Let's Keep Singing

My deepest desire is to sing in harmony with all that is within me and around me. I want the notes that are my life to create a harmonious vibration with yours. This desire is sometimes hard to live with; sometimes I lose my voice, sometimes I get off the beat and lose my place; sometimes I lose your voice; sometimes all I can hear is the cacophonous noise of my own doubting and fearing heart. In those dissonant moments I cringe, my chest gets tight and it is tempting to just stop singing, to stop trying to live in harmony. But if we can just hang in there a little bit longer, the dissonance resolves itself and we find ourselves singing harmony once again. And what a sweet song that is when we get there. Whether today is a dissonant day or a harmonious day, let’s keep singing. I can’t carry this tune without you.

in gratitude for your voice,

 jules

long distance love

for years my heart tingled each time I met her
that old friend of mine, the sea,
for it was then I thought you might be watching
the same moon rise
your toes wiggling in the sand
and feeling me reach you
on your distant shore
in the waves

now that we are both inland
will the wind suffice
to whisper my heart
in your ear
and remind you
I love you still?

leaves on grass

leaves on grass
willows on the river bank
rain falling on flowers
touching each other
peacefully, gently
the wisdom of nature

 

11/4/12~jules

there is no future, without love

there is no future, without love

stopped in my tracks
distracted by thoughts
pondering politics and hurricanes
damns on rivers and whales
health care and welfare
growth and progress
oil being squeezed out of rock
working four jobs to get enough
always wondering how much is enough
enough time, enough money,


watching the leaves blow down the street
looking up at the naked trees
feeling the coming winter in my bones
long shadows crossing my path
pulling the scarf around me
wrapping myself inward
pausing in my 'busy' life
to wonder about being enough and
to  repeat a prayer i heard today
"there is no future without love"


(jules, 11/1/12)

About Prayer

Oh dear! I was all set to write some boring blog about how prayer has meant so much to me in my life, and how I got there but then I ran smack dab into this Mary Oliver poem that says it all in 12 syllables. I don't think I can say it better so here it is:

"Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it."
     ~Mary Oliver


Prayer, as described here, is one of the secrets of a peaceful, joyful life. Thanks Mary!

have joyful day!

love, jules

The Gift of the Lonely Day

I wrote my last post a couple weeks ago on a day when all of the loneliness came crashing in around me; all the grief and sadness, all the loss. I just took a bath in my tears that day. It was definitely a superb pity-party and all just for me; kinda self-centered of me. But something wonderful came from that day.

In the middle of the day, I was eating lunch in my car alone from a hill overlooking the city. Even though it was midday, I was already exhausted from the tears. As I looked on the city I have lived in and loved for three decades I was thinking about all the wonderful people I know who live here; all the beautiful people. My my mind wandered through the list and then stopped for a moment on one particular friend; a friend I had been disconnected from for years. I had tried several times in different ways to get her to meet with me; always leaving it in her court, "let me know when you want to get together." Each time, nothing happened. Each time, I got more discouraged. But I couldn't shake the longing to be reconnected.

Then suddenly I had a new thought. Here I am lonely, sad and sobbing away and I've got nothing to lose, at least not at this moment! I mean if I try one more time and she says, "no!" will I feel worse? So I grabbed my cell phone and sent her a text. "you want to get together for lunch some time?" And she said YES. so two days later, I found myself having lunch with my old friend. It was amazing. The years have changed us both. the losses have changed us both but there was beauty and joy in the connection.  I was suddenly so grateful for that moment of despair a few days earlier and for the whisper of wisdom to try one more time with no expectation of succeeding. And I was grateful for "texting" on my cell phone that it possible for me to invite her in the simplest of fashions.

Conclusion: though it is hard to see the benefit when swimming in your own lake of darkness, there often is grace and gift in giving in to our vulnerability, to our weakness.

Blessing: may you, my dear friends, return from your dark days with "fists full of jewels." (from Barbara McAfee's song) May your tears be the rain that quenches your thirsty soul, may your grief turn to joy and grace.

