Prairie Lily Arts

Opening Gifts in the Wilderness

Wandering through the wilderness.  In these last few days I’ve grasped more fully the enormity of God in the wilderness… of this earth and of our journey on it.

My prairie heart embraces open expanses, wild flowers and grasses waving rib-high, creek melodies beneath the green canopy of summer wood. This tall grass wandering… it’s what I know. It is where heart lyrics give rise.  It feeds the soul as I tune to God’s whisper on the breeze.  The cares of the world sweep freely to horizon blue.  The monarch dances before me, and I smile full.

Of desert wilderness I have known nothing… except perhaps that wilderness of the heart when life has pierced our tender enclaves.

Now I leave a bit of heart in the desert wilderness… where God unveiled before me majesty, beauty and power I’d not imagined.

First glimpses evoked awe.  My boys and I had promised our family this was the year for us to discover the desert, western mountains, the Grand Canyon.  In the busyness that is life, our plans changed... schedules had to shift… dreams stayed ahead of us unopened.

And the message buzzed my phone. “He’s gone.”  The future became the unrealized past without ever pausing to be the present.

As I tapped out the words of a life’s memorial, I struggled to grasp letters and sentences to capture the essence of one who lived boldly.  I understood with greater enormity that life’s moments are gifts we offer, we open, or we lose.

In some small way, seizing this moment… this time… was a gift of honor I could offer.  It was a lesson I could live out for my own sons.   And so our eyes fell upon mountain ranges, and these boots stepped out upon desert sand.  Awe became our lens.

For a little boy, even water plenty was not enough to entirely quench the thirst of the desert.  Poured passed tender lips, trickled down rosy skin... still, there was an intensity about this wilderness climb that bore down.  Yet the dry breeze was cool refreshment.  Breathtaking vistas removed all thought of rigor.

We climbed.  We marveled.  We rested.  We discovered.  We shared.  We breathed that life moment.

As we journeyed, we were reminded of Moses and his people in the desert wandering… not for hours or days, but decades.  Not with water bottles and packaged snacks but wholly the provision of God.  And we had a path.  We wouldn’t be lost.  Until we were.  And in a place of such extremes our own known ways were no longer sufficient.

I am glad that along the way we paused to soak in this desert place and all we were learning together.   We spoke again of Moses… about persevering… about being open to something new no matter how great the challenge… about God’s provision and direction.  Living boldly.

The next day we said goodbye as a family to a man who sought to live life fully.  And when the morning came again we gathered to worship.  And the sermon?  Moses and his people in the wilderness.  God knows my own willfulness, and so He is patient to speak lessons until I hear.

“Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go.”  Joshua 1: 7 (NIV).

“The Lord said to Joshua, 'Do not be afraid of them; I have given them into your hand. Not one of them will be able to withstand you.” Joshua 10:8 (NIV).

Joshua believed in God’s providence so boldly and fearlessly while wandering the desert that he asked God to stop the sun.  And He did.  He stopped the sun that through Joshua’s victory His power and provision would be known.  He stopped the sun because Joshua was bold and confident in his prayer.

So I’ve tasted of the desert wilderness… and majesty.  And this cloud of beloved witnesses that has gone before me showers a heritage of bold faith.   What place have I for timidity?  What place have you as opportunities come and go?  Are you opening His gifts in the wilderness? 

Simply,

Suz

When the Embrace is Home

 

Home...

That space where we love...

Is where hugs come first, and hello comes second.

Hugs wrap round... spanning relationships and life moments.

In that circle of flesh and soul...

We celebrate. We console.

We say 'hello' and 'see you again soon'.

We teach. We learn.

We remember, and we forget.

We wake. We rest.

We melt. We resolve.

We whisper, 'I know'. We open, 'Help me understand'.

We protect, and we free to bloom.

We dance. We still.

We inhale... and exhale... breathing breath shared.

