Fig Leaves and Mixed Metaphors

I call Gregg "The King of the Mixed Metaphor." Over the weekend, he said one of the funniest, so far.

Andrea & Mike have a yellow labrador retriever named Sam, who is super-loving and enthusiastic. He's still a puppy, and I can tell he's going to be HUGE. They also have a seven-year old dog named Lena. Lena was adopted as an older dog, and she is a bit touchy. One day a while back, she snapped at Gregg. He has given her a wide berth ever since.

On our way up to Bellingham, Gregg informed me that he was not going to "extend the fig leaf" to Lena. I said, "I think you mean the olive branch. A fig leaf is what you use to cover your private parts; the olive branch is what you extend when you want to make peace." We both laughed until we were nearly incapacitated.

I love that guy. He is very entertaining.

Bellingham Weekend

Gregg and I went up to Bellingham this weekend to see Mike & Andrea. It was such a treat to spend quiet time with them in their wonderful town. Bellingham has SO MUCH going on, all the time: it's a college town, a port, has incredible views over the water to the west (and the San Juan Islands), has a thriving outdoor athletic community, beautiful lakes nearby, fun shops and restaurants, breweries and lovely craftsman-style and Victorian architecture. We did a lot of walking, enjoyed their dogs and cuddled their cats (two of each), laughed and talked and caught up. Thank you for your hospitality, Andrea & Mike!

On the way up, we stopped in the town of La Connor, to see what everyone always talks about as an art destination. It was raining, gray and - sadly - a bit on the depressed side, economically (many empty storefronts), but we had a good lunch at a little waterfront pub and an excellent cup of coffee from a local roaster. I hope things will pick up for La Connor during the tulip season, for which the Skagit Valley is famous.

On our way home, we took the scenic route along Chuckanut Drive. We stopped to take a few photos, and to enjoy the view.

Yes, I'm Still Here

Doorway in Paris, July 2009

Last week was a very busy one. I saw my friend Kathleen, who you may remember as Hayden's & Gunnar's mom. She is doing well, and I am grateful to God for sustaining her and giving her joy in life.

I worked diligently on the Open Door blog with my friends Chris, Karen J. and Robin. It was a deep week of mining our memories of the passing of each of our children. We wrote our memories and read each other's. These are hard stories, and they bring up deep grief for ourselves and for one another - yet the work is good, powerful and meaningful. I read, wrote and prayed a lot. On those days, there was little time or energy left to write here.

You may recall the poem, Litany, by Billy Collins. I had an inspiration (and a visual concept) after watching the videos of Samuel (the 3-year old  boy) and Mr. Collins himself reciting the poem, so I wrote to him and asked his permission to create a book out of it. He said, "No." I loved my concept so much that I dared to argue with him (politely) in an email. No go. I am still working on it, for myself - not for publication - and devoted hours to the project last week. It was challenging and rewarding to see the images in my mind take shape, and a good counterpoint to all of the mental work I was doing last week. I am happy with the product, although I was disappointed to learn that Mr. Collins' considerable creative imagination does not stretch as far as I had assumed a poet laureate's would. {Other applications for a work of art ARE possible, even though they are not what you had in mind when you made it. But it is his masterpiece, so I will leave it at that.}

I met with another bereaved mother, a talented sculptor whose son died over 20 years ago, and heard/discussed a vision that she has for a local group of moms of children who have passed away. It was fascinating, and I will wrote more if/when it comes to fruition.

A reporter friend came to interview me about Katie's Comforters Guild, blogging and what is going on now. She did a wonderful job of making me feel at ease, and it was a pleasure sharing news with her. We had four new offers of help and/or inquiries about membership last week, including a donation of fabric. The guild continues to grow and to be a blessing - I'm very thankful for each offer of help and each member's contributions.

Gregg and I spent a quiet and happy weekend exploring our area on foot, seeing friends, pruning plants and cleaning up the yard, watching good movies and enjoying each other's company. I love that guy!

The Zags lost their basketball game in overtime.

All of this means that the house is in a bit of a mess, and I have to get busy cleaning now. Blessings on your day.

Brooke in Haiti

Brooke & Katie, Camp Goodtimes West, June 2007

One of the nurses who took care of Katie in the hospital, and who was later on staff when David and Katie went to Camp Goodtimes West, is Brooke. Brooke has moved to Haiti to help the people to whom she has given her heart. She has a blog, which she calls "Babbling Brooke;" she updates it when she can, between working in an orphanage/school/hospital. I encourage you to check it out, particularly this recent posting. Her love, her passion, her committment, her spirituality - all come shining through her words and photographs.

We were so very blessed to have Brooke caring for Katie. God bless her, and the people of Haiti who she loves so much.

The Doors

I was recently given the gift of a beautiful poem that is filled with wisdom. One of the joys of having a blog is that I get to share it with you here.

"Allow

There is no controlling life.

Try corralling a lightning bolt,

containing a tornado. Dam a

stream and it will create a new
channel. Resist, and the tide

will sweep you off your feet.

Allow, and grace will carry

you to higher ground. The only

safety lies in letting it all in --

the wild and the weak; fear,

fantasies, failures and success.