Blessings on you all,

jules

Some Days are just Lonely Days

Loneliness seeps into the cracks of my doubt on those days when the space between loving grace and generous giving are too wide. I fight loneliness with all my being. It is my weakness, my arthritis, my Achilles's tendon. On days when a cold indifferent shoulder is the nearest thing to human contact that I can find and I have not yet moved on to the next action of returned gratitude, that's when loneliness sneaks into my view eclipsing the sunshine of friendship and creativity that is ever shining around me.

I get lonely so easily; more easily in my fifties than ever before. The fact of people leaving is too real. I do my best to keep the goodbyes and hellos in balance but i'm not in control. Every goodbye, every hello is a relationship that takes at least two people to make happen. People leave for all kinds of reasons of their own; most of them not intended to hurt those left behind; death, cancer, dementia, new jobs, kids going off to their own lives, personal growth, life changes, accidents, disease, faith, school. My brain knows it is unreasonable to ask for an explanation from each person that leaves OR to be able to stay in relationship with everyone who has ever come my way. And yet, my heart seems to notice the separations on those days when I fall in the gap between love and grace. It's no one's fault. Life is goodbye, life is hello, life is goodbye again.

These lonely days start innocently with something like wanting to honor the anniversary of the death of my wonderful son Hans who died at age eleven of brain cancer (12 years ago now) and then suddenly the loneliness has spiraled out of control making me feel as if I will always be left behind. I hate it when that brief reminder of grief,  in a sudden grandiose movement. captures in all the goodbyes I've ever experienced. That's just way too much and for a day it rips open all my reserves, flooding my Kleenex box with tears. Even in the middle of it I wonder if there is any sanity in grief, in loneliness.What am I to do? life will keep being goodbye and hello and the older i get, the more I will get to say goodbye. Sigh! What is a vulnerable heart to do?

Yesterday was such a day, a day to feel how alone it is to be human. I cried until I was exhausted. At the end of my day I was spent and giving up, hoping a night of sleep would bring me to new clear day. Just as I was on my last cry of the day two things happened. the first was that the phone rang; my sister called and recognizing my sorrow helped me to laugh again. The second was a whisper in my heart; a voice whispering "you are my beloved." Aaaaah! Balm for my tired heart!

And then one more sweet thing happened. A friend sent a message to remind me that we had plans today! So today I wake with a little grief hangover and a heaping dose of love filling my heart. I am living in grace once again.

Dear reader,  If today is your day of feeling as if all is lost, that you are alone in your journey, I pray that when your grief is spent, you too will hear that precious voice whispering in your heart " you are my beloved." . I pray too that your phone will ring and call you back to your graceful life. I pray this with all my heart for I know you are as loved as me or as any of us. You are beloved!

sending hugs,

jules

EARTHQUAKES

There is a lot of shifting in my life right now; changes, new opportunities being presented, old habits fading away...my feet feel the tremors as I try to keep balance while the plates shift. It's like an occupational earthquake.

This came up in impromptu conversation yesterday as a few of my co-workers gathered in my office. There are eight employees at this little church I work at; six of us are being laid off and then two new positions will be created to replace those six. Pastor J. is the one who will be leaving us first so I was surprised when he said, "Earthquakes are good! They stop  the earth from blowing itself up." He followed that with similar comments about how tornadoes help move topsoil and floods help create it. What we think of as disaster, is just the earth shaking things out and setting things right. It just is disaster to us because we build homes in the way of these things. We can't help it. And neither can the earth. It is alive after all and living things are always changing, going through the stages, following urges. So tension builds and it must be released or the earth will blow up. Even a tree, as it grows must break its outer bark in order to make room for the growth.

So I've been thinking about that; how earthquakes release tension that keeps the earth from blowing up.Over a long period of time there's been tension at this little church. They've had several pastors in a row and hired several new employees a few years back. Too many new people and ideas inside and around; the tension built even more. It was to bound to happen; the shift. they finally realized they couldn't afford this big staff. It was simply time for the plates beneath our feet to shift.

