It's time

It's time for more beauty and less chaos.
It's time to watch the birds
free, 
flying, 
flitting at the feeders
It's time to smile at the squirrel antics and stop scolding them for stealing the bird seed.

It's time to show compassion to animals and people.
Even people I disagree with.
Compassion and joy and enjoyment of all that is around me.


It's time to surround myself with 

calm
grace 
and 
freedom.

These have become my dearest friends.
Friends who encourage the best in me. Friends who gently guide me.
Friends who lead me to truth.

It's time to believe the truth about myself and others.
It's time to give myself the worthy messages I'm so deserving of.

If I don't celebrate my worth, who will?

If I don't celebrate and believe my worth, how am I capable of celebrating yours?

I am worthy of all good things.
I am worthy to be treated well.
I am important and my gifts are important and worthy to be shared.

And so are yours.

Let's celebrate beauty
let's celebrate worth
let's celebrate with love and compassion all that is good within us and in each other and the world.

We'll be so much better for it.

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Thanks for joining me today for Five Minute Friday! I'm joining with other wild and free writers over at Kate Motaung's blog. Come on over and check it out and even join in. We write for five minutes on the prompt of the week. This week's prompt is enjoy.

Blessings to you today,

Anne

the other side of the un-doing {beauty from chaos}

The layers go on the canvas one at a time. One on top of the other. Then, the abuse and destruction begins. 

Each layer is approached with the idea that it can be completely destroyed to create beauty. 

Beauty from chaos and destruction.

water drops
scraping 
overlays
scratching
covering over with new materials

Each layer gets its own treatment. It may be painful for each layer, but the purpose is "keeping the end in mind." 

The purpose is destruction for the greater beauty that will unfold in the end.

Life is kind of like that. 

Layer on top of layer our life experiences accumulate and pile on top of each other. Some of these layers bring beauty. And, some we feel might destroy us.

But, as we go through each layer of life experience, we are changed into a new person. Each change or event leaves us different, not the same person we were before it. 

We are transformed.

Sometimes this feels like destruction. Like it will undo us. In the end though, if we persevere and get to the other side of the un-doing, our beauty emerges as sure as the sun peeking through the clouds after a spring rain. We begin to see tiny sparks of beauty, creativity and courage. 

We begin to hope.

We start to see that we've gone through a door and we wont be going back. We don't want to, because we are changed for the better through this process. 

It's been compared to a butterfly emerging out of a chrysalis, or an onion being peeled back to reveal new and fresh layers.

So, too, each layer of our life that is exposed through harsh circumstances has the potential to make us shine in new ways. If we let it. 

Beauty emerges from the ashes of what we thought would destroy.
I've seen it happen and I know it will happen again.

Thanks for stopping by today, friend!

Blessings to you,

~Anne

linking up today with others at Coffee for Your Heart and Three Word Wednesday.

Listening to the white

The branches bend and twist under the weight of the freshly fallen snow.

The frozen birdbath wears a top hat of white and each winter-dead twig is twice its size with heavy snow.

The bird feeder we just hung last week wears a thick layer of white frosting on the top, like an elegant wedding cake ready to be delivered.

Each little perch is covered with a blob of snow frosting that I hope Mr. Cardinal will just quickly flick away when he comes for breakfast.



Oh, I hope the wind doesn't come up for awhile. 

It's predicted. 

Heavy wind gusts that will threaten this haven of winter white today.

Even now, the wind comes in bursts and causes the snow covered branches to lose their white covering as an avalanche of snow falls, wind-beaten, to the ground to add another layer to the parked cars, sidewalks and streets.

The flakes that fall are small and delicate today, unlike the fat, heavy ones that splatted decidedly on our windshield last night.

How can such delicate, small flakes fall in such a way to make a winter landscape thick with beauty?

The white quiet beckons me to sit here at my window a while longer.

I'm safe and warm here.

I'm hidden from the cold, but wide open to what our neighborhood has transformed into today.

Welcoming gifts

The blue jay came to visit on my huge pine tree this morning. He sat on a branch that had a bit of snow on it. He pecked at the snow as if to get some of the moisture it held, even though powdery. 

He hopped to a different branch within my sight and I silently gave thanks that he didn’t fly away yet.

Not yet. 

