For Sale

Apparently I have someone interested but my realtor sent him off to the lender to see if he can handle it. I'm not getting my hopes up yet.

I hated to trash the trampoline, it being such a source of joy. But the girls both said they probably wouldn't have a place to set it up - wherever they are moving - and hauled it to the street. I am looking out the window at a man unfolding the jumpy part. He puts it into his truck and proceeds to the driver's seat. I go out. Aren't you going to take the whole thing? No, I just want to cover my fire wood. I say I have a friend who is interested in it for his kids. He gives me his cell number and we agree that if my friend wants it he can call. My friend does want it, so I hauled it back off the street so he can pick it up. The trash guys are coming today.

We slept on the porch again. I was planning to anyway, since it is so nice and the insect orchestra is playing nightly. But I had extra incentive in that my "to sort" box got sorted all over my bed, but not put into files yet!

In the morning the orchestra of bugs is taken over by birds. I watch the changes of the light behind the trees. At night they look like dark masses and you can see all sorts of creatures and objects in their shapes if you have any imagination. In the morning, the shades of green start to appear and then the oak branches.

I have my coffee on the porch swing. Lots done yesterday in the category of "puttsing around". I like puttsing around if I'm tackling things I've been wanting to do for a long time. I was looking for my ticketmaster gift card in my box labeled "to sort". It's a pretty white box, a convenient way to stash low priority mail and odd paper projects. It is sorted now, thus the piles on my bed. DON'T YOU LOVE THROWING AWAY PAPER?

So while this guy was looking at the house, I went with my daughters to look at a basement apartment. She is miffed that the guy doesn't want pets, 'who can cause damage and leave little presents behind when you move the sofa', while the place he is offering stinks like smelly basement and seems kinda hard to damage in her opinion. I say landlords make blanket rules like that because they've had bad tenants in the past. I waited my turn in the car with the dog, but they both got the creeps in there and said I shouldn't bother going in. However the guy called twice and said when can you move in? He wants her of all those who came to look. Apparently he rents out the other parts of the house to other folk. I'm more concerned about who this guy is and who else lives in the house than the stinky basement issues.

I called my in-laws to tell them I'm selling the house. Grandpa sounds old, slower in speech, but he appreciates knowing what we're up to. My son will be with them tomorrow and they're excited. Grandma says we can't travel any more and when are you coming to see us? An email to friends about moving produced MANY responses - all positive, very affirming. It is good to have friends.

I need to find that ticketmaster card because we are planning to go to see the Celtic Women and they might be selling out. Not finding it is at least getting me to declutter yet more paper in the search.

It is a good feeling getting caught up on all the things that need to be fixed in the house. And it's only getting done because it's for sale.

The decision to sell was a long time coming but there is no turning back now. I have so many pro/con lists I could wallpaper my house with them.
Pro/con: move or not move.
Move to the village or rent? Rent or buy?
Move to a place my daughters can live with me, or move by myself?
Rent out the basement or move?
Pay a realtor or let my son do for sale by owner?
Rent out the downstairs for studio space or move?
Get out of bed or stay in bed (ok, I didn't make a pro/con list about that...)
Move to the village or to the beach?
Move to the beach temporarily or move straight to the mountains?
Move to Seattle or Colorado or N.C. or the beach? yikes!

This is an adventure for sure. Scarey, and also exciting.

The realtor, J.D., has been over here several times in the past few years discussing the possibility of moving. This time I was ready....um, I think.
Yes, I am sure. No turning back. I'll grieve and move forward.

-- off to the flower nursery to get lots of red, fuscia and blue flowers with little accents of white. I lose my good sense in that place. Too many gorgeous colors! I bought pre-planted containers, which I never do but I wanted instant garden. They were all so beautiful gathered in under a little awning with bubbling fountains. A soothing sound that drew me in and slowed my pace. I guess that's why people put fountains in their gardens. I loaded up my cart and went home $140 later. An investment in the sale of my home. "Spend money to make money."

Bit by bit the long wooden planter by the side of the house sank into the soft earth the past couple of years, neglected. My daughter and I moved it so that it would be in view when you come out of the screened porch. Her end lost its two iron legs, rotted right off the bottom. But we propped it back up on them. I put 6 potted plants down inside, hiding their pots and had an instant planter. Looks wonderful. Vincas, begonias and impatiens in red, fuscia, pink and white.

Out front I set everything down and schemed. First the hanging basket went up: voluptuous red begonias and those hanging up-side-down purple and red flowers -- I have no idea what they are called -- and some brilliant pink geraniums. I extended the chain hanger so that it hangs just above the porch rail.

Then on each side of the sidewalk, oh boy, this is where I spent more time than I wanted to. I kept moving and rearranging until I felt the colors were balanced. In the end I needed more red.

My back is being iced. My right elbow feels tennis elbow-ish.

Anyway it was threatening to rain again that night. We were soggy from storms and they evacuated a town to the North of us due to the weakening of a dam.

I ask my youngest how she is feeling about moving.
It sucks, she says. (sorry)
She will have to grieve too.

I moved the books to my car, the ladder to storage artwork back into portfolios behind my new art storage chest.

My weeding method: Make sure the ground is wet. Take a flat shovel and slide it just under the soil loosening the weeds' roots and then grab them. Shake off excess dirt and pitch into a pile.

The dog went out with me but she ran and hid when I got out the hose to do the back windows with outdoor Windex, the one you attach to your hose. It works pretty well.

I took the storm window off the front and washed both sides. That is a big one and requires a screwdriver and a little wiggling of the exacto knife between the cracks to get it off, then somehow wrestling it back on because the black rubber rim is coming off making it too wide. But I won and the windows are clean.

There is such a long list of things we COULD do, but I know certain things are more important than others. And I know that my front storm window is cleaner than it needs to be. It's hard to clean half-heartedly.

I've had a ton of exercise but I still would like to walk the dog.
When I stand up after gardening and feel the stiffness in my back, I always love looking over the transformation that has taken place. I really like digging in the dirt and yes, I tell the plants they will like it here though in truth, they are potted and I intend to take them with when I move. The hostas are starting to bloom.

I didn't feel very happy finishing putting all my husband's books into my car. The last of his ministry and I'm just giving them away. I pulled out a few. It's good I didn't have my glasses on or I might have started reading one of them. Now my car is loaded up I'll have to find out which church might want these books for their library.

I'm not looking forward to telling my boss I'm leaving. No, that will not be fun. I have started feeling the loss at my job, too.

A Dream

We were a group somewhere working at some sort of conference. My dog was there, as were other peoples' dogs and they were all in soft sided crates put right next to each other in one area of a room. Uh oh, will she be able to bite through this fabric?

We talked amongst ourselves as people do when they work together. My best friend from High School was there and we were laughing. Our projects took us from room to room. Were we carrying and moving things? Setting up as in where is everyone going to sleep? Was it like camping only indoors? It was a temporary situation, but was it because of terror threats or loss of electricity? Something was going on, but all I remember is that we were in a group.

(This is one of my recurring dreams, traveling and working in a group. Most of these dreams I've had are about everyone else seemingly knowing what their place is and what they are supposed to be doing and I am sidelined trying to figure it out.)

There was a man there who spoke with me and others a few times and I found him interesting. I don't remember what he said, or even the topic, but he caught my interest. Our conversation was brief but I was able to talk to him and respond to his comments with something he apparently found interesting in return. He was nice, he was intelligant, he was funny and he was somewhat tall with a medium sized build. I think he was blond. He was I think from the U.S., He was educated well and listened to what I said. I also do not remember what I said. Later we all needed to go somewhere and I discovered I only had flip flops that were shrunken to about 2/3 sizeed. I was laughing and wearing them anyway. I said something about my daughters putting them through the wash. They were tight on my feet, but the place was cluttered and things were all out of place and it didn't seem safe to go bare foot.

We were lining up for breakfast, French Toast? I could not see the whole picture in my mind, only the people immediately around me. Did I have money? Did I need it or was it already paid for? Can't remember.

So somewhere in this event, this man, who remained nameless, asked me out. He asked me to go to Kosovo with him. He said there was a nice place there where he loved to go dancing, and he described the feeling of the place. Kosovo?! Do people fly over the Atlantic on the first date? Weird. I was shocked and I said something to him about what would I do with my dog? But I wanted to go. The dream went on. As he was going into the other room, I overheard him....say to his companion that I would have a good effect on him. I felt flattered and surprised. But shocked at the invitation to go out 'to Kosovo'. Now then by this time in the dream he was either turning into the star of the Gods Must Be Crazy or he reminded me of that guy. I was thinking Wow, he's a movie star and he asked ME out. I was working and he was behind me and I was aware that I was not in my nice clothes but in grubby jeans and not conditioned and feeling fat and wondering whether he was checking me out physically and finding me unappealing and changing his mind. If he has seen me and still asked me out, then maybe physical conditioning is not so important to him at our age.

