cover your mouth

cough -
and the whole world coughs with you.

what does one coffin say to another coffin? 
"is that you coffin?"
 i used to laugh and laugh at this little joke.



is that you whoopin'?

i decided i'd use it to segway into the fact
that i've had whooping cough for the last week.

so by now,
because of the last 2 illnesses,

i've taken 3 sets of antibiotics in the past 2 months.

i know a lot of folks have been suffering similar illnesses recently.

it's been kinda rough, but i think the hardest part about it was keeping a good attitude.

trying to remember others terrible struggles and  praying for them when i would start to give into my self pity.

good things can't happen in this life without a little ouch to keep us balanced and grateful and awake.

the thing is, that we have all these plans.

all these things we're going to do, and get done.

schedules, deadlines, lists and menus.

but you know, we don't always have our say in the matters.

isn't that one of the craziest things we humans have in common?
we think we know what we're going to do,
and even know what we will be known for doing.

 there's nothing wrong with having a goal or a dream or a calling,
but when it turns into an ideal,
or one becomes idealistic,

these plans can become potentially catastrophic.

 i mean, through my experience  in this life, my greatest devastations have come, from my ideals being destroyed or compromised; having my plans uprooted by some outside person or circumstance.

whether physical, financial, social, or spiritual, ideals can become idols that we worship, rather than being a goal we're working toward for this space and time in our life.

i guess being a member of  the 'enlightened age' (fifties) it might be a lot easier for us to see this than our younger peers.

of course seeing the devastation of japan, the floods and disasters in our own land, economic woes, disease and moral degradations,
it's pretty easy to see that 'we are not in control'

 at this age when my body feels very weak and fading,
i don't feel the security of my ideals, my strengths, and my will.

but to me, this is a good thing.  i like being where i am.
(though it took some time to wrap my pride around it)
i want to be able to 'tuck and roll' with it now even when it's more difficult to get on my knees.
i guess my goal is to grow and live and have my being in
my joy, my hope, & my rock
who never changes and never fails.

He is one plan i can stake my life on.

in my weakness He is strong.

eventually He WILL get me to the other side.

so anyway, that's my thoughts for today.

i hope they can be food for your thoughs. (like to hear them)



i love my kids and maybe someday they'll read their old mom's words and take a few to heart.

until then

 cover your mouth when you cough.



arms akimbo





back to the light

i believe in Jesus Christ as the Messiah and coming King . He is the only way to the Father.
i don't believe this for any other reason, but that i was chosen to believe this. which makes me all the more humble and grateful. i love Him because He first loved me.
i believe in a God who is sovereign and good.
He is all that is good.
 in His love and goodness He chose to experience pain, suffering, betrayal, and death through His only son for our sakes.

He did this to atone for the damning sin that causes each one of us to hate, judge, kill, mock, covet, avenge, and pontificate.

generally speaking we are conceived in lust and then we live out our days completely absorbed in our own selfish ambitions, self righteousness, self conciousness, and even self loathing,
but from conception to the grave we are consumed with self.
 in the end we die, with the self we cared about and put before all others;
rotting into slime before finally taking on the likeness of the clay, of which we were formed.


we will all die. whether by natural causes, illness, or disaster.
some by murder whether in the womb or in our beds.
what then? i mean, really. what then? just gone? return 3 days later as a horse or butterfly?

i believe we are destined for something much larger than this.
 much greater than this.

i believe we will be transformed. much like a kernal of corn in the dark ground is transformed into a beautiful tall stalk living in the sunlight.

i believe that there will no longer be a measure of time and that there will be no more darkness.

rather, we will live in light,  in every aspect of light,
i.e. knowing  and understanding completely,
 the goodness of our God and what He has done in full.

               > this is heaven.

i believe hell will be darkness.
always reaching but never attaining.
knowing how many many many times i hurt someone or denied the Love of my God
with no chance to change.  (no more time)

knowing all the opportunities i had for charity and joy and repentance, but chose my self before all things.

