A Franciscan Benediction

May God bless us with discomfort
at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships
so that we may live deep within your heart
May God bless us with anger
at injustice, oppression and exploitation of people
so that we may work for justice, freedom and peace
May God bless us with tears
to shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war
so that we may reach out your hand to comfort them and
to turn their pain into joy
And may God bless us with enough foolishness
to believe that you can make a difference in the world
so that we can do what others claim cannot be done
to bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

They've Sprouted!

While watering my seeds this morning, I dug around a little. The daisies and zinnias are pushing fresh, clean, white and green. (Oh, wow. That sounds like a commercial.) I didn't have time to check the rest. My window facing the street gets pretty good afternoon sunlight, which seems to be doing the trick.

growy things

Words are so limiting. They describe so little of the depth of some joys. Smelling lilacs. Blue, blue rushing into your soul. Planting seeds.

I tamped a bunch of little possibilities into growing trays this evening. Peppers, tomatoes, daisies, poppies, zinnias, oregano, parsley, and basil. A first for me, I procured some heirloom tomato seeds: Pink Brandywine. I can't wait to see the first baby green growy things poke their heads above the soil. Even more exciting will be transplanting them to new beds at my new house in a few weeks.

As hippie as this might sound, something deep within my soul is refreshed... remade... reconnected... when I dig my hands into good dirt and play a small role in the magic of growth. I (rather romantically, perhaps) like to wonder if the few drops of Native American blood in my veins contribute to my need to cultivate connections to the earth and the rest of creation. Made by the same Life-giver, we humans are intrinsically linked to nature. Why do we like to pretend our well-being does not rely on the health of our natural world?

I recently read a fascinating article emphasizing soil health. Both agriculture and horticulture have given little regard to replenishing the nutrients and minerals depleted by plant growth. Sticking seeds in the ground and spraying synthetic fertilizer on the plants to make them grow might produce fruits and vegetables, but our fruits and vegetables are slowly losing their nutrient value. Yay for composting! :)  Another article I read (I'm great at forgetting sources) suggested the need for pest control is a sign our produce is worth little to our bodies. The author cited bugs as nature's scavengers, eating what is unfit for human consumption. Interesting.

Another growing (sorry about the pun) interest of mine is urban community gardening. How cool would it be to reduce a city's waste by establishing neighborhood composting sites and transforming vacant lots into cooperative gardens? Someday, when I'm big... For now, I'm daydreaming about how my garden in town can be used to bless and establish relationships with my new neighbors.

Life in spring is intoxicating.

love is a place

love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places

yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds

- ee cummings

trash to treasure

I have a confession. I stopped at Goodwill this evening on my way home from work. I wasn't going to, honest. Then... well... traffic was backed up and at an utter stand-still (tourist season commences again) and, um, my alternate route took me right past Goodwill. THEN... I remembered saying to myself last weekend when unpacking dishes in my new house, "I could use a few more serving dishes." Of course, this remembrance necessitated my stopping, just in case. Whaddayaknow. The cutest vintage green-glass serving bowl. Too perfect. Oh! A California carafe to match the one I got last time... only this one has a lid! I always feel like a gold prospector when I'm in a thrift store. If you look hard enough, or see the potential in the less-than-pretty, who KNOWS what you might find!

Of course, half the fun is transforming the less-than-pretty. Here are a few of my recent projects:

Spray paint and I are fast friends. The chronic paint stains on my hands and nails are my witness. After I finished up a few other pieces one evening, I was still in spray-paint mode... and felt compelled to find out whether or not a glass soda bottle would be cuter if opaque.

I think so.

This guy is one of those metal silverware servers... way awesome for entertaining. I couldn't believe my good fortune at finding one for $1. Yes, there were strings attached. Not strings exactly... rust. A coat of Rust-oleum primer and several coats of spray paint later, he looks as good as new. I prefer off-white to shiny (almost) stainless steel, anyway.

Next up... the chalk board! I picked this painting up for free at a yard sale last summer.

Initially, I thought I'd refinish the canvas and paint another picture. After I got it home, I saw that the canvas was a strange, flocked fabric. The fuzz was jumping ship in several places. The frame was rough and splintery.

Trust me, it put on its best face for the camera. 

A few weeks ago, I got contracted a deep need for a chalkboard. How French is a chalkboard in a kitchen? Price-comparing soothed the need considerably... until I saw my ugly-duckling frame still sitting forlornly in a corner. How hard would it be to turn it into a chalkboard? 