My girlfriend came to me later and said that guy wants to know if you want to go with him, he was serious. Without a moment's hesitation I said YES emphatically and we were together again and I was apologizing for not giving a clear answer to his invitation. Suddenly he was a potential new husband not just a date and again I was amazed that he valued ME. He and I were both older and I realized that you kind of look at people more realistically if you've been married. In my dream I thought of him saying "Ay yi yi yi yi" like the guy in the movie. It made me laugh, it attractcd me to him for him to identify with the guy who was clumsy with women, but this man, I don't think, was uncomfortable with women. It was something else that reminded me of that actor, maybe his looks? His work as a scientist in Africa? I don't know. For him to take me to Kosovo to dance meant he had money. It also meant he knew how to dance and liked to dance. I began calculating how fast I'd have to take dance lessons and practice! Answer, you really don't have time to get dance lessons...he doesn't mean next month. But I have always wanted to learn to dance and I was thinking maybe he could teach me. I know I CAN dance, I just need lessons before I'm too old. How did he know Kosovo? Was he an intellect, a scholar, a diplomat, an international business man? He is a traveler. I want to travel. To ask someone to Kosovo definitely means he's adventuresome. He definitely thinks outside the box. My best friend didn't try to come in between me and him either. She didn't flirt with him and try to divert his attention from me to herself (not how it was back in the days...)

I woke up sighing.....a romantic person to release me from all my present worries and take me far away to dance in Europe. Someone who is smart and yet still finds ME interesting and values me the first time he meets me. As I was waking, I was thinking: I think this was a Christian gathering, but I'm not sure. Was this guy a believer? He did not say anything about it, nor did I. I would in real life have to find out before I said yes. And besides, even if he were, how do you go to Europe on a date requiring overnight stay and avoid the appearance of evil? Ha ha. I'd have to ask him outright: we're in separate rooms, right? and you are not planning to come into my room, right? Why do you want to take me out?

About dreams, all my dreams are weird, but for some reason I wrote this one down. Since I've decided to move, I'm having even weirder dreams almost every night, some are frightening but not exactly night mares. I guess I find this one a little humorous.

King

My son came again this past weekend, Memorial Day weekend. He came 2 weeks ago and cleared out all my big items, sofa sleeper, dining room table, stereo system, huge file cabinet and on and on. (See previous post)

They arrived at 2:30 am because he had driven himself to put in his flower beds and finish his patio. We all slept in. By the time we were up and fed, it was after noon.

He started with a little pep talk. We were going to attack the job, room by room. He cleared out the shed, heaving heavies over the fence into the yard, from where we dragged them over to the trash pile. I had to pull him away from that project since the shed is not even on my property and cannot be inspected. All sheds behind my house and the neighbors' houses are on the university's property, but this is just a piece of their woods and for now, they do not mind. But the main thing was to make room for the lawn mower and yard tools. There were ants and mice and a huge spider.

Next the work room, full of half used paint, out of place tools, mini-blinds, old electrical odds and ends, a drawer full of toilet fixing things.....pieces of wood and glass and screening,etc.

He made me sort paint. The touch-up paints for the next homeowner went on this shelf. On the other, paints I intended to use. The rest went to the hazmats pile to haul off to the special recylcing place. Even now as I write I am remembering one of his mantras: Is it worth enough money that you are willing to haul it and store it? like my extra cans of paint in colors that I want in my ideal office. Five or ten dollars for a new can when I'm ready...I think I'll go and add those to the hazmats. The silly voice in me is protesting: but I got such a good deal. It was only a dollar and it's the exact color I want.

We installed the drawers of my beautiful new IKEA drawer unit. I used my new power screwdriver, woo hoo! Since I'm not going to rent out my basement any more, I don't need it for the kitchenette...we put my art supplies in it. It has 12 drawers with glass fronts, very nice looking piece with a butcher block top.

The biggest relief is that I sorted my husband's books. The King put a stack in my lap and walked inside to get another with these words trailing off with him: "by the time I get back I want those gone. Left side is give away, right side is keep." He comes back and finds me opening and looking through one "No, mom, you cannot look at them. If you aren't sure, put them in the keep pile and sort them again later". OK OK, I say and I start flinging books. "Yes, that's it, he says, good. That's what I'm looking for." I don't know how long it took, but I was amazed that I actually got done with all the books.

That was hard, actually, just like going through his files. So many years of collecting books for his ministry. Books about missions, theology, discipleship, God's character, God's holiness, prayer, family, support-raising. I planned to give them to my church until I came across one that he had bought from our church library when they must have been culling their books....oh, well, that's just one book. Someone will be interested and helped by SOME of them at least. I wonder if they have room for them in our little study building. Or if they'll have to store them. If they don't want them, now, I shall have to offer them to a church with room for them.

I don't remember which ones, but I think I hugged a couple of them to my chest and sighed. Then there were our marriage and family workbooks, I had to peek in to see if they were leaders' guides or our own personal copies. If they had our hand-writing in the blanks, they got thrown away. A few years ago I probably couldn't have imagined I'd want to throw them away, though why I'd want to go through them I wouldn't know. Still, I did picture myself reading through them again one day. Tossed.

While I was sorting the books, he was organizing the bedroom downstairs. We stored the blankets and pillows in the wardrobe that used to be in my daughter's room.

We had eaten Chipotles, a very late lunch at dinner time. After all the rooms were done but one, most of us were ready to quit.....except the KING. He said we are not done. We attacked the laundry room. He made me throw out all my emtpy milk jugs which are supposed to be filled with 3 days of drinking water and 3 days of washing water for 3 of us in case of emergency. He said there are no hurricanes here. I whined it's not hurricanes, it's terrorism, and they tell us on the radio we are supposed to have this. (Of course I had the jugs but they were not filled with water. And the crackers and tuna and non-perishable food has long since been eaten.) Out they went, being rudely kicked and thrown towards the back door.

The dog cousins were underfoot at times "What's happening? What's all the excitement about? Do we get to do anything? Anyone want to play? Oh, there's the neighbor's dog! Let's go out and bark at him!" A few minutes later you'd look over at them and they'd be stretched out on their sides in identical poses enjoying the coolness of the basement floor.

The laundry room. Lots of "someday project" material went. The T-shirts I saved from the King's and my years as tennis players, which I was going to make into a quilt one day. There was a discussion about the reverse osmosis water filter. He said what's wrong with a Brita? I'm considering that one. I asked him to install my 3 new filters, but he did not. It is a nuisance to have to hook it up and I expect I will not have space in which to park it at my smaller house. It's probably time to give it up.

I tried to by-pass the cedar closet, that's just my winter clothes I said except I think my wedding dress might be in the bottom. He starts holding up things and putting the keepers on hangers. I ended up throwing out a lot of things and finding a few of my 'lost' summer clothes.

He kept saying, "holy schmokes and a pancake." and then he'd laugh. I finally asked him what movie is that from? He said an Austin Powers movie, that I don't recommend you go see....it was a Dutch guy who said something about smoke and a pancake and he added the holy to the smoke. Now I'll be saying it and I haven't even seen the movies.

Under the stairs, the last place, out came the suitcases and Christmas decorations and large pieces of art boards. Back in went the suitcases and a few sleeping bags.
My dear daughter-in-law swept everything as we went.

Then we all stood in the middle of the main room and the King said, "Now, Mom, how do you feel?" I said If I had finished only Dad's books, I would have felt I had done a huge thing, that in itself was huge, but we have done the whole basement. It feels wonderful! He said I know I pushed everyone, but I knew I was the only one who would keep us going and if I stopped everyone would stop.

I'm tired, he said. I intended to go upstairs and finish the mia and make rice or fu fu yam, but no one was hungry and I was shocked that it was midnight.

Why did we call him KING? In case you didn't pick it up, he was bossing us all around and we were jumping at his command. Long ago I remember a Christian speaker saying that the best government is not democracy, but rather a benevolent dictator. That is how he was functioning. He was unquestionably boss, but he had my best interest in mind, not his own selfish comfort.

We had to call the daughter in Seattle and discuss July 4th plans, so I called her and he lay down on the kitchen floor and was asleep within about 5 minutes. His wife had to wake him and get him to go to bed.

I am so blessed to have such wonderful children, including my son-in-law and daughter-in-law. My son has his father's drive and ability to focus on a project. He is distractable, but you wouldn't know it when he's helping me declutter and organize my house for moving. After all that physical work, I made him talk through options for paying my bills between now and when I have cash in hand from the sale of my house.

Next day we talked for a while over breakfast and then they left with the partially cooked mia, my kids' favorite meal from Africa. He deserved so much more than that. I told his wife how to finish it up. He will enjoy that. I just shake my head in disbelief at how blessed I am to have children that are so fun and make me laugh and help me and return love to me as adults! Thank You, Lord.

How Blessed I am

My son and his wife came for Mother's Day weekend. I'm selling my house and he helped me declutter any BIG items that I will not be taking with me. My realtor said you are not ready to put your house on the market.....get all your excess things out.

We walked through the house and every single thing I am not moving, he hauled out to the street. We put out a huge FREE (Gratis) sign and watched people come and take things. Thanks for showing me, Flylady, that it is not worth the time or effort to set up a garage sale, just GIVE IT AWAY. He had his truck and if you lived in the neighborhood, he put your couch on the flatbed and hauled it to your house. This was not just because he's a nice guy, but to make sure that if they wanted it and had no way to get it home, it would indeed be removed from Mom's front yard.

He did in one day what would take me 10 years to finish. I let go of many sentimental things. He helped me decide how to get rid of his dad's files. We did not take time to sort small things. That will be in the next give-away. A neighbor is coming to get my extra freezer and fridge when he gets a way to get it home.

What a blessing! Then we went out to eat. We were going to have a bonfire and burn stuff, but ran out of steam. He took each of his sisters out, one before church and one after. they came home with flowers and cards, including one from the dog, after which he showed me a picture on his cell phone of my dog with pen in paw and a card on the floor next to her! I told him he cannot leave. He does not want to leave because he wants to finish the entire house so that the only things left in the house are things I will take with me when I move.