(my conceit, my pride, my rights.)
with such regret as to cause gnashing of teeth.

we are all in this second category.
none of us are righteous or deserve anything less then hell,
unless. . .
we accept the gift that has been given us - the sacrifice that was made for us.

we didn't make ourselves sinners.
we are sinners.
a snake is a snake. a bird is a bird.
but we have been granted the eyes to see and the ears to hear,
of a gift that was given us with the greatest sacrifice in love and mercy.

you may refute this statement of faith.
it is a hard thing to understand if you haven't been chosen too yet.
but speaking from my heart, what value am i to you if  i 'hide my light under a bowl'?

mercy triumphs over judgement!

grace and peace to you
in love,
gigi

i. . . am an artist.

i can't even begin to tell you how hard it is for me to say these words.

wow. even as i write them,

tears burn my eyes.

as i head toward my own second childhood, memories come marching back with  a clarity that makes them seem almost cliche'.

like i've remembered them over and over

or looked at that photo album too many times.

but the captions of these memories are changing.

what used to be 'lee anne, cooking at the stove' is now 'lee wanting more than anything to be out on her own' or 'lee anne in front of her 2nd birthday cake' is now, 'dad was drunk in the background'.

scanning these memories at this stage of my life, i see a culmination of environments, influences, experiences, and desires that make up this peabody. 

when i look at my boys as adults, i can't help seeing them as babies, toddlers, children, adolescents, all at the same time. it's just amazing.

but now, for some reason, i'm sorta seeing me in the same way.

i hate to sound so me me me, but you're not here right now, for me to hear you say, (hopefully), 'yeah! same here! i know what you mean!'

i really have to interject here,  credit to the Lord , who works all things together for the good of those who love Him.

so upon sober self examination, i ask my heart, who have i been?

what am i made for?

what is the reoccuring theme in my life? ( i mean besides survival)

in times of peace, what is it that truly seems to be the thread that shines in this tapestry.  for me, it is -

the aesthetics.

like it or not, this is what it is.

and as i say it outloud, or see it here in this blog,

i except it.

i wish i was a nurse or a missionary or a forest ranger or a physicist or something more 'worthwhile',

but i'm not.

the sad part about it all- the saddest part of it all, is that i have felt like a poser all my life.

(even now.)

i have had no education in art or music or writing beyond highschool.

i would not could not give myself permission to spend the money or the time on such 'frivolities'. and the lack of learning discipline has been a severe handicap.

but WHAT THE HECK!

i only have a little time left so just DO it!

the arts may not be for everyone, but whatever you do, do it as unto the Lord!

he is Love

except your gift with warm embrace and go go go.

meanwhile, i'll try to take my own advice too  :)

p.s. in an attempt to adhere to my discovery, i have taken on a new name which is gigi. given to me by my first (and only) year, french teacher, mrs. dalton.

it looks really good on my paintings.

let there be light

Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

 And God said, "Let there be light", and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness.

when a person is angry or empty or depressed, we often refer to these moods as dark.

when a person is giving, encouraging, or joyful, we refer to these moods as bright.

interesting to me how the natural order of things align with God's first spoken words to the earth.

i have been in places of darkness. i have felt formless and void of purpose or strength.

no motivation to create, to move, to go forward. all is futile.

there is a place for darkness. there are secret places even  sacred places that may be in darkness, but there is always a separation from light in darkness.

where there is day there can be no night and visa versa.

i'm a morning person so i get up as soon as i see light.

other friends of mine are night people. they get up at noon and stay up into the night.

but...they still need light.

when i think of painting or photography, one of the most important things the artist strives for is the light.  the shadows must be there to stage the light. moreover, even the darkest photos or painting, must have light to identify the subject.

even a sillhouette needs light to identify the subject.

sillhouettes are very pretty, but very flat and empty, so i would rather be rendered in depth of color and light.

this is my prayer for today.

homage to a star

on saturday of this week of this month of this year is my friend's birthday. so i decided i'd post a little montage of homage to her.

                                                she is compassionate to the point of breaking her heart on a regular basis. but with joy and hope she goes forward with a drive and resolution to be used and to bless her family and friends. she loves to dance and to find the poetry in life.      she knits lovingly,

cans fruit with laughter, & considers others greater than herself.

she gives up coffee for lent but finds caffine in chai (shhh).

she can wear a vintage suit like a model in a magazine

and make a pair of old tatered pants look like high fashion.

she bakes lemon tarts and apple pies and lives in a candy coated cabin in the oregon alps- yodelayheooo                                                              ~she is one of the best grandma's i've ever seen and her little isabella rosie is going to be a wonderful lady because of her devotion.