Change is bound to come. It seems we can't truly live and stay in one place unchanging. Change makes us feel uncomfortable. It brings the unfamiliar, the unknown and we all, in varying degrees, panic over the unknown. The tension builds as we make efforts to stop the change or adjust to it. And then it happens, we've reached the critical moment when the plates shift and suddenly things change even quicker. Often, in these situations, the end result is much more satisfying than we anticipated. Part of that is the release of the tension.

so I'm thinking I should just lean into the wobbliness and go with the shifting. It's just part of healthy life to have moments when everything shifts and moves. I do however look forward to when the dust settles and I can see what all this change has created and we can sweep away the dust and breathe easier.

Can you come over and play?

She called me up and asked, “would come over and play with me?’” With no hesitation, I said “yes.” She was seventeen years younger than me; almost young enough to be my daughter. It was the start of many wonderful adventures. What a treat! We would make labyrinths in the snow and on sidewalks with chalk. Sometimes we went dancing. Sometimes, we’d sit in some random public places and sing or practice making our own dances. We explored new places to eat. We explored new worship experiences; a unique pleasure that we shared. It was glorious. After years of playing the role of a responsible mother and wife, I was remembering how to play again. I’d been acting the responsible, “mature” woman too long. Eventually, my friend wandered off to other adventures but the seed had been planted.  I wanted my life to have more fun in it; more magic.

I already knew that gratitude was one of the ingredients of this magic I sought and now I understood that play was the other. I noticed my relationships with other friends changed. I began to let go of friendships that were no longer fun; where all I did was “work” on it. In that time period, I also gave myself more permission to play alone as well. I simply love taking pictures and then wallowing in the beauty afterward. So some days I just grab my camera and go. I find a place I’ve never been or a place I’ve been a hundred times and see what the camera can show me I’ve never seen.  This is pure delight! I love to sing and regularly schedule this fun activity into my week. I love kayaking and am as excited to go alone as to share this satisfying activity. I find I am more likely to invite friends for play and more likely to say yes when invited for the same.  If you were to ask me how I got my current circle of friends, some of whom are old and some new, I would reply, “Because they invite me to joy.”

I’ve noticed a lot of people my age struggle because the passion is gone, the joy has fizzled. They’ve been acting grown up too long and have become jaded through various jobs, losses, family crises. They/we have forgotten how to play. Some of us, at this time wander off to find lovers or new jobs. Some fall into deep depression or seek thrilling adventures, hoping to find something to ignite that joy. Some of us dig even deeper into our responsibilities; working long hours so there is no time to think about it. Some of us seek escape through watching television or using drugs and alcohol. How unfortunate that we leave our play behind and don’t think of it as worthy of our attention when we begin to enter adulthood. Some get lucky and have a grandchild who invites them back to the play. And some like me are lucky enough to have another adult come along and invite them.

One day, not long ago, I had another young woman over to my house for the day. I am now fifty-three and she is thirty-three. After a nice proper cup of tea and a bit of serious talk, I gave her an old shirt of mine and invited her to the basement. For the next hour, we finger painted on my basement wall together. The resulting artwork was actually quite stunning. Then we put on some drum music and danced freely, without boundaries. We ended with dinner. As she said goodbye, she said, “You’re the first person older than me to ever invite me to just play.” I hoped it offered her a larger view of what it is to be a woman. For me, the day brought me to an even deeper gratitude for this life I get to share with others.

Another invitation to play along the way came in the form of a book; although I didn’t realize it when I first received it.  A few years back a dear friend of mine gave me the book “The Gift: Renderings of Hafiz” translated by Daniel Ladinksy. Hafiz introduced me to a God who can’t wait to play with us. In several of his poems he meets the Holy One at the local tavern. I began carrying “The Gift” around in my purse. One friend in particular fell in love with Hafiz as well. It is now our tradition to read poetry as our appetizer every time we eat a meal together. We started with Hafiz and have added others as well.  Can you imagine how good the food tastes when we approach it with such pleasure? Yum!