When loss rips off the doors of

the heart, or sadness veils your

vision with despair, practice

becomes simply bearing the truth.

In the choice to let go of your

known way of being, the whole

world is revealed to your new eyes."

- Danna Faulds, from Go In and In

This could be a description of the past four years of my life.

It reminds me of a documentary about the American band of the 1960s, The Doors. (I had a crush on Jim Morrison, back in the day. He was so sadly strung out on drugs, but he had so much raw talent, beauty and sensuality. The fact that he died in his 20s is a tragic waste; I always think of him, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin together, a trio of lost artists of 1968.)

From Wikipedia: "The band [The Doors] took its name from Aldous Huxley's book The Doors of Perception,^[4] the title of which was a reference to a William Blake quotation: 'When the doors of perception are cleansed, things will appear to man as they truly are...' "

I am engaged in a book study with three friends, and the title of the book is "Open the Door - A Journey to the True Self." Doors of perception cleansed, doors of the heart ripped off, doors to true self opened. I'd call this confluence of poetic doors a blessing.

My blogging friend Mary of Landing on My Feet posted another powerful poem by this same author today. Follow the link if you would like to read more.

Hopeful Parents

I'm over at Hopeful Parents today - come and visit!

Back to Work

Vacation is over...David is back at his university.

He left this morning.

Before he left, we took a little weekend away with my family in Whistler, B.C.

(The company for which Gregg works closes before Christmas and re-opens after New Year's, so he had time off to spend with David & me.)

My brother & sister-in-law found a wonderful condo where we could all stay together. This is the view from the living room - gorgeous!

Morning coffee, breakfast and dinner, evening laughs and conversation, hot tub chats:
good times.

Our nephew came up from the Bay Area with his sweetie, so we got better acquainted with her. She took snowboarding lessons.

The weather was perfect: crisp, cold and blue-bird skies.

The skiers & snowboarders had a great time.

 Caroline, Gregg, Jim, Phil & David on top of Whistler Mountain.

 We ate New Year's Eve dinner at a French restaurant, owned by a friend of our neighbor, Kim.

Though they were in California, our parents treated all of us to dinner.

Thank you, Mom & Dad!

 Getting ready to hit the slopes in the morning. I loved the heated floors in this condo!

 Our nephew, Phil, and his sweetie, Rachel.

We spent a day together, exploring the village and neighborhoods on foot.

Thank you for lunch, Phil!

I didn't ski; I drove the skiers to and from the hill each day, read, wrote, did a bit of artwork, walked in the snow, and loved it.

Yesterday, we went to Seattle. You might have heard that there was a little sporting event in town (football) that upset some people's playoff hopes, yet lit others' hopes into a huge flame. A sea of blue & green jerseys flowed onto the ferry in the morning, heading for Qwest Field. But we weren't among them.
We went to the Seattle Art Museum to see the Picasso Exhibit!
We're not his greatest fans, but when Picasso comes to town, it's worth a look.
Now, I am going to sound like an old lady:
I majored in Fine Art in college. I have spent a fair amount of time in museums, galleries and with my nose in books, studying works of art and architecture, as well as furniture and decorative objects.
BACK IN MY DAY (that's the old lady part), when one went to a museum, one encountered a work of art with respect.
One stood before it, open-minded, and allowed the work to speak. Sometimes it was a familiar piece, due to study; sometimes it was a new encounter. But always, I remember peace and a personal experience with the work of art. Even in a huge museum, like the Louvre in Paris.
It's not that way anymore. I saw this in the Louvre in the summer of 2009, and I saw it at S.A.M. yesterday. Present-day museum-goers move in dense crowds, without any sort of order, with camera at the eye, snapping away (Louvre), or with audio-guide at the ear, listening to information about the artist, the piece or the exhibit (Louvre & S.A.M).
The peaceful, personal, contemplative encounter with the work of art is gone, apparently.
I could hardly stand it at the Louvre in 2009, and I felt the same way yesterday. It made me sad.

When I was in college, I was fortunate to be able to study in England for a term. One day, in London, we were exploring the Tate Gallery. I remember few people, and silence. Turning a corner, I encountered one of my favorite pieces of sculpture: The Kiss, by Auguste Rodin. I had read about it in Janson, studied its photograph and learned about the sculptor in Art History class. Seeing it in person for the first time, larger-than-life, was a life-changing experience. I could have wept, it was so powerful, filled with passion and tenderness.

This photo doesn't do it justice. It should be seen from all angles, in the round.

I wish that people would treat artwork with the respect it deserves, and be present to it - bring their presence to the moment, and let the work speak. Let the artist speak through the work.

Back to yesterday: we left the museum, had a bite of lunch, walked through the huge mall in Bellevue for some exercise, and went to meet David, my siblings and their spouses for a delightful dinner at a simple but great restaurant.

Today, Gregg and I took the Christmas tree and decorations down, and put them away. He worked in the yard. I vacuumed, and we re-arranged the living room furniture. We went for a beautiful, long walk together. Our house is in a bit of a mess from all of the holiday partying, and this week, I will clean it and get back to work. It's been a great vacation. I hope yours was, too.