sculptor

Discovered my inspiration this week. I’ve admired this piece for a few days now.

bowl
art-it’s what’s for dinner

Perhaps I love it because Sprout #3 made it on his lathe and gifted it to me. Plenty reason enough!

 

lathe
the wood chips are a-flyin’

 

Maybe I love it because it’s simply beautiful. Each of the bowls’ perfect imperfections combines to make it singularly unique. I’m mesmerized by the yin of the smooth wood and the yang of the rugged, rough-bark edge.

The Sprout explained each block of wood is called a blank. He mounts the blank, sets the lathe to spinning and patiently applies his trusty bowl gouge-and voila!….a bowl is born. Although the bowl has entered existence, it must undergo certain time-consuming steps to becoming its best bowl-self. It must dry and cure in wood shavings. The wood needs to cure, but not too rapidly, to prevent future cracking. After it has dried for some time (months), the woodworker must diligently sand, apply sealer, sand, apply sealer, sand and….well, you get it. This entire process reminds me of the Michelangelo quote:

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My life spins like that wood block on the lathe lately. Events happen and I don’t comprehend. Enough with applying the bowl gouge already, ok? It’s painful and I’m not privy to the intricacies of the process. I didn’t attend woodworking school. The wood chips are swirling. Some days I want to jump off that lathe and return to my previous carefree tree-self. Is this my drying out phase so I don’t split later, or is this the sanding and re-sanding part? I don’t know.

I do know these struggles are not unique to me. We ALL have ’em. For me right now it’s health issues but your struggle might be your broken relationship with your parents or children, your spouse’s alcoholism, your sexuality, a cancer diagnosis, your depression, your lonely empty nest, your dead-end job, your failing marriage, your barely making it from paycheck to paycheck, your PTSD, or the unexpected death of someone dear to you. It could be a crisis of faith.

I adore this bowl because it reminds me of the Master Sculptor. I’ve put my life in the hands of the Wise Woodworker. The Brilliant Bowl Maker. The Lord of the Lathe….enough alliteration…I can’t stop myself! However clumsily I phrase it, I trust the process of becoming and I’m assured my life is in loving hands. One day I’m going to be a gorgeous, one-of-a-kind bowl! Yessir! A bowl with rings closely spaced to indicate I stood proudly during the tough, drought-y years. A bowl with widely-spaced rings to testify I raised a glass to the wet and bountiful years. A bowl large enough to hold a lot of cool things.

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Today I’ve been looking up.

 

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photo-public-domain.com

 

Here’s a reminder on my desk. Do you ever feel like you need Cliffs Notes for daily life??

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You are becoming quite a handsome bowl, in my opinion. Yes….you’re looking more and more like ART to me. I like that.

The bowl with the rough edges? Yeah….it’s me. How’d you guess?!

Lumber-y love to all.

 

 

 

 

 

crying time

 

To everything there is a season…..Ecclesiastes 3

This has been a devastating and crushing week for the Texas Panhandle. The fires of Monday feel a lifetime ago. Today dawned appropriately gray and windy. Yesterday was a glorious, blue-sky, sound-the-trumpets kind of day and it felt like a mocking slap after the glum news of the week. How could the day of the first funeral of one of our beloved fire victims be so glorious after the relentless winds and scorching heat of Monday? Joke’s on us, I guess. This feels like a mourning day to me.

Had to put down the grandkid’s pony yesterday. Peanut had a condition affecting her feet and I watched her be dead-lame for over a week. As a conscientious caregiver of animals, it was my responsibility and my call to make. No one else could make the decision for me. On Wednesday night, I knew it was time. My bedrock Sprout #1 helped me with all the details. I love him for dealing with me through this. I know….I know, it’s not a huge deal in the scheme of things and especially in the context of the tremendous losses this week. It’s just a tiny drop of sadness in a river of grief. I realize that. I’m glad God made a mini paint horse named Peanut who delighted in all the littles. So, I’m taking today to let my tiny grief-drop flow to the ocean.

peanut2

 

Many of you know I’ve been dealing with a giant mound of health issues in the last few years. I don’t have cancer….and boy am I grateful!….but I’ve had repeated issues of one form or another. I’ve felt crazy, morally and physically weak, exhausted and confused. Just when it seemed I stomped out one health fire, another would flare-up and char my resolve. Oh…and I’ve visited doctors and specialists from all over the state of Texas. I’m grateful for physicians too, even though they can be infuriating. My medicine cabinet is stuffed and overflowing with the drugs and supplements supposedly helping me. Yesterday after visiting with my rheumatologist, I finally have a name for what ails me. Maybe I’m not crazy after all? I won’t say the name of it….you’ve probably never heard of it. It’s an auto-immune disease. My confused immune system is loaded with ballistic missiles and targeting healthy areas of my body for battle.  My favorite celebrity sports hero now is Venus Williams because she has this disease, as well. Looks like she’s doing pretty great lately, doesn’t it? Gives me hope. So today since it’s okay to mourn a little, I’m taking the time to grieve the loss of the person who didn’t have to take multitudinous pills. The redhead with endless energy whose joints didn’t ache. She was cool and I miss her today. I’ll empty my coffee cup of sadness into the river and let it unite with the Peanut-drop.

