Sacred Space

This little space in my house makes me happy every time I see it-- especially when the afternoon sunlight shines through the front door windows or when the lamplight glows on the golden walls. Lately, I have been thinking of it as a small, home altar or prayer table.

In my "sacred space" right now:

1) A bowl of yarn: The beautiful bowl was made by a potter from West Point, Mississippi, and given to us by the first church my husband served as a priest. The yarn is a mixture of stuff-- dishcloth cotton, Kool-aid dyed wool done by me two summers ago, and scraps from various projects. Most people who know me well know that I like to knit. Knitting is creative, peaceful (unless you are learning to knit something new and difficult), beautiful, and useful.

2) A hand-knitted textile: comprised by me of 4 log cabin squares put together to resemble a cross. This was an early experiment with log-cabin techniques. Log cabin textiles remind me of labyrinths.

3) A glass cross: made by an artist/friend with whom I taught last year. It makes me think of creativity, spirit, vibrancy, and enthusiasm.

4) A prayer card: made by my son in Catechesis last week featuring the best hand-writing I've ever seen him do. It says: "Dear God, reveal yourself to me again today. Help me to see you clearly, to hear your message willingly, and to share you word with generosity. Amen."

5) A Christmas card: seen in the background of a random Flickr photo last year and purchased by me because I liked it so much. For me, it symbolizes all of the wonderful women friends I love and treasure-- young and old-- past and present.

6) A stack of books: Well, I am a librarian!

P.S. Aesthetically, I like the play of bright colors in these objects against the golden background of the wall, sunlight, and wood. I also like photographs that accidentally capture the photographer through a mirror, window or water reflection, or shadow.

Creating Space

The breaking water lines in this fair city gave my children and me an entire week of time off from school. Yes, some of it will have to be made up later, but I found the extra time just what I needed when I needed it. It allowed me to do some organizing and cleaning out. The cleaning out, in turn, helped me conceive this little corner of space as a spot just for me to work on some special projects-- a room of my own-- a corner of my own.

Above is the view from behind my corner-- the foyer space.

Below is the view from the chair (wearing my recently made pajamas). I can sit with my notebook or my netbook and look out of the nearby window.

On my little table, I have the things nearby that I need: a place for some hot tea, pencils, paper, books to read and consult, and a lamp.

Probably even more difficult than creating a physical space, however, is finding the creative space and time needed to work. It is so easy to let almost everything else get in the way. Thankfully, bi-weekly meetings with a critique partner are helping me construct blocks of time in which to work. This week, I might not have even made one hour for my project except that I knew I had a meeting scheduled on the calendar. Time is available even when it seems scarce, if I take hold of it, shape it, and sit with it.

Now I have everything I need. . . some ideas, a corner for reading, working, writing, and thinking, and time. Wait a minute! A corner of my own? Well, except for those two gray cats (looking out the window), and their company is welcome.

Fading Away

It is a gray, rainy day, and these leaves photographed last week are now glistening wet. I purposefully did not rake them up because I think they are still so beautiful even as their brilliant colors slowly fade away.

The last days of the 2009 school year are also fading away this week with end of the year parties, holiday school programs, semester tests, and baking teacher gifts (oatmeal bread to go with the blueberry jam we made this summer). In my sons' Montessori class today, we will celebrate his seven years of going around the sun as "six-years-old" fades away, too.

Taking the time to notice the changes in these leaves on my front walkway and outdoor chairs helps my worries fade away-- at least for a while. Today, all of the leaves have fallen from the tree, and the branches are decorated with raindrops and stray pine needles caught where once there were star-shaped leaves.

Something Warm

This week has required more than its share of warm beverages. The snow on Saturday meant hot chocolate for the children. The death of Charlie on Tuesday meant several cups of hot tea to comfort my sad heart. The lack of sleep last night because our van window was smashed out in an attempted burglary required an extra cup of black tea this morning to get me going for 7 classes of students today.

Something warm also came in the forms of kind words, prayers, stories, and thoughts from friends and family. We have been surrounded with support and with possibilities for kittens, cattins (in between kittens and cats), and cats. Almost everyone, it seems, has been touched and changed through a relationship with an animal. Almost everyone, it seems, knows of some animal that needs a home.

