Butterfly wings

I know the title of the post is a bit girlie...bear with me. It will make sense in a minute.

It has been a while since I have written anything. The muse has been pretty silent, and maybe my creativity just sort of dies when I am under stress. But lately I have been more inspired. That is a good thing. usually January is very prolific, maybe it will be March this year.

So the week has been a bit strange. I have been ill. The weather is beautiful outside, so it has been a bit of a bummer to be sick. I found out some really bad news from a good friend, news I really could do nothing about, so I just cried. Then I found out news that I could do something about, and instead of crying I mobilized.

I am not good at many things. Yes, creatively I am pretty good, otherwise, not so much.

But I can mobilize people to action. I feel passionate about things, so I act. Sometimes I act impulsively, but sometimes the actions are the right thing to do. Somewhere in the back of my mind I am thinking "get it done! get it done!" And Voila! It gets done. (ok so I work like a dog to get it done, it just seems like magic.)

So the week started with my friends' baby dying. She has lost several babies, some have been born and died, some miscarriages. One baby they adopted and she had to return due to the birth mom changing her mind. They have fostered kids, they have prayed for their own. Yesterday I started crying again, the invitation to her baby shower came. It was mailed before the baby was born and died. I was sad.

Then I got a message from another friend, she was in dire straits. Her husband had left her, bills were due, children were hungry (she has an autistic son, her kids are kindergarten and preschool age) and she was desperate.

I knew no matter what I could not bring that baby back to life, nor could I give my first friend the child of her heart. Helpless..hapless...all I could do was cry. But my second friend, well, that was something I could help. Crying wouldn't fix it, but I could do something. Something radical. Something compassionate. Something driven by my helplessness and passion. And love.

So I raised money yesterday for her. Paid her bills, bought her things and raised enough for groceries as well. Passion and compassion took hold. The first friend in her grief and suffering caused me to relieve someone else's suffering.

MAGIC=radical passionate compassionate LOVE.

Not sure what that says- except I wish every time I suffered in life I could channel it to help others. Not sure why this time was the exception. Not sure why I was the vehicle. I am just glad I was.

So Olivia, if you are reading this..YOU are the reason I helped this little family. My compassion for you drove me to action.

The post, like I said- is very girlie..but the reason the song is called butterfly wings, is because Olivia, (the mom of the baby that passed,) loves butterflies. It is representative of her children that she will see again. While on earth they are caterpillars, waiting to break from the cocoons. In the next life, she will see them perfected. When we choose to break from the cocoon on earth, we show love perfected. I think it is time to be done with our 'caterpillar selves' and learn to fly.

South of the border, down by the sea

Under the orange colored sky

there are monarchs rising, up on the wing

Taking their springtime flight

And I saw as the night pushed the sun

Into the ocean, into the foam

but the butterflies were rising free

Making their way back home

Sing out to the ocean

sing out to the sea

there are wings flying and rising free

Sing out to the tide

Sing out to the wind

sing out until day begins again.

Life and all its troubles it seems

are passing away like the light

and we will make our way home again

Like those butterflies in the night

In the depths of the winter, on a cold clear night

I will bend my ear again

and hear the beating of butterflies' wings

Rising out on the wind.

You are my Song

I have known several people recently that are struggling in relationships and trying to find some sort of restoration. This parable was written for them.

Music: A modern day parable.

Once upon a time there was a man and a woman. They sat around a record player that was playing an energetic song. Both the man and woman both said "I could listen to this song forever!"

So they played it over and over. The song played and played..it played at their wedding.

And they were happy.

So time went by and the woman said "Hey, let's start listening to lullabies!" So they did. The song played over and over on the record player. They loved the new songs.

And they were happy.

After a while the man said "I am so tired of lullabies. What happened to the old song?" But he was not going to ask to change the record. He knew the woman loved the lullaby.

Then the woman started thinking as well. "I am so tired of lullabies. Why don't we get a new song?" But she was afraid to ask the man.

By and by the man changed the song to a working song. The woman could not relate. She thought it was depressing, harsh and long. Although she did not want the lullaby anymore.

So it happened that she discovered a new music. She played it in her room quietly. It seemed to her the man had no interest in her music, so she never invited him to listen. The man was sad. He wanted to learn the new music, but the woman hogged the record player, and never asked him to join her.

After a while, they played music in other parts of the house. The man grew madder. The woman, sadder. They both wished they had not misplaced the original record.