We drove through the neighborhood I plan to move into and he did not like it. I think he got a superficial impression. There was one woman having an open house. Her place had only 2 bedrooms and was expensive. I loved it. She had opened up the floor plan and put in beautiful wooden windows and high quality detailing, very simple and very much my style. But I know there are no others like that in that place. And the reason for my move at this time is not to find a wonderful place, but rather a small CHEAPER place to live while I focus on my work. The son has come up with yet another option: if you are planning on getting to the income you need in about 2 years, why not just rent? Why make a down payment? Why pay closing costs? So now I have to talk this one over with my realtor.

Wow, all I know is that when he comes around, things happen. I invited him to help me and he loves to declutter and he's strong as an ox, so we did it.
Things I let go of:
gas grill
good quality sofa sleeper
my husband's dresser
large steel file cabinet
2 small file cabinets
sewing machine in solid wood case
matching lamps
kids' table and chairs
dining room table
2 captains chairs
oak coffee table
end table
tea cart
4 lawn chairs
badminton set
whatever else

I felt for my daughter-in-law because this probably wasn't her idea of a great time, but our beloved dogs, the cousins, played together and provided entertainment for us. She is courageous and supportive.

So I thank God for my children ALL OF THEM and I marvel at the strengths of each of them, and this time, the decisiveness of my son which he got from his dad and his drive to keep going and finish. My daughter far away wished she could have been there to help because she is also good at such things and keeps a clutter free life.

In the process of talking about their own stash of garage sale items in their garage, they decided NOT to go to the group yard sale and set up a table next weekend but to take the full trailer and haul it to good will or Salvation Army. Neither of them even enjoy it and they don't need the money. So that decision gave them their next Saturday free to do something they enjoy.

My house almost echoes like an empty house and I can no longer sit on my couch for my one TV show per week, The Unit, and pet my dog. I even gave away my stereo system intending to get a Boze when I sell my house.

God is good and I am the most blessed of mothers in all the world.

Time Out?

Today was a women's business seminar at my workplace. I signed up because I am the creative type who is clueless about business. If I am going to make a living being creative I NEED HELP in marketing. It was very good.

Now I plunked myself into one of our brand new wheelchairs and everyone kindly tried to push me, but I said it's good exercize to walk myself around--I have to wear my air cast for 6 weeks and I don't want my muscles to atrophy. I could feel it in my hamstrings.

First, making a business plan, which is what my realtor told me I needed the last time I talked to her: I want to downsize and use the money from the sale of my home to live on while I build my new career: writing and art (and always on the back burner...life coaching).

All the details were there -- more than she could cover but we have the hand-out. Many there were already in business and a good number of us want to start one.

Next was I forget the name, but the presenter was just a delightful person, someone I'd love to be friends with, a lady, a sibling of 8! She talked more in a fireside manner of speaking. She was slender and lovely and sat still. I wished I had a sketch-pad to draw her right then and there. You build relationships and it's not all about getting stuff from others, but about giving and sharing.

Third I went to was about the who, what, when, why, where and how of business. I think it was about continuing once you've gotten yourself started up. You wake up in the morning and ask yourself why am I doing this? She told us you will be all excited at first with your new energy but when it gets tedious you will ask yourself why in the world am I doing this? And you must keep going.

Lunch -- I ended up sitting with 3 other co-workers and one I did not even know worked with me though she has been there longer than I. Ooops.

Then I chose to attend 'how to get capital'. Informative. I intend to use my profit from my home, but on down the line they say you may be needing more and so I took notes on where to get it and what the risk factors are and the advantages of the different sources of capital.

5th was about balance and spiritual stuff. Felt very, very new agey, but I agree with the positive impact of love and the dissing of fear factors in your heart. Did not agreee that we are all connected and have all we need. At times she sounded like she could be a great African-American preacheress in a prosperity theology church....but she had ideas I agreed with: It's about love and giving not material hoarding.

So the entire group gathered again and more prizes were handed out. I had met one woman who sells art but I think only African-American art. I made a mental note to get myself a SCORE mentor and hire my artist life coach...it makes a lot of sense now.

I recalled my last conversation with my daughter far away who actually said out loud the 'starving artist' fear. She does not believe. But I shall ask her to believe and I shall not listen when she says no.

I wonder what my true dream is. If I am not painting, why? Do I really want to have a mountain retreat house and keep painting on the side? Do I want people? I saw my young single mom friend today at a traffic light. I honked gently but was unable to get her attention. I care what happens to her. I worry when she calls me. I sense she needs professional help, which I am not.

I went away with a 'free' business bag full of office type gifts and pamphlets with lots and lots of information. I am happy I went and sorry my daughter could not get off work to go with me. She would have been the youngest there I'm sure. Maybe next time.

It was a great success. I look forward to succeeding as artist and author and coach.

I dont think it has sunk in yet

My son is home with his wife. She sent email photos of him with their dog. I wonder what he thinks about as he looks back over the past months. I wonder what it feels like for him to have been where he has been. I wonder if he will want to talk about it when I see him and whether there are things I should not press him to talk about. I will want to know everything and that may not be the best idea.

Outside it's all pastelly. Spring is here and today it is supposed to be 80. These colors do not inspire me to get out my paints and copy them, but I sure enjoy looking at them.

At work I complained that there is often someone else in my co-worker of the month parking spot. The duty manager acted immediately and now they give tickets to whoever parks there. Now I feel like a pruney faced old fuss-budget. I hope no one slashes my tires in retaliation.

It is tomorrow and cloudy. I ran with the dog at the lake and hardly saw any pastels at all. Lots of green and the water was dark with light gray sky reflections. Don't feel like painting that either.

Most of the time these days I don't run before breakfast, but because of my bloodtest, I did not eat and I realized again how much easier it is to run on an empty stomach. I pushed myself to keep running however slowly for the benefit of building my emotional confidence. It will help me physically, but as I ran today I was thinking of how it would help me in my tenacious category more than the physical. I stopped and walked about 5 times but made my self start again within about 10 paces. Once I had to stop and make the dog lie down while a field trip full of 10-11 years olds went back to where they came from. I don't know how many of them said 'Look at that dog' and 'roof,roof' but it was a lot. I kept popping kibble into her mouth saying see? children! treats. good girl, you are being polite. I have learned that with a reactive dog, you keep them away from potentially upsetting situations and reward them when they are calm around people they will be prone to reacting to (like anyone). The first priority was to stop at a good distance. And it takes many, many such successful experiences to build the dog's confidence. (Read Jean Donaldson: The Culture Clash. She is a genius about dogs)

While waiting to have my blood drawn, I looked over my coach call notes and transferred things into my palm in the form of tasks.

Why am I contacting any particular artist or writer?
Because I want to know how they earn money painting and writing. How did they start? What was absolutely necessary? What was extra? How do they keep customers? Did they do this on purpose, or are they just gifted and walked into it serendipitously?
Ron reminded me of this: some will say I can't help you but I know someone who can.

What can I offer them?

I was thinking about how I want to help good people get hired at my store (so I won't have so many slackers to work with, and for the overall good of the company). I have thought of several people and 2 got hired but only for summer. I have realized that I need to talk to maybe 10 or 20 to get one hired, especially older people who want a job year round. Anyway we used to have support parties when we were in ministry, and we were told to invite 40 people if you wanted 10, or some such ratio. It is the same thing Ron is trying to get across about contacting these people. If I keep at it I will find the ones with the answers.

This post started out to be about my son being home and how I don't think it has really hit me. I felt just a little sad the day after he called from his house, and I think it was just a bit of sorrow that his dad couldn't be here to see him come home and be excited for him just as I am. Maybe sad that there has to be war. I see people come into the store in cammies and I want to talk to them and ask them about their service to the country and thank them. Sometimes I do end up in conversations with them.

Someone at work was indicating that I should still be his number one in my son's heart, and that after one day with his wife he should come see his mama. I argued No, he belongs with his wife first. I will never come between them or try to stay in first place in his heart. Leave your father and mother and cleave to your wife.

OK my cereal is gone, time to get going.

Dear Coach

Talk to me, then. Do you think I did not know I was giving only partial effort to my new career? You have said you are not an edgy kind of coach. You are nice and you are very good at emphasizing the positive and helping me to do that. So I noticed that it was very difficult for you to say the words. You said it yourself, that it was a very hard call for you. The one where you told me from your viewpoint that I had not determined to go for it: art and writing (and always the maybe coaching) as a career. I wonder what you thought my reaction might be. Breaking down in tears? Anger? Being insulted? Withdrawing? Maybe it's exactly the way I feel when I do not want to confront my daughters and I see things that are foundational in their lives that I believe need to be changed. I don't like to hurt their feelings. I don't want them to be unhappy because of me.

But you are right. If ever I have been a loser in my life, it must have had it's tap root deep in fear. And where fear ruled, I did not put my heart, soul, mind or strength in. The side roots attached to the tap root are laziness, love of comfort and leisure, being the baby of the family, being accustomed to having enough money and not having to work for it, ... maybe other stuff.

I think of my years competing in tennis. I never got over the fear of losing, and so I lost most of my matches. I TAUGHT tennis as a certified professional, for Pete's sake, and knew the mechanics. I was very fit and stronger and faster than my opponents and I had shots and spins they did not have. I practiced hours and hours.

