Moments of Grace

[swimmermom3]

When I opened my eyes this morning, one of the first thoughts that floated through my mind was how the past year or so seems to me to be a "season of grief" for so many of those that our family holds dear to our hearts whether we know them from "real life" or from this board.

 

I find that I am less resilient these days to the seasons of grief and more inclined to want to sit down and just howl. I think that is in part age and the length of this particular season, but also that I have forgotten how to find and take advantage of those small "moments of grace." I have forgotten how to stand on the deck at night, stare up at the stars, feel a gentle breeze on my face, and just breath. During small moments of grace, I feel a sense of contentment, a "rightness." That brief respite allows me to recenter myself and to find the strength and courage to proceed.

 

Would you all mind sharing what "moments of grace" look like for you? Is there an artist's work that grounds you and brings you peace? Is there a recipe of Grandma's that you make and that you would be willing to share? Is there a piece of music or an album that you listen to that elevates the dinner preparation process? Is there a place in nature that you visit in person or in your mind that brings you solace? Do you have a picture that you would mind sharing? Books, poems, quotes?

 

My heart and warm wishes for peace go out to all of you that are experiencing losses.

[swimmermom3]

[swimmermom3]

Grace is given not because we have done good works,

but in order that we may be able to do them.

~St. Augustine

 

 

My take on this may not be exactly what St. Augustine meant, but I do believe that finding small moments of Grace allows us to give back more fully to those that we care about. They divert our focus from our own problems and to re-enter the world with a more open and generous heart.

[JudoMom]

For me, it's worship. I turn on my Pandora channel, put in earbuds, and sing along. Remembering how great and good and sovereign my God is refreshes my soul and gives me strength.

[Jean in Newcastle]

[elegantlion]

Moments of peace? Today, I am in tears and not sure where to find my peace.

 

I like trees. In our former home, I loved the tall trees that stood through many hurricanes and created a forest.

 

I love the Homer quote from the Iliad, "As is the generation of leaves, so is that of humanity. The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the live timber burgeons with leaves again in the season of spring returning. So one generation of men will grow while another dies."

 

We are but a generation of leaves, I feel an utter saddens as spring is breaking and "leaves" are still falling. Some leaves are brighter and bigger than others, some are unique shapes and textures. Yet when they fall, they still nourish the Earth. When are still on the tree they provide the backdrop, the texture of life.

 

My Internet is being a booger today, just one more thing, otherwise I'd upload a few calming photos from that yard, plus another one I really like.

[swimmermom3]

Jean, that was lovely. Thank you for sharing it.

 

While I consider myself an agnostic these days, I still find a level of peace or grace, in listening to a beautiful rendition of the "Ave Maria." It brings back my Catholic school days, which were good ones. In particular, I think of singing in the chapel with Sr. J playing the organ in the organ loft and the sun coming through the stained-glass windows.

[swimmermom3]

Moments of peace? Today, I am in tears and not sure where to find my peace.

 

I like trees. In our former home, I loved the tall trees that stood through many hurricanes and created a forest.

 

I love the Homer quote from the Iliad, "As is the generation of leaves, so is that of humanity. The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the live timber burgeons with leaves again in the season of spring returning. So one generation of men will grow while another dies."

 

We are but a generation of leaves, I feel an utter saddens as spring is breaking and "leaves" are still falling. Some leaves are brighter and bigger than others, some are unique shapes and textures. Yet when they fall, they still nourish the Earth. When are still on the tree they provide the backdrop, the texture of life.

 

My Internet is being a booger today, just one more thing, otherwise I'd upload a few calming photos from that yard, plus another one I really like.

 

I have been trying not to cry all morning. It's not working.

 

Paula, that is a gorgeous quote. Where is that in the Iliad? I seemed to have missed it. It's not just the quote that is perfect, but your words too. I know the leaves nourish the Earth, but my heart is rebelling this morning. Please do share your pictures when you have the chance.

 

ETA: Not far from our home is one of the largest city parks in the country with many ancient trees. I love hiking in that forest with the kids. I'll see if I can find some photos from last year's hikes.

[Twilight Woods]

When my son passed away this quote was given to me by a dear friend and it now sits on my wall....and I refer to it daily.

 

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.

Helen Keller

[Candid]

:grouphug:

[swimmermom3]

When my son passed away this quote was given to me by a dear friend and it now sits on my wall....and I refer to it daily.

 

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.

Helen Keller

 

:grouphug: I recently returned to the practice of keeping a common book and have added this. Thank you so much for sharing it.