The woman looked and looked all around for that fun song they once loved. The one that played at their wedding. But the record was gone.

One day the man asked the woman if she wanted to go to the record store with him.

To his surprise, she said yes.

At the store, they found hundreds of albums, new songs and old. They chose a few and took them home to try out. There were fast, slow, loud, soft, long and short songs. There was pop and urban music, reggae, bluegrass and country. There was alternative and Christian music. There was an entire world of music that neither had ever experienced.

The man and the woman realized something. Their connection did not come from a song. They did not have to always listen to the same record over and over. And they did not always have to like the same music. All they really had to do was to share the song that the heart sings. And the Heart's song is, and always will be, Love.

And the man and the woman were happy.

You Are My Song

Come ride with me in the morning

Come sail with me in the dawn

You will have music where ever you go

For I am the singer and you are the song

Come wake with me in the springtime

Before the summer world stirs

Come and sing our song to the waking wind

For I am the music and you are the words

I'll shout your name to the heavens

Share the love you bring

You are the words and the music...

You are the song I sing

come climb with me over mountains

Come ride with me to the moon

Let us listen to love and follow it's lead

For I am the player and you are the tune

In the still and the silent dawn

A thousand angels of fame

They are bursting forth in sweetest song

Every time I speak your name.

Every time I speak your name.

Stardust

I have been watching my son play his new Wii game system this evening. The racetrack he was using was in space...he kept falling off and burning up in the atmosphere. It was funny, as the little mario-kart immediately regenerated and resumed the race.

The burn was brief...it made me think of shooting stars or meteors. (we just finished a space project for the science fair, so they are on my mind.) It also made me think of how many things don't last. So much of life is made of the temporal. I find it a bit sad at times...as I am a fast burn kind of gal. I love to burn as bright as I can, but find that is a state hard to maintain. It requires enormous energy and often makes me depressed, as I need more and more to make me happy. It is nice to have friends and a husband that keep me grounded and stable. thank goodness.

And it is nice when you encounter a friendship that endures.

So I spoke to one of these wonderful friends today. (she is of the mermaids) She is getting serious with her guy. They are in love. She thinks he is the 'one' and he thinks the same of her.

I was so happy for her. She is not a shooting star kind of gal. She is more the steady slow-burn type. But what a blessing that she is happy. (he is lucky.)

So, of course, came the song. I think that some people are more steady than others. Unlike when Evita sang of " burning with the splendor of the brightest star," some stars shine just as well, but less brightly. Enduring and stable...they last.

That describes my friend, my mermaid sister. And I think she has found her match. Enduring: they will shine together.

I miss you, my friend. A million blessings from the sea.

Stardust

Twilight falls

And the color of night is etched onto my window

stars recalled

Lighting the night with silver and purple follows.

Until tomorrow.

Shooting stars burn for a moment.

Meteors are passing fair

But you and I will burn forever

In the silky night-time air

Stardust, we are stardust.

Light returns

The moon is a crescent, she is lying on clouds in the sky

Ocean churns

And the stars guide our way through the paths of the tide

With you by my side

I thought I needed shooting stars

And meteors, too

but I found that what I need is stardust

And babe, that is me and you...

Dawn is here

And the sky breaks apart without a warning

Tell the moon

Goodbye... but know that the stardust will linger through morning..

Seasons enduring.

Shooting stars burn for a moment

Meteors are passing fair

But you and I will burn forever

In the silky night-time air

Stardust, We are stardust.....

Stones

My weekend was great. A trip with a dear friend to a great place. We shared our old memories, then shared the wisdom 20 years can bring to a life. We are the same. We are different. We are wiser, older. Etched with time and care, love and loss. As Robert often says,
'It is not the age, it is the mileage.' And so it also goes with friendships.

So we sat Sunday morning, together. No words. At the tomb of the unknown soldier in Arlington National Cemetery. As the clicks of the heels rang in the silence, the sun was very intense and hot for November. The cloudless sky was bright blue. The leaves were falling.

The moment really cannot be expressed in words. The leaves were really the key. Like golden rain, or embers falling. They shimmered. They sang. It was a tribute to the fallen. As though they were symbols of the lives that were given in glory, in war, in service. My tears rained down, too.

I cried because of the lives given for me. My freedom. How I would feel if it were Ryan guarding, clicking his heels, carrying the gun with the bayonet. And my feelings about the tomb if Ryan were resting underneath its' marble base. Thinking about the unknown soldiers' sacrifice..I cried more. The guard turned toward us, and looked straight at me with my tear-stained face. He was incredibly young. I felt a surge of pride for him. And for America.