We have never gone out and chosen a pet. Rather, they have always chosen us. Nellie was from Nashville. Bailey and Maggie wandered separately into the yard of the Gin House in Tunica. Charlie pitter-pattered into our garage and captured our hearts here. I'm not sure what we will do. We are waiting and pondering as we should in this advent season.

From the autopsy report, we discovered that Charlie died from a single, adult heart worm that had wrapped itself around a valve in his heart. It had nothing to do with his cold. He would have died at some point unexpectedly and suddenly. Cats rarely get heart worms. They are not routinely tested for them or treated for them as are dogs, and they do not receive preventative medications to keep them away. Charlie was simply unlucky.

But he was also lucky because he was so loved for his short time on earth. And we were lucky because he gave us so much love.

Oh--I'm definitely a cat person, and a dog person, and a butterfly person . . .

In Memory of Charlie

This morning we are mourning the loss of Charlie who died unexpectedly at the vet's. He was being treated for a respiratory infection, and we thought he might be able to come home today. Everyone, including his doctor, is shocked.

Charlie let me hold him like a newborn baby. He loved to sleep on the wicker chair in the kitchen where he could hear lots of things going on while he dreamed. He also liked to cuddle up on beds next to pillows and stuffed animals. He would sit on my lap when I worked at the computer, but he never wanted to sit in my lap other times. Instead, he snuggled next to my legs on the sofa in the evenings while I read, knitted, talked, or watched a movie. He seemed so content and happy just to be a part of our family.

Charlie loved to be in the middle of my sewing or knitting. He often slept in my sewing room in a shelf on a stash of fabric. I frequently found balls of yarn tangled around the legs of the dining room table. I had to be careful about putting my knitting up away from his little sock feet. I still have a ball of green, cotton yarn that I need to untangle. Yes, he was a typical cat, and he was more.

Charlie was such a wonderful kitty. He came to us a few months before the April tornado. He was outside when the tornado happened, and we missed him for several days until he came running back one day with a half purr, half meow. He didn't seem to hunt too many animals-- moles, anoles, and geckos mostly. I don't think he ever caught a bird. He didn't like dogs, but he grew to like Bailey. They greeted each other with a nose kiss each morning, and Charlie rubbed up against Bailey's legs. He purred for everyone in the family-- even Bailey. He purred when you looked at him. We will miss him dearly.

Charlie, make sure Nellie is o.k. and tell her that we miss her, too. Maybe she will be nicer to you in your new world.

Thanksgiving Out Take

This image of grass blowing in the wind against a deep blue sky did not fit into my "round" posts, but it was taken on Thanksgiving when I took a break and walked around my sister's yard with a camera in hand. It is a peaceful image, and I need a little more peace in my life as I try to balance the demands of work, family, homework, Christmas preparations, church, party invitations, gatherings with friends, December birthday preparations for 2 children, and my desire to knit a few special gifts. I look back at the Thanksgiving holidays and long for a few more days of blowing where ever the wind takes me.

Leaf Walk

My first walk of the weekend yielded this small collection. Oh, yes, fall is finally arriving in Mississippi! After an incredibly busy week of running a book fair at school, solo parenting, nightly 9 weeks test review, and a few other projects, taking this walk and finding these leaves renewed my spirit and reconnected me to something larger than busyness and expectations.

What I Did

1. sewed
2. sewed with the cat
3. moved the cat so that I could sew
4. watched my sunflowers slowly wilt and begin to dry
5. learned about rose hip tea
6. played and knitted with friends
7. sewed with a friend
8. read
9. walked the dog
10. made only zucchini for dinner one night
11. missed everyone
13. relished the rain and not having to water
14. visited a produce market with gardening children and teachers to learn about its operation
15. sewed one top that I like and one top that needs some ripping out and re-sewing
16. imagined my family's adventures through phone conversations
17. felt grateful to my family for the time to myself
18. took a break from the pool
19. was not interrupted (except by the cat)
20. enjoyed long stretches of silence