Lately, I’ve discovered another area where I get to invite people to play…alternative and contemplative prayer practices. People just light up when they realize that being spiritual doesn’t have to mean being serious and depressed. I get so much joy out of inviting others to play in their prayer life. Prayer can be deep when we are allowing the joy of the relationship with the Friend (as Hafiz calls him) into it. We can dance, color, sing, write, act out the story or walk a labyrinth. Our whole life can be a playful prayer because our whole life is a relationship with the Friend.

In the beginning was the Creator. After creating colors, music, planets, stars and space, the creator said, “I’m lonely. I want someone to play with.” And then the Friend created animals and people. Every day since then the Creator whispers in our ears, “Would you come out to play with me?”

jules 5/20/12

That's Me

There is sun shining through your window illuminating bits of cosmic dust as they float aimlessly through the air. There I am, that’s me; a tiny piece of stardust floating through your window, only visible if the sun is shining at just the right angle but always there. And I am that hard soggy clay you’ve been walking on all spring, full of nutrients but kind of clumpy and uneven. 

Waves come splashing at your feet and if you get close enough, they nearly knock you down with their enthusiasm and rhythm. That’s me again. Sometimes I just get so excited, my presence is a bit overwhelming. Or like that puppy dog jumping up to kiss you, I might be a little too zealous in showing my affection for meeting people or going on adventures. 

And then too, there is that dark corner of your basement where the cobwebs build up and the junk stays piled for months and years. I’m there too; just stuck in the dark wondering if any of these old memories mean anything to anyone but me or even me.  I don’t mind if you come to visit me there but I understand it is hard to breathe in the dark corners.  And I’m that song that keeps humming in the background while you go through your day.  It’s a delightful and also annoying tune. 

I’m no more than a pebble on the beach. How is it possible to be so lonely when there are so many of us? And oops! I’m sorry you stubbed your toe on my rough edges. I didn’t mean to. Then suddenly you have a brilliant thought, the perfect solution to the problem, the best idea you’ve ever had. Yup that’s me again. I’m full of great ideas but it’s up to you to carry them out. Production is not really my thing.  There’s a beautiful maple in your back yard, the roots spread deep and wide, the branches too.  It’s a quiet place to sit and rest in the shade on a hot day or ponder the color of nature on a cool fall day. That’s me too. I’m open for business all year round. And then a dragonfly flits by, creating a little breeze on your cheek as it passes. That’s me too. I’m off to check out the garden down the street. I’ll see you later or I’ll see you there. You’re one of the flowers aren’t you?

~jules, 4/26/12

Is it enough to just enjoy the writing? to just enjoy the process of life?

When I was 4 years old, my family moved into an apartment on the top floor of a printing plant. No, I'm not kidding. The printing plant we lived in, Impremerie Lutheriene, was in the capital city on the island of Madagascar. My parents were missionaries. I used to ride my tricycle around the 3-color machines delighting the workers as I breezed past.. Evenings, when my brothers were home from boarding school, I'd sit on a stool in the larger darkroom and watch the magic of the camera come to life as the photo paper soaked in the developer and then the fixer. I've been in love with pictures and paper and words ever since. I think I've wanted to write a book since I was born and to publish one since I lived and breathed it in that place as a child. My dad, who was also a missionary pastor, was the editor-in-chief, meaning he was in charge of the whole place. How this farm boy turned pastor came to be an editor is a mystery, but there we were. He regularly explained the whole process from artwork to camera to darkroom to offset machines, printing, cutting and binding.  We even had a leather department. I adored watching the magic of a book being formed from beginning to end. It was so cool. It was my little piece of heaven, a place where imagination could become reality.

As a middle-aged mother of four, happily married to my college sweetheart, my house is crawling with books that I have read and re-read and books that are begging to be read for the first time. I think I'm about two years behind in my reading. And my couch is piled with papers, that have scribbles on them. I'm a pile-er, not a filer. I'm also a scribbler/doodler. As soon as I have a thought, I write it down so I don't forget. Whew! My husband and I live in a recently emptied nest. A month ago we even buried our seventeen and half year old dog. So suddenly I have all this attention to give whatever I want and just a sure as there are words on this digital page, my longing has gone back to that publishing house with the smell of fresh ink and cut paper.