The guard changed. As we turned to go, more leaves rained down in a shower of gold. As the fall slips into the winter, the stones will remember the gold tribute nature which nature provided that day for the fallen. May we never forget the tribute they made with their lives, as they 'fell like embers.'

Stones

Red and gold they shimmer down
Setting fire to the ground
leaves that smolder on the ground
while lighting up the sky

Stones are cold as fire ignites
Rows and rows of stones in white
Stones they whisper to the night
With voices soft and cold.

Red and green, and blue is seen
Yellow is falling in between
And stones are white and still and clean
As the voices sigh

Trees are bare, the sky is gray
Remembering the yesterday
When embers fell, Like soldiers they
Sacrificing true.

So gather up the leaves of gold
their story as it should be told
Of fallen ones, the soldiers bold
Sleeping, sleeping.
Their memory keeping.
Under stones of white.
And tributes of gold.

Indigo Child

Daylight savings time is over and the days are shorter now..the night falls quickly and the sun is up early. Unfortunately today it did not help me, and I overslept slightly.

But Ryan, like the special sweet responsible guy he is wakes me up. Tells me "Mom its after 6:30! I am already ready and dressed." A being that is 10 years old is a constant blessing in the Heil house.

For those that don't know Ryan, he has overcome many many challenges and is a source of great pride to me. He is not academic. Has many learning problems. He has a disorder that makes him zone out and stare. Asks too many questions, the same questions over and over. He has had unreasonable fears, doubts, and problems. He needed years of therapy to overcome the physical challenges, and the emotional. I was told he would never swim, never learn to ride a bike, never walk a balance beam without falling. He proved them wrong. He compensated and can do all of those things, and ace the rest of the 5th graders around the track. He is a living breathing example of determination and will, and amazing grace.

I have spent my entire life achieving what I perceived as greatness. Always the next thing, the next win, the next big goal reached. I was always striving for more, and I really thought that in achieving more I would be more worthy of love. I needed to be the smartest, prettiest, most accomplished or I was worth nothing.

Then God gave me Ryan and I realized that we are worthwhile simply because we are.

Ryan has amazing talents. He can include people and integrate groups of kids. He has an intuition about people and can actually feel their feelings. He is sensitive and wonderful, and everyone that meets him usually loves him, from senior citizens all the way down to two-year- old's. A feat that I cannot duplicate. I am not sensitive to others' feelings the way he is. Where I am pushy he is open, where I am aggressive he is giving. He shows me that I am not the way I should be. It is humbling. I am grateful.

So I went to dinner with a friend. I was telling her about Ryan, and she said "oh he must be an indigo child." I didn't know what that was, but apparently there are children with a high level of intuition, spirit sensitivity lacking in the rest of us. They are the ones that bring peace to groups and to the world. I don't know if Ryan is, but I loved the idea and decided it would make a wonderful song.

So I dedicate this to Ryan and to all children that are trying to make the world better by being exactly who they are. Sensitive, free, wild, peace-filled and full of love.

Indigo Child

Roll with the Wind down to the sea

Go to the place where the stars want to be

Reflect your light down on the sand

Turn your face to silver strand

Color of ocean, color of night

Your color was made, crystal and bright

So stay free, young and wild

Beautiful one, my indigo child

Don't you let your colors fade

From the deep deep blue to shades of gray

Ultramarine rich and free

Becoming what you were intended to be

Roll out with the winter wind

Light the Auroras and let it begin

Clear as the night on the solstice you rise

Winter is brought by the indigo child

Color of ocean, color of night

Your color was made crystal and bright

So stay free young and wild

Beautiful one, my indigo child.

Beautiful one, my indigo child.

Take a Leap

Haven't blogged in several months. It has been a busy time, the move and new house, friends, stores, and a new town to navigate. Many, many days spent at the pool for Ryan and me. A new school and adjusting. Starting over somewhere new is exciting, so the songs have been slow in coming. Concentrated time to think creates the environment for songs..and time is a commodity I simply have not had.

Before the move people were always asking us "why would you want to just leave for the sake of leaving?" Which is a great question.

The answer lies somewhere between what I need and what I want. I want familiarity and an easy time. I want non stressed filled days of just playing guitar and singing. At least I think I want it.

