Check out the above link as I am now officially included in Xanadu's on-line gallery. I'll be adding about one new piece a week. I'm pretty excited to be included, so check it out!
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
To become all that we are meant to be, we must learn to become a little less than we demand to be. Joan Chittister from The Liturgical Year.
Some understanding might be found in the Gospel of St. John 12:24: "Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain. But if it dies, it produces many seeds."
Discussion now open.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
"Hilary always found it impossible to look at a candle flame and remain gloomy. The shape of it, like tapering hands held palm to palm in faithful prayer, the wavering yet hopeful fight against the darkness, its tiny loving glow of warmth. It was no wonder that Mother church, all down the ages, has had such a passion for lighting candles."
I remember going into one of the side chapels in a European cathedral and finding a stand holding many tea light candles. Not being Catholic, I hesitated to light any, but I overcame my reluctance and lit one for each of our five children saying a prayer for each child as their individual candle was lit. It was a reverent, touching moment for me, and I'm so glad I didn't listen to my fearful self.
In these long winter nights, I light candles throughout the house; ones that smell like the winter. Balsam, Pumpkin Spice, and Apple Vanilla. I do look forward to Spring coming but will miss the coziness of winter after all.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
The Elizabeth Goudge reading challenge is coming along nicely having just finished Pilgrim Inn this morning. There was one paragraph in the book that really spoke to me. That always happens in her books. Her gentle, insightful writing soothes you into a calm complacency, then a phrase or description will suddenly jump out at you and you'll recognize yourself, or your former self, or even the person you wish to become. In the paragraph that follows I saw my former, present, and hopefully, future self.
"Don't you know anything about women? Don't you know the difference between a woman like Nadine and a woman like Sally? Nadine-she can't help it, poor dear-was born a hungry, unsatisfied woman. Her perpetual search after perfection is a lovely thing in her; because of it her home and her person will never be less than exquisite; but it makes all the normal relationships disappoint her by their imperfection, so that she looks beyond them for happiness. At least she did until now. I think that perhaps, just lately, a glimmering of sense has been vouchsafed to her. Sally-and she couldn't help it either-was born the other way round. She does not demand gifts of life; she just loves it for itself, and her humility makes her feel that what she is given is always far too much. She'll feel exactly the same about you as she does about life. You won't disappoint her."
An aside-I believe the English say, "Poor dear" like Southern women say, "Bless her heart." Just an observation.
I relate very much to Nadine's sensibilities. I've always been on a quest for beauty; though not necessarily perfection. I want things to be the best they can be, but I know in this life that perfection will never be achieved. That doesn't stop me from striving for it. I do idealize relationships and life and am disappointed if things don't measure up to what I think they should be. This attitude, I know, puts too much pressure on those you love most, so I've really tried to have few expectations. This seems to work much better for everyone.
But I'd like to retain the striving for beauty with Sally's ability to love life and people for themselves and not expect anything. Then nothing will ever disappoint. That would be nice, wouldn't it? I don't know that I'll ever be so humble that what I'm given will seem like too much. I can only hope and pray that it happens.
The Scent of Water is next on the list. I bought it as I want to eventually own all of her books. I'll be re-reading them for the rest of my life and then passing then down to some fortunate heir. She's that good to me.