Free as a butterfly

When we have done all the work we were sent to do, 

we are allowed to shed our bodies, 

which imprisons our soul like a cocoon encloses the butterfly 

and when the time is right we can let go of it. 

Then we will be free of pain, free of fears and free of worries-- 

free as a beautiful butterfly returning home to God....

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Thinking of those I love who are free of pain, free of fear, and free of worries.  I give thanks for the blessings they brought to my life.   I give thanks for the butterflies -  beautiful, mysterious reminders of God's grace.   

Close to nature's heart

i thank You God for most this amazing

day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

e e cummings

There is nothing like a trip to the mountains to help me put things in perspective.

Keep close to Nature's heart... and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean. 

John Muir

How sweet the moonlight. . .

“How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank.
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.”

William Shakespeare 

What a blessing to be in this place.

"Bear yourself up on small wings"

Just this, each day:

Bear yourself up on small wings 

to receive what is given.

Feed one another

with such tenderness,

it could almost be an answer.

From "Morning Song" by Marcia F. Brown

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

Matthew 6:26

Play dough from the past

I've been feeling a little wistful lately - missing those days when my children were small and I was a stay-at-home mom.  The job I go to each morning is a blessing in many ways, but it's a different life from the one I led from 1971 until 1983.
In that old life I sewed, baked bread, visited the library at least once a week, made most of the Christmas gifts we gave family and friends, read, kept the fire in the wood stove going, wrote long letters on the old manual typewriter or in longhand, and had play dates with friends and their children.  I volunteered at the elementary schools, taught Sunday School, and was a La Leche League leader.  I wasn't in a hurry for that life to be over and I will always be thankful for every minute of it.
I was talking with my co-workers this week about being a young mother and about the play dough I used to make with my children.  It's easy to make and has a wonderfully smooth consistency.  I told them I'd share the recipe.
No-Cook Play Dough
2 cups flour
1 cup salt
1 Tbsp oil
1 cup water
1 1/2 tsps alum
food coloring
Mix well, adding coloring last.  Knead until smooth.  Store in air tight container.

I'm now grandmother to six, and some day soon I'll make some of this play dough with their help.  We've already had fun playing with the store bought variety.

We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.

George Bernard Shaw

The days of young motherhood have passed, but it's not to late to play!

Real isn't how you are made

Today is the birthday of Margery Williams, the author of "The Velveteen Rabbit."
If you've never read this book about becoming real, you can read it online here.
My friend Vicki gave me a copy for my 40th birthday, and though my children were long past the age to be read to, I have read "The Velveteen Rabbit" to myself numerous times in the years since.
The book is sub-titled "Or How Toys Become Real", but it's much more than that.  It's about love and its redemptive and transformative powers.
This is a story to read to a young child but it should be re-read over and over again as that child grows.  The message is one especially important for teenagers who often struggle with self-esteem and what love means.  And the story continues to resonate through young adulthood, into and past middle age.  When I read that the rabbit had begun to lose his shape, that the lining of his ears had turned grey, but that to the little boy he was always beautiful, I'm reminded that beauty is more than what's reflected in the mirror.  But I'm also reminded that sadness and loss are part of what makes us real.  There is no true joy without sorrow.
When the Boy becomes ill with Scarlet Fever, the Rabbit stays near, though "It was a long weary time. . ." He was faithful.  And the Rabbit had hope, looking "forward to the time when the Boy should be well again, . .."  Such is real love.  "Love is patient, love is kind. . ." 1 Corinthians 13:4.


"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse.  It's a thing that happens to you.  When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with you, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

You can't put a price on a piece of your heart

It was a restful weekend spent at one of the most relaxing places I know. When we arrived there was a cool breeze off the lake.  Sitting on the porch it was hard to believe how hot it had been at home earlier in the day.  On our two morning walks we saw deer cross the road and rescued a turtle.  The tiger swallowtail butterflies were everywhere.  On Saturday my daughter and her family joined us and my grandsons found out how much fun it is to play in the water.

When the thunderstorms rolled in we all retreated to the porch and watched the rain come across the lake.

This black-crowned night-heron was posing on the pier when I woke up Sunday morning.

Watching the rain, feeling the breeze, waking to a heron on the pier - all was peaceful and relaxing.  But whenever I sit on the porch of that house,  there are other pictures in my mind.

My dad, entertaining my oldest daughter, Tracy (the daughter whose sons enjoyed the water so much on Saturday.)

My dad swimming with my daughter Emi, about 1980.

My sister, expecting her first child, resting in the hammock with my daughters and my dad.

My daughters and their GrandPatty doing arts and crafts on the porch (when it was still a screened porch).

Enjoying popsicles in the butterfly chair on the porch.

My son and his Great-uncle Charles at a gathering of my husband's family.

Celebrating my brother's and my son's birthdays, just a day apart in May.

My son (right) and his cousins.

Just one of many family gatherings when the children were young.

There are hundreds of pictures of vacations, holidays, and family gatherings at this house.  I can see many of them in my mind's eye when I sit on that porch.  The value of this house can't be measured by an appraiser.  You can't put a price on a piece of your heart.