I sanded... and sanded... and sanded the frame. A few coats of paint, then more sanding and a little distressing for the edges... and an acrylic spray sealer. Done. I bought a board from Lowe's and primed it with Rust-oleum magnetic primer. Two coats of Rust-oleum chalkboard paint and...

weehah!

A magnetic chalkboard. 

As I worked on the frame, I wondered how I could have thought it ugly.

The notches add some pretty cool detail. 

Oh, yes. The biggest frustration came when I excitedly assembled it... but it wouldn't assemble. The board was an eighth inch too long for reasons unknown to me. I did measure before telling the Lowe's guy what I wanted, I promise. Sooo... I finally found the time a few days ago to ask my friend David to take 1/4 inch off with his trim saw. Because the chalkboard surface is so hard, I was afraid cutting the board would cause the surface to crack. It didn't... and the chalkboard was put into the frame, and they lived happily ever after.

This sad little veneer nightstand became mine after I gave the Goodwill lady $4-something. The top was bubbled and the backing needed re-attached with finishing nails rather than masking tape, but it was sturdy.

Kirsten and I tackled the beginnings of a make-over head-on. I consider myself honored... she forfeited her bed-time story to watch me lightly sand the veneer and help put on the first coat of paint. ("But why are they called 'coats', Becca?") 

I must include this:

Like sister, like brother. :) 

Lots of paint, a new knob, and...

...she has a whole new outlook on life.

I just realized all the projects in this post turned out ivory. That's ok. I like ivory. It's more comfortable than white, but just as fresh. I promise, I have been using other colors, too.

For the front of the drawer, I watered down brown paint and glazed the ivory for some interest. 

All I have left to do is seal it with 

my secret weapon, and she'll be ready to join the load of furniture going to Meadville this weekend. I use matte-finish acrylic sealer on everything from finished art pieces (to prevent smudging) to... nightstands. 

My apologies to those of you who visit my blog expecting poetry and thoughtful things. This week was full of both, but the poetry belongs to Langston Hughes and the thoughtful things were told only to the stars... and the God who made them. I'm happy it's warm again... I'll miss my city rooftop when I move...

[sic] tree stomp

Listed "for sale" on Craigslist today is a "tree stomp".

I haven't a doubt the poster was referring to one of these:

...but, for some strange reason, I had to wonder if, back before he would "spend a week just breathing", soon after he was created by Yavanna [possibly around 1050 of the Years of the Trees], 

Treebeard had not yet learned his "do not be hasty" motto...

and [on occasion] threw a tantrum.

"My God, my God!"

"Why have You forsaken me?"

Jesus' anguished words from the cross...

In unimaginable pain, His heart longed for the comfort of His Father. Of all the times He needed strength, needed comfort, it was then. But He says He's been forsaken.

I always hated this part of the story of Jesus' passion worst of all. I mean, it's one thing for the egocentric, nasty, misguided people to kill Jesus. He's forgiving them as they do it. It fits His mission, fits His model for us. It's another thing for evil to kill Jesus. That's to be expected, that it would try to conquer Good while vulnerable, incarnate in limited flesh. But God? If He forsook Jesus while Jesus was dying, was God a co-conspirator to Jesus' torture and death? How could God forsake a part of Himself? To be honest, the theory that God had to temporarily hate Jesus because of Jesus' taking on the sins of the world confused me as a kid (and for many years afterward). If God focused all His "holy fury" on an innocent Man... even if that Man was, in essence, Himself... He was hardly just and merciful... or even very holy.

Where was God as Jesus approached death? Did He withdraw Himself completely from the cosmos, off somewhere beyond comprehension, unfeeling and unseeing?

My friends' newborn baby boy nearly stopped breathing and was life-flighted to the hospital. The father described recently the experience of watching his tiny son receive tracheal intubation. Having to stand by helplessly and watch his son's anguish as the tube was shoved down his throat was more than he could take. His own anguish at his boy's suffering so overcame him that he nearly lost consciousness. He had to leave. And he knew what the Father heart of God was as His Son suffered on the cross.

I can't stop thinking about that picture. It offers a more holistic view of God and enables me to enter more fully into the brokenness of the ultimate sacrifice... the ultimate love.

For you. For me.

"My God!"