To Care and Not to Care

  "We are the map makers,  tracing lines of a land that others cannot see. The uncharted and the unresolved,  there be dragons here.  There be shadow and nightmare.  There be wonders. There be more beauty  than you can contain... Come sail with me." "God comes to us disguised as our life." -Paula D'Arcy  I too have always found deep meaning for my life within natural landscapes.  A vast, wide open frozen tundra, where the harshness of the elements keeps me awake, the stillness let's me breathe in wonder, the almost blinding brightness let's me know my limit, while my feet still tread on spacious ground. As Oscar Wilde said, go be yourself, everybody else is already taken. I truly am the only person who sees what I see, who feels what I feel, who can take in an experience and come away with an entirely different perspective than someone else in that same experience.  Where the healing and redemption happens is when someone else reaches out the...

  I read kind of a funny and sad quote recently that said something like, "the difference between Christmas for a child and an adult is you're so well-behaved when you're curled up on the couch reading a book, but do that as an adult and you're just rude and anti-social." I've been having a hard time with this assignment because, like most of us, it's really hard to remember what made me come alive as a child. The expectations for adults is very different than for a child...for good reason. But what happens when all those messages of growing up and making good choices and being responsible come at the cost of a lost imagination?  As a child, music and melodies would ignite entire worlds into my imagination. Flying and soaring, dancing on keys, playing out all sorts of emotions.  Now, when I sit down at the piano, it takes awhile for the dust to settle. Eventually I find her, that little Janell who just wanted everybody to get along. As I play the notes, so...

  I went and baptized myself in beauty. Leaving, embracing  Silhouettes in motion. Push, carve, create  this path. My life is not just small twirling motions. It can be big if that's what it is. Small and quiet have their moment in the early morning dew. Blooming and saying yes have their time at twilight. I reach back as I step out to find who I am.  To baptize myself again in child-like giddiness. He did say let the little children come to Me for theirs is the Kingdom. I wander. I see things close and difficult to come to. I play. I'm beckoned to rise. All Rise, all Rise, all Rise.  It's a sin to kill a mockingbird and maybe the only way we can see things from somebody else's view is to  crawl around in his skin for awhile.  I don't always do what's right but I desire to. Thank God He doesn't look at our outsides.  So if I had a gallery of my life I'd want it to be like this - I'd have jazz playing, twinkle lights,  It'd be warm and intimat...

  " An act of hospitality can only be poetic. " -Jacques Derrida, Of Hospitality  Tension. What is this tight rope that I walk? I live in a world that doesn't want to grieve , to name the past and apologize. Forgive me, I don't know what to say anymore.. Just like the girl on the news yesterday, weeping, doesn't know what to do, after another school shooting.  I could rage here but I'll save that for behind closed doors.  It is a sad, mad, sick world and I feel the grief heavy today. I string up my lights on my mantle and put up my advent candles anyway. I take my little boy on a hunt to find eggnog lattes and find a bundle of balloons to smile at.    I feel the tension of leaning into a Godly hospitality, a movable feast In the midst of forks scraping on empty china plates. I feel the tension of hope in the midst of crushing loss . I feel the tension of glory in the midst of trash on our streets . I feel the tension of having a home in the midst of those w...

  I read the book "Ish" by Peter H. Reynolds today. I'd never read it before. I loved it. It can be so suffocating when we pin our creations between rocks of Right and Wrong can't it? But "Ish" takes all our crumpled drawings and poems and pictures and everything that we've made and hangs them up in a gallery with the best lighting and says, "Oh I really like this one. These are good!" "Ish" invites us to play. Look at it from a different angle. Tilt your head and say oh!  Now I see it! May we see what's beautiful and real in each other and not dismiss another creation as damaged goods. Someone wants to see them in His gallery with really good lighting. ❤

  I remember the first time I was in the company of another who knew how to release and relax. She was my piano teacher. After I had already taught piano for 10 years and had a baby. I was so raw. I longingly would look at my piano. I needed to speak, with no words.  My teacher, Mary, was one of those people who could push me just enough and hold a spacious place for me to fall too. I learned how to expand again. To breathe again. In and out. In and out. As a little girl, I used to pretend that I played in an orchestra. I would sit and imaginary play through an entire soundtrack. I loved being a part of something grand. I'm trying to listen to that feeling again. To no longer be a burden-bearer. To not be afraid of my own vulnerability. It's hard now, when I'm around others who are so closed off. But their burdens are not mine to carry, and just as Mary's posture attracted me into compassion, I hope I can be that for others too.