Never mind all those books longing to be read; I suddenly want to write my own. My heart is full of books aching to be written and shared. My soul is full of life and wisdom and messy spirituality just itching to be shared, poetry and anecdote, essay and  photograph. It's exciting and scary. I'm petrified. I'm nervous about telling people. Already some of my friends think I've been twiddling my thumbs as a stay-at-home mom. Imagine what they will think when they find out I'm spending my days writing? What if I spend hundreds of hours and all my energy on publishing a book and no one even likes it? What if no one reads it? What if I write all these crazy blogs and no one reads them? Does it matter if I get readers? I don't know. I guess that's part of the point of putting the writing out there. I want to share it.

The world of writing is glutted with writers and books and publishers. I've come to believe that it is success is arbitrary. I've actually been writing for years. Even this blog has been around for several years. But how do you get readers? How do you get the word out there?

A few years ago, I bought a new little camera, a Canon SX 110. IS. It turned out to be a genius move. Through the lens of that camera I have been seeing echoes of those old photos my brothers took and developed. I've been finding the beauty and mystery in the present moment. And just as surely I've been finding delight in the words that fall on the page. I have the most fun just writing like this about random moments in time and space. But where does it all lead? I've got ideas but I haven't got a clue.

I've been blogging for several years now and still have only two followers. Does that mean I've wasted my time? Is it a waste of time if I've delighted in every inspiration written. Does it matter that only two people get the blog and maybe read it? Isn't it enough to just delight in the process?

Four months ago, I wandered into the idea of finally creating a book. I sat down and came up with  a design and voila! I made a book.. And just like that childhood so long ago, I fell in love with the paper and the photos and the words. I did it all. I took the pictures and chose carefully where to place each one on the page. I chose my words carefully. It was so much fun that I didn't mind the hours and weeks it took to make it just so. I wanted to share it with everyone so I thought I would self-publish. If only my dad could see me now. If only my dad could help me now. In spite of all the technology and ease of self-publishing, it is still rather difficult and expensive to self-publish. Finding a publisher or even a decent printer is like looking for a needle in haystack. And with e-books gaining popularity, who is going to want a book that is photographs, a book that i want you to touch and hold in your hands while you ponder it?

I've shown my book to quite a few friends now and though many have said, "nice" or "beautiful," I am as far from selling it as I am from that apartment in that publishing house of my childhood. Does it matter? Isn't it enough that I let myself delight in something enough to create it in joy? Does it matter that I may never sell it?

In this culture where success is so connected to your ability to produce and sell, to your ability to provide for your own welfare, it is hard to see the value in joy and peace, creativity and curiosity.. I find myself wishing that I didn't know about this culture, that I was still the ignorant and delightful four year old thinking the magic of the dark room was as good as it gets. I wish I could be okay with just having done something that I love so much. Oh how I long for that tricycle and that place of magic where books grew out of paper and ink and joy.

Do what you love, love what you do

"When you consider it, the world of your action and activity is a very precious world. What you do should be worthy of you, it should be worthy of your attention and dignity, and conform to your respect for yourself. If you can love what you do, then you will do it beautifully. You might not love your work at the beginning; yet the deeper side of your soul can help you bring the light of love to what you do. Then, regardless of what you do, you  will do it in a creative and transforming way." ~ John O'Donohue.

I think O'Donahue is on to something here. I love this line, " What you do should be worthy of you." If we just take that thought and expand it, it implies that we need to respect ourselves, that we are worthy as well of work that resonates with our hearts.

Of course the romanticism of this statement begins to evaporate in the shadow of our struggling economics, poor job security,etc. But maybe not. Maybe it doesn't matter how much money our work can garner as long as we can bring the light of love into all that we do.

May the light of your soul guide you.

May the light of your soul bless the work you do

with the secret love and warmth of your heart.

May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul.

May the sacredness of your work bring healing, light, and renewal

to those who work with you and to those who see and receive your work.