  

teri is a wizz that wizzes if ever there was a wizz that wuz. she's on the move balancing her home her family her friends her family her car her hubby her family and back again.

i hope with all my heart she has the best birthday weekend ever. in such a sad world, it is so good that God gave us the little stars of light like teri.

part violet part ham

this blogging thing is a trip.

it's kinda risky letting folks inside your head but it's kinda cool to share your thoughts with them too.

being the kind of person who could never even commit to a bumper sticker, for fear of offending someone,
it really has been liberating and inspiring.
i guess, even though i like to stay home because i'm somewhat of a shrinking (yeah i wish) violet, i am also a hAm.

btw- i have a bumper sticker now. it says KEEP ODELL WEIRD. that's the little rural town we live in.

a  n  y  w  a  y

my friend cindy thinks i'm an exibitionist.

in a sense, this is true.

i can sing in front of crowds, but i can't talk to them.

i can paint paintings and hang them in shows and galleries, but i can't explain them.

i don't wear sexy or flamboyant clothing, but i do wear odd baggy clothing. and very old coats.

i am exactly the same as i was in highschool!

i love to make people laugh, but my face still turns beet red if i see someone i know in the grocery store!!!

what's up with that!!!?

oh well. it keeps me humble!

God made everyone with so many lovely facets to reflect Himself

to every different kind of person, if we only will.

the apostle Paul said he would be all things to all men.
to be salt and light.

isn't that a great goal for this little whisp of a life? to be next to someone and make them feel better about themselves, or valuable, or loved?

i wish i could do that  :)

anybody like a little violet with their ham?

day four

last night i was at the end of my coping ability.

all i could think about was going to the hospital and getting oxygen and some wonderful i.v. drug to put me out of my misery.

if you know me, you know how much i abhor (fear loathe hate) hospitals, so either i'm a wuss or i'm really really sick.

but, praise the Lord, it's always darkest before the dawn, and today, 

even though i'm still in the bed,

i can breathe.

i have hope. ahhh, hope springs eternal . . .

unless you can't breathe.

i am amazed at how intellect, reasoning or spiritual insight, all come crashing to a hault when i am unable to function physically.

i mean, pain beyond reason or gasping for air.   all focus goes to trying to alleviate the suffering.

i asked God last night "what is the point in this? how can i be an effective human in this world if i'm this sick?"
well, obviously He knew it wouldn't last and that i would be writing about it today.

isn't it GREAT how God gives us the opportunity to find Him in every circumstance?

one of the things i've thought about on this 4 day bed ride, is how hard it must be to be alone.

i have my wonderful husband, who works and makes me toast and tea and fills the humidifier and buys roasted chicken at the grocery.

in the pain of body; chest-head-ears-throat-lungs-blowing my nose 342 times (got the kleenex to prove it)

how does one take care of themselves? does the strength come? sounds sad to me, but!

you know what's sadder?
 to think about not having someone to take care of.

i need to be needed. i need it more than anything else.

but i'm sometimes  afraid to commit. i have a fear of letting people down. because i will let them down you know. so what's that all about?
well this train don't carry no strangers.
i guess i want to avoid conflict which i will always have if i want to have a real relationship with someone.
  if you really love someone, you have to be able to work through conflict.

to  reason, backdown, communicate, love the person as yourself etc...

it's work. right lena? (i love you)  it's so worth it.

the strongest relationships i have, are the ones that have had a bit of  conflict we were able to work through.

if the relationship is the goal, then 'being right' or 'the winner' isn't always neccessary (except in scrabble)

i hope, when i get outta bed, someone needs me. just call me- p l e a s e ?

bobby i godda code

translation : i'm sick in bed.

so i been sick for like 3 days and decided to stay in bed today.

i've been thinking an awful lot about things and decided maybe i should try to organize these thoughts on  my blog dog.

as i lay in my bed looking out at the snow falling on cedars and barn and garden, i find myself thinking about being a mother of sons.

i never envied my friends who raised girls.

girls were so vulnerable but cunning. sensitive and prone to hating their mothers with a seething contempt.

but i see things differently now. the tables have turned.

now i see the wonderful relationships that have risen from those adolescent ashes

and i envy those 'till death do us part friendships and confidences of mothers and daughters.

is it really as it seems? the shopping and lunch and dinners and grandchildren?

sons are men.
they think like men.
they think of one thing at a time.
so if a thought of 'mom' enters their minds, it is a rare occasion, and even rarer to be followed up by a phone call.
i, being the mother on the other hand, think of my sons nearly night and day.
(it's a curse.) and when i call them, it seems awkward.
i am their mother.
my questions become mother questions, my comments become mother comments.
i have no personality. i am the order of bedrooms and appointments. i am the guard, the magistrate, the cop. i am old fashioned and judgemental.

so i thought i'd just take this  moment to say-
'no. i'm not. not really'.

i've gotten old and set in my ways. but i was an adventurous spirit in my day. and a darn good looker.
i danced and ran and sang and was romantic. i traveled and worked hard and loved and got hurt.
i want so bad to be a friend to my sons now that the raising is over.
but they avoid me.
is it because? i wrestle with my mistakes and wrongdoings day after day.

is it because? my morals are walls that they can't climb over?

is it because? i'm wrinkled and slow and eat too early in the evening?

is it because? i'm just their mom?

i know there are probably answers to these questions with those compassionate momentary phrases to try to apease my guilt and fears, to give advice about how to be a friend to my sons, but in reality- this is what it is.

s i g h

thankyou for letting me say it. now i can try to accept, and detach

and get on with being a bobby wid a code. sneeze/cough

p.s. i am so blessed to have and love and adore my sons. just venting on a stuffed up day.

age rhymes with sage . . .

and cage, and rage, and gauge, and page, and wage.

is it just me, or do these words resemble possible attributes of aging?

"when i look in the mirror i still only see, the kid i thought i all ways would be"

those are words to a song i wrote about turning 30. now i'm 56.

when it's just me in the bathroom, (in the perfect color and light) i see the person i've always known. but when i walk by a window, or a mirror from a distance or see a recent photo of myself, i shudder. that's so sad.

i have actually been many people in this life. most of them sad. i don't want this person to be sad anymore. i don't want to have to concern myself with how i look.

i want a light to come from me. the light of my love. my eternal gratefulness. a joy unceasing. with open arms and a smile or a tear to share with a neighbor.

can i be past my hair and my wrinkles now ? can i be past  my weight  and my figure now?

can i be past my teeth whitener and pedicures and matching nails to my lipstick?

even saying it outloud seems silly. don't get me wrong. i love feeling good in a new frock just as much as the next person, but i think you know what i mean. and i'm speaking to ME. when it becomes so important that i can't have joy without it, where will i end up? a bitter old woman, alone, and worst of all, self centered.

i don't want to be in a cage filled with rage. i want to soberly and positively gauge the page i'm on in life. with the right attitude my wage will be riches beyond my years.

'choose wisdom instead of silver, knowledge rather than fine gold , for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her'

my sister's birthday made me consider these things today.

God bless you dear donna. you're more beautiful than you've ever been.

mud

i got some really great gloves. they're warm and sweatery on the top and rubber on the work part.
today me and the hens got busy. i ripped at the strawberries and the hens scratched at the weeds.
i pulled out those pretty little heads of weeds. the kind that mutate to one solid mass if you don't get the very littlest last part of the root. i always get spiritual about it. but i won't right now. 
so anyway, these gloves kept my fingers warm and dry so i could dig deep in the mud, to get those roots

and harvest tiny nantes and parsnips that i planted last fall. the nantes were too delicate for wintering over.

i'll remember that. but the parsnips are lovely. it 's in the low 40's with a breeze. i been sitting on my laurels for the last couple a months so i didn't have quite the energy i wish i had.

i thank God for my other two hands that came to my rescue.

side by side, with the hens looking on, joe and i tackled those garden beds.

the mud smells sweet and it's all clean and ready for seeds come spring- which is JuST ARoUND THe CoRNER! woohoo!

soliloquy

l o n g  s i g h  l o n g  f e b r u a r y . . .

there are stars behind the clouds, blue skies behind the rain

there are sprouts beneath the mud and clean

beneath the stain of dead leaves and roses,

dry thorns and posies.

remember -

those smiles beyond these tears

and joy beyond the fears of forever gray.

there is,
right there!

bright hope on the tip of every branch
just waiting
waiting for the earth to turn ever, slowly, toward the sun.


gigi 2/16

i gotta swing in my pocket

swing, (swung, swang, swinging)- to sway backward and forward as a freely hanging object. to move with a sweeping motion; flourish. to play music in the style of swing. a relaxed motion, as in walking. rhythm, as of poetry or music.

last night, we watched a video called 'jazz on a summers day'. a docu/movie made in 1958 of the newport jazz festival which was on the same weekend as the americas cup (sailboat races.) what a work of art. i highly recommend it.

i write this as i look out at my swing hanging from the walnut tree.

when i get on that swing, it seems the world just kinda floats away for a little while.

feeling the motion in my stomach and the breeze on my face; breathing comes easier.

dancing is the same. even if it's just a piggle wiggle down the grocery aisle. some kinda smile emerges from within.

so this is a loving reminder daddy-o. when you're feeling  uptight,  just swing it.

and you can take that swing wherever you go.

singing

the first time i ever really heard my voice, was in the back cow pastures of a ranch in eureka montana.

it was beneath the big sky and at the foot of the rockies leading on into canada, that i first opened my wings with the ravens.

my voice came out. no one to hear but the cattle by the creek.
i cried the first time i heard it. i wept the first time i felt it springing forth out of the depths of my belly.
i was addicted.

every day i went out into the field and at the top of my voice, i sang all the songs i knew to the cows.

from that time on, singing is what i did.

it was who i was and what i carried with me.

through all the rest of my life -up until about 10 yrs. ago.

trials and sickness came.

they silenced me.

2 yrs. ago i told my youngest son, he may as well take my guitar home.

he wouldn't do it.

sunday, i sang. God put the fire in my belly once again.

my voice is scarred and husky, but the soul is there

and i will give praise to Him as long as i live.

catalpa

this isn't him .
 he was more handsome
but kinda like this.

when my sisters and i were little girls, we lived next door to an elderly gentleman who's name was  Mr. Blackburn.
he was a very slender man and walked with a cane. he wore a felt stetson and under it his hair was snow white. he wore a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, suspenders that held up his creased black pants and a bow tie- unless it was hot. then he would take his tie off and unbutton his collar, which exposed the curve of his ribbed sleeveless undershirt.

he had a dark brown shingled house with two catalpa trees in his front yard.
in the shade of the catalpa trees sat two folding lawnchairs. always available for someone to come sit next to him for a visit or a chaw.
he chewed tobbaco. he could spit without you hardly even noticing.
one of my favorite things to do was to go sit in the extra lawn chair. he had white hair on his brown wrinkled arms. his fingernails were clean and flat with creases over the white half moons.

his eyes were light water blue. he'd rub his fingers tips with his thumb while he sat in the shade.
i remember his voice though he didn't talk all that much.
gentle gravely with a quiet cough of a laugh.
he asked little girl questions to strike up a conversation.

he would let us all go in his backyard on summer mornings and pick blackcap berries to put on our cereal or we would climb his apple trees or play tootsie toys around his maple tree roots.

one day he invited us into his house to show us a surprise.
his house was dark and smelled pungent with tobacco and maybe cookies.
he took us in the living room and showed us a wind up doll.
it was a man sitting in a chair.
i probably don't remember this right but i think when he turned the key on the man's back, the man stood up from his chair , put his hand with a cigar to his mouth, the cigar lit up, and as his arm went down again, he blew smoke out his mouth and he sat back down.
is that possible? all i know is that i was little and i was frightened and amazed! gasps and giggles and 'do it again'!s
i loved Mr. Blackburn. i have thought of him many many times in my life. God bless you Mr. Blackburn for being such a sweet memory.

The Watson Family - "Ground Hog"

chief dan george



my heart soars like a hawk



i saw this quote from chief dan george the other day and felt a need to post it.

he really speaks my language.

'When Christ said that man does not live by bread alone, he spoke of a hunger. This hunger was not the hunger of the body. It was not the hunger for bread. He spoke of a hunger that begins deep down in the very depths of our being. He spoke of a need as vital as breath. He spoke of our hunger for love.

Love is something you and I must have. We must have it because our spirit feeds upon it. We must have it because without it we become weak and faint. Without love our self-esteem weakens. Without it our courage fails. Without love we can no longer look out confidently at the world...

But with love, we are creative. With it, we march tirelessly. With it, and with it alone, we are able to sacrifice for others.'