But when I walked out onto the court, in the back of my mind was ALWAYS "you can lose, you might lose". Once I was up 5-2 in both sets and lost the match to a woman with very little skill. She said to me when we shook hands, YOU ARE SO GOOD. And I was, compared to her. I gave her the match because I was afraid of the momentum shift (at 5-2, the winning player can relax and the losing player makes changes and digs in. You see it all the time in sports) She did not beat me, I beat myself. I never really got over that mental hurdle when I quit playing tennis.

What did I want to write about? I needed to hear you say it, I guess that's what it was. I needed to hear: You are not going to get there unless you get serious and put your heart, soul, mind and strength into it, Annie. Up till now, I've done a lot of work, exploring, investigating, meditating, thinking, mulling over, rehashing, discussing, writing, praying even....but I have not decided to do it.

By the way I liked what you shared from your wife's thesis about building confidence and efficacy. Efficacy isn't in my pocket Oxford American Dictionary. But efficacious (adjective) means producing the desired result. So efficacy must mean the production of the desired result. Reaching your goal. Getting there. Standing on the mountain top.

Once I asked my tennis coach to be really tough on me; I wanted to get good as fast as possible. He said go out and play in tournaments. Months later when I was licking my wounds and whining to him about how hard it was, he reminded me of how I had stood right there and asked him to be hard on me. Oh, yeah, I said that, didn't I. So this is part of it? Duh.

Jumping out there, no matter what the outcome....including losing all my savings and my house....is that the fear I have to overcome?

And oh, yes, my new theme song from Josh Groban's album
Let me fall
let me fly
There's a moment when fears and dreams must collide.
Someone I am is waiting for the courage
Someone I will become will catch me
So let me fall if I must fall
I won't heed their warnings
I won't hear them

Let me fall, if I fall
All the feelings ? may or may not rise? (cant hear words clearly on this line)
I will dance so freely holding on to no one
You can hold me only if you too will fall away and let.....
.....all fears useless fear and shame? ...(can't hear words)

Let me fall If I fall
there's no; reason to miss this one chance, this perfect moment
just let me fall.

This is my trapeze song. I believe it is from the Cirque de Soleil (circus).
When I left a secure salary for NOTHING, and living off my savings, I was letting go of one bar flying through the air knowing that I would catch the other. But in the mean time I was flying through the air.

There are nay-sayers in my life who say "it is hard to make a living painting", or maybe art will be your "hobby" while you get a real job. It makes me want to run back and get a real job and make enough money doing (whatever) and then in my spare time, develop an art/writing job. Be sure first. Be safe. Don't be foolish and waste all your money; you will be so ashamed. It will confirm the fact that you are just a dumb girl, unable to handle finances. Then where will you be? Still no where and broke.

Let me fall. I won't heed their warnings. If they don't think I should put all my effort into being an artist or a writer, or a coach, they are entitled to their opinion.

The line:
"someone I am is waiting for my courage." NO. This is not going to cut it. You don't get courage by waiting for it or even praying for it. You pluck it up. Pluck up your courage. Courage is being afraid and doing it anyway. So the idea is someone I am is depending on my courage. I am choosing to take my courage and go.

If I were not convinced God has led me to this place, I might agree with the nay-sayers.

Enough for now, that brilliant blue sky is waiting for the dog and me.

Dear Coach, you surely know that you have plenty of relational capital to spend. The truth may hurt, but I want it.

such good news

My passion is percolating and I feel the need to write. One that I love called last night and told me of very positive changes in her life. Relief. Joy. Strength. I could hear it in her voice. Hope. I won't say her name, but I don't want to put other peoples' lives on my blog without permission.

So I will put MY stuff out there: my stuff is that I was very worried about this person when she was sick in mind and body and spirit. Exhausted, weak, unable to function. In the past I personally felt the need to change her life. But in recent years, through reading books about Boundaries by Henry Cloud and John Townsend, I grew. I cannot "make it all better" for someone else. I can't fix other people, only myself. I can only do the best I can to grow myself. I can be there and try to help, give advice if it is asked for, be supportive, listen, do things I am capable of for the person. But I cannot make decisions for the person about what to do with her life. That was growth for me and I noticed that when I was with her, I grew less tense and worried inside and more relaxed: make good decisions myself about things that are MY responsibility. Other people are responsible for their own lives.

Then I have antidepressants which have made it easier for me to think more like a normal person and not get all tied up in knots of frustration and anger when things go wrong.

I voluntarily subitted myself to brainwashing by flylady (see flylady.net). The most helpful aspect of her email deluge for me has been fighting the perfectionism in me. There is nothing wrong with doing excellent work, but being a perfectionist is delbilitating and leads to depression.

My church and my pastor have given me layers and layers of teaching and living out of GRACE that comes through the Lord Jesus Christ.

Last and most definitely not least, I hired a Christian life coach. (See purposefilledlife.com) At a time when I felt excited about the future and keen on finding my new niche, I was also very frightened, and felt very, very alone.

I had whined: I don't want to do this by myself! That is, make the big decision about what to do next? God cares and He was listening - even to my whining - and then I got that email from my former tennis coach saying: 'You'd be a good life coach.' And I thought, What's a life coach? But the link to Ron's site and his 30 minute free coaching session convinced me to try it.

Someone to walk with me on this journey. I know I was growing before, but I am sure that having a coach has multiplied my growth. I would have tried new things and gotten a job or two and moved forward, but without a coach, I would not have moved at the pace I have. Well, it's kind of silly to play the 'What if?' game. 'What if' (what if I had not hired Ron as coach) does not exist. Ok, so this is what I know. God graciously led me to a fine coach, suited for me, and He has used Ron to ENCOURAGE ME, SUPPORT ME and keep me ACCOUNTABLE.

So what does this have to do with the phone call last night? In the past, I think I would have gotten all upset, experienced a lot of anguish in my soul, feeling the whole burden of "fixing" another person's life, not my own life, you see. But this time I sat by the person, prayed with the person and for the person, listened to the person, encouraged her to talk, admitted to myself and to her I DO NOT HAVE THE ANSWER and not only that, but it is OK that I do not have the answer. All I had was a caring for her, and a willingness to be with her and the faith of a mustard seed that she could take steps to make her situation better.

Something that helped her tremendously was not my idea. It was her own idea. She was able to get away from her present load of stress and have time away, time outdoors, time with fun music, time with relaxed people. Lots of rest and healthy food.

Now then at the end of the day (this day only) I could hear the difference in her voice. Her voice was louder and clearer. She was enthusiastic and sounded happy! God, you are so good. Thank you. I expect more encouragement and grace from You for today, and I thank you in advance for that too.

relecting on the superhero thing

A week is past back in my old position, the managers are asking what I think of the experience. I tell them how excited I am for all I've learned and that the job has really just begun. My partner and I are thinking to continue to help make the store better not just for our 2 week test but long term.

Big manager says why don't you write an article? We did, my partner already submitted it. But it was her article mostly and I didn't really express myself. Sometimes it takes me a while to mull things over .... Maybe I'll do a freewrite and then edit it.

I had mixed emotions. More comfortable to be back where I know what I'm doing, but as the old song says: "how you gonna keep 'em down on the farm, after they've seen Paree"?

It was so interesting watching people work, those who are in control, how they interact with each other and how things get done. And we had the authority in their names to go and get things done for them, use their names and watch people move. Fascinating.

One manager pointed out that everyone knows who I am now. Yes, not that I care about that, but it's true. And I have met many co-workers and know their names as well.

They are looking for us to take our pictures in our superhero T-shirts. My partner says we already took pictures, use those. I say we are being reviewed today and I have to be in uniform and I'm not leaving my post! Oh, yes, she agrees.

Then a note has gone up on the bulliten board that they want people who will do comics and write for the newsletter. I will have to do that. I have no choice.

determination

On one side are real tangeable goals, something you can touch and see. On the other side are ideals, ideas, dreams, wishes, desires. I live mostly on the dream side. I am trying to move toward the reality side. So this week I did a word study to draw my mental energy into this process. Still dreaming? Probably. But it helps me to think on paper. And if I get a better grip on what the difference is, I hope it will prepare me to act more decisively. Hope. Learn. See those words? Dream side of things, they are. But prepare and act, those are on the goal side of things.

Determination: I thought about the fact that I am a "flaming P". (ok, this is from the Meyers-Briggs types, P is the letter a person comes out with if she likes to keep her options open as long as possible, does not want to commit.) I suppose I get this from my Dad. When they asked him to work at AUL, the guy thought the phone had gone dead because of the long silence. Daddy would not go, Uh, um, hmmm, let me see, he would just be quiet while his brain wheels turned slowly. Whatever came out would be a good decision, but you had to wait for it.

A flaming P wants to keep her options open as long as possible. Another way of putting it is that she is afraid to commit and get stuck. Up to now, I have not made that determination: ‘I am going to do this thing’. My coach said he would fail as a coach if I never took a step toward making my life purpose a reality.

I have grown to like the song on 'Awaken' CD by Natalie Grant, the last song which she sings with Wynona Judd. He’s gonna bring it all together for good. He’s gonna make you happy. He’s gonna make you laugh out loud. Yes, it’s true, God is ultimately in control of the outcome, whether my dream comes true or not. But that does not mean that I should just wait for it to come together, piddling around without a goal. I can make a specific goal and work towards it...

