Prairie Lily Arts

Friday Favorites

Remember when Fridays were comfy nights of ease hanging out with your friends?  Saturdays seemed to be reserved for date night... sometimes exhilarating, sometimes heart-breaking, sometimes quietly disappointing.  But no matter what was planned on Saturday, Friday nights were that sweet time when you could be you.

We all have those favorite places, things, and people who set us entirely at ease.  We've been around the block with them a host of times.  Their familiarity feels like a warm hug.

Here are a handful of my Friday favorites:

 

Blossom

If you were to create a picture of where and who you are at this moment

and another of where and who you want to be...

what would you capture? 

Can you see each image in your mind? 

Now, in one word, define the difference. 

What one word can bridge the divide between now and then? 

A "then" of goals realized... dreams captured?

What is your word?

My word?

Blossom

 

Looking into His Eyes ~ What If (Part II)

Yesterday I shared the words... the dreams... of my little boys.  I shared a glimpse of the world through their eyes... a lens of hope... imagination... trust... faith.  And I asked, what if.  What if we viewed the world with childlike eyes?

I have to admit that I've taught my boys to look away sometimes... to keep walking... to disconnect.  It is my job to protect those innocent eyes... those tender hearts, unmarred and vulnerable.  So when we see hardship, pain, shattered life... I distract them... that they won't see.

One holds my left hand and one holds my right, swinging their arms, and we squeeze out of the beautiful theater.  The street is a gridlock of taxis and convertibles.  The sidewalk is a jumbled mass of theater goers and fine restaurant patrons.  Horns beeping.  Valet whistles blowing.  The masses veer to the right, away from the curb.  We follow like a trail of ants, marching in step. 

I see the back of a wheelchair at the edge of the sidewalk.  Why is it so close to the street?  A car pulls up beside it.  A young man tosses a handful of change.  It falls short of the safety of the sidewalk, scattering on the pavement among car tires.  "Sorry about that, man."

What If....

What if?

Quick.

Can you list five? Impulsively.

What if you could change your day, your year, your life?

What if....

Or are you finished dreaming, growing, refining?

 
Have you stopped viewing life through a lens of possibility and hope?

We are careful not to tread on the dreams of a child. 

The story of a child has just begun...

The After Party...

Last week I discovered some amazing blogs thanks to the sweet gals at 5MinutesForMom. 

More importantly, I made some new friends...

girls who have already reached out on a busy day

to wish a good morning...

to ask what we were up to...

to swap gardening ideas...

to share glimpses of our lives..

and to say good night at the close of the day. 

Music... A Story of the Heart

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(Scroll down to lower right and pause the Playlist to hear the video.)

This story began eight years ago.  My little man was three, dressed in new white shoes, his nearly white blonde hair combed soft and smooth.  I snapped a picture of a nervous smile.

We waited outside for the doors to open.  "Is it time yet?!"  His excitement was building.  Soon.  A sunny, smiling face opens the door, and his eager feet now seize, frozen in uncertainty.  I use my best mama words to assure.  He moves slowly.  The little voice, which moments before begged for the time to arrive, now pleads to retreat.  Hand-in-hand we move across the room.  I draw him into my lap.  Nervous fingers move about inside of mine.   The circle rounds out with other mothers, laps filled with little people.  The warm face that greeted us joins at the top of the loop.  She looks into the eyes of my little man with a greeting smile.  He sinks further into my arms.

Ultimate Blog Party 2010

 
Welcome to the first party on the prairie!

Stroll a bit?

I'm Susan.  Prairie girl.  Old-fashioned.

My treasures are in the shape of two

tender-hearted, vivacious,

red-cape-wearin', little men.

When Failure Is the Goal

 
  
Have you made it your goal to fail recently?  I have.  I can enthusiastically say it's one of the best changes in perspective I've made in a long time.

You can't read much about fitness without encountering the suggestion of exercising to failure.  I was reminded of this concept recently by a  New York fitness trainer I follow on Twitter.  For some reason something clicked when I heard it this time.  I decided to take George's advice.  At the end of my workout, I selected one tough exercise to perform to failure... put everything I had into it... until I failed. 

Easter Shoes

Smooth, uncreased, gleaming white Easter shoes.  New as the spring about them.  Unmarred, unblemished, unworn.

Memories draw my heart back to that first pair of new white shoes.  So tiny.  Within moments of being tied, those pristine keepsakes bore the scars of rough concrete.  Outgrown in the blink of an eye.  Yet they still convey such life, growth, adventure.  First steps.