But my need is 'purpose. ' A chance to change a life. A chance to let go of the familiar and step into the unknown. A chance to create something great. A chance to go forward and see what the next chapter holds. The page turner is better with a cliffhanger. The chapter is done and you cant wait for the sequel. It is where I find myself. Both excited and nervous and ready to go mach 3 with my hair on fire. Knowing the status quo is not going to work for me, (it never has. )
As Helen Keller once said "Life is a thrilling adventure, or nothing."

So there I am. Acting too young. Living too loud and not being afraid of giving myself away. And so I open the much anticipated sequel to the book of my life. It will come highly recommended...a real page-turner.

Take a Leap

I think I'll act too young today.
Go outside and run and play.
Go to the neighbors', make a friend.
and never want the day to end.

I think I'll go to fast in my car,
And maybe throw in my guitar
And play some hookey on the beach...
Let the waves wash over me.

I think I'm not going to look both ways
I think I'll just step out on faith,
The cliff is tall , and I can't see
I'll shut my eyes and take a leap.

I'll talk to strangers on the street
and take the time when our eyes meet.
To see them in a different way....
and see if it comes back in spades.

I think I'm gonna break a rule..
And live out loud and not on cue.
Try not to think before I speak..
And say I love you more than once a week.

I think I'll take a risk today
And give part of myself away.
The cliff is high and I cant see...
So I'll just shut my eyes and take a leap.
Shut my eyes and take a leap.

Cerulean Blue

Just got back from mermaid weekend with the siren's. it is the same. It is always the same, easy friendship we have known. It is different, as we are older. The sun was bright and hot, the pool was clear and we had a great time. Rikie's daughter is becoming a 'person' and was much more involved in our weekend. I had to say goodbye to 3 mermaids this time..not just one. And my trip home was solitary. Things are changing. Time is passing.

Singing, eating, then singing some more. then a swim. mermaids do that.

Now I am uploading photos of 15 and 20 years ago. Robert is gone and I am up way way too late. But the memories are very vivid. I remember names and places and faces. it is exciting to share it and get feedback from people who feel as I do. That the connection is still there through the memory. Whatever our situation now, the colors in our memory are just as rich as ever.

My favorite color is turquoise. It has been my mom's favorite most of her life..the color of the ocean. And now it is my favorite. I like it best. Even though there are other colors that catch my eye, I always come back to that rich aqua color of a Caribbean sea.

even though there are memories of places, times and things..the people always hold the best spot in my memory. it makes me long to see those people. To reminisce and see what has changed and what has stayed the same. I don't want a time turner, maybe just a new pic or two of how we are now. I love change, but sometimes, Cerulean blue is best.

Cerulean Blue

I have always liked the Azure sky
but it always seems so high
Would rather have you here with me
closer than the sea...

I have always liked the color green
it seems so fresh and seems so clean
But dark sometimes can be the view
the sea is better for me and you.

Cerulean Blue
Always seems to remind me of you
the color of my memory
Cerulean's all I see.

I've always liked blue mountains high
Snow that is falling from the sky
clear waters flowing free
not so deep as my memory of

Cerulean Blue
Always seems to remind me of you
the color of my memory
Cerulean's all I see.

I have always liked the Yellow sun
Setting when the day is done
out over the western sea
Reflecting as it needs to be over

Cerulean Blue

the color of my memory.
cerulean's all i see
Cerulean's all I see.

The Sea Wolf

I took my grandmother's mandolin out again today. I am trying to learn the tremolo, which is the rapid movement of the pick over the mandolin strings. Right now, it is not going so well. I have the chording down somewhat, but the tremolo is so difficult. A practiced hand with a mandolin is so wonderful to listen to. Unfortunately, my hand needs more practice.


So much of who I am really is very similiar to who my grandmother was. Musician, people person and friend, she was a light to the people that knew her. Her heritage is passed to me, and I must continue her musical legacy. Her other great-grandaughter, also a namesake, (Libby) has I think inherited a few musical genes as well.....but time will tell her gifts. We are all products of our heritage, whether we embrace that or not.


We recently went on a video shoot (our first!) for our Safe Harbour song. A fellow named Scott Self took us out on his handmade spanish wood boat. A sailboat. A work of art. A labor of love.
His heritage belongs to the sea, and the people that dwelled by the cliffs in England. Pressed into military service, they refused, and lived along the shoreline, fishermen and scavengers. They would mobilize for sea rescues, and were referred to as 'Sea Wolfs.' The Sea Wolfs sailed to America for a better life, and while settling in the Gulf coast city of Galveston, their surname was shortened to 'Self.' The last name of Self is the most common in that area. Our Captain that day, Scott Self, and the boat was called the "Sea Wolf."

