Building a Life, Bit by Bit

   Am I running behind? I don't know, maybe so. Some days it feels that way, but I'm letting go of my expectations about what summer days should be; summer days have rhythms of their own. Summer is a season in time for exploring, giving within community, and building our lives with a bit more freedom from school year routines. It's a time to sing, dance, read, or yes, even cry and whine. We've had a few of those days; hormones raging. Alas, this too shall pass.

   Summer is a time to help heal another, even if it's not what we expected of these sunny days. It's a time to help mend neighbors fences and get them hot wired, even if yours are not yet running.

   Because we build our lives bit by bit, brick by brick, and moment by moment.

 Trusting what we hold in the end will radiate beauty. 

   Then there's me, squirrelling away with the sheep in order to write, in order to create. Silence is a precious commodity around here because building a life is a noisy endeavor.

   I remind myself silence is over rated. I can survive without silence. I can, and will. It will be good for me. I can create in a loud space. I simply need be still.

   Pictures are from the Terry Lee Wells Discovery Museum in Reno, Nevada. Visiting a dear aunt and uncle recently, we beat the heat by building. I was quite surprised that the Smithsonian Spark!Lab was not the hit of the day, but rather The Shop. It's rare to see kids with real hand tools these days.  Let's change that this summer, shall we? Google Maker Camp is a good place to begin. It's a blast!

Summer

Then followed that beautiful season...Summer....

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light;

and the landscape

Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Happy Fourth of July!

 

We headed south for Knights Baseball last night. 

We got way more than expected!

Presence vs. technology? 

   On her dad's phone, her face spoke, speaks, volumes to me. She was pondering the Google supply list for Maker Camp. While Maker Camp will be awesome, her face reminds me that technology often causes us to miss the relationships sitting right in front of us, and almost never makes us happier. 

 The game got under way to a sell out crowd,

and then it went on, and on, and on....

We got a tad goofy by inning 12.

The lady in front of us thanked us for our entertainment!

 Inning 16 grins and weariness. 

The clock strikes 12:30 a.m.! 

Thank heavens this young man wrapped things up!

America's favorite past time, went PAST TIME.

 We waited a long time for these,

 and rang in the arrival of the 4th with a boom!

 The moon was out in full force. 

Happy Fourth, y'all. 

May it be a good and blessed.

And There was Light by Jacques Lusseyran

   There is no real inner life for a man or a child unless his relation to real things inside and outside himself is a true one. 

   The gym was much more than exercise, it was my marriage with space. 

   I began to look more closely, not at things but at a world  closer to myself, looking from an inner place to one further within, instead of clinging to the movement of sight toward the world outside. Immediately, the substance of the universe drew together.

...radiance was there, or, to put it more precisely, light.

   I could feel light rising, spreading, resting on objects, giving them form, then leaving them. Withdrawing or diminishing is what I mean, for the opposite of light was never present. 

   I saw the whole world in light, existing through it and because of it. 

   How could I have lived all that time without realizing that everything in the world has a voice and speaks? 

   The waves were arranged in steps, and together they made one music, though what they said was different in each voice.

    A sound we don't listen to is a blow to body and spirit, because sound is not something outside us, but a real presence passing through us and lingering unless we have heard it fully.

    ...there are no differences between us except those which come from heart and spirit. 

  I have never had to go more than halfway, and the universe became the accomplice of all my wishes.

   Words from: And There Was Light, the Extraordinary Memoir of a Blind Hero of the French Resistence in World War II by Jacques Lusseyran. I have a feeling this will be my favorite book of 2015, but we shall see.

Summer Arrives

Some of us think walking in the woods delightful.

While some of us prefer to roll very fast down 45 degree, 100' slopes, 

and live on the wild side.

 The bike helmet was at Grandmother's house.

A chainsaw helmet works in a pinch.

 But we can all agree on our sweet treats. 

 Elk Rock Garden and gluten free Kyra's in Lake Oswego 

   If things are quiet around the blog space this summer, it's because I'm writing my heart into a middle grade historical fiction story about Thomas Nuttall. I'm nearly 23,000 words into his story, and he's got me. As such, I've promised him I'll write 2 hours each day, 6 days a week. There you have it! That's what I'm doing in the woods this summer.

June Bug Days a Coming

   I left May a bit stunned. I'm still in denial that June is upon us. The stack of receipts to process, reminds me I'm definitely not running ahead. Not down trodden, but a bit dazed. Like I've smacked into the window, and need a breather.

   Happily, the hubby surprised me with a weekend away in Hood River. It was all sun, thunder, lightening, coffee, wine, and books. A lovely weekend there. Truth is, we both needed it, and grandmas make all things possible. Non-stop souls they are. Rest and renew. 

   June bug days are coming. A different pace. Even the rain has settled into a spring patter, not a pouring forth. At night, the frog's croaking keeps me awake, and beckons me early. While the dove's coo reminds me to savor the day.

   I count doves all day long. On their perches, they speak peace. If I'm in a bit wider space the hawk reminds me to soar, and the ravens remind me God feeds us in the desert spaces we wander within and without. Yes, I count all day long, and I'm counting the days until summer break.

   As we wrap up school, soccer, and swim, we're thankful for the opportunities. He'll still work on soccer skills, and we'll enjoy family soccer together. She'll still work on her flip kick. We'll be thankful for the rest. For mornings to sleep in, with no one to wrangle out of bed. Time to write alone, and time to steadily stroke the stream of words in morning silence.