I saw his visit as a heavenly gift. Just for me. Who else would be watching this close to my uncovered window? No one.

In another instant, he flew away. Probably to go find some seed somewhere, (because I’ve been too much of a pansy in this cold weather to go and hang the suet ball I bought before Christmas.)

But, he came to visit my tree anyway and to take a drink of the cold snow.

Why?

Was it grace that brought him here?

Was It just a coincidence?

I don’t believe in them.

Coincidences, I mean.

I welcome those serendipitous moments that freeze in time like a photograph in my mind.

I choose to see those happenings as a divine intervention in my day to bring me joy.

I don’t deserve them.

They are given free, at just the moment I need them.

Maybe it is a moment I least expect, but extravagant kindness is shown from a benevolent Creator.

I’ll be looking for Mr. Blue Jay to visit again soon.

But, in the meantime, I will welcome gifts of grace wherever I find them.

Won’t you?

Thanks for stopping by for Five Minute Friday on Saturday, friend!

~Anne

Linking up with the gang at Kate Motaung's place for Five Minute Friday! Head on over there to see what other writers have penned in five minutes of free writing on the prompt, "welcome."

I welcome YOU here, friend! Come for a short visit, or stay awhile! Blessings to you!

Where you'll find everyday magic

Today I'm linking up with the lovely Kate Motaung for Five Minute Friday. It's where whoever loves words, silences the inner critic and writes on a prompt for five minutes straight. Not fretting over being perfect. Won't you come on over and join in? Today's prompt is reach.



I’m not at all sure how we all got connected at first. But, about two months ago or so, a new friend on Twitter that had recently connected with me, (I believe through the Brene Brown online e-course), suggested that a group of us, who had done the class, start something called "62 Days of Everyday Magic". 

For the next 62 days, or two months, we would post a pic each day on Twitter of something that we saw in our everyday lives that made us think of everyday magic.

everyday magic sunset and clouds

The idea was to be able to take the time to see the magic all around us each day. 

Special moments. 

Beauty. 

Art. 

Creation. 

It’s been so neat to see what the group has posted each day. 

Flowers, 

animals, 

tea cups, 

spanning vistas in Iceland. 

Such beauty.

everyday magic deck flowers

But, for me, the everyday magic has come from something entirely different that I really didn’t expect from this exercise. 

Oh, I thought it was a great way to start exercising more gratitude in my everyday life. And, that it has done.

What I mean, though, is that I didn’t expect friendships to necessarily form from this 62 days.

But, that’s exactly what has happened.

As we’ve seen each other’s lives in photos and 140 characters a day, and comments on each other posts, friendships have formed. 

Love has been shared. 

Encouragement offered on bad days and good days.

Who would have thought that friendship could reach around the globe though a simple photo and 140 characters a day? 

I have to say this has been one of the biggest of unexpected blessings!




Thanks for stopping by, and may you see the magic in every day!

~Anne

In the unexpected place: {Bloom}

LInking up with other writers at Lisa Jo Baker's for Five Minute Friday. Today's the day where we silence the inner critic and just write for the fun of it for five minutes straight. This week's prompt is "bloom".

They grew up there again this year in that tired dirt from years gone by.

Those golden maidens with faces so cheerful. We didn’t expect them to grow because no one planted new seeds in the dirt this year.

But, grow they did!

So many of them. 

Taller than my husband and me. 

Tall and proud. 

My husband had to brace a couple of them in the high winds and storms a couple of weeks ago, but most of them flourished even in the storms.

These tall beauties were so very unexpected, but they are such a delight. Hubby planted the seeds last year for tall, huge, magnificent sunflowers. We had them last year, but they were planned. 

We oohed and ahhed at their tallness, golden-ness and their beauty.

But, this year, before my husband could get out his seed packet to plant again, he came in the house with a big smile and said, “there are already sunflowers coming up! I guess from the seeds that fell to the ground last year.”

What a surprise!

What an unexpected delight.

To have something bloom in a place you thought was barren. In a place you didn’t get time to plant.

Some unexpected beauty just shows up and decides to take your breath away.

I hope in this life that you find that.

That you find some unexpected beauty blooming in a barren place where you least expected it to happen. 

Blessings to you, friend!

~Anne

when you go for a walk in the woods...

As we were talking the other morning about his springtime hobby my oldest son said, “It’s the thrill of the hunt.”