The girls and I thought it appropriate that we write Scott a song, and dedicate it to the Sea Wolfs of the past, and the present. Our own ties to the sea provide a nice, fitting background for a tribute.


Sea wolf
Lend me your ear and I'll tell you my tale
Of my people from England whose eyes looked for sails
From Lands End to Portsmouth they looked to the seas
For wreckage to plunder; their hard lives to ease

Set sail, oh Seawolf, to lands far away
To a new port of call and a bright temperate day
This new land brings promise we never have known
a place to call our home

The journey was long and the waves were so high
But a new day of promise was fresh on their minds
Deciding to press on through the foam
They were trying to find a place to call home

So I hear them tonight on the sea
The voice of my people and time’s mystery
Saying ‘fly on the sea wolf, and claim our fame’
‘Remember our spirit, remember our name’


We will sail on the Seawolf to lands far away
To new ports of call, and bright temperate days
This new land brings promise we never have known
A place to call our home.

copyright 2008, LeighAnn Heil

Safe Harbour

I am blind as a bat without my contact lenses on. Resistant to lasik, I take my contacts out each night and wake to a fuzzy day. then I put the contacts back on and things come back into focus.

I also have problems at night, especially out on the highway, when the headlights have a starburst effect and my eyes become tired. There is nothing like those lights on the horizon though..late at night, when you spot the lights of the city. You know you are almost home.

If anyone knows me they also know I love traveling to and on the water...boats, beaches, oceans. I love riding those waves and feeling that spray. ( if you dont know, just read a few songs.) The imagery of the ocean is really endless. Poets use it and the imagery of boats to represent our passage through life. Alfred Lord Tennyson uses the boat through his poem 'crossing the bar' to represent the passage from life to life after death:

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
........For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.


It has been a murky passage lately. Unclear, unsure. Frustrating. Listening carefully for the Spirit to speak and only hearing silence. Hearing healing prayers answered, but silence for purpose. The air is still, no compass, no direction. Fog everywhere, and no sun in sight.

Perhaps there is a point in everyone's life where they feel adrift on a sea.. The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner says it well.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean

there have been times I have wondered where I am going. what I am doing. and whom I should be doing it with. All of these things are important. But when we cannot see those things clearly, we can rest assured there is a final harbor. A destination where we will anchor and live forever. A place where our purpose is clear and nothing is hidden any longer.

Our creator is guiding us there, (whether the wind blows us or not.) To a place where none of us will need our glasses...For we shall see Him as He is.

Safe Harbour
written for Ainsley Floyd, 2008

who knows where the cold wind blows when the winter goes away?
who knows why the young get old and sail out on their way?
who can say whether fair or storm will guide you in the wind?
You can know wherever you go you can find your home again.


Angel when you spread you sails
And fly like wings in the wind
Dont you fear for I'll not fail
To help you find, your safe harbour again.

Who knows what castaways
you will take aboard?
who knows what treasures gold
Of an ancient pirate hoard

who can say if you will travel far
or sail in ports near home
But I will say wherever you go
you will never go alone.

Who can say whether fate will lead us
Far away from shores we know
If the compass fails or the skies turn red
Or if the weather will hold?

And who knows what you may find
when your journey meets its end?
But I will say a safe harbour awaits
My angel and my friend

Angel when you spread your sails
And fly like wings in the wind
Dont you fear for I'll not fail
To help you find....your safe harbour again.
copywrite 2008, LeighAnn Heil

Quiet Peace

My husband loves TV. He likes it loud. He likes News, loud. very loud.

I am not a big TV watcher. when he is gone it is off. I dont really like TV, other than just on lightly in the background. i would rather play guitar, write songs or listen to music. but he loves the noise, it stimulates the learning processing part of His brain.

sometimes I just want peace.

Peace in the silence. Peace in the still. Peace to hear the Father's voice.

Sometimes I also just want peace, in that the trouble stops for a while. We have ups and we have downs, it would be nice to occasionally have level. Just level smooth roads for several miles. It seems as though for my family, and the mermaids, and my friends.... it has been a while since things were smooth.