May your work never weary you.

May it release within you wellsprings of refreshment, inspiration, and excitement.

May you be present in what you do.

May you never become lost in the bland absences.

May the day never burden.

May dawn find you awake and alert, 

approaching your new day with dreams, possibilities and promises.

May you go in the night blessed, sheltered, and protected.

May your soul calm, console, and renew you.

~ John O'Donohue

TRUTH IS...

What is truth? How do you discern what is true? We often jump to conclusions, about one hundred times a day, based on our previous experience, our current perception and whether we had enough sleep last night or not. We take these hasty conclusions and project them on to everyone around as truth. It's almost laughable that we think we can live this way, from one hasty idea to the next. Truth is only really available in this moment and with our full presence. We need all our senses, taste, smell, hearing, sight, touch and intuition. We need to both fully present to our inner dialog and to what is going on with the people, animals, nature around us. The truth is always there, often right in front of our nose, if we can take a long enough break from jumping to conclusions to see it.

I've often wondered how it is when I finally let go of a particular agonizing thought, the world suddenly seems to conspire to prove me wrong and there in my lap is all I wanted and thought I would never get. Perhaps this is because when I let go of my negative thought, the conclusion I have based on my fear and previous experience; it is then that I become fully present and can see the truth that is now. The truth is...love is more abundant and more powerful than anything we can dream up.

Self-publishing is not for the impatient

It turns out that Blurb was NOT a good match for my book. So I am now looking for an alternate way of getting my book printed. I will let you know as soon as I have my book, Sunrise~Sunset., back on the market.

If you are interested in ordering a copy, you can let me know.

thanks for your support.

jules

A reason to be

"What's the point?! I'm nobody really! I'll never have enough money or be known enough to be a successful author or anything! I might as well give up my book!" These were my words shouted to my husband and the air as I left the house to go lead a contemplative song circle this afternoon. What a joke! I was in no mood to be contemplative or lead others in prayerful singing! I tried to calm myself as I drove to my destination. The irony of it all had a sting to it! No one showed up to sing! I couldn't help but add this to my list; I wasn't good enough for this either. It truly was a "feel sorry for myself" moment. Sigh!

I decided to play some chants on the CD player while I made sure no one would show. And as I listened to the words..."Oh, I open to you," and "Let go, God is All" my frustration faded. And then came the words, "Darkness, Silence, with no light to be seen, help me believe you are with me God.". Note by note, word by word, I re-membered why I wanted to lead the contemplative singing. I remembered why I love meditation and prayer and silence.

Being with the Holy One in close conversation gives me reason to be, to just be. God instantly wrapped arms of love around my worn heart and gently whispered into my tired mind..."you are loved! I will love you forever!" For a moment I got all excited about the next time I get to share this practice of meditation with others. Songs from everywhere came pouring out my mouth.

After forty minutes I decided I had waited long enough and found my center. I packed it all up and went home, grateful now that no one had come. It gave me time to be with the Beloved. It gave me a reason to be.

Once I got home, I went back to the struggle of whether to play the game or give up the fight to be successful at anything. I seemed to need to rant a little more about how unfair life is and then I heard the chorus again..."Let go, God is all!" I heard the whisper, "just be, it is enough." I wish I could tell you there are no doubts in me but I can't. I can tell you that the whisper of the Holy One makes me breathe much easier than the reason of the world's success.

 So, I'm going to sleep in those arms and take up my struggle another day.

Peace, jules

I AM

I was raised by conservative Norwegian American Lutherans who were both born before 1920. They were wonderful loving parents with a wide variety of interests, talents, and skills. Both were musical so they shared that and other passions with us. In contrast, it was against etiquette and proper Christian living in their eyes to express yourself in anyway that would hint of pride or self worth. Whew! 53 years later it is still sometimes a struggle to say out loud who I am and what the gifts are that i am so eager to share. One of those gifts is writing. Just last week I self-published my first book (see previous posts for links). Selling it is a completely different ball game. so today, in effort to begin breaking through that barrier I offer the following declarations...