The thrill of the hunt. He must have gotten that from me.

I get that and I said to him, “You are just like me in this except mine is over junk and yours is over Morel mushrooms.” 

We smiled over that.

After lunch, my two sons and I went to a near-by woods.

The wild Blue Bells covering the slope greeted us on the path, mingled with last year’s leaves, broken branches, stumps and full growth trees.

This was a sanctuary.

The gorgeous woods with indigo birds singing, and hidden animals scampering in the rustling leaves.

My oldest son has a degree in Forestry. 

“Look closely around the base of half rotten tree trunks. Especially Elms and Ash trees. Morels love that environment.” 

Crouching down, he modeled to my other son and me how to carefully scan the area beneath these trees to look for these particular mushrooms. 

Trees marked with lightening burn marks, trees with wood pecker holes in them, trees that were half dead.  “This takes patience.” He said.

Pointing to a tiny white flower he bent down and touched it. “These are Dutchman’s Britches”. I’ve never heard of those, but he knew them and sure enough they did resemble upside down white britches.

Dutchman's Britches

Here we were, standing and walking, looking and crouching in the midst of beauty. An unexpected detour in an ordinary day.

The birds singing in the canopy. 

My son pointing out a huge oak. 

He could name these trees just looking at the way the bark ran up the side.

Not surprising for a Forestry expert.

And three indigo birds just sitting on a branch within our view not caring that we were there at all.

After about an hour and a half the breeze had died down and the sun had become warm. No Morels were found today.

We all agreed there was no loss though. A walk in the woods on a glorious day is gift in itself.

Have a glorious weekend, friends!

Linking up today with The Weekend Brew!

The Artist's canvas

I'm joining other brave writers at Five Minute Friday over at Lisa Jo Baker's blog. The idea is to write for five minutes straight. No edits. No backtracking. Just pure writing for the fun of it. Won't you join in the fun? Today's prompt is: MESS.

GO

The Artist looked down at his canvas.

It was dark. 

It was formless and void, but he had plans for it. 

Oh, he had big, big plans.

It didn’t take any effort at all, just words and the canvas had light. 

Then, the Artist began adding colors. So many colors that don’t even fit on an ordinary color wheel. 

Colors of magenta and indigo and peachy and pinks and all manner of colors. He splashed them on his canvas in a lavish fashion. 

He didn’t have to be careful about it because he is the perfect One and even his most messy artist ways are perfect.

It may look a mess to us, but from his angle,

 his artist canvas, his masterpiece, is perfect

 as he is.

He decorated his canvas in ways that are beyond human comprehension. His canvas stretches as far as our eyes can see. We can’t even fathom the depth, the riches, the love, that he has put into his art.

We take after him, yes we do.

We are creative and artistic beings that bear his image. We bear his likeness and we can create beautiful things out of nothing really, just as he created beautiful things out of dust. 

He created us.

Beauty. 

Love.

Lavish artistic array. 

He created it all with perfection. He made all of what we see and experience out of the mess of darkness.

STOP

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Thanks for visiting today, friend! Have a wonderful weekend!

on risk and vulnerability

I'm linking up today with Holley Gerth at Coffee for Your Heart and with Beth at Three Word Wednesday.


Not worrying too much about the order of things, but putting in main characters who have influenced me and main events that have affected me, I wrote my spiritual narrative two weeks ago. 

When I sat down to write, I was surprised how easily things came to me. I started out with the overused line, "I was born...". Seemed like a logical place to start, and I wasn't worrying too much, remember? 

My tendency and "tapes" tell me to worry too much. I tried to shut those off, so the writing could come out. I wrote. And, before I knew it I'd filled up nine single spaced typed pages with size 12 Arial font. I didn't know it would get this long, but I have five decades to cover. 

This assignment was given in a class on spiritual mentoring. The idea is that it is important to know ourselves before we can begin to walk alongside another. 

*I also had a partner listen to me read my story and give feedback. 

Where does she see God at work in my story? What events point to His work, His intervention?

I had never done anything like this. 

The night came to read my story. 

I had gone back and changed words and sentences here and there.

Writing it brought up old emotions that I'd thought I'd dealt with. My body was affected during the writing, and I needed an extra trip to the chiropractor.

I knew this was important work.

