Liquid jewels

Its been a long time, I know.  Two things happened.  I got burnt out and I started working on some things that were really important to me (family history)- so this blog got pushed aside.  But now, my Jess has gone off to college, and I want to connect her to the rest of us in a way that only a blog can convey.  So this post is for Jess . . .

The water was the color of emeralds today. . .

The girls were swimming,  I was on the beach.  Near the shoreline, the water was a sandy, frothy, tumultuous mess, but beyond the wavebreak, it was a pure and perfect emerald green.  When a wave would crest and take the girls up with it, so that I could see their forms suspended in it, for one fraction in time, they looked frozen in a brilliant, glassy, liquid gem. . .

Then the wave would collapse, and send a crashing thunderous surge toward the shore.  For one heart-stopping moment, the girls would disappear completely, and then their heads would come bursting through the surface, their shouts and laughter rising above the roar.

Over and over, hour upon hour, I watched them rise up, disappear, resurface, rejoice.  Sometimes I would close my eyes and my mind would drift with the clouds.  I was happy and peaceful laying there under the ironwoods.  One day, just before Jesse left for school, all five of the kids went to the beach, and with a hatchet and some ingenuity, they built this little hut.  I sat in it, laid in it, and dozed in it for three hours while the girls were out there in the waves.  

 When I finally called them to come on in, no one was in much of a hurry to leave.  

This was our walk home:

First we had to stop and ride the waves on the sand

Then we had to look at our favorite mossy rocks

 Then we had to skip stones

All along the way, I was feeling grateful for the ocean, and for the joy and vitality it infuses into our lives.  I was also feeling the change in our lives, that something was missing, that things weren't going to be quite the same from here on out.  It was a bittersweet walk home.  I miss my girl, but I'm feeling peaceful about her being where she is, that its right, and that things are going to be good, in a new and different way.

The ocean is a gem- a brilliant, changing, fluid gem- and so are our lives.  Sometimes we rise up, and sometimes we go under, but there is always beauty and change.  And in the end, if we keep stroking, we resurface and rejoice.

The ocean is a gem, and so's my Jess.  Just keep stroking.  I love you.

A bit of earth

Mary has the makings of a green thumb.  I say makings because it’s still too soon to tell.   

What she does have for certain, is enthusiasm and desire.  She has planted two flower gardens in her grow box- her own bit of earth.  The first garden was annihilated by slugs.  That was pretty disappointing for her.  This second time around we baited the yard. 

She went to the store with me and helped pick out the bait.  She read the labels on the boxes and bottles out loud to me, as we crouched near the bottom shelf of the slug and snail section, our heads together, conferring about the appropriate choice.  Then we went to the seed section, and she picked a packet of mixed wildflowers.  She held my hand and smiled, and there was little skip in her step as we walked to the cashier.

Back at the house, we spread the bait all around and over her little grow box, 

and planted her seeds.  Then she got her watering can out and drenched them.   

Every morning and most evenings, she checks on her little plants, watering them, 

talking to them, delighting in their growth.  She notices everything about them.

memories of gardens past

Last week, she and Siwa planted some vegetables seeds in little containers.  She watches over these too, and gets mad at her friends when they get overzealous with the watering can.  

 She came crying to me one day, when she thought one of her friends had drowned them.

I was thinking about why a garden means so much to her.  I know it does to me.   

A garden is the hope of good things to come. 

It’s the promise of green and beautiful tomorrows. 

A bit of earth can fit into a mason jar, or it can stretch over acres, 

but as long as I’ve got a bit of it, 

I will always try to make green things grow, 

because of what a garden means to me . . .

 hope in the harvest; 

satisfaction in self-sufficiency; 

serenity in the sight of it;

 and most of all,

life- nourishing, vibrant life, 

flowing from the earth to me,

 body and spirit.

 I thank God for a bit of earth, and for the green good things that come of it..

Prayers for my son

I’m sorry I was gone for so long.  I had some family matters to attend to, and felt I needed to gather in all my resources, both physical and spiritual to conserve them for my family.  My son has just had a major surgery, and thanks to the prayers and fasting of hundreds of people, all has gone well, better than expected. 

Throughout the days and hours of tests, and procedures and waiting, waiting, waiting, I felt deeply peaceful, and as the time approached for the surgery, and especially on the day of it, God took all fear from me.  I couldn’t exactly say I knew what the outcome of the surgery would be, but I trusted God, and felt that everything would be alright, even though I didn’t know all that that would entail. 