 

We close the space between

And we claim home

On the sidewalk,

In the rain,

In a field fragrant for harvest near,

And conference rooms wrapped in glass sea views,

In kitchens warm with vanilla baking,

On mountain's peak and valley's cradle,

In the quiet evening still and in the crescendo of noon.

We embrace.

Yes, home is in that place.

We pour... we drink love.

We circle round life. And life circles round.

This place narrowing between... this is home.

Simply,

Suz

Where Hearts Are Planted

Home.  It's time.  Early morning light streams golden warm across boot leather smooth... and my heart calls home.  Through generations lived out, home catches tears of joy... tears of sorrow... they wash the view clear. They spill together upon this solid ground of family... and nourish life.

Home is where necks are hugged first and words are spoken second. It's where mom's bread rose full and tender in oven's glow. It's where the milkman delivered clear bottles of purest farm cream to the door, and corn stretched tall all around.  It's where Grandma's potatoes sizzled in morning's skillet, and crisp emerald cucumbers soaked up summer flavor in crocks heavy.  Mom's stitches gathered Sunday dress ruffles. Daddy would hoist me to his lap on the tractor. A white plank tree swing grew worn in the middle, arching high above tiger lily blooms nodding orange in slightest breeze. The bed of Daddy's '52 Chevy was the ladder for two little girls stretching on tip-toes to reach peaches plump with promise.  Cattle called low across rolling pasture, and the sweet smell of spring hay filled my lungs with life breath.

Spring Unspoken

 
The spoken word,

But introduction.

 

The meeting of eyes,

A setting of the scene.

 

But it is with the human touch

That the story of life is told.

 

And the most tender of hearts

Breathtakingly,

Exquisitely,

Completely

Unfolds.

Suz

New Growth

 
Grass brown yields spongy

Beneath gentle footfall.

Toes brush against,

Sweeping back and forth...

Unveiling it...

New life.

Tiny green leaves tender

Spring forth.

A Clean Slate

 Photo courtesy of Luetta Barton, Birch Meadow Farm, Lancaster, MO

"Like diamonds scattered across the countryside..." Pa said.  The tree farm rested beneath a blanket of white... fresh, pure, kissed with glistening crystals against a brilliant sapphire sky.  A sparkling winter morning. Like a cooling summer rain or the tender green strands of spring, each season brings something refreshingly new.  A clean slate.

Since I was a little girl skipping around my mom's classroom, I've loved the allure of a freshly-cleaned chalkboard.  Even more so, I loved the crisp contrast of the first white strokes etched upon a clean canvas.

We see it in the New Year.  A fresh start.  New beginnings.  Unmined. Untapped. Waiting for discovery.  I am setting goals.  Looking ahead.  Prioritizing. Strategizing.  Ready to make it happen.

Truly that new beginning was beneath the tree, beneath the star, within the stable.  The Gift of Christmas brings us renewal, hope, potential... eternity.  Love unconditional.  That changes everything.

Of Things Great and Small

 
When you feel most small,

Consider the possibility...

With each word, each touch, each act

Remains the stroke of your brush

Upon the artwork that is life...

A canvas which stretches beyond yourself,

Safe Harbor

 

What is your instinctive reaction to this fellow?   Jaws outstretched?  A few yards away?

Well, in this shot he's bored with me... yawning, actually.  I thought he was beautiful and delightful in his easy lingering as I played paparazzi.  Yet, I remained cautious... uncertain of our respect for one another.

So it is sometimes in our relationships with others.  We have misperceptions.  What we instinctively respond to as a threat, is sometimes no threat at all.  We misjudge.  Conversely, sometimes we misplace our trust, falling in harm's way.  Still other times we become wary of others and wary of ourselves and avoid a connection at all.  Yet, a part of each of us reminds us of our deep need for safe harbor.