My entrepreneur friend is willing and happy to have lunch with me so that I can pick her brain. She is a go getter, a plan an doer and she has come all the way from sick and broke with an injured and broke husband to owning homes and having successful businesses and she is not finished by a long shot. She says it's a God thing, and it is, but I still want to be around her and learn how she works.

So my "reason" for not being determined is that I’m afraid that if I invest money in making a career painting and writing, I will lose in the end and wind up broke, or at best struggling financially.

Why don’t I believe I can be a NOT starving artist? My coach gave me a lot of ammunition to believe with and he said “you will say he’s just saying that because he’s my coach” and he is partly right, but no, I do believe I am marketable. So do I need to make a goal and be one of those crazy people who puts signs up all over the house and car about what my goal is?
determination n. = firmness of purpose
focus = a center of activity or interest v.
3. to concentrate or be concentrated or directed (on a center etc)

I think I've been taking steps toward a goal, by saying yes to things that pertain to art, writing and people (life coaching) but those are just areas not goals they are too big, too nebulous, too braod the target is not pin pointed.

Speakimg of nebulous, when I went out for our walk tonight the clouds were cumulous, big, warm and stormy looking, not warm in color, they were mostly deep blues, but the weekend brought warm weather and they seemed warm. I tied my jacket around my waste half way down the street. It seems like winter is over so suddenly and that in a couple weeks all the trees will be budding. Already some are dressing up with reddish purple.

The big heavy clouds were moving slightly. They dropped a little rain on us as we walked, but not enough to make us wet. I turned my ankle and thought Oh no not again! but decided it was the pain-for-one-minute variety and walked home, and even ran part of the way and it did not hurt. The last thing I need is to be injured at work tomorrow when we are being reviewed and they asked me to come in for the morning shift so that if they ask me security questions, they will get a good answer. The new person might not know the answers, and the old person may know some of the answers but never comes in on time and won't be there whent they come through.

I met the guy who is building an arts community South of here. I had read about him in the newspaper's Sunday magazine and made a mental note that I should check it out. Well, they paged him in my store and I thought, hey, that's that guy in the magazine.

I call up to the department to which he'd been paged and say: ask him if he would stop by the entrance on his way out, I want to meet him. After about 10 minutes I see a guy going upstairs and I think it is he, but I don't chase him because I'm not sure... meanwhile a rumor has started in the department to which he was called that he's some famous person, because Annie said he was in the magazine this week.

Well, they call back and want to know who he is and is he famous? and they say that he just ordered something and went downstairs. So I go looking. Hmmm, I think he's the type to just make his purchase and leave; he's not going to browse; I think I'll go down to where he will be picking up his order.

Sure enough there he is and I introduce myself and ask him about his project and tell him I'm interested, that I'm starting to paint again after 35 years of mothering and ministering. He is renovating a place where artists can live and work all in one place. It sounds cool. I ask about a waiting list, yes, he expects there will be one and he gives me his email address. He says he's gotten more responses from that article than any previous ones about similar projects in other cities. He is wearing the same jacket he was photographed in. He is an architect.

In a few years time, when his project is up and running, I may be ready to sell my house. My girls will be out on their own I hope. I may want a small artist's apartment then. Hmmm, I do not know if this is something the Lord put in my lap or not. The little red brick storybook house, (see post "love at first sight") was not for me, but it still had a reason for me to look at it.

Oh yes, this is supposed to be about determination, and yet I am allowing myself to free write, so now I need to determine that I am going to make a living painting and writing. Why do I feel the need to be so darn sure before I jump in? Is it because I felt sure before, and jumped in, and in the end did not feel I succeeded in my first career? Success breeds success. (So does a sense of failure breed failure)

I did not feel successful then, even though my outlook on all of what I did has changed and I value it for what it was: me trying, struggling along while depressed. I think I am way over the line guarded against failure. It comes back to what I am learning about fear, a perfectionism, and all that. To be continued, I have to go to work.

superhero job finished

Yea. It's over. My old manager says "you're mine now". Other departments (2 to be exact) have offered for me to come work with them. The man whose idea it was to do the superhero thing, well, I don't think he's too enthused about what we did. But superhero 2 and I are going to have a talk with him about it. For one thing, we do not know what he thinks, in spite of the fact that he's pretty much ignoring us and gave us a funny look when we showed up in our costumes on the last day. (He wanted us to be in costume every day from day 1). I know that we did not do all that he expected, and I can only guess that he is dissappointed that we were not successful in generating a high energy level at the store, but we did what we could. We got a lot out of it. I would do it again for that reason... I learned TONS: like how to order something for the store, how to look up products, how to put up displays, how to make a video, where to get tools, how to order things, how to get reimbursed for store purchases, how to climb up the escape ladder to the roof (oops, don't tell) how to make signs in the graphics department, which was my favorite part.

Our first job in graphics was "weeding". That involved removing the surroundings from white sticker letters so that they could be applied to a blue board. Tedious, mindless, but relaxing, after you've been running around for several days. Takes a lot of time. The store is going bililngual and there are many, many signs to change.

Good things happened for me personally, though that was not the purpose of being a superhero. I tried. Perhaps it would have gone better to have a superhero with a strong ability to focus.

The last day we ended up in graphics and I was pleased to be able to do what they asked: applied a giant sticker on a giant board without making bubbles in the vinyl. My teacher was good and had no problem with saying 'now you try it'. There was NO sense of "Oh be careful, if you mess up that will cost us x amount of money..." Then she bragged on me to the director. I see it more clearly every day. I guess I am better than average working with my hands.

The many other jobs, from making newsletters, to designing T shirts (a dual effort) and building furniture and removing heavy things from high displays, finding people to finish assembling the rest of the new displays and someone to put new pieces back up again, borrowing the right tools from the people who do this every day, making transfers from one department to another and getting the right signature, calling other stores, marking down what customers looked at, recording wait times in different departments, listening to frustrated co-workers and trying to encourage them to keep making their concerns known to their managers and the managers above those managers.....on and on.

My favorite part at first was surveying the co-workers, getting their feedback.

The other thing I appreciated, not one of my jobs, but a by-product of the assignment, was watching the big cheeses at work, scurrying around, calling each other, listening to their conversations, following them on a walk through the store and hearing how they presented things to the co-workers. I will never look at my job the same way again. I realize how much better I can be at my job now that I understand how much EVERYONE has on his/her own plate. I knew that, but now I know many of the specific tasks they are working on each day. I also have a bigger picture of how the entire store and its system works and how my little part fits into it. No more tunnel vision.

My partner and I think that our job as superheroes is really just beginning. I doubt we pass the review this year, but I could see us making huge strides by next year if we carry on with a sort of permanent superhero attitude all year long. I wish I could work full time and also have time for my at home job. But I will figure out a way to keep my old job at least for now and add in one day in graphics, and/or general purpose superhero stuff (which kind of amounted to super-gopher by the end of the 2 months).

People in my department kept telling me they missed me and when was I coming back. That was nice. Someone is sales asked me if I was coming to their department? I said I had thought about it and 'maybe' and he said Yes!!!

My partner told the biggest cheese that we could do a show and display my artwork in the restaurant. Yikes. I was scared. No, let me hide out on the web, not put my things in front of real people, and much less people I actually know. Fear, get lost. If she agrees, I will do it.

Well, more details may come out later. In 2 weeks when the review is over, maybe an update on whether we passed. Maybe an update on how our talk with our superhero boss goes.

Smell the Salty Air

I have only 3 pictures left for my commission. It is encouraging to realize you are near the end. It is like driving towards the ocean and at a certain point you can smell the salt in the air. I am close and it is uplifting. I've enjoyed it, I've learned tons, I look forward to my next commission, but it is good to have an end to things.

I went to Kinkos to print the last 8 pictures and mail them by Fedex which is now right in Kinkos. The self copier didn't get the color right and I don't have time to mess with fixing it so I went to the other side where they do it for you. Our color copiers are both down, she said. And she told me how I could use the machine I just came from. I talked out loud and said I don't have time to mess with fixing the color and spending money on each one, but I made sure I didn't "take it out on her". I am much more sensitive to that now that I work with John Q. Public myself.

And Zips is closed so I could not pick up my slacks. Oh well, a wasted trip. Off to visit my sister and my Dad in one hour.

The superhero thing. It is great to have a week off from that. But I have learned so much and ENJOYED learning. And I have enjoyed watching movers and shakers move and shake. People that are leaders and love the marketplace and the high speed, high pressure world of business. It fascinates me, and I observe the difference in them and myself, and I see why I am not a mover and a shaker. But I do have my own gifts to give and I am happily learning to give them.

So Far Not So Good

the Superhero job. It was delayed 5 times and then Mr. J was over 2 hours late for our first "start up" meeting. There are only 2 of us whereas they were hoping for a team. Our first day I enjoyed going around the store surveying our coworkers, the personal interaction with individuals with a goofy survey. I could not believe some of the coworkers were actually worried about getting the question right: How far can you toss a meatball? But I did not make fun of them.

But the rest has been reading a boring book by Ingvar, planning and strategizing, none of which I am good at. Mr. J is soft spoken even when he is in a quiet room with us and I do not follow him easily. My managers are excited for me, but so far I am not excited for me. I find myself thinking when do I get to go home? This is exactly why I hesitated taking this on. High stress and no recompense.