The Panhandle of Texas is a flighty and sometimes cruel mistress. We suffer under the illusion we’ve tamed her. The events of this week prove otherwise. All of us in agriculture/ranching realize those who perished could be our sons, daughters, fathers, mothers….you name it. We know the reality of caring for livestock, of diving in head first to help our neighbor and the price of replacing burnt fence. We choose to live here. We’re the insanely hardy offspring of the Dustbowlers! We’re certain better days are ahead. The rains will fall, the grass will sprout, the wind will settle and the content momma cows will have lots of babies. This attitude is embedded in our DNA.

sky

Today I’m allowing myself to shake my fist at the sky, to curse the wind and crumble to my knees and ask why so many animals and salt-of-the-earth people must suffer. Why children must grow up without a daddy, or why parents have to bury their children. It’s my designated sorrow-day, so I’ll take my biggest soup-pot of grief and tears for all of this ridiculous suffering and stir it a bit. When it feels right, I’m pouring it in with the Peanut-drop and the coffee cup of sadness and watching it bob and swirl away.

It’s okay. It’s our crying time and we’ve earned it. Don’t worry, we won’t camp there. We know better. I’m inviting God into our ashy brokenness.  He’s already here with us anyway. If I see you out and about today, don’t hide your watery eyes. Mine feel watery, too.

Strong Panhandle-love to all.

new glasses for Lent

Had an eye exam a few days ago. Got me contemplating having new specs. Mine sit askew on my face and they drive me crazy (I hear you….short drive! har). I poured through a popular eyeglass website to find the perfect pair. A pair that would project my superior intellect, but not hubris. One that could project my quirky sense of style, yet still earn me respect. A style screaming, “I’m with-it-and-not-old” without my seeming to try too hard.

Here’s my cures-what-ails-you, impossibly chic, older-person choices.

yellow-glassesmetal-glasses

Attended Ash Wednesday service last evening. The topic of Lent spurred my thinking, “What should I give up/add during Lent to properly prepare my heart for Easter?”

I need modern Lenten glasses. A new super-duper powerful x-ray pair that can laser into my heart and sift my motives. I donned a cool pair possessing the special power and nervously explored.

Do I need to cease consuming ice cream, carbs, doughnuts or chocolate? No…that doesn’t feel right for me. For others maybe that may be the large E on the eye chart, but luckily food is not an issue for me.

Do I need to give up TV, the interwebs or the cell phone in order to be more productive and commune with God? It might be the best thing for some, but the chart still appears fuzzy when it comes to going cold-turkey with the electronic devices. I could spend LESS time and life might be better, but it misses the mark for me as a giant issue.

Liquor…..what about liquor??! Nope, still out of focus….that’s not it either. Giving up one drink a week doesn’t seem like sacrificial service.

I peered deeply through my magic glasses. What is it? What character trait could I give up on my way to becoming? Becoming more me, more like Him?

The x-ray lenses shifted and I finally spied it! Two things I can give up, throw out, wad up with the stinky trash and say “sayonara suckers!” Two items I clutch like a grimy security blanket. Two things I pick up over and over again when I shouldn’t, even though my fingerprints are burned invisible from repeatedly picking up this bitter-hot casserole dish.

What do my special-wizard Lenten glasses reveal I’d be better without? Negativity and regret.

Negativity can be my first and most familiar reaction. I understand the ‘whys’ but I need to stop. It’s OK to not always contemplate the worst-case scenario. I think I’ll let someone else handle that for a while. Whew. Focus on the fun things like grandkids, golf, tennis and wiener dogs. The blessings of my friends and family.

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Oh…and Mr. Regret. What have you ever done for me? What is it good for? Absolutely nothin’. Huh…listen to me! Good God, y’all!! Oh wait….those are the lyrics to Edwin Starr’s rock ballad, ‘War’. Sorry, my bad.

Life’s a struggle. It’s wonderful and kooky and surprising….but a struggle. I know so many hurting right now. I hurt, too. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

I leave you with a song we practiced in choir last night. It sums up how I’m feeling today. I hope you like it. If you want to listen, check it out on YouTube.

Jesus draw me ever nearer as I labor thro’ the storm. You have called me to this passage and I’ll follow tho’ I’m worn

May this journey be a blessing, may I rise on wings of faith. And at the end of my heart’s testing, with your likeness let me wake

Jesus guide me thro’ the tempest, keep my spirit staid and sure. When the midnight meets the morning, let me love you even more

Let the treasures of the trial form within me as I go. And at the end of this long passage, let me leave them at your throne.

Hip-spectacle love to all.