Just a Little Girl

 
Tonight I pulled out a simple, white cotton handkerchief worn soft.  It was my dad's.  More than twenty years ago when I was part woman and part girl, wandering my way through my first broken heart, he handed it to me to dry my tears.  I sat tucked up under his arm in his big, black pick-up truck like a little girl.  When he pulled away that night, I kept his handkerchief clasped in the palm of my hand.

Since then, I've experienced so much on this crazy ride of life.  And on days like today, when I've learned life's lessons the hard way, I've opened my dresser drawer more than a time or two and held this handkerchief.  Recently someone described me as a little girl.  I've thought about that a lot tonight.  I suppose I am.

Testing the Waters

It's nearly October.  While the sun washed over my face and shoulders with the warmth of its summer kiss, I knew the water had cooled.  The cautious thought of dipping my toes and easing in slowly crossed my mind... briefly.  When my feet reached the water's edge, I plunged into the glistening, glassy blue reflection.   That's just me. 

 
A few passes of the pool and I found myself stopping short.  Since when? 

Never Forget

 
Hypocrite.  It's an ugly label... one I've had to wear lately.

One of the lessons so many of us took away from the terror that was 9/11 and the sacrifice which has followed is to make every day count... every moment.  I vowed not to take time for granted as I pressed my cheek to the sun-bleached silken strands of my toddler son.  Nearly a decade has passed and I've done exactly that.  I've let precious moments slip quietly away... stolen by busyness.  I've given away moments to worry, fear and frustration.  I've let words spew forth in anger... and I've left their mess behind at the close of the day like broken, jagged, scattered glass continuing to inflict pain.  I've allowed my feelings to be hurt too easily... walls to go up too quickly.  So much wasted. Precious time I can never get back.  I can't turn back the clock.

What I can do is ask for grace...

Sending You My Heart

 
The gravel lane meandering to our country mailbox seemed like such an adventurous trail.  Funny how Mom's stride was never quite long enough to catch my bare little bronzed feet padding down the lane.  Two dark braids streamed behind me on the breeze of little-girl laughter.  Fingers creased with dried clay from mud pie creations clasped tightly to family letters.

No Matter What

 
Sleepy eyes closed.  Small fingers drew his favorite blanket up to his chin.  I can't even remember what it was now... but I had forgotten to do something for him.  I've heard the words spoken often... because I am so very human.  Beautifully they are offered without a need for me to even apologize first.  "It's ok, Mama.  I forgive you."  In the dim light this time came added whispered little boy words I will never forget, "I will always forgive you."

Focused on the Blur

Bokeh, the art of the blur.  Looking through the lens, I am drawn to it.  I pursue it.  I play with it.  Am I preoccupied with it?  Am I so distracted with the blur of the background that I lose focus on what is important? 

In life?

Sometimes the peripheral can become distracting.  The swirl of busyness invites the eye away from our intentions... 

Depth of Impression

It was love at first sight.  Art.  France.  Giverny.  Gardens.  Lilies. Water.  We were made for each other.  From the first glimpse my little-girl eyes drank in, I have loved Monet.   Soft.  Natural.  Romantic.  His paintings breathe music into my heart.

Last year my son was proud to present to me his rendition of the Japanese footbridge over the water-lily pond of Giverny, keenly aware of my fondness.  Andrew loves art.  Period.  Much like he appreciates music, travel, food, architecture... and people... Andrew finds something to appreciate about each example he encounters.  As we planned a trip to Maine, we discovered that this lovely footbridge in Somesville, which reminded me of Monet's beloved garden, was on our daily path from the summerhouse to Bar Harbor. 

Without Fear ~ Part II

 

See Part I here.

"What's your hurry?" he asks.  I scan the row of doorways searching for Sam's mom.  She watches, motionless, cradling the baby and wrapping her arm around Sam like a fragile chick beneath her wing.  I was on my own.  I look up at him, questioning.  He smiles... but not with his eyes.  I tell him my mom is sick, and I need to go home to call her for test results.  He relaxes his arm, lowering the bottle... but keeps my keys. 