Mermaid number 2 is having problems with health, and more problems at work. She has taken a stand for the right, and is suffering. Mermaid number 4 has taken on the problems of a needy family, and is suffering. Mermaid number 3 is pregnant and it is risky, she is tired and is suffering. We would all dearly love the peace that comes when we are together, singing and laughing.

but for now we hold to the faith we all share. We know that peace is there in our friendships and our God. We know that around the corner is time together. that quiet peace we look for is close.

I wrote this song for Mermaid number 3's baby, still currently in utero. but the meaning transcends the Mom, baby and Ainsley.... the song is also God's love song, father to daughter. He calls the Angels to sing, He who whispers "peace" over us, and it is He rocks us gently home at the end.

Quiet Peace
written for Autumn Floyd, 2009

The night is dark, the winters howling.
The fire burns brightly while I sing.
And I rock you gently, upon the water
The river of my love, flowing free

I will rock you on the water,
I will rock you on the sea,
And you will hear an angel singing,
She’s singing “sleep now” quiet peace.

The woods are deep, the road is long.
I cannot say, where it will go…
But my love is always, never-ending
Like rivers melting, after the snow

The world is dark and large and lonely
There’s love and danger everywhere,
But my love runs deeper, than any ocean
Call out to the water, and find me there….

When you find love, and you find adventure
And when you find yourself, all alone
Go to the shoreline, and feel the waves wash you…
And my love will rock you, safely home.

I will rock you on the water
I will rock you on the sea
And you will hear the angel singing
She is singing " sleep now "
Quiet peace.
LeighAnn Heil, 2009

The Space Between

Taking the get well card out of my purse, I dont know what to do with it now. It is addressed "mitzi." Cant bring myself to throw it away, and I cant open it up. It is frozen in time now, and I must purchase a sympathy card.

Weird feelings flood me, she really was so so young. Wow, I am almost her age. And bam, she has gone. Then there are the regrets, I was on my way to the hospital to see her. I was in town by chance. I was there the day before but didnt find the time to go in. The phone call came, and my plans and my card are for naught.

That space between this life and the next is such a challenge. Do I have faith enough. Do I love God enough to trust that someday, I will be able to say "hey, girl!" to Mitzi in person. Do I know the Comforter enough to let Him comfort me, or will I be ruled by regret?

The chasm and the space between God and us....it is fathomless and no one has seen it, but the Father and the son. He must have reached through the temples of time and seen it, known there was no way across for us. Lost, lost to ourselves. to death. Death and separation forever from the one who made us.

but fortunately I will be crossing over that space, and I will see the people that I care about who have gone on. I will see Mitzi and Kari and Gary and Kim and many others. i will use the bridge that Jesus made for me so very long ago.

I, for one, am glad he reached across, and saved us.

The Space between

There is a picture in a chapel
On a Roman Ceiling
And the story it is telling
Is the story of you and me

For If you look up you can see
Adam reaching across
That ceiling Michaelangelo painted…
Every hopeful never dross..

So close but so far
I just have to get to where you are
If we can get beyond the times we have seen
Then we can reach across
The space between

There is a deep ravine that I can see
With no way to get around
So If you want to reach the other side you must use
The rope bridge far above the ground.. .

We got a past, I know it is true
There are photographs of me and photographs of you
But if we will turn back the page of history
We can find those pictures of you and me.

So close, but so far..I just have to get to where you are
If we can get beyond those times we have seen...
then we can reach across the space between.

white

the thursday challenge for this week, color. Unfortunately, that title is in so many songs, it was a distraction for me earlier today, as it was for Hilary. We lose focus when "blue eyes cryin in the rain" is playing in a perpetual loop.

I thought of all kinds of colors today. My favorite is turquoise, but that doesnt rhyme very well. Red is nice, but over used. I tried several colors. Then I settled on one and started to write.

Once I got focused, the song came easily, a tune came readily and in 15 min...I had a song.

I dont know why I struggle so much. I struggle for control, struggle to "fix" things. Struggle with my child, struggle with my time. Struggle to achieve. It is so much work, exhausting, really. Uses my energy and makes me unhappy. I do "what I do not want to do," just like Paul.

You would think I would learn the lesson from my songwriting..relax and let go. Focus and find freedom. Release and you can get "in the flow." Only then the song arrives. As the wind blows the cold front in outside, I regret that tomorrow will be 30 degrees when today was 80, but it is fruitless to struggle against the wind. Winter will have its way, granted only by the Creator.