[elegantlion]

I have been trying not to cry all morning. It's not working.

 

Paula, that is a gorgeous quote. Where is that in the Iliad? I seemed to have missed it. It's not just the quote that is perfect, but your words too. I know the leaves nourish the Earth, but my heart is rebelling this morning. Please do share your pictures when you have the chance.

 

ETA: Not far from our home is one of the largest city parks in the country with many ancient trees. I love hiking in that forest with the kids. I'll see if I can find some photos from last year's hikes.

 

book 6, line 146-150

[elegantlion]

 

This is one of our old backyard.

[Sebastian (a lady)]

When I opened my eyes this morning, one of the first thoughts that floated through my mind was how the past year or so seems to me to be a "season of grief" for so many of those that our family holds dear to our hearts whether we know them from "real life" or from this board.

 

I find that I am less resilient these days to the seasons of grief and more inclined to want to sit down and just howl. I think that is in part age and the length of this particular season, but also that I have forgotten how to find and take advantage of those small "moments of grace." I have forgotten how to stand on the deck at night, stare up at the stars, feel a gentle breeze on my face, and just breath. During small moments of grace, I feel a sense of contentment, a "rightness." That brief respite allows me to recenter myself and to find the strength and courage to proceed.

 

Would you all mind sharing what "moments of grace" look like for you? Is there an artist's work that grounds you and brings you peace? Is there a recipe of Grandma's that you make and that you would be willing to share? Is there a piece of music or an album that you listen to that elevates the dinner preparation process? Is there a place in nature that you visit in person or in your mind that brings you solace? Do you have a picture that you would mind sharing? Books, poems, quotes?

 

My heart and warm wishes for peace go out to all of you that are experiencing losses.

 

 

I've been finding that songs have hit me harder than usual this year. Especially songs that are about forgiveness and grace. One of my lessons for the year seems to be that I need to extend more love and grace that I think I need to, because I myself am so needy too. I realized one day that I may be the most vivid example my sons have on extending grace to someone who doesn't deserve it. And that the relationship they have with their wives may relate directly to how I treat them as young men.

[swimmermom3]

I've been finding that songs have hit me harder than usual this year. Especially songs that are about forgiveness and grace. One of my lessons for the year seems to be that I need to extend more love and grace that I think I need to, because I myself am so needy too. I realized one day that I may be the most vivid example my sons have on extending grace to someone who doesn't deserve it. And that the relationship they have with their wives may relate directly to how I treat them as young men.

 

 

This. My dd and a long-time group of friends have experienced heartbreak after heartbreak this past year and a half. The two young men that were lost worked hard to make their way in the world and positively touched those around them. Their absence has been very hard on their friends. We have a few of the "couch surfers" in our lives right now like that we have talked about in another thread. I find myself making comparisons and extending much less compassion and fewer meals than I would have previously. I feel that I need to fix this, to set the example for my kids who are really mostly young adults now.

[Jane in NC]

Since the age of 20, I have turned to T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets for comfort. I actually wore out one copy of these poems, replacing it with a used strongly stitched version. From Little Gidding (with a nod to Julian of Norwich):

 

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

Through the unknown, unremembered gate

When the last of earth left to discover

Is that which was the beginning;

At the source of the longest river

The voice of the hidden waterfall

And the children in the apple-tree

Not known, because not looked for

But heard, half-heard, in the stillness

Between two waves of the sea.

Quick now, here, now, always—

A condition of complete simplicity

(Costing not less than everything)

And all shall be well and

All manner of thing shall be well

When the tongues of flame are in-folded

Into the crowned knot of fire

And the fire and the rose are one.

[swimmermom3]

(from mrwallpaper.com)

 

I find moments of grace in water and by water, whether by swimming, wading in the ocean, hiking beside a waterfall, or sitting on a rock in the middle of river at my favorite campground, savoring the morning's coffee before the kids and their friends are up. The boat in this picture is in the distance because it reminds me of one of my favorite Mark Twain quotes:

 

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do.

 

So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.â€

 

~ Mark Twain

 

When I can't find the moments of grace, I forget to dream...

[swimmermom3]

Since the age of 20, I have turned to T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets for comfort. I actually wore out one copy of these poems, replacing it with a used strongly stitched version. From Little Gidding (with a nod to Julian of Norwich):

 

 

Jane, that is beautiful. Just beautiful. Thank you.

[8filltheheart]

What a beautiful thread! Thank you everyone for the thoughts.