I found out later that there were some of you saying prayers, amongst all the other prayers being offered for my son, that were specifically requesting peace for our family.  I want you to know that I felt it, and I’m grateful.  After we had found out the outcome of the first part of the surgery, I was talking to Scott about all the people praying and fasting, and he said, “Well, it’s working.”

All this has brought home to me, once again, how incredibly powerful prayer is.  I know there is a God in heaven, who is our Father.  I know He loves us, and wants to grant us the good things we ask for.  I thank Him for preserving the life of my son, for filling me with peace and trust, and taking away fear.  And I thank you for lending your faith in our behalf, and for sending your prayers up to that God who hears, loves, and answers.

Bright colors by Siwa

Shark infested waters at Sea Life Park. I love the colors that water takes on.  Photos never seem to be able to do them justice.

A Green Anole (Anolis carolinensis) at the nursery. These lizards change colors from green to brown like chameleons. The purple thing is called a dewlap. These lizards use them to impress mates and to challenge others when fighting over territory.

A Seven Spotted Lady Beetle (Coccinella septempunctata) on a Metal Leaf plant (Hemigraphis alternata).

Croton (Codiaeum variegatum) leaves, the green ones are new while the pink one is older. They always start out bright green and yellow but as they age they gain reds, oranges and pinks.

The nursery where I work is full of these colorful Day Geckos.  They are curious and love sweet fruit.

Mary's words

-One day Elena asked me what she was supposed to say, so that she doesn't sound cocky when someone pays her a compliment.  I told her to believe them, and just say, "Thank you."

-One day, I said to Mary, "Do you know you're cute?"  She said, "How can I not, when you tell me everyday?"

-One day, when I was sick, I came from my bed straight to the living room couch.  I was just sitting there staring off into space, and Mary said to me, "Mommy you're pretty, even when you're sick."  I smiled at her and said, "Thank you baby, I don't think so, but thank you."  And she said, "Well I do, but it only matters what you think."

-One day I found Mary at the computer drawing.  I was really impressed with what she had done.  I told her how good her drawing was, and how smart I thought she was.  She had that shy dimpled grin on her face that says she's pleased, and that she believed me.  She stood up and said, "Thank you Mommy.  I love to draw. . ."  Then she wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my stomach.

-One day Siwa took Mary to the ceramic studio.  This time Siwa helped her make a little bowl for me.  You can't see it in the picture, but it says Mary heart Mom.  They fired it and glazed it in blue, and this last week Mary gave it to me.

For as long as I can remember, from the time she was first able to draw, speak or write, Mary has been telling me, over and over, in countless ways, that she loves and adores me.  My sister Angela sent this music video to me, on a hard day, and it was so uplifting I watched it three times.  On the third viewing, paper airplanes started flying around the room.  They had Mary's loving words written all over them . . .

 

I like the final scene, where the paper airplane is thrown out there, just hovering, 

like an open invitation to all of us, to "say love."  

Sometimes when I look at Mary, 

all I can think, or say in my heart is  

love, love, love . . .

Under the guava tree

Twice now, in the last few weeks, I’ve been working in the yard, focused on pruning and weeding, and have stopped suddenly, looking up and around me.  The first time I looked up, it was nearing evening, but still broad daylight.  There was a single pink cloud in the center of a sky of white ones.  It looked like cotton candy floating peacefully, far above me.  I stared up at it for a moment, wondering at its pink uniqueness.  Then I turned back to my work with a smile on my face.

On another day, I looked around me and a soft smooth breeze was coming around the corner of the house.  I was standing under the guava tree.  I noticed how the branches swayed, like an instrument being played upon by the wind, making a rustling and a rushing sound.  Playful patches of sunlight dappled the ground.  The wind washed over me, died down, and was gone.   It left me feeling grateful . . . peaceful.

There are so many messages in nature.  I sometimes think of it as God’s vast message board.  I check it on a regular basis, and find messages posted there in clear, bold letters- like “I’m here,” “You are loved,” “I know you and all that you are going through,” and “You are not alone.”  Even in times of storm, the messages are “You are stronger than you know,” “You will heal and rise above all this,” “Trust Me,” and “Patience . . . growth and beauty will come again.”  Nature has been a renewing, wondrous place for me; and through it, God has lifted, moved, healed, taught and soothed.  I know it’s one of His great gifts to us, and I thank Him for it, everyday, with all my heart.