for Jesus, who conquered death and paid the price for all of us. A very happy Easter to you and yours!
No, I’m not planning to leap from any of these high places.
Dordogne as seen from Château de Castelnaud-la-Chapelle, France – 2011Trocadéro as seen from partway up the Eiffel Tower – 2011Tour de la Lanterne, La Rochelle – 2019
First of all, they’re in France, and I’m not. Second, I’m not a big leap-from-scary-heights kind of person, with or without a bungee or parachute. But it’s a leap year, hence this month’s theme. Mostly I’ve been leaping into the endlessly [choose your own adjective] world of home repairs. It did feel like a leap into the unknown at first, but I’ve had some excellent help and/or advice from various friends. Thank you!
As a result, the mysterious goo dripping from my ceiling — since THANKSGIVING! — has finally been correctly diagnosed and repaired–WOO-HOO! That was maddening, but it’s done (-ish) now. Eventually I’ll find someone to repair the hole in my ceiling after I’m sure all is well and dry.
I won’t bore you with the rest of the task list, but plenty has been happening here, so I’m finding my fun where I can. Since my house needed to be repainted, I’m changing the color. Yay! I also decided to replace the front lights to something reminiscent of France, basically a simplified version of these.
Saint-Émilion, France – 2013La Rochelle – 2014
Here’s before and after:
Before
After
The exterior is only about half done, but I love the new look so much, I keep going outside to admire it. No literal leaping for joy so far, but inside? I’m definitely leaping.
I heard a wonderful Frederick Buechner quote this morning : Joy is a mystery because it can happen anywhere, anytime, even under the most unpromising circumstances, even in the midst of suffering, with tears in its eyes.
Many of you know the truth of this from personal experience. So today I am holding you in my heart. I am grateful to all of you who read these ramblings and/or enrich my life in uncountable ways. Whatever your days bring, I pray they also include moments of surprising, shining joy (leaping optional).
For someone who always did well in school, I can be an incredibly slow learner. I’ve finally figured out that it’s way less stressful to begin to tackle home maintenance issues bit by bit, rather than to remain paralyzed by fear of how extensive or expensive something might turn out to be. I get frustrated with myself, but learning slowly isn’t always a bad thing. The various impressionists who used this place certainly kept at it for a while.
Giverny, France
And I’ve been learning French little by little for the past fifteen years, decades longer than that, if you count my first class in fifth grade and my subsequent start-stop efforts. What matters is that I can now actually carry on a conversation, even if there’s still plenty to learn.
I’m also making slow but steady progress in Spanish. I actually had a tiny exchange of words (calling it a conversation would be a massive exaggeration) with a native Spanish-speaker working on one of the aforementioned maintenance issues at my house.
Yes, I know I can’t seem to figure out that if I want more of this . . .
Turns out the fresh air is OUTSIDE.
I should actually leave my house.
If I want to see more sunrises like these . . .
I should get up earlier. If I want to improve on the piano, I should play it on a regular basis. If I want more of my poems to be published, I should submit more of them for consideration.
I get it, all these and more. Maybe you do, too, now that we’re at the end of January and ambitious New Year’s resolutions may be feeling unsustainable. How about we grant ourselves a little grace?
Maybe it’s fine to play the piano as well as I can whenever I can and leave it at that, to be proud of the poems that have been published and to send out more only when a specific contest or opportunity feels like a good fit. Less angst, more savoring.
Why not simply accept that sunsets can also be beautiful?
Sunset on Panama City Beach – March 2015Sunset on St. Pete Beach – March 2015Sunset over Pamlico Sound – November 2014
Even here, right out my back door.
Fort Collins, Colorado – June 2023
And if seeing more sunsets than sunrises fits my life, what’s wrong with that? Not one thing.
So as I write this, I’m praying you keep at it, whatever “it” is for you, but also that you give yourself grace when you’re not perfect or immediately brilliant or making progress at the speed of light. I’m praying for you grace and encouragement and peace every faltering step of the way.
Okay, that sounds either more adventurous or more grim than I intended. As far as I know, I’m not going anywhere at the moment, so let me explain. I was recently asked to contribute to an upcoming exhibit at ArtSpace in Loveland (Colorado)* by writing an ekphrastic poem to accompany a photograph by Robin Snyder. It’s a beautiful close-up of what I believe to be a couple of African violet leaves–NOT pictured below–so I wrote a poem called “Leaving.” I don’t have the right to share either the photo or the poem with you here, but I can offer you a few of my leafy photos to get you in the spirit of it:
And here’s one of my favorites from Courtney . . .
Sunapee fern – Photo by Courtney Bridge
Ekphrastic poetry is simply writing a poem in response to a work of art. What I love about it is that by focusing on artistic details, I find that my mind opens in a fresh way to other images and ideas.
In this case, Robin Snyder’s photo is primarily of the beautiful underside of one of the leaves, with the prominent veins and striking coloration, which I noticed was so much more interesting than the other leaf in the photo, “right-side” up, showing only the smooth, perfect top we normally see. How could I not see a lesson there? How much energy do we all put into showing only the most perfect, smooth version of ourselves?
Then I noticed how the spread of the veins resembled the extensor tendons that become increasing visible on aging hands, mine, certainly, but I also David’s at the end, when the world was no longer in his grasp, when all he could do was take the outstretched merciful hand of God bringing him home, as he left this world behind.
I pray for you today, that the things you’re leaving behind are worry, shame, resentment, bitterness and their ilk, and that you get to keep your dear ones for a while longer. I hope you cherish every day.
Grace and peace to you, my friends, as we leave 2023 and head into this new year!
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