 

[Jean in Newcastle]

When I cling to my husband. And in those rare moments when my kids cling to me. I just hold on and breathe deeply.

[Chrysalis Academy]

The Wild Rose

-Wendell Berry

 

Sometimes hidden from me

in daily custom and in trust,

so that I live by you unaware

as by the beating of my heart,

 

Suddenly you flare in my sight,

a wild rose blooming at the edge

of a thicket, grace and light

Where yesterday was only shade,

 

and once again I am blessed, choosing

again what I chose before.

[elegantlion]

I find moments of grace in water and by water, whether by swimming, wading in the ocean, hiking beside a waterfall, or sitting on a rock in the middle of river at my favorite campground, savoring the morning's coffee before the kids and their friends are up. The boat in this picture is in the distance because it reminds me of one of my favorite Mark Twain quotes:

 

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do.

 

So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.â€

 

 

~ Mark Twain

 

 

 

When I can't find the moments of grace, I forget to dream...

 

 

I also like this from Twain. "now and then we had a hope that if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates." I'm wearing a skull ring given to me by a "pirate" right now. A carefree life on the water, not the pillaging and plundering, that's what I see as a pirate. Ironically, I love the water, but am scared to death of deep water. I also live smack dab in the middle of the US,

 

I'd forgotten about this song until I looked at your picture, but I find peace in it too.

by LRB

[RootAnn]

book 6, line 146-150

 

For some reason, it is Lines 171-175 in my Illiad translation (Fagles) but DH had it marked already (!):

"Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men.

Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth,

now the living timber bursts with the new buds

and spring comes round again. And so with men:

as one generation comes to life, another dies away."

 

I, too, cling to my husband. It is helpful to know that he & others have been there before me & that time will heal my (still raw) wounds.

 

(A little Tolkien for those who have had to say goodbye to loved ones this year.)

[Lori D.]

I was reminded of Tolkien, too:

 

"There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach."

 

-- Frodo and Sam in Mordor ("The Land of Shadow," The Return of the King, vol. III of The Lord of the Rings trilogy)

[swimmermom3]

I also like this from Twain. "now and then we had a hope that if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates." I'm wearing a skull ring given to me by a "pirate" right now. A carefree life on the water, not the pillaging and plundering, that's what I see as a pirate. Ironically, I love the water, but am scared to death of deep water. I also live smack dab in the middle of the US,

 

I'd forgotten about this song until I looked at your picture, but I find peace in it too.

by LRB

 

 

 

I have to smile thinking of your picture from your blog complete with skull ring. There are times that call for having a bit of pirate in you or on you as the case may be.

 

The video footage on Cool Change was awesome.

[swimmermom3]

RootAnn and Lori, thank you both.

 

They are wonderful passages.

[quark]

There was a period in my life when I thought I was going to lose a parent...and then, both parents. One to heart disease, another to mental illness. It was a very, very difficult period for me. Somehow, by fantastic happenstance, I was introduced to this poem and it helped me SO much. It is odd that it should but it did. I read it over and over even now when things seem bleak:

 

The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy

 

I leant upon a coppice gate

When Frost was spectre-gray,

And Winter's dregs made desolate

The weakening eye of day

The tangled bine-stems scored the sky

Like strings of broken lyres,

And all mankind that haunted nigh

Had sought their household fires.

 

The land's sharp features seemed to be

The Century's corpse outleant,

His crypt the cloudy canopy,

The wind his death-lament.

The ancient pulse of germ and birth

Was shrunken hard and dry,

And every spirit upon earth

Seemed fervourless as I.

 

At once a voice arose among

The bleak twigs overhead

In a full-hearted evensong

Of joy illimited;

An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,

In blast-beruffled plume,

Had chosen thus to fling his soul

Upon the growing gloom.

 

So little cause for carolings

Of such ecstatic sound

Was written on terrestrial things

Afar or nigh around,

That I could think there trembled through

His happy good-night air

Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew

And I was unaware.

 

That in such bleak surroundings, a small, bedraggled bird can find something to hope for, it just made me cry and remember to find hope and light even in the darkest surroundings. Thankfully, my parents are okay today but I learned never to take anything for granted ever. I love animals, and I see so much to learn from animals and nature. Love that Hardy saw this. Love that he wrote it the way he did...he made me second-guess my absolute adoration for Keats (before David Tennant came along :laugh: )

 

:grouphug: to everyone. And thank you for starting this thread, Lisa. I think something is in the air...being sad about Kay's illness, and the overall bitter taste from reading some posts lately made me want to stay away for a few days...then I saw a link to this thread in another post and I am glad to be here again.