I chose the color white. Pure and clean. The rider on the white horse. white robes, pure like linen. Where we can place our focus and everything makes sense. And so I will relinquish my control and stop struggling. He is the ultimate songwriter anyway. Everything else is just noise.

Winter White, Winter White
Winter Cold and clean and bright
Send the snow and dark deep sky
winter bring your song

Winter cold and winter white
Windy days and starry nights
Time for hope and time for cheer
Winter bring your song

A winter song flows on the wind
and makes the year begin again
The frost will thaw and spring will come
So winter sing your song

winter dark and winter dear
Winter white is cold and clear
Gleaming days and silvery nights
Sing sweet winter white

See the frost perched on the ground
and the snow falling like down
Like feathers from the northern sky
Sing sweet winter white
Sing sweet winter white.

This, too, shall pass

The wind is super strong tonight and I just looked at the temperature..brrrrr! It is 30 degrees! We went golfing on Sunday in the balmy 70 degree sunshine. But as they say in Abilene, and most parts of Texas: If you don't like the weather, wait a few minutes..it will change!

I remember a college day in Lubbock. I went into church with a light jacket, as there was a mild chill in the air, but the sun was still shining. Then I came out of church 2 hours later, and there was a blizzard outside. A few hours later the snow burned off, and the dirt started blowing. By 4 p.m. the sky was red and everyone was very very confused. God and His fabulous creation are full of surprises.

So many things in life seem long. Waiting for babies, in the case of my friend Olivia and mermaid #3. Waiting for health, as my friend mermaid #2 has. Waiting for pronouncement from doctors that the cancer is gone. Waiting for grief to abate and for life to return to a pseudo normal state. Waiting for the time to pass. Waiting for winter to end.

Life has a way of changing so rapidly, it is exciting and crazy and hurtful emotional. But all of life is simply a waiting game. For this life was meant to pass. All the weird, terrible and wonderful things don't last down here.

But I am grateful that things change, they get better, they get worse. Time and chance happen to us all. Our babies grow and they become little people, gradually finding out that Santa isn't real and that You, the parent, really don't know everything. Our babies grow and have new babies who believe that you, the grandparent, do know everything. Time passes. Winter melts into spring. Christmas must come and pass so that Easter can come.

As we are passing from the winter of our discontent, let us learn to be happy in the days we have. There is a poem I read once, that stuck with me for around 20 years. It is the following:

Look well to this day
For it is life
The very best of life.
In its brief course lie all
The realities and truths of existence,
The joy of growth, the splendour of action,
The glory of power.
For yesterday is but a memory.
And tomorrow is only a vision.
But today well lived
Makes every yesterday a memory of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore to this day.

As our winter passes, don't forget to enjoy the crazy world and existence we have been given. Even the dirt storms.

Winter passing

Take the blanket and tuck it in tight
For the wind is raging with all of it’s might
A storm is blowing far out on the sea.
But tonight , tonight we are passing…passing
Passing like winter into the spring..

What is the hour, I heard myself say
But I don’t really care, since its night and not day
And the wee hours are precious as the dawn will appear
But tonight we are Passing passing
Passing like winter so dear

It is funny that I cannot help but sing
And influence creation to do the same thing
But our song has almost come to an end
Passing, passing, like winter our friend

Hold your breath with me and ride through the snow
For our times at an end and the moon’s sinking low
But we will ride with the end in our sight…..
For tonight we are Passing, Passing
Passing passing like winter so bright
Passing passing like winter so bright.

The Big Reveal

This past weekend, Robert and Ryan and I stood on the front porch and watched the crescent moon finish the picture of fall. Jupiter and Venus are very close, and the southern sky is incredibly clear this time of year. Making three distinct shapes in the sky, so bright and beautiful.

When investigating the very bright stars, I discovered that Jupiter and Venus have been close before in history, so close they almost seem as one star. There is a christian scientist that has researched the time of Christ, showing that around the time of his birth, Jupiter and Venus were that close. If they were, it gives a scientific explanation of that 'star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright.'

I like to think though, that God might have created the planets simply to help announce the birth of His son, the saviour. It is much like a parent would decorate for a birthday party, or a new parent preparing a nursery. Perhaps He did not use the existing planets but prepared a special star. I like it that it is a mystery, and our wisdom cannot fathom the reasons, nor the preparation.

I also thought of the shepherds in the fