Monday, September 27, 2010
New ventures
I have ventured on to a new project, a pillowcase doll for my grandaughter Mattie. I have completed the embroidery portion and am now sewing it together. Looks like maybe a sock monkey to follow, after all doesnt every child need a monkey : ).
Monday, August 2, 2010
Like my sewing room....so is my life
Sitting here enjoying my second cup of coffee and looking around my sewing room/laundry room/ computer space....multi-functional area heh....I realize how in many ways it is a reflection of my life. I have a quilt top in progress, all nicely cut to fit together perfectly....the way I sometimes think that life should be according to me...everything complimentary. However a part of the space is dedicated to one of my favorite collections of fat quarters a veritable riot of color and patterns much like the people in my life. There are pins scattered here and there, pricks of pain that remind me living is a growing and learning process. A hamper by the washer with dirty clothes to remind me that I should keep to my own cleaning instead of judging others lives. Pictures of my family tacked to the bulletin board, reminding me that I am truly blessed even during the most trying times. My computer, inquisitive being my middle name sometimes, gives me grace to remember I don't know everything while providing me with a quick way to explore and learn. It is cluttered and comfortable, a place of refuge at the end of a hectic day or a peaceful welcome to a new day. It is somedays orderly and tidy while others it is messy and chaotic....but which ever it may be it is mine....it is my place to dream, to create, to learn and to just be myself.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
A Second Read of The Shack by WM Paul Young
Rarely do I ever read a book a second time....the last one I read twice was about 22 years ago, and then it was for sheer enjoyment of it. This time is for me and my personal journey of growth.
I have spent the better part of my life having religion drummed into me in some fashion, shape, or form and yet I have no church home. I can't get past the feeling that my relationship with God should be more than a group of people following a prescribed way of worshiping. I am not saying I have never been touched while listening to a sermon, but I am more often touched by other things. Nothing brings me more peace than being outside and watching nature, Gods created orchestra for all the senses.
While this book is in some ways very tragic it also has a beauty that touches me deeply. It takes the religion out of the relationship with God. I can relate to just talking to God like I do others around me, He is my friend and we don't need to stand on ceremony. Sometimes I just say a quick thank you Lord for whatever the reason. I have upon occasion to the horror of my mother yelled at God when I was feeling despair and loss but I have also laughed at the antics of chipmunks playing and gave God a WTG on his creation. I kind of think that He better than anyone knows my weakness and strength and will accept me part and parcel for it.
I guess I find my delight in Lord in simple ways, quiet times and gentle moments.
So I think I will read a bit more before I call it a night.
I have spent the better part of my life having religion drummed into me in some fashion, shape, or form and yet I have no church home. I can't get past the feeling that my relationship with God should be more than a group of people following a prescribed way of worshiping. I am not saying I have never been touched while listening to a sermon, but I am more often touched by other things. Nothing brings me more peace than being outside and watching nature, Gods created orchestra for all the senses.
While this book is in some ways very tragic it also has a beauty that touches me deeply. It takes the religion out of the relationship with God. I can relate to just talking to God like I do others around me, He is my friend and we don't need to stand on ceremony. Sometimes I just say a quick thank you Lord for whatever the reason. I have upon occasion to the horror of my mother yelled at God when I was feeling despair and loss but I have also laughed at the antics of chipmunks playing and gave God a WTG on his creation. I kind of think that He better than anyone knows my weakness and strength and will accept me part and parcel for it.
I guess I find my delight in Lord in simple ways, quiet times and gentle moments.
So I think I will read a bit more before I call it a night.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Besotted with Starch
I can't say I know what it was like before women's liberation took hold, although there are days when my children think I am that old, but there are things that I do wonder about.
I guess I am on occasion besotted with trying to do things for my husband that in today's world are seldom done. I iron and starch his shirts, which he insists does not need to be done, ugh men.....cotton should be pressed, I am old enough to adhere to that habit. My husband is one of the few men I know who owns and regularly carries handkerchiefs, the honest to goodness white cotton fabric real deal. In our household we share laundry duties, amen for that on many days, however I will still try to iron his shirts....it was on one such day that I did the laundry that it struck me that I should also starch and press those lovely white handkerchiefs. In my own efficient manner I washed them, ran an extra rinse cycle with liquid starch added, my goodness who would have thought I could press them that flat! They were lovely. I was pleased and he was impressed, well at least until the next day when he used one of them. I watched him struggle to find words to let me down gently then resignation came over his face and he blurted out, " I really appreciate your effort to give me nicely starched handkerchiefs but please don't do it anymore. It really is like rubbing the end of your nose with 100 grit sandpaper." I couldn't keep a straight face or choke back my laughter....in all my planning to do something nice I never once gave a thought to how it would feel when he swiped that crisp piece of cotton across the end of his nose. So I now wonder if they really starched handkerchiefs "back in day" and if so did men use them or just tote them out of obligation to a lovely woman who took the time and energy to make sure her husband had a hanky handy worthy of public viewing?
I guess I am on occasion besotted with trying to do things for my husband that in today's world are seldom done. I iron and starch his shirts, which he insists does not need to be done, ugh men.....cotton should be pressed, I am old enough to adhere to that habit. My husband is one of the few men I know who owns and regularly carries handkerchiefs, the honest to goodness white cotton fabric real deal. In our household we share laundry duties, amen for that on many days, however I will still try to iron his shirts....it was on one such day that I did the laundry that it struck me that I should also starch and press those lovely white handkerchiefs. In my own efficient manner I washed them, ran an extra rinse cycle with liquid starch added, my goodness who would have thought I could press them that flat! They were lovely. I was pleased and he was impressed, well at least until the next day when he used one of them. I watched him struggle to find words to let me down gently then resignation came over his face and he blurted out, " I really appreciate your effort to give me nicely starched handkerchiefs but please don't do it anymore. It really is like rubbing the end of your nose with 100 grit sandpaper." I couldn't keep a straight face or choke back my laughter....in all my planning to do something nice I never once gave a thought to how it would feel when he swiped that crisp piece of cotton across the end of his nose. So I now wonder if they really starched handkerchiefs "back in day" and if so did men use them or just tote them out of obligation to a lovely woman who took the time and energy to make sure her husband had a hanky handy worthy of public viewing?
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