[Halcyon]

Quark, i love Hardy, and that is a gem. Thank you all for this thread. It s much needed.

 

One i have always loved, by Sufi, which has helped me in challenging times:

 

Inside this new love, die.

Your way begins on the other side.

Become the sky.

Take an axe to the prison wall.

Escape.

Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.

Do it now.

You're covered with a thick cloud.

Slide out the side. Die,

and be quiet. Quiteness is the surest sign

that you've died.

Your old life was a frantic running

from silence.

 

The speechless full moon

comes out.

_____________________________

 

Another by Gibran:

You would know the secret of death.

But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?

The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.

If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.

For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

 

In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;

And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.

Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.

Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?

Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?

 

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

 

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

[Kfamily]

Paula,

My younger dd has a personal and spiritual attachment to the trees too.(She might have inherited that from me.....LOL!) They are so important to her that I've promised her to create a study of poetry and books which revolve around trees.

 

Lisa,

I'm linking a song we all love by an artist that we LOVE! We play her music along with other favorites as we do our lessons every morning. The music helps set our mood for the day.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8op3oYkbcrk

 

 

I find peace in art (such as J. W. Waterhouse...but we have many favorites), music (love when the girls play the piano) and poetry too.

 

Here is another piece we love....both of my girls were inspired to learn how to play it....

 

 

 

Recently, I had been working on our Anne of Green Gables study and was reading and studying some poetry to go along with it. I realized how much I loved this poem:

Thomas Gray's Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

 

http://www.thomasgra...y.cgi?text=elcc

 

 

 

 

Where and in what we have been living lately (last few years) has had our entire family searching for peace and beauty in every little way we can. These are just a few examples. I defnitely feel as if I've forgotten something important.

[Halcyon]

Paula,

My younger dd has a personal and spiritual attachment to the trees too.(She might have inherited that from me.....LOL!) They are so important to her that I've promised her to create a study of poetry and books which revolve around trees. I'm linking a song we all love her by an artist that we LOVE! We play her music along with other favorites as we do our lessons every morning. The music helps set our mood for the day.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8op3oYkbcrk

 

 

I find peace in art (such as J. W. Waterhouse...but we have many favorites), music (love when the girls play the piano) and poetry too.

 

Here is another piece we love....both of my girls were inspired to learn how to play it....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wU7ZuVZHqTk&sns=em

[Woodland Mist Academy]

I'm linking a song we all love her by an artist that we LOVE! We play her music along with other favorites as we do our lessons every morning. The music helps set our mood for the day.

 

 

 

We are Loreena McKennitt fans too.

[Colleen in NS]

A couple of nights ago I attended an event that was great. At the end, something (part of a long string of somethings) happened at the end that made me very angry. As soon as I got into my van to drive home, I burst into sobs like I haven't sobbed in a long time. When I got home, I briefly looked up into the sky and saw stars and thought, "Oh yeah, I really need to go look at nature again soon." So for me, it's nature. Either star-gazing or watching the wild Atlantic ocean is something I'd love at the moment.

 

I haven't been around the forums much lately, but I've caught up a bit the past few days. My hugs go out to a few of you who are experiencing difficulties (and to Kay and family - that message of hers is just....). I'm hoping to find time to catch up a bit more, because I really miss several of you!!!!!!

[Nan in Mass]

Hmm...

 

This is different depending on whether I am stuck in the house or not. I have my life arranged so that I am forced to step outside periodically. I have to walk down the street to get the mail. I have to go outside to get to the basement where the washer is. I have to take the composting bowl out to the composter. I have to step outside to get firewood for the woodstove. I have to go outside to feed the birds every day. I go outside other times, too, of course. I spend lots of time driving in the car and I take longer walks. But having to go outside briefly to do these other things seems to act as a reset button for me in a way that running up the driveway to hop in the car to take somebody someplace doesn't. I almost always look around and take a breath. Can you make a tiny ceremony of feeding the birds or walking out to the composter?

 

I make a cup of tea and sit down with my book and drink it. The children complain that it takes forever for me to drink a cup of tea. Now I wonder why... : )

 

I love hanging the laundry outside. I don't always do it, but when I do, it is lovely. I do it off a high deck and I think about each person as I put their piece of clothing on the line. I turn the clothes the right way out when I fold them, a small act of love. When the children were small it tickled me to look at the line and think I had all these little people. Now my older ones come and go and when I look at the line, I am so happy to see their clothes there. I look at my husband's shirts and think about how big and strong and wonderful he is and feel lucky. I try to think of washing the dishes in the same way, as something I can do for my loved ones. There have been so many years when I was too busy to feel this when I was doing dishes, or too sick to make doing them anything other than an act either of desperation or of love that I savour the times now when I can do them comfortably.

 

I set my home page to that skywatch site that Jean recommended. Learning about something that is going on in the heavens every day, things that will happen whether or not our neighbor decides to chop down a beloved tree or a child makes a stupid decision or whether the world is going to wrack and ruin, is so comforting, somehow.

 

I love watching the water out my windows or the birds. When my less-than-communicative teenagers yell, "Look quick!" it warms my heart.

 

I go to the ocean. Or I swim in the lake.

 

I find that playing music is a good disapator of emotion so I sit down and practise guitar. On the other hand, listening to music stirs up emotions and make me feel them more. Sometimes that is good. Carmina Burana (sp?). Pictures at an Exibition. Tri-corned Hat. That song at the beginning of the Beatrix Potter movies lol. Donal McGullavry (probably mangled that spelling). Came ye o'er fra France. Let all mortal flesh. Some that I've sung in Latin at various times. Beethoven's 6th. Something for every mood lol.

 

I go away for the weekend. I don't "get away". I take everyone with me. Somehow, changing places helps keep me stable and not feeling unsettled.

 

If I am sad, I bury my face in the cat or dog and breathe fur and try to absorb some of their nowness.

 

I walk off stress. So does my husband. In times of stress, we take multple walks every day, sometimes one every hour. Maybe this has something to do with fight or flight instinct, but we hold still until we can't bear it any more and then we walk fast down the street and back.

 

At bottom, I think my favourite thing to do is putting my head on my husband's shoulder and going to sleep. I try to remember that I get to do this almost every single night.

 

If I hit a bad spot, I go into what I call book mode. I carry a favourite novel around with me and read it for a few seconds every chance I get. That way, I get to half live in the book world and it isn't long before my next escape.

 

I read A.A.Milne. Or Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Or Angela Thirkel. Or Jane Austen.

 

If I am feeling really desperate and unsettled, I read Lord of the Rings.

 

Hopefully something in all that will bring you a moment's peace.

 

I had an unsettled winter a few years ago after something depressing happened. I was SO relieved when the fragile feeling wore off. Stay away from sweets. That makes it worse.

 

Lots and lots of hugs,

Nan

[Miss Marple]

Much depends on the type of grief. But the most common thread for my "moments of grace" would be prayer. It might be crying out in pain or grief, it might be asking for clarity, it might be praising and thanking God. My "moments of grace" seem to occur more at night - often in the middle of the night - when all is quiet and there are no pulls/pushes from others. My mind goes to those things that need grace. At those times I often head outside with the dog (so she can go potty) and I look at the heavens and stars and

runs through my head (just about any Rich Mullins works for re-centering for me)

 

Well, it took the hand of God Almighty

To part the waters of the sea

But it only took one little lie

To separate you and me

Oh, we are not as strong as we think we are

And they say that one day Joshua

Made the sun stand still in the sky

But I can't even keep these thoughts

Of you from passing by

Oh, we are not as strong as we think we are

CHORUS

We are frail

We are fearfully and wonderfully made

Forged in the fires of human passion

Choking on the fumes of selfish rage

And with these our hells and our heavens

So few inches apart

We must be awfully small

And not as strong as we think we are

And the Master said their faith was

Gonna make them mountains move

But me, I tremble like a hill on a fault line

Just at the thought of how I lost you

Oh, we are not as strong as we think we are

CHORUS

And if you make me laugh well I know

I could make you like me

Cause when I laugh I can be a lot of fun

But we can't do that I know that it is frightening

What I don't know is why we can't hold on

We can't hold on

CHORUS

When you love you walk on the water

Just don't stumble on the waves

We all want to go there somethin' awful

But to stand there it takes some grace

'Cause oh, we are not as strong

As we think we are

[Sebastian (a lady)]

Last year at the Midwest Homeschool Convention, I went to a workshop by Dr Carol Reynolds on the history and practice of hymn singing. It was probably one of the best moments of the weekend. I made an effort to bring hymn singing back into our school time. I think it was a good investment of time when I could do it (and do it without anyone getting angry because it wasn't being done "right"). There is something about the tone and the words and the need to breathe deeply. Many hymns can be learned very quickly.

 

A dear friend of mine introduced me the Anglican tradition of Nine Lessons and Carols this year. For a good part of December, this was my workout music (walking on the treadmill to Once in Royal David's City). It definitely brought a sense of calm to a frentic season.

 

Someone posted a list of music that she had played as part of music therapy (FaithManor?). I found most of the list and put them into a playlist of calming music. When I've been getting particularly frazzled, my middle son has been known to sneak over to the computer and start it playing. Usually this not only has good effect, but makes me laugh when I catch him at it.

 

 

by The Eshes has a sad backstory, but is still (perhaps especially because of that) cathartic.

 

ETA: I found FaithManor's list of suggestions for Calming Music.

[Jane in NC]

I love hanging the laundry outside. I don't always do it, but when I do, it is lovely. I do it off a high deck and I think about each person as I put their piece of clothing on the line. I turn the clothes the right way out when I fold them, a small act of love. When the children were small it tickled me to look at the line and think I had all these little people. Now my older ones come and go and when I look at the line, I am so happy to see their clothes there. I look at my husband's shirts and think about how big and strong and wonderful he is and feel lucky. I try to think of washing the dishes in the same way, as something I can do for my loved ones. There have been so many years when I was too busy to feel this when I was doing dishes, or too sick to make doing them anything other than an act either of desperation or of love that I savour the times now when I can do them comfortably.

 

 

I erased a post yesterday in which I noted that I find grace and peace in the simple acts of hanging laundry and washing dishes. But I thought people would say I was a nut job. However Nan noted the above so I can now admit that I too love hanging laundry. Today I made hot cross buns using a large bowl that I inherited from my mother in law. The continuity of using objects like this brings me peace.

 

This thread has me thinking about the loss of seasonality in modern life. If we were more in tune with the weather, the local food, natural light, etc., would we feel a greatest sense of contentment? Instead of missing strawberries in December, we would celebrate them in April or June--whatever month is your strawberry season. Instead of void, we would have rhythm.

 

I am saying this, of course, because I see Spring is on the move. Birds are migrating north. Last week the robins stripped the remaining berries from the privet and holly brambles. Mature pelicans are going north as are the loons. Some of you may have snow, but I know that Spring is around the corner. So much promise, so much hope.

[Nan in Mass]

.....................................................................................THE

i ............ ...........SNOW ................ BLOOMING ......................SNO

......... HAVE .................DROPS ..........................IN ........................OW!

 

(I planted them next to my front door so I will see them when I come and go.)

 

Another thought. Or two. : )

 

I try to go out and sit on my steps with my face in the sun for a few minutes at lunch.

 

And Jane's post reminded me that one time when one of my sons was traveling for three months and it seemed like forever before he would be home again, my sister suggested that I keep a nature journal and jot down the seasonal changes so I would be able to see that time was passing and getting closer to the time when he would return. It worked really well. I didn't do anything fancy, just jotted down one or two things I noticed. The noticing was the important part, because noticing something for the journal made me notice the season changing, too. Often, I can tell myself that when the next season comes, I will feel better. Jane's comment about the seasons is very wise.

 

Hugs

Nan

[Miss Marple]

 

I am saying this, of course, because I see Spring is on the move. Birds are migrating north. Last week the robins striped the remaining berries from the privet and holly brambles. Mature pelicans are going north as are the loons. Some of you may have snow, but I know that Spring is around the corner. So much promise, so much hope.

.

Jane, I was just thinking the same thing today. I was driving home from town this morning and looked out into a pasture and saw a momma cow licking an obviously newborn calf. The little calf was still glistening in the sunshine as the momma was nuzzling and licking. The early grasses are beginning to green up and there are daffodils blooming in the pasture. The sun was bright after an early morning rain. All I could think was that the earth was waking up and life begins anew. I think you're right about the "rhythm" of life. There is something soothing and re-centering about nature's cycle. I felt like I could tackle the new day :)

[elegantlion]

I hang my clothes on our deck rail. I always wonder what people driving by think (we live on a corner, everyone can see my deck rail). One day it's all darks, black, browns, greys, olives, and navies. The next it will be brights, oranges, blues, apple green and red. The one day lights, whites and tans. Sometimes I think my days are like that. One day I'm olive green and moody, the next orange and cheery. Some days I feel all washed out. The color someone sees hanging on my deck rail may not be the color I am feeling that day. As I get older, I try to keep that in mind in my encounters with others. Their laundry that day may be bright blue, but their real mood may be a somber bitter grey. I see one thing, they feel another. It is those times, as Lisa says, that "moments of grace" are so important. We all have dirty laundry, and sooner or later some of it gets aired, perhaps in view of the neighbors. I wish you all grace in the moments you need it most.