So far it has not entailed what I was told it would be. And the girl who is young enough to be my youngest daughter and I are not working smoothly together. She's nice, but there's no click, click. I think it will get better in time. We both support children through Compassion International and she went to visit hers in Peru and it changed her life and has given her a passion for the homeless, hungry and poor.

They have asked repeatedly if I can work full time during these 8 weeks and I say not now. I said yes after the art project is done, but wait a minute. For no recompense, will I spend all my time at the store and not get things done at home, and also slow myself down on my REAL job OUTSIDE the store? Hmmm, doesn't sound like a good idea to me. Besides, I'm dying to go to the Northwest and see my DD. And I need to visit family in Florida.

work

Painting again. It is hard to get going sometimes.

What I am learning is that I don't know how the paint will react. I don't know how the paper will stretch, how it will rumple when loaded up with water and how much water to use for which type of effect. I don't know my colors. There is no automatic here, it's all a slow process. I have to think and test on scratch paper to try out colors.

I stand up and walk away for a minute thinking: If I painted it over and over I would make improvements and after about 20 tries, I might like what came out. I don't have time for 20 tries.

I need to call my commissioner and say: You should pay me less because I am a student not a professional.

And so as I go on trying to complete this project for which I am being paid, and which I do NOT want to look like practice in its finished state, I am, as a matter of fact, practicing. I have just painted a matador. I am happy with the legs, but not the coffee cup. Don't ask, the poetry is clever and full of puns. The hand holding the cup is incomprehensible and will need to be fixed. But I need a break.

The light and shadow is not dramatic enough for me,though I like the detail in the embroidery. I had to go searching for faces of typical matadors because the image I used for the body was a photograph of one of those statues that you can stick your head into and have your picture taken, so that you look like you are the matador. The guy in the picture looked very blond and touristy.

There is a blob of gray that came off my finger unintentionally that I cannot get off the paper. I will try painting over it with white but only if I cannot erase it with water. I like the steam coming off the coffee.

I used the colored pencils that turn into paint when you wet them. Mostly I colored onto the page and then added clear water to blend it. I am learning that for detailed finicky work, these pencils are useful. They get the job done faster than brushes.

But I didn't get going on it in earnest until afternoon. I had an appointment in the morning and then ate lunch and felt my coffee wearing off but could not nap, so I got up and went to work. It is raining and has been all day so the dog (and I) don't get our run today.

I had to call work to see if I am on schedule any time soon. Superhero is put off till next week. Only 3 applied. I wondered who, but did not ask. I did not want to have that to think about today. If I had known this would happen, I could have bolted off to Florida to spend a week with my dad.

I want to attach a tag to my paintings that says "Little slubs and splotches are part of the character of this work and are in no way a sign of imperfection or sloppinness, rather they increase the value of your purchase." In other words: "I meant to do that!"

held

Held. A song by Natalie Grant.
While I was working on the illustrations for my poet friend, he asked me to go out and buy Natalie Grant's CD called Awaken. He mentioned 2 songs in particular: "make me over", and "held". I ordered it online and when it came, I listened to the songs.

The words to "Held" made me cry instantly. I had heard the song before, in spite of the fact that I hardly ever listen to Christian radio any more. I recognised the tune. But I had never paid attention to the words.

It was about death, a mother losing a son and how wrong it was. I have never lost a son, but I have lost. This is what it is to be held, she sings. I know this. I know what it is to be held by God. I know his presence. I understand what this woman is singing about. When I lost my husband I was flattened. But God was holding me and I knew it. I didn't feel it immediately, but I had seen evidence of his presence at the moment of death. Day by day, little by little, with only a tiny mustard seed of hope and faith, I walked through the following days. It's been over 6 years and now I can almost feel God's arms around me. "This is what it means to be loved", she says, "and to know, that the promise is when everything fell, we'd be held...."

Christmas goose

Will things ever slow down? I took the dog running at the lake. Little groups of geese were landing silently, totally opposite of the other night when every single one of them must have been honking at once. I suppposed they were arguing over water-space. Most of the lake was ice and all several hundred geese were in the unfrozen center. Hey, move over. I can't... there's only 1 square foot for each of us. That's my fish! Well, you took my algae. Leave some for my kids, for Pete's sake. Shut up, I'm bigger than you.....Hey, y'all, stop arguing!

But today I learned what a goose sounds like when it is crying. I went down by the water and the brush. Usually the geese are well into the water before we get anywhere near, but we must have startled one, or else it was weak or injured already. All of a sudden the dog was in the water and had a goose in her mouth! I yanked the leash and shouted no, pulling and yelling. She switched grips and then had it by the wing and it was fluttering --trying to get away. NO!! NO!! Bad dog! Yank. Pulllllll.

Luckily I yanked when she shifted grips again and the goose got away, but it was hurt. The dog came out of the water spitting feathers. The goose sat in the water yeeping and dazed. After a bit it flew off about 20 feet and 2 other geese came up to inspect it. I was relieved that it could fly. But it was so pitiful. You could see a chunk missing out of the sillouette of its neck. I hoped it was feathers, but I could not tell. I don't know what kind of things I said to the dog. I was too sad to express anger at the dog. She was just doing what dogs do. I wondered if I should call the park police or animal control to come put the goose out of its misery, or whether it was not hurt that badly and it would recover on its own. All I know is that it cried and I could still hear it when I got to the other side of the water. Was it going to die? What do the other geese think about it? The two geese stayed nearby but stayed a couple feet away from it. This is normal in the wild, but I grew up in civilization with tame animals and it was hard to watch in person, no matter how many maulings I've seen on nature programs.

As we ran the rest of our lap, I thought of Jesus saying that a sparrow does not fall to the ground without the knowledge of God the Father. Here is part of the context. He said: Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

chosen

I got my application in 12 hours late... scribbled and tossed on Mr. J's desk. I went to work the next day expecting that, if they wanted to interview me, they would call me up to the offices.

No call. I went about my business. It is quiet in there pre-Christmas, a lovely reprieve from the crazed malls. [[[I have not set foot inside a single mall to "get ready for Christmas". It is Christmas Eve EVE and I'm not "ready". But my heart is always celebrating Christmas. I'm laughing at all the arguments on the radio about political correctness and the grinchy side of liberalism stealing Christmas from those who wish to keep it for themselves (and be permitted to say Merry Christmas out loud in public.) I say Merry Christmas to customers if I see them carrying out decorations or wearing Santa hats, or if they say it to me, first.)

I went through my stage of grief over the fact that the world stole Christmas. And at the same time, I pined away wishing I had enough money to "do" Christmas the way my parents did it, heaping lots of nice wrapped gifts under the tree for all 4 of us kids and the dog (who could pick out her own toys.... we thought she was a genius dog, but think about it: dogs can smell a hard rubber jingly ball through the paper.)

I went through the depressed stage, the martyr stage, doing Christmas for my kids and husband because I loved them, but having an emptiness in my heart about what a game it was.

In the film Out of Africa, Barkley told Karin that Dennis "likes to give gifts...but not at Christmas." I think that's how I am. I resented at times that I had to play the game at this specific time and my part done on time. The pressure was tremendous.

I could never quite get into the church's version completely. I do love the music, the hymns, and the reading of the true story of how Jesus came to us.

I now laugh at all of it. Not the story of Christ. But our frenzy over buying gifts for one another and decorating and making cookies and eating lots of chocolate (guilty). We so miss the joy of knowing God Himself when we focus on the decorations we have inflicted onto this event.]]]

Anyway this post is not about Christmas. It is about being picked as a superhero, whatever that is, at work. Mr. J came by yesterday, 2 days past the day I turned in my application. I said (hoping) "Did you get my application? It's too late, right?" He said, no, it's not too late; we're still taking applications. Almost indecipherable earth tremors rippling in my tummy.

Mr. J is from Jolly Old England and I love to hear him speak the Queen's English. But it's a little noisy in the entrance and he is soft spoken, so I am barely hearing him. I tell him I'm not sure I really want to do this, because it's still pretty vague in my mind what my resposibilities would be. He tells me more about it.

Part of it is that I get to call the store manager to account if she doesn't do what she said she will do. You mean I get to boss her around? I'm smiling. Yes, and me, too, he says. We will make goals and we want you and the other superheros to follow up and see that we are doing what we planned to do.

I make jokes about getting lazy people fired. (But I'm not really joking.) He talks about how the store has so many areas to grow in. I tell him the store is young and that hopefully we will weed out the bad workers and bring in better ones.

He also tells me that he spoke to the 2nd in command. Annie will not be in the entrance for 2 months. Are you OK with that? And, he tells me, she said yes. I joke while telling the truth: this place falls apart when I'm not here. He says, you are the first person people meet. I am, I say. I know. And I am very good at this job, but at the same time, I am dispensable. When I need to take a break, and no one can cover for me, my managers always say: just go. The store functions without me. Kind of a mixed message I say. And he says he thinks there should always be someone in the entrance and I agree with him. But another note is taken in my mind: Ms. 2nd in command KNOWS how valuable I am in this place. I wonder if they'd be willing to prove it by paying me more than the warm body salary I get now.)

We are interrupted by several customers so that our conversation is in pieces, but finally he puts the ball in my court. I say, you want me to decide right now? Yes. I mumble about not liking to make decisions and think out loud. Oh, OK, if I hate it, I can put up with it for 2 months. I won't die. So yes, I'll do it.