I AM A WRITER…a poet, a publisher...I love words!

I AM A PHOTOGRAPHER,…sketch artist, graphic design...I love colors!

I AM A SPIRITUAL DIRECTOR...holy listener, loving friend...I love being with you in the search for truth!

I AM AN ORGANIZER…office worker, mom...I love order!

I AM A MISSIONARY KID...Malagasy, French, Norwegian, world traveler...I love meeting people from all over the world!

I AM A SINGER...choir, song circle, hospice choir, voice lessons, song leader...I love singing in harmony with others!

I AM A MOTHER...raised 4 boys, stayed home full time with them...I love to reach my arms out wide to any soul who needs a soft place to land; i am one!

I AM A FRIEND...tea, wine, retreats, backyards, dancing, walking, laughter, play...Ilove the joy of being together!

I AM A VOLUNTEER..The Dragonfly Project, Christos, Morning Star Singers, Habitat for Humanity,...I love helping others while expressing my passion and gratitude!

I AM A PRAYER...writing, labyrinth, meditation, movement, song, silence...I love being in the presence of the holy one!

I AM JUST A GIRL hoping to be who i am in a way that makes a difference without getting in the way of others finding their way.

I AM GRATEFUL.

I AM JULES.

A Winter Lament

I hate this part of the cycle,
This season of echoes,
Emptying out, being left behind,
Forgotten, aging but not old,
Not in shape, not fit for fun,
Just going through the motions,
Not dying and not living,
Isolated, longing to not be,
To not feel so worthless, so unimportant,
Naked, cold, pale, waiting,
Waiting for inspiration, for color,
For the  phone to ring or wisdom to call,
Not dead but not bearing fruit,
Longing for the robin to land on my outstretched arm,
Clinging to each ray of sun like child's blankie,
Thirsty for music to fall on my heart,
Hungry for the laughter of friendship,
I hate winter.

My book will be available to all soon! Stay tuned!

This photo was taken from high up the gorgeous Mount Shasta in Northern California 

on a cool October evening in 2011 while hiking with my dear sister.

I dedicate this picture to you Vangie! Love you so much! ~jules

CAN WE SEE EACH OTHER FOR WHO WE REALLY ARE?

I don't believe in discrimination of ANY KIND! I repeat...ANY KIND! (even the kind that I catch myself doing) If you believe in a judging discriminating God then leave it up to God to do that. And if you believe in an everlasting, loving and graceful God, you can use your energy/time to open your arms wide and welcome each stranger as a treasured guest. I'm not asking you to re-post. I'm asking you to look into someone's heart before you judge.

Why I LOoove Christmas!!

Tomorrow is January 7, 2012 and we will at last have Christmas with our kids. While most of you are saying, "I'm so glad it's over!," for us Christmas is tomorrow. And I can't wait. I love Christmas! And not because I will get everything I want but because it is a time when I've acquired deep joy in my family's identity and my own values. Here are Christmas memories I'd like to share with you.

Imagine, it is Christmas Eve.

Story #1: The setting is a small town in southern Minnesota.

Some arrive early to help set things up and then ALL go to candlelight worship at the small church to sing and cry as the story touches us once more and then it's time to party at my mother-in-law's house. Picture it with me......smiles on every face, laughter all around, some wearing jeans and t-shirts, some wearing pretty red, bare feet, stocking feet, shoes, young old, single, married, kids, no kids, and dogs every where....each person who walks through the door is greeted with hugs as they hand over the "dish" they've brought to add to the feast....we barely get through the door and someone is already striking up a conversation, "how are you? did you get the job? how is your foot?" ...the caring isn't a political or social put-on, this is real....they really want to know how you are....we usually sit at two tables because we can't fit on one...this means that before we gather in  the big circle for songs, readings and presents, we have to clean up and take one of the tables down...there are a few tense moments as we wait for some late-comers but all is quickly forgiven as we move forward...we didn't come here to create tension....we came for peace...finally in the big circle we sing and listen to the Christmas story one more time...then on with the White Elephant game...everyone wins because it is so much fun...the evening ends with people just talking and laughing and sharing more with each other....the game has done its job; giving us all a break from taking our gift-giving too seriously.  This is Christmas with the Bonde family, the family  I fortunately married into 30 years ago. And this is why I love Christmas!