[Colleen in NS]

I love hanging laundry, and I can't wait for it to be warm and dry enough to do so. It's the one chore I like. I do it in the morning, as the sunlight shines through the trees in our back yard. It's my time to breathe deeply before tackling everything.

[Miss Marple]

I've been finding that songs have hit me harder than usual this year. Especially songs that are about forgiveness and grace. One of my lessons for the year seems to be that I need to extend more love and grace that I think I need to, because I myself am so needy too. I realized one day that I may be the most vivid example my sons have on extending grace to someone who doesn't deserve it. And that the relationship they have with their wives may relate directly to how I treat them as young men.

 

 

I've been feeling this but have not been able to express it the way you have. Thank you. This year started off horribly for several families I know. Disappointments, griefs, you name it, it's been hard. Seeing all this has had me thinking about the idea of grace and mercy and how inadequate I am at expressing those traits especially to those who have hurt or disappointed me in the past I, too, have songs playing over and over in my head about my need for grace and mercy and how I can extend that to others - there seem to be a great many of those songs playing just now :)

[Nan in Mass]

 

I've been feeling this but have not been able to express it the way you have. Thank you. This year started off horribly for several families I know. Disappointments, griefs, you name it, it's been hard. Seeing all this has had me thinking about the idea of grace and mercy and how inadequate I am at expressing those traits especially to those who have hurt or disappointed me in the past I, too, have songs playing over and over in my head about my need for grace and mercy and how I can extend that to others - there seem to be a great many of those songs playing just now :)

 

 

I agree. Nicely put, Sebastian.

 

This is definately a case of do as I say and not as I do, since I fall very short of achieving this, and I don't like talking about it because it sounds so very self-centered when translated to paper, but I find that in certain bad situations, it sometimes helps to remember that the only thing over which I have any control is my own behavior. Behaving badly damages my soul. I try really hard to avoid doing soul destroying things. (Soul might not be the right word. People talk about one's immortal soul. I have no idea whether my soul is immortal or not and I'm not particularly worried about it. I worry about the thing inside me right here and right now and soul feels like the right word for that. Or something like that. I'm better at explaining how nice it is to do laundry lol.)

 

Nan

[-M-]

A moment of grace -- or perhaps clarity -- arrived via car radio one day shortly after my son died. Because we favor audiobooks and talk radio, we recognized our chance hearing of "Do You Realize" by Flaming Lips on a pop station as the gift it most surely was.

 

Do you realize

that happiness makes you cry?

 

Do you realize

that everyone you know someday will die?

 

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes,

let them know you realize that life goes fast;

it's hard to make the good things last.

You realize the sun doesn't go down:

It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning 'round.

 

Do you realize...?

[swimmermom3]

I erased a post yesterday in which I noted that I find grace and peace in the simple acts of hanging laundry and washing dishes. But I thought people would say I was a nut job. However Nan noted the above so I can now admit that I too love hanging laundry. Today I made hot cross buns using a large bowl that I inherited from my mother in law. The continuity of using objects like this brings me peace.

 

This thread has me thinking about the loss of seasonality in modern life. If we were more in tune with the weather, the local food, natural light, etc., would we feel a greatest sense of contentment? Instead of missing strawberries in December, we would celebrate them in April or June--whatever month is your strawberry season. Instead of void, we would have rhythm.

 

I am saying this, of course, because I see Spring is on the move. Birds are migrating north. Last week the robins stripped the remaining berries from the privet and holly brambles. Mature pelicans are going north as are the loons. Some of you may have snow, but I know that Spring is around the corner. So much promise, so much hope.

 

 

Jane, what catches my eye here is "more in tune" and "greater sense of contentment."

 

I feel fragmented and it truly bothers me to have missed the number of heavy burdens people I care about are carrying and to not be more present for them. I know that is not what you mean by being in tune, but I do think that when we are more connected to nature, more in tune with it as you say with the weather or seasons, that often it follows that we are more in tune with the people around us especially those we care about.

 

I am working on the small things today - making sure my patient dh has enough clean underwear and ironed dress shirts, and making banana muffins for when the kids get home. Sometimes I forget the small things, the underpinnings of the foundation for exactly the reason that they are small things. There is nothing nutty about deriving pleasure or contentment from hanging laundry or doing dishes. This makes me think of some of the works of Thich Nhat Hanh:

 

 

“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth.