Now what have I gotten myself into? As I'm closing, the duty manager says "Superhero" to me. Someone knows already. ....what does this mean? I have periodic fits of panic and I have to talk to my scared self and tell her that she can do this. She can reread her life coaching book and listen to her CD's and lean heavily on her coach, if need be, to use coaching questions to motivate and encourage the big cheeses and the little cheeses all over the store. It's just that I want to be focused on painting and getting my project finished and what painting I will do after that...that is, my job OUTSIDE the store! I have another commission waiting to be written and illustrated after this one. I don't want stress on this job, this is my relaxing job. So I tell myself, ok, learn to do this without stress.

I am pretty sure God has his fingers in this.

fear

I should be dressing to the shoes. I am dressed and I have shoes on but I'm not dressed to present myself at work. I drove over and applied, late, for the superhero position last minute. Now then I have done a pro/con list. On the pro side are growth and networking opportunities. The store may benefit from gifts I have that have not been used before. The cons include no additional compensation, possible high learning curve in areas I may not want to learn about and lots of additional stress, when I like my job in that I'm used to it and it is easy and low stress (leaving energy for my "real" job...working at home on art and writing and coaching). My heart's desire at the moment is NOT to be chosen. I think that they may call me at any minute and say "we want to interview you" and I am not ready to jump in the car and go over. However I am working today, so I shall be ready to go while at work.

too much to tell

My life is so full, I do not have the slightest idea how to tell it all. What is interesting to other people about my life, if anything? I picture reading about someone else's life and getting bored with all the rabbit trails and details....

And yet I just read an article about a bipolar person person's manic experience and reading her description felt very much like my own freewriting. Not being manic, but the writing style...present tense, just stating whatever was on her mind, going from one thought to another distractedly, only with her, she acted out her thoughts and followed them and got lost and had to be rescued. She works on the editorial staff of the magazine. I know somone who is bipolar and I want to give it to him and express my sympathy and see how I can be a helpful non-judgmental friend to him as he lives with his disease. It had two nice paintings with the article as well. I put it into my work notebook with his name on it.


Last night Betty called. She and her husband supported me and my husband for years with their money and their love and prayers. She is a caring person and still calls me occassionally. She always apologizes that she has not kept in touch better. I always say you don't need to apologize. She asks all about how I am. I ask all about her. She asks if I need money.

She is not writing a Christmas letter because the year is too depressing. She is going around in a wheelchair with a broken hip.

Her husband's knee needs surgery but he is waiting for her to get on her feet so that she can take care of him when he is recuperating. Oh my. It's hard to be old.

The devastating thing is that their son's marriage is falling apart. And he is in ministry. The wife went off with his best friend. I listened, I sympathized. I feel awful with her. I verbalized how very sad this is. And I gave her my coach's web address for her son, because he, too, has been a youth minister and I told her how much coaching has helped me and she said I can hear it in your voice, you are a different person. I said I am, I am a different person. (I am not, but you know this is a way of speaking.) I am so deeply contented I am about to burst. I have everything I could ever want. I have wonderful children. I have a house. I am moving into my new career, getting paid to do what I love to do and what I'm good at and I also have the freedom of being single (now that I've adjusted to it!

There are papers askew on my desk. There are uncut coupons in a paper bag with handles. The pile is getting thicker. More by the printer on the dresser, more printed images on my temporary "art table". I have set my timer a couple of times today to work on clearing and filing this stuff but it's not finished.

I need to make a few phone calls and apply for superhero temporary job at my workplace. Maybe "I can do anything for 2 months", as flylady says: I can do anything for 15 minutes. I was reading the job description and I can see me doing this and using all the coaching skills I have acquired so far (one teleclass's worth) and getting creative over there. It would mean I would be going around the store learning new stuff and meeting new people and getting out of my place of expertise. I must do this. The deadline to apply is today. I was reading the job desciption. With each section, yes, I could do that....until I got to the part that said you will wear the superhero costume the whole 2 months while they had clip art of batman and wonderwoman on the bulliten board. I said out loud no thank you and went home. So I guess I was tired...visualizing myself going around the store in wonderwoman costume. I'm pretty sure the costume is not going to be wonderwoman but something specific to our store.

Then I read 2 newspaper articles this morning. Two elders in my church are in a book club. A while back they had told me that the paper had come and taken pictures of them and interviewed them. I was weeding out the recycling and there was a picture of a stack of books with the same titles that my friends had been reading.

How I would love to be able to just go to that group and sit in the corner and listen to men discuss books.

My girlfriend has invited me to her Victorian book club -- women. I would probably love that too, but this men's book club intrigues me. I could observe how men think and how they interract and how they process their reading and how they verbalize it all. I could do like I used to do before I had children and take my sketchbook and draw them while they talked.

Anyway I am not invited and it would put a big kabosh on the spirit of the group to know that there is a woman they know sitting there listening.

The other article is about my new acquaintance, the artist/professor. He has a show in the town next door. COOL. I am on my way over! I have gone to visit his class at the University to see if I could audit or even take it for credit. He had told me on the phone I can be first in line for the January class. I had thought I am not sure this is what I want, but he is very enthusiastic about art. His T.A. told me he's brilliant and that you have to let him know what it is you want to learn.

I was not sure I could picture myself going forward with David Dewey's techniques in a classroom with a bunch of kids who are not even art majors and popular music in the background. Some of his work is in the permanent collection in the National Gallery of Art. Impressive. And I have the opportunity to audit his class. I feel like I should take advantage of this and see where it leads. How can I not learn some important things from a master?

So why am I here blogging? So much happening. Yesterday my DD's bought and assembled a fake Christmas tree and decorated it. It looks great and I didn't have to do any of it. One of the advantages of having adult children. Now I just need a few pine scented candles to burn. I invited them to watch the Griswold's Family Christmas movie. We also had a little time discussing Family Meeting issues. They both have colds and don't want to talk about it. (Not because they have colds, but it makes it harder to face tough issues when you are sick.) One says I don't want anything for Christmas.

Sunday school was good. I thanked them for praying about my cute little storybook house that I am not buying it but that lots of good things happened through the process of deciding, and that I believe the Holy Spirit indeed led me to drive by the house that day. For the sake of time, I left out details about good things that happened through that process of deciding whether to buy the house.

Later the teacher used my expample to talk about something out of the chapter they were discussing.... Then he said to me after class is it ok that I shared that about your example? Of course. I was puzzled that he even felt the need to ask. Why would that not be ok? I just shared it very openly (and joyfully). And the lawyer in the class was laughing at me when I shared. I want to ask him why. You think I'm a little kid, don't you? I am childlike, I know this.

Anyway I'm scanning the articles to my coach.


Onward.

Something to Say

Sitting in my bed with my coffee. Ah, after 2 days of instant, the real thing tastes especially good. I am reading in John again. Peace I leave with you. Not as the world gives. There is peace that the world gives, mostly through surface comforts and a sense of well-being that comes from feeling safe. Henry Brandt used to say that alcohol gives peace. or when your work is done and you have some money saved up and everyone in your family is healthy, peace.

Boxes. I don't remember exactly when I first heard the phrase 'thinking outside the box'. But I liked it. Yes, outside the box is where the truth is. Boxes can be very sneaky. You can be in one and not know it. I have broken out of a lot of boxes and I think that is where some of my own sense of well-being comes from. There was a book about finding your niche that had something to do with being outside the box. In our culture we must go to college after high school and pack a bunch of knowledge into our brains and then get a job and use all that knowledge. The time in school is strictly separated from the time working. Was that book where that phrase came from? Who wrote it? What was the name? I think the name was about the box. My memory is not so hot. He suggested there might be other ways to go about it. Working and education being more mixed up. My oldest did a work study program to help pay for college, alternating semesters of school with semesters working in her field of study. She learned by working as she was learning in the classroom. It worked very well.

So, boxes. I was a young Christian and I hated legalism. But I became legalistic myself. It's insidious. [spreading or acting inconspicuously with harmful effect] "Christians do this, and they don't do that. Christians think this way. Really dedicated Christians priority is that, not this." Etc. I inflicted these values on my children. No one is perfect. There were a lot of good values that came from me to my kids. But as they became adults, if they don't know how to think outside the box, they will only have those values because of tradition, not because Jesus Christ is real to them personally.

One of my boxes was thinking that I was not the best Christian I could be unless I was always making talking about Jesus to non-Christians my number one priority. And as a mom, I was not really the best mom unless I was also teaching my kids to have the same priority. But I did not take every opportunity to tell other people about Christ, nor did I try to turn conversations to Christ every time I was with someone. Just writing about this makes me feel waves of guilt lapping at my feet. Go away Guilt Trip!

But here's the thing. Maybe I believed in Jesus because I grew up in America and learned in Sunday School that "Jesus died for our sins." So one of my boxes would be my upbringing. My mom took me to church where they taught me about the son of God. Then there was Weekday Religious Education. At my grade school, a trailer used to come in once a week and most of us went out and had a Sunday school lesson for an hour. I sat in the back and did not pay attention. It was EXTREMELY boring. I got in trouble for not paying attention a couple times. After that I paid attention outwardly but my mind was anywhere and everywhere else except on that religious lesson.

Then I went to a ranch in Colorado at age 15 where they told me about Jesus, only this time the context was FUN and the kids there were COOL and the singing was outrageously enthusiastic and we sounded GOOD! The speakers at the evening Round-ups were mesmerizing and the counselors in the cabins gave real answers. This was NOT Sunday school.

