creative expression

I'm certain many of us recall dying hard boiled eggs each year in anticipation of Easter Sunday services with pretty dresses, hats and gloves, visits from the Easter bunny, jelly beans, and chocolate.  I don't quite understand why, for me, those traditions now seem strange, unfamiliar.  They are beautiful memories of the past that don't quite resonant with the present.  Perhaps it is the winter weather which seems to be refusing to leave.

Perhaps it is the depth with which I now understand this season - Spring, new life, renewed spirit, awakening.  Somehow pretty dresses and candy don't quite get at the beauty and wonder and mystery that is Easter.  

With winter hanging about and a inner calling to create, to bring new life to our everyday, I wandered back to one of those traditions - painting eggs. Vibrant colors, an expression of nature almost bursting from my brush, painting eggs seemed just the thing to rekindle Easter in my heart.

What I really enjoyed this year was that our creative energy seemed to linger: just like the weather.  I set up a card table and simply left the supplies out so anyone interested could put color to egg as they felt moved to do so.  Surely this meant way more to me than anyone else, but I did love seeing the paint, the brushes, the growing pile of eggs in the "completed" basket.

I also took advantage of a young man's interest in taking photos.  While I was wrist high in paint, Mr. Man took the camera and captured anything he saw of interest.  What a wonderful way to peer into the mind of a child!  He did a beautiful job with posed and candid shots.  He saw color in beauty in the ordinary.  And was sure to capture the people who are oh.so. important in his life.  It was nice, for once, to be on the other side of the camera (normally, I run as far from the camera as I can!).

This Easter, may you find the deep and rich meaning of life, the opportunity to be part of creation, and the joy of Spring!

this moment {painting eggs}

Linking with SouleMamma and many others:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Happy Easter!

this moment {her first dance}

Linking with SouleMamma and many others:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

May your weekend be filled with beautiful moments that sparkle!

heartwarming

The neighborhood seemed a bit slow in waking, thought the brilliant blue sky was enticing and the warm air so inviting.  We accepted the invitation despite fevers and runny noses and found that much of the neighborhood was quiet and empty.  There was this one neighbor cleaning his bike for the first warm weather ride.  But quiet was what I noticed most.

This provided a great opportunity to look and seek and find even the smallest and slightest signs of spring.  With bated breath, I looked at the tips of the branches on each new tree, in the corners of my flower beds where I know I might find peeking through the earth, and in the garden where I hoped upon hope I would glance garlic standing tall toward the sun.  This game of hide-and-seek did not disappoint.  

And my heart warmed.  It opened to the wakening world around me.  And slowly I, too, begin to awaken with gratitude for the reminder that these mild days can be: a reminder to breathe, and be present, and look just before me for the beauty this Universe has to offer.

For it is exactly this beauty that I will draw upon for strength in these last few weeks of colder weather.  Soon and very soon...

this moment {come in grown ups}

Linking with SouleMamma and many others:

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

This moment is a special one, though ordinary, and even if only to us.  Perhaps because we love our preschool more than anything in the world.  Perhaps because this is the last of our children to have this moment.  Perhaps because this moment has allowed us to peer into each child's inner being, to see their confidence or fear, to see their exuberance or shyness.  Perhaps because it is a genuine moment for each of them, not full of expectation, but full of warmth and tenderness.  Or just perhaps because it is a moment where the rest of the world seems to disappear as I wait for the door to open and the most precious soul in the world steps outside to see me waiting for her just on the other side.

a little luck

I know...

To you, this looks like just a plant.  

Not much of a plant either.

But this plant has been through four moves across 2 states, 15 years of marriage (better and worse), 3 toddling and exploring children, little sunlight, great sunlight, no sunlight and everything in between.

The truth is that it is the ONLY indoor plant to have survived our home.  We were gifted with this plant when we were married.  The gifter was a tiny, energetic, older woman who wore dancing shoes every day.  She worked with Papa and just adored him.  She was kind and witty and full of stories or advice, whichever was needed in the moment.  She truly wanted a love-filled, fruitful marriage for Papa so she sealed the deal with a little luck.

This plant is a shamrock house plant, you see - Oxalis regnellii .

I'll let you in on a little secret.  While neither of us is really much into superstition, we are both terrified to neglect this little plant.  It's funny how it has thrived or wilted as our marriage seems to have done the same.  How at times the only way to keep it growing is to replant - new pot, new soil, new food, new water.  

How at times it leans toward the light, stretching itself to the heaven.  Other times it shrinks into itself as though in retreat.  

So while it has been tempting to just let go of this plant, we cannot.  To see the challenge and success, the darkness and the beauty, the joys and the sorrows of our marriage reflected through the life of this simple plant seems far too haunting to allow it to dissolve.  Perhaps that's the lesson in this little piece of luck - to nurture our marriage as we do so with our little shamrock.  Something tells me, our gifter was far wiser than her smiles and playfulness would ever reveal.

Now if we could just get our marriage to look more like this (Ahem!):

Image found at http://www.thegardenhelper.com/shamrock.htm