Swinging.
laura

laura

At the park

Here. There.
Back and forth.
Ebbing, flowing.
In harmony then out of sync.
Laughter.
Closer...farther.
Giggles ring out and taper off,
Rise and fall.
Increase...diminish,
Crescendo again.
Happy glissandos running the scales up and down.

Squeals of delight.
Summertime.
Swinging.

E is 1 year old!

Sorry, the title is a tease.
The pics are coming soon. -- But, today is a crazy day, so it will have to happen later tonight.
Besides, technically, she isn't one year old yet, so I should get a grace period to get the pictures posted.

So, posting sometime tonight after dinner, bedtime, laundry, and starting to pack for our weekend in NMex.

Born into Brothels

Wow.

We're using this tomorrow for Sunday school. Talking about situations that are really hard, seemingly impossible in the world. And what Jesus might be calling us to do about them.

Friday Poetry 17th

Cathedral


Ancient, by immigrant standards of the Southwest.
A place of the faithful.
An example of tenacity,
God's presence.
Vibrant colors.
Solemn chants
Call to reflection, meditation and praise.

They come.
For entertainment:
Something different, something historical.
Wandering about in the lazy-footed gait
Of tired tourists.
Some are quiet, respectful, meditative.
Some bored.
None are thrown to the ground
With the urgency and necessity
of the Spirit-Life God offers.
None are weeping with joy or contrition.
None are abundant.

I listen for God.
I observe all of us.
I wander on.



---Santa Fe

The signing continues...

Pretty soon I'll transfer all this to Eli's baby book, and quit boring those who read this blog.
.... Come to think of it, that's only Aimee and maybe Chris. And, Aimee, you are contractually obligated to act interested. So, maybe I'll just continue updating with the latest signs.

So, this weekend's entries were:
Dada (Yes, this was after MUCH prompting by Chris.)
Ball (I think she'd made the sign before, but it was clear on Friday, when my Mom said "Ball" in conversation and Eli started smacking her hands together.)
Tressa (This morning Eliora was nursing in the living room, and we heard Tressa waking up in her room. Eli sat up and said "Teh-tah" and made the sign for Tressa.)

Aw, cute.
Is there an emoticon for *too-much-saccharine-sweetness-must-barf-now*?

Friday Poetry 16th -- *Gasp* its actually Friday!

Seashell

There's a seashell imprinted
on my arm.
Delicate spirals
Left there
By my sleeping baby.
Her ear leaving a
multi-dimensional transient tattoo.

I can think of no better use
for that particular patch
of skin with the freckle.

More Eliora Signs

Here are other signs that Eliora has in her "vocabulary."
Ball
Hi/Bye (waves count!)
Water

She also has a happy shriek that will curl your hair.
And an angry yell that will make the banshees run.

Eliora Signs!

Eliora has been signing for a little while.
She can sign:
All done
Cat
Dog
Grapes
More
Eat
Bubbles (sort of)
Music (sort of)

But tonight, this prodigy child that lives in my house communicated a phrase.
I was feeding her grapes, and her tray was empty. She signed (I kid you not)...

"All done.
More.
Grapes."

Genius.

Poetry

I'm tempted to change Friday poetry to "weekly poetry" -- because, clearly, I'm taking liberty with the meaning of "Friday".

But, I'm trying to be disciplined about it, so bear with me.
I think if I didn't at least shoot for each Friday, it would never get done.
Self-imposed guilt can be a useful tool.

Friday Poetry 15th

Santa Fe, Summer 2005

The street performer/artist matched her palette:
Brown hair
Green shirt
Mauve pants
Bare feet.

Bark
Fresh leaves
Dried roses
Yellow blossoms.

I've seen mandalas, prayer wheels.
Never understood how they could
Be transformative.
They look tedious. Penitential.
But I watched.

She created, slowly and laboriously.
Stepped back to examine from all sides.
Made tiny adjustments:
Barely perceptible flaws corrected,
Beauty enhanced.

Contemplation. Focus. Meditation.

I -- So driven to permanence, memory, lasting-ness --
wanted to scream:
"Don't you see? This won't last.
You're arranging flower petals on a walkway!
Its not enclosed or hermetically sealed.
Anyone can walk through.
A breeze can blow.
A storm IS coming, you know!!"
The wind picked up, as if on cue.

A gust blew through.
She laughed and danced a jig.

Then, I got it.

Another gust, she made adjustments,
As carefully as ever.
Sorted things out, reworked
A new piece with elements of the first.

It's Life.

It's not perfect.
Not sealed.
It won't last unmarred.
Perfection isn't available, and people
Will walk through.

But, beauty is possible.
The process is worthwhile.
Creation and recreation, with
Attention to the details.
Joy, when our 'masterpiece' gets muddled.
In each creation, Emmanuel.
God in each moment.

Contemplation. Focus. Meditation.

Rough night...

Somebody please tattoo
Children are a blessing from God
on my forehead today

'cause that's the only way I'm going to be feeling it.


Thanks.

Tressa’s bedtime prayer one night earlier this week:

Jesus, thank you for today
Thank you that I can pray good.
Thank you that the wolves* won’t come in and get me.

Mama, what color is inside the wolves’ mouths?
Pink, like Kodiak’s.

In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.

(*often pronounced "wolf-es")

The Three Little Pigs and Little Red Riding Hood are taking their toll.