[[Aside: I had a grumpy old lady Sunday school teacher whom I could not stand in about 6th grade. I had a hamster. I had a little purse that was shaped like an oval bucket and it had flaps that folded down to close the top. Once I put my hamster, Pooty, in my purse and took him to Sunday school. While the teacher was trying to teach I was showing my friends what I had in my purse. The teacher noticed and came and asked what was in there. When I showed her, she jumped. (Think cartoon lady up on a chair screaming about a little mouse on the floor.) She got really ticked at me. It delighted me inside that I scared that mean old lady. What an evil child. It still makes me laugh.]]

I think it was the founder of Young Life who said it is a sin to bore a child in the name of Christ. So I was not bored at Young Life camp in Colorado. We got to ride horses, climb mountains, play Wells Fargo (cowboys and Indians: each person had a "scalp" -- a bandaid on the forehead. The goal was to take as many of the other team's scalps as possible.) Four or five girls ganged up on me and I fought with everything I had. I think I may have hurt one or two of them, but they got my scalp. It was such an emotional experience, my first and only real fight, using elbows and thrashing around for all I was worth. I went back to my cabin and cried.)

The camp was divided into teams and each team had a queen and I got to be queen of the "Stogies". they put me in my bathing suit and made me ride a horse and rolled up a brown blanket so that it looked like a big Stogie and made me carry it. Our team ended up winning the week's competitions and that made me queen of the camp. I had to go up front (thankfully not in my bathing suit!) I was shy. This was very, very embarrassing. I did not know what to do. Although I felt honored to be queen, wow, PLEASE let me go back to my seat and dissappear!!!!

We got to take open jeep rides along steep mountain roads, and they would back the jeep up to the cliff and make us all scream with terror. They took us down a silver mine in the dark each of us holding onto the person in front of us. When we were all deep down in the mine they started screaming about bears and made us all panic.

We got to eat great food cooked by Goldbrick, we got to swim at the pool, buy Bibles in modern English that we could actually understand. We met kids from all over the country, got crushes on cute boys from the South with thick Southern accents that charmed the heck out of us. OK, me, I got the crush on the Southern boy, just me.

Anyway, this context .... not to mention the 3 days Tex spent driving us from the midwest to Colorado in an un-air-conditioned van in mid summer....the noise he put up with, the roudiness, the impertinence of teenagers.........he had a special gift.....then he drove us 3 days home as well. (At least we had "gotten holy" during the week.) .... this context of love and fun and caring was the right context in which faith could be born inside me.

FUN. The people who worked at the ranch loved us and gave a darn whether we heard the truth about Jesus or not. And it worked. I heard that Jesus death paid for everything I had ever done wrong. I heard that it was not about "do this and do that and God will approve" (like my parents, maybe). It was more like God loves me and cares about me and is reaching out to me and all I have to do is say yes. So I did. Yes, I believe Jesus, a real person in history, came and lived a sinless life, died to pay for my wrong-doing, rose again from death (impossible) and went up to heaven to live forever, where he is, incidentally, making ready for me to join him. Wow. Yes, who wouldn't want this?

So boxes. This wonderful thing, this birth of Annie into God's family led to me wanting to pass this on to other people. This is not bad, but over the years, especially after I had children........

Oh, there is too much to go into. Legalism crept in. Do this to be a good Christian, don't do that. I didn't use bad words, didn't smoke, didn't drink except for a glass of wine with dinner at my father's house. I didn't lie, didn't steal, I was faithful to my mate. But I think the box that I didn't fit into was the one about make it your priority to verbalize your faith in Christ to everyone you know. Try to convince them to become Christians. Study the best ways to do this. Meet people with the express purpose of telling them about Jesus. The goal is not bad: to share with others the best thing that has ever happened to me. What became bad in my life was the use of formulas, rote things to say, cliches. I began to feel like I was trying to trick people into believing in Jesus.

Jumping to the present. God draws people to himself inside of people where we cannot see. Do you want truth? Do you want integrity? Here I am. Come to me. People who believe in him work on the outside, telling others about God and living a life of integrity in front of them so that they will be drawn to the person. Now I am geting acquainted with the artist and writer and coach God made me. How good He is.

The thought I had while I was sitting in bed reading John: Jesus said "I have told you now before it happens, so that when it does happen you will believe."

The thought was about the boxes. There are boxes and we all are in them. Boxes made out of cultural beliefs, our parents' values, then our friends' values. But Jesus Christ is not a box. The nice little story about a baby in a manger is not all there is to Jesus. He is real and He is God. I have seen his glory and I am sure of this. I have seen his light and only because He chose to give me a glimpse of it.

Jesus also told Martha such things when she complained to him after Lazarus died ("if you had been here, Lazarus wouldn't have died", like, "why in the world didn't you come when we called you?" Mary said the same thing.) When Jesus got around to approaching the cave where Lazarus was entombed, he told them to take the stone door away, doors made of stone designed to be permanent. Martha protested that it would smell. Perhaps she wanted to retain Lazarus' dignity in his death. These are real people with real brains that work just like ours. Martha -- the practical one. Jesus said to her "Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?"

We want to see the proof first, and then, we think, we will believe. Well, these people had been watching Jesus prove he was the son of God for a few years. He had been going around validating his words by his actions. Miracles to be specific. They had their proof. They were his closest friends and had seen a lot of miracles. Martha believed that Jesus was God's son. Jesus said to her "Your brother will rise again." Martha said, Yeah, I know when the last day comes, he will. Is she thinking: is this what he means or is he going to raise him up now? She had already told him "I know that even now God will do whatever you ask."

Jesus did what he so often did, and focused her attention on himself in the present. Who He was, not whether Lazarus was going to be saved right then or not. The bigger issue. He said I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies: and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this? Yes, she did and she told him so. You are the Christ, she said, the Son of God, who was to come into the world.

As I am sitting here writing this post, which has gone places I never expected, I have become overwhelmed with emotion several times. I have shed a few tears. Now that I've looked up the verse I wanted to talk about, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" I read on to check the details and Mary has arrived along with the mourners who were hanging around "weeping with she who weeps".

John writes: When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled, and he asked them where they had laid Lazarus. They said come see. and Jesus started crying. The Jews decided this meant that Jesus loved Lazarus a lot. Jesus was a man like us, too, in that he got emotional. And, yes, I think Jesus loved Lazarus a lot. He hung out with him and the 2 sisters in Bethany. They were supportive friends. They had been there for him.

Except some of the Jews said "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind have kept this man from dying?" Again, real people with brains that actually work. Logic: he does miracles, why didn't he do one for Lazurus so that he didn't die? Something is wrong with this picture.

John says: Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. Crying again? Is his face contorted? Is he moaning? How do they know he is deeply moved? Doesn't say, but there was apparently some sort of evidence.

When I came to write today, the only thing I knew I wanted to say was: Jesus Christ is not a BOX. We who follow him, believe in him, are given to getting into boxes, most of the time without knowing it. We are "vicitms" some may call it of our cultures and our families. But Jesus is real and He is God in the flesh. If you will, His work involved going around crushing the boxes of the Jewish leaders and teachers, their traditions for tradition's sake, their dead laws and holidays and rituals.

I can't write any more. Now I'm crying again and I have obligations to meet.

I did not intend to be so preachy, but I do not apologize. God is great.

Getting the rust out of my fingers

I have a commission. I love saying that: it makes me feel significant.

When I sent out my newsletter about writing, art and coaching, a friend asked me to illustrate poetry he had written for his children. I said yes. He wants to give it to them for Christmas. There are 25 poems.

I am trying to do watercolors for as many as I can. I will not be able to paint for all of them. Some will have to be simple drawings. The poet and I agreed that I can send watercolors next year as they get finished. He has a book with acetate pockets and he can slide the new ones in when I finish them.

The process is exhilarating. I love working with the paint and the high quality paper. I have tons to learn, but after a few weeks of working on this, I can see that my later work is getting better than my earlier work and I feel more confident. I like some of my pictures and I can see how to fix some of the ones I'm not satisfied with.

I am using photos from the web mostly. Thank you, google. Then I draw my idea. Some are fun. Some are a serious rendering of an animal, for example. I have to force myself to speed-draw to get going. I learned this in a life drawing class. We had to draw an entire person (naked) in 15 minutes. The next time it was 10 minutes. Then 5. We went all the way down to about 30 seconds. It was a very helpful exercise, which forced us to resist the temptation to get all bogged down in the details right off the bat. Instead we had to get the essence of the pose down. Maybe I did learn something in art school.

After the layout come the colors. This is something I learned from David Dewey's class. "You don't want to go looking for your colors while your paper is drying." --or something like that. You have to waste lots of paint (mix up plenty of color before you lay any down on the paper. I am not good at this. I want to mix my first color and start putting it onto the page.

I have decided to use watercolor colored pencils on some of the pieces, because it is easier and faster and suits some of the brightly colored pictures very well. Like flying froggie. But the reindeer is done in natural, more subtle shades.

When I get done, I'd like to put some of them on my blog, but I'll have to work it out with my poet friend, since his poetry is copyrighted.

I made my daughters look at everything I've done so far. They like the realistic ones best. I do too.

I know this: when I first started I liked the work, but I was frustrated over spending so much time on one picture and not being satisfied with it. I felt panicky about being able to meet the deadline.

But now, I am making progress, the finished products are better, and I am just enjoying working with my hands.