Without Fear ~ Part I

The furniture was crowded awkwardly along an exterior wall.  Even the baby's crib was drawn away from the long, open interior wall.  Scarcely an hour had passed before I heard gunfire.  Conversation continued without notice.  But knowing mama-eyes caught mine... naive and sheltered.  I had never known true want.  She saw it.  This mama of a gangly school-girl and a chubby-cheeked baby boy saw my trembling heart.  I was scarcely more than a child, myself. 

"Just don't stand by that wall," she nodded toward the empty space.  They were accustomed to the sharp ricochet of bullets exploding in this long row of apartment homes.  The brick exterior walls were like barricades.  The thin interior sheetrock was mere paper.  Here, where even the police were daunted, I'd better learn fast.

Spring and Summer Meet: A Watercolor Garden

 

As sunset grows near

I draw to the garden.

Fresh water flows sweetly cool,

Bubbling along boulders worn smooth.

Their companionship has softened edges harsh

And honed contrasts of character unique.

When Words Are No Longer Required

Sometimes the discussion swirling around you seems to have a recurring theme.  I've learned to take notice.   There is often a reason... or at least an opportunity to learn.  In the last week several of my friends have raised conversations about the merits of finding, valuing and holding onto forever love... the gift of marriage... the joy of family.  I suppose since I've lived life on both sides of the fence they are wondering about my perspective. 

The Science of Introduction

There are times in our lives that are more staid and settled... and times when everything is new and changing... including (perhaps especially) the people we know.  Whether in person or online, I am meeting new people daily.. sometimes hourly!  Each introduction is as unique as the person sharing it with me.  Sometimes I just take a quiet moment to reflect on these new voices in my life.  I wonder about their lives, how they crossed my path, and how much of our journeys we will come to share together.  There is a science of introduction.  Realizing this science changes the way I look at each new person I meet.

Clear Skies

I love the mountains.  So I was naturally a little disappointed yesterday as I approached Chattanooga to find the mountains blanketed in storm clouds. With rain sheeting down the windshield, splashed back and forth by the rapid swish of wipers, I saw something amazing.  Powerful, gushing waterfalls erupted... roaring from the sides of the mountains all around us.  They were beautiful.  Twin strikes of lightning flashed simultaneously on either side of the road, and suddenly this girl, who loves a summer storm, wasn't so disappointed in the view.  What had seemed limiting now became a gift.  I was awed.

 

A New To-Do List

My to-do list is out of control.  Was out of control.  I have an entirely new list tonight. 

Big life changes have meant a mile-long list of business and busyness.  Until I stopped.  I realized today that in the blink of an eye, that never-ending list was beginning to rob me of more than I can ever achieve from it. Spontaneity. Joy. The moments of , "Oh, come see this, boys!" We moms rely on running lists, and generally once we note a task, it gets accomplished. While it is true that the list as big as Santa's must still be accomplished, it need not consume my life and taint the treasured moments I have with those I love.

So tonight, that list is tucked quietly aside while I make a new list.  A not-to-be-forgotten list.  Things I've always done and don't want to forget.  Things I need to do more often.  Things I need to begin again.  Things I've never done before.  The important stuff. 

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

 

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. 

Spring Romance

Hello, Spring.

I missed you.

So much has happened while you've been gone.

But it doesn't seem to matter now.

Welcome to Prairie Lily Arts!

Welcome to a worn, familiar path in the prairie where you and I are able to be real about life.  Exploring any given corner of Prairie Lily Arts, you are apt to discover my invitation to stroll through tall grass.  We are naturally inclined to share more fully the deliberations, uncertainties, and aspirations of our hearts and minds when we are walking together.  Certainly if a friend suggests in the midst of conversation, "Let's go for a walk...", my eyes will turn to theirs.  The expression I find will be like a window rising, a door opening,  as this treasured one before me reveals, "I need to share something important with you...".