Story #2: The setting is  Madagascar, the island off the east coast of Africa where I grew up. My parents have driven down to our boarding school about a week before to see our huge Christmas program and then drive us back home with them.

There is no candlelight service and no big shows or things to go to. We start the day by making a huge amount of lefse. I remember helping flip them on the grill as young as five years of age. When we became teens we got to learn how to mix them and roll them out....no fancy equipment, no recipe, just our hands and our hearts and a little creativity. We eat a good dinner at noon knowing that in the evening we will get to eat as many lefse as we can handle. This is part of the Chritmas treat. The afternoon is filled with wrapping presents and whispers behind closed doors as the children plan the evenings "program." The tree always seems full with packages under it, though we have no store to shop at. The tree is beautiful though no douglas firs or Minnesota pines are available on this tropical island. AT last everyone is ready.

We begin the evening with a little lefse. My dad prays for blessings on our evening. Then we kids put on little Christmas pageant dressed in bathrobes and whatever we've found around the house to be Mary & Joseph and baby Jesus. The shepherds look very much like the wise men. Mom and Dad are amused and touched and applaud our efforts. Then we sing Christmas carols. And then Dad reads the Christmas story from start to finish out the Gospel of Luke. Then its time for presents. The youngest person in the room which was usually me, got to hand them out. I was so proud to have this job. it gave me so much pleasure. And then when all is handed out, we open them one at a time so that everyone gets to enjoy every gift. THe gifts are mostly homemade stuff, something sewn or crocheted, or made out of wood and nails int he shop. They are gifts filled with the joy of giving. And that's what we take into our dreams on that night; the joy of giving. And that's why I love Christmas!

Story #3: Not Christmas Eve but a day or two later...The scene is our home in Northeast Minneapolis, circa 1996. We have four young boys ages two to ten. It's December 26 or 27th. We've already spent Christmas Eve at the Bonde household as in Story #1. And now it is time for our own celebration.

I start the day by making frosting while Pete and the boys are busy wrapping presents. I usually have mine already wrapped by this time. I pick 3 or 4 of the brightest and prettiest colors I can find for the frosting. Then I dig out all of my cake decorating equipment and get out the cake that has been baked the day before. When all is ready, I call the boys to come and decorate Jesus' Birthday cake. They get to decorate however they want to which usually ends up being this delightful pile of colors and sprinkles and old candles from all their birthdays. and then we light the candles and sing happy birthday to Jesus. No one really cares that much about eating the cakes.

Then we move on to playing games. We dig out some board game and play for awhile. Or we introduce the boys to a new game that they haven't heard of. As the boys grew, they made up their own games. and then we sing some Christmas carols. WE've been practicing them during Advent so the boys are familiar with them. The favorite is Hark the Herald ANgels Sing. Then we read a story about Christmas or giving. Since the older boys know how to read, one of them gets to read something too.

AT last it is time for presents and this is my favorite part. Fromt he beginning Pete & I decided that the person who bought the gift should give it. So we start with the youngest. He picks one of his gifts from under the tree and gives it to the person he wants to. AFter the gift is opened, that person picks a gift to give to someone else. and so we go one at a time until all are opened. The boys enjoy watching the gifts they've bought be opened and they enjoy opening their own. And often when they are all opened, we go back to playing games. And that's why I love Christmas!

TAKE HEART IN THE NIGHT

Rejoice, rejoice, take heart in the night,

Though dark the winter and cheerless,

The rising sun shall crown you with light,

Be strong and loving and fearles;

Love be our song and love our prayer,

And Love our endless story,

May God fill every day we share,

And bring us at last into glory.

~Marty Haugen

Dear friend, 

          I pray you feel the Light, the LOVE rising within you even in your darkest moment.

                                                                                    love, jules