 

 

 

Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes.

 

 

 

All is a miracle.â€

― Thich Nhat Hanh

 

 

 

[swimmermom3]

The Wild Rose

-Wendell Berry

 

Sometimes hidden from me

in daily custom and in trust,

so that I live by you unaware

as by the beating of my heart,

 

Suddenly you flare in my sight,

a wild rose blooming at the edge

of a thicket, grace and light

Where yesterday was only shade,

 

and once again I am blessed, choosing

again what I chose before.

 

Rose, this is a gem. I am afraid I am not familiar with Berry outside of his name and so I needed to go and do a little searching. There were several of his poems that touched a heart string. Some of my favorite poets and authors feel "too big" or maybe too worldly right now. I don't know if it's that either, but I am grateful for the introduction to Mr. Berry.

 

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair grows in me

and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting for their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry

[swimmermom3]

My mom sent this as part of the Top Ten Tree Tunnels:

 

 

Ginkgo Tree Tunnel, Japan

Gingko biloba is a highly venerated tree in Japanese culture. Six ginkgo trees survived the Hiroshima bombing, continuing to grow despite facing so many challenges, and are still alive today. Therefore, the Japanese regard the gingko as “the bearer of hopeâ€. It is also known as “the survivor†or “the living fossil.â€

Around 65,000 ginkgoes grace Tokyo’s streets, gardens and parks today. According to some people who visited Tokyo, the tunnel you see in the above picture is located in the outer garden of

Meiji Shrine.

 

For some reason, this remind me of the scene in Harold and Maude where they "rescue" the sapling from the city and replant it in a forest.

 

I will admit to the fact that Harold and Maude is one of my favorite comfort movies. I also like the

.

[MIch elle]

[Susan of Croton]

The Two Trees, by W. B. Yeats

 

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,

The holy tree is growing there,

From joy the holy branches start,

And all the trembling flowers they bear.

The changing colours of its fruit

Have dowered the stars with merry light;

The surety of its hidden root

Has planted quiet in the night;

The shaking of its leafy head

Has given the waves their melody,

And made my lips and music wed,

Murmuring a wizard song for thee.

There the Loves a circle go,

The flaming circle of our days,

Gyring, spiring to and fro

In those great ignorant leafy ways;

Remembering all that shaken hair

And how the winged sandals dart,

Thine eyes grow full of tender care:

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.

 

Gaze no more in the bitter glass

The demons, with their subtle guile,

Lift up before us when they pass,

Or only gaze a little while;

For there a fatal image grows

That the stormy night receives,

Roots half hidden under snows,

Broken boughs and blackened leaves.

For all things turn to barrenness

In the dim glass the demons hold,

The glass of outer weariness,

Made when God slept in times of old.

There, through the broken branches, go

The ravens of unresting thought;

Flying, crying, to and fro,

Cruel claw and hungry throat,

Or else they stand and sniff the wind,

And shake their ragged wings; alas!

Thy tender eyes grow all unkind

Gaze no more in the bitter glass.

 

Here is my favorite poem, with a nod to Elegantlion's love of trees. Loreena McKennitt sings this poem out in one of her albums.

The Two Trees, by W. B. Yeats

 

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,

The holy tree is growing there,

From joy the holy branches start,

And all the trembling flowers they bear.

The changing colours of its fruit

Have dowered the stars with merry light;

The surety of its hidden root

Has planted quiet in the night;

The shaking of its leafy head

Has given the waves their melody,

And made my lips and music wed,

Murmuring a wizard song for thee.

There the Loves a circle go,

The flaming circle of our days,

Gyring, spiring to and fro

In those great ignorant leafy ways;

Remembering all that shaken hair

And how the winged sandals dart,

Thine eyes grow full of tender care:

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.

 

Gaze no more in the bitter glass

The demons, with their subtle guile,

Lift up before us when they pass,

Or only gaze a little while;

For there a fatal image grows

That the stormy night receives,

Roots half hidden under snows,

Broken boughs and blackened leaves.

For all things turn to barrenness

In the dim glass the demons hold,

The glass of outer weariness,

Made when God slept in times of old.

There, through the broken branches, go

The ravens of unresting thought;

Flying, crying, to and fro,

Cruel claw and hungry throat,

Or else they stand and sniff the wind,

And shake their ragged wings; alas!

Thy tender eyes grow all unkind

Gaze no more in the bitter glass.