My listening partner listened attentively. She prayed for me before I started. And, after I finished reading, she looked down at her notes and shared where she could definitely see God's presence in my story. 

To get this type of feedback is a true blessing.

The next week, it was her turn to share. I felt privileged to hear.

Her narrative was very different. (shouldn't it be?) She went with more sweeping themes in her story, instead of specific events and people. Hers was about seven pages shorter.

The key here is that hers was different than mine. Not better. Not worse. Different.

How my old tapes play tells a lot about me. Driving home from group that night, I heard old familiar put downs. 

"You told too much in your story."

"Yours was too long."

"She didn't like your story."

"You aren't good enough."

My struggles usually center around using my voice. Feeling like I share too much is a shame trigger for me. Feeling like what I say is dumb after the words are out can lead to a true vulnerability hangover. Intense.

What do I do with these low hanging feelings? My path of least resistance is to find someone to blame. That person usually happens to be me. 

Yesterday, after letting these low hanging emotions stick around for two weeks I finally emailed and thanked her for listening with care to my reading two weeks ago.

She wrote back. She said she loved hearing my story. 

She said, "sharing your story totally brings a deeper understanding.  I think that is one of the beautiful things...is that you can be honest with fellow Christians and add depth to life!"

Her email words became a gift to my soul. A confirmation that I and my story are not too much. That I am not somehow flawed in writing a nine page narrative.

I felt the lies that I'd been hearing for two weeks melt away.

I was reassured in my belief that vulnerability is risky, but it is beautiful.

*as a side note. It is very important to share your story with someone who has earned the right to hear it. Someone you feel safe with. I felt safe sharing my story with this person in this setting.



How about you? Do you have a story about how being vulnerable felt very risky, but you took the risk? Do you ever have a vulnerability hangover after sharing something personal?

Blessings to you today, friend!

You are beauty.

The more I look at you, the more I see Him.

I mean, you.

His daughters each different.

Each one with your own beauty adding to the mosaic that is the human race.

You, with your pictures engraved on your skin, 
matching the soft amber of your eyes.

You, with your weathered cheeks and hands that have seen much life, 
and whose heart bursts with love and compassion because of it.

You, with your hands that never stop helping
and your tongue that never stops praising.

You. The way you mother your children.

Not perfectly, no.

But, with tenderness and a heart willing to say I'm sorry when needed.

You. Discovering anew the gifts within yourself.
You shine.

You make me laugh. 
My life has more joy because of the way your heart comes through those smiling words.

You remind me that there is good and beauty in the world.


You who,

light up in your own skin.
shine with the uniqueness that only you can.

You are beautiful, just the way you are.

Don't. ever. stop.


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Linking up today with the following lovely communities.

eyes wide open: to see beauty {day 16}

sunset from my deck

I'm obsessed with sunsets. For twelve years we've lived in a house I complained about when we bought it because it has a corner fireplace. What I didn't realize when we bought it was that it would have a spectacular view of the western sky.

Every night that it's not cloudy or raining, the colors splash themselves across the sky. A new pattern every night.  Blue, purple, yellow, pink, orange, and many other shades I cannot name swirl together in awesome beauty. 

It's like God gets out his easel and says, Tonight I'm going heavy on the purple and pink, with subtle shades of yellow. I'm doing it for my kids. Because I love them. In fact, I'm going to paint this one just for Anne to enjoy tonight.

Yes, I do believe God speaks loud and clear through His creation. Including sunsets. And, why not? He makes it for you. And me. He delights in delighting us.

Another beautiful one.

Tonight, find a place to see the sunset. Relish in God's beautiful handiwork that He paints just for you. And, give thanks.

see day 1 for a list of all 31 posts

eyes wide open: beauty and purpose {day 14}

Leaf

Disconnected from its life-giving source,

beautiful in its vibrant color

it is nevertheless dying.

Yet floating.

As if on outstretched wings,

trusting in God's purpose for it.

Even though its earthly purpose is now past, 

it did not live in vain.

For a season it gave life to the tree from which it came.

And, even in the dying there is beauty.

***********

May I be like the leaf.

Beautiful.

Trusting.

Carried.

For the season that is my life.

Realizing my ultimate purpose;

to glorify God in my body

to rest in my Father's care.

see day 1 for a list of all 31 posts