A Donkey In The Kitchen Cupboard

My generous mother and father had the woodcarver make this nativity set. The last few years it has sat on the living room coffee table. My two and then three year old grandson would go into the living room and play with the pieces. I emphasized that he needed to be gentle with the woodcarvings and his nature was to comply. The set is so large that I wouldn't have noticed if a piece was missing, but weeks after my grandson played with the set, I opened a kitchen cupboard and found the donkey. I giggled and giggled and told everyone about it. What was his little mind thinking?
It's been two years and besides being a beautiful work of art, the nativity set has tremendous value because, 1) it is a treasured gift from my parents and 2) my continual delight from the memory of my grandson putting the donkey in the kitchen cupboard.
Only once or twice, but admitted with shame, I tried to clean up the clutter in a daughter's bedroom without her. I was indiscriminate as to what had to go and what stayed. I didn't take into account what objects had value because of my daughter's experience with the object: where or whom it came from, or how it came into her possession. When I tackled clutter with my daughters, I was always surprised what was allowed to stay or go.
This came full circle when I visited an aquantance's new home. The woman has a beautiful new home that she has decorated with objects that are old, worthless and distracting from the decor of the home. But it was what she values-neither I nor any visitor to her home understands the story behind the plaque or the dime-store painting. I finally understood that beauty is indeed in the eye and the heart of the beholder.

Imaginary Christmas Gifts

Inspired by Christmas lights this evening, I was taken back to Christmas 2004. Our gift to our family was ten days on Anini Beach, Kauai. It was understood that presents would not be exchanged.

On the eve of Christmas, we roasted hot dogs and s'mores on the beach, decorated a fallen branch and hung stockings (anklets and sports socks) around the coffee table. Each person was instructed to give each other two gifts that would be described on simple squares of paper. The first gift was something you could buy but was unlimited by cost. You could give a gift worth millions or even billions. Some of these gifts were: a fleet of airplanes for a business, unlimited travel to any and all destinations, an island, etc. The second gift could have no physical constraints and was something that could not be purchased with money: a cure for diabetes, healthy curly haired children, a gift of scripture knowledge, peace and contentedness, etc.

Were traditional gifts missed? No. Not on a Hawaiian beach. We learned what we value and what our family members value. Preeminent was that we valued each other.

Art Has A Mind of its Own

I believe that all things have two creations, a spiritual and a physical. Things are first born in our minds; they come to us as a thought, an impression or an image. To act on these whisperings completes a circle . The spiritual creation may have more power or life than we realize. You hear authors say that their character was always there, waiting for a writer to bear witness of her existence. When the author tried to change a personality trait or correct an action, the command of the character claimed otherwise.
My stained glass window, recently finished, seemed "to be." Whether it was deep in my self-conscious or really existed on a plane that I do not understand, the piece of art took its own direction and became what it was always meant to be. Michelangelo said that his sculptures already existed in the marble.

I hadn't meant the tree trunk to be a woman, but she became one. I hadn't meant for the light green sphere to be her humble, bowing head. I hadn't meant for the spheres to be the many burdens she carries on her back; but the joyful colors symbolize that her burdens are also her joys. The stained glass art has become more than glass cut and fused together; it is a creation and when we understand this we see the beauty in all creations, a business, a bridge, a life-- for we understand that art or creation has a mind of its own.

Sister Will You?

Sister,

Sister, will you? Let me be the princess, keep all my secrets safe and sound, be my best friend forever?

When I saw these words painted on the wall of a bedroom shared by sisters, my heart eclipsed my age and all the vulnerability, loyalty, trust, responsibility and dependance of being and having sisters, returned.

It was only the first 18 years of our lives that we shared intimately with each other. That is, in the same house, with the same parents, the same trips to Disneyland and Yellowstone, the same Sunday afternoon trips to Baskin-Robbins, the shared memories of Christmas presents, cousins and dachsund puppies.

It has now been 27 years that I have shared the house with my husband, the dinner table, clothes and hair brushes with my own daughters. Time spent with sisters are weekends, holidays, or milestones: mother's upcoming 7oth birthday party-- yet there is always a place in my heart for my sisters.