     The sun seeks us out, as do the Oregon strawberries. But as we process berries, we talk about summer explorations, and what we'll incorporate into our summer learning whether by canning, camping, or cursive.

   For brother, there'll be the rewriting of Aesop's Fables and 642 Things to Write About. I'm pondering putting him through the IEW Geography course, but not sure I want to subject myself, or him to the headache :-) He uses all his words verbally, but needs to pace himself, and put some to paper. Writing is not his favorite thing, so we persevere, and focus on tools to make it easier, as well as practice, practice, practice.

   I'm waiting to hear on some writing news, even as I'm blessed as a finalist here in unpublished children's fiction. Feeling very blessed. It's year two of being a finalist. Hoping to change the unpublished part soon, but honestly that's God's area of expertise. I show up for work. 

   Sister and I have been busy finishing up school, but she too, will focus on math and writing this summer, at least a bit. We have about 15 lessons in order to finish up Saxon Math 8/7. They'll both work at/for Khan Academy this summer in math. 

   She also very much enjoys cryptography at Khan, and I like teasing her: "You know the NSA knows who can solve those cryptography puzzles fast. Better slow down or they'll come recruit you to solve puzzles all day long."

   For those interested in the resource, I want to share that she and I have really enjoyed our two Coursera courses this spring. In many ways, they are school "lite", especially the AstroTech class comparative to the water class. Yet, they have been a much needed change to help us push through the spring school doldrums. I highly recommend Water in the Western United States.

   I just finished The Storied Life of A.J. Fikery. It's really gotten me thinking about the books that have most impacted me. More on that topic soon. 

   I'm on to Oregon native Gina Ochsner's, The Russian Dreambook of Color and Flight. I am wrapped up in her word narrative. She portrays a journey in which we are all born with abundant words, then struggle dearly to hold onto them as we face oppression and sorrow. Try we must. I'm counting on the story ending with the words winning. Showing us that the journey of articulating our stories is worth the effort, and worth the sorrows.  

   I've been pondering a picture of words. That is, a word carried within every rain drop. But so often, the word rain drops fall to the page as our sorrows. We must remember that even if our words sink into the mire, within them, is the potential to rise up and give life. Let it be. 

Here's to finding our summer wings and soaring high.

We Wish

    We wish upon dandelions, and watch their seeds float away. You are the seed. Will you take root somewhere and thrive? Will you be hardy or hardened to your world?

  There are no words for the gut ache one feels when sending children off into a world where they are not safe. Not unless the One watches over them and leads them through. Saves them.

   After eight days and goodbyes, my heart is a jumble of, "Why and what are you going to do about them God?" I'm reminded of the answer we got months ago which was, "You. You are what I'm going to do about them." And it hurts to have your heart broken. It's hard to let go and let God, knowing the future of precious ones is in His hands, and so often those hands are on human flesh and are part of broken world systems.

   You child, are a seed buried, in what's going to be really rough ground for awhile. The slope is rocky and the ascent is up. Pray for wings.  

"Give them wings, God. Give them wings to soar."

   I realized this weekend that when we gather with others who are also making a difference for kids, who also are involved in their communities, I find it's easier to talk about broken systems and poor communication than the children. It's easier to talk about anything but your brothers and you, and all the children just like you. Children who may well be fighting for safe their whole lives.

   We certainly don't sit around the dinner table and talk about what we whisper in your ear in sacred moments. We don't mention sacred conversations where we pray, where we hope that hope was imparted. Yes, we are trying to whisper "hope" with every breath.

    There are dreams and wishes we wish for you. Sometimes, I think we are afraid of talking about them lest the power of the dreams and prayers fall away as you go. The wishes we wish for you feel like wind, so easily slipping through our fingers, just as you do. I have no clue where you are going, and you float off too soon.

   The quiet moments with you are the most difficult to reflect upon. Moments where we sought to throw you an anchor in the storm of now, and also an anchor for the stormy days ahead. This time around, nothing prepared me for how I need my own anchor at your going. The questions toss me about.

   Will you remember this is not a lesson for you? You wanted to know if it was all a lesson for you. "No, this is not a lesson, but yes it's an earthquake right now. The ground is shaking, but God is in your shaking world. He is with us. He promises not to leave nor forsake us." Will you remember the prayers spoken over you? Will you remember the broken oak? How her heartwood just split in two, but that the potential for even more life comes from those twisted limbs on the ground?

   Will that trip to OSU mean anything to you? Will all those machines, gadgets, and people become an embedded memory that one day leads you to wide open spaces of learning? You were wide eyed with wonder. Might you be college bound someday because of one short visit to see an Engineering Expo? Will that math dictionary stay with you? Will you use it? Will you remember, “You are strong, good, loving, and going to be a great builder with your hands and be a leader of people?”  Can words overcome the mess of your daily world?

   As a writer, I ask, "Are words enough?" Immediately, I know they are not. Words are powerful only when framed with a hug, a laugh, a bowl of food, and a warm bed. Words are powerful only when embraced within the gift of presence.

   We offered presence as best we could, now I will hold close sacred words and secret conversations, while the bars rattle all around you. I will keep praying for you and your brothers. I will write your names down in my book of remembrance. From a distance, I will keep speaking into your fears and pushing them back.

   Remember child. Remember us. Remember God cares. Remember this is not a lesson for you. This is not your fault. Remember we are praying. Remember you are going to change your world with that beautiful broken heart. Remember to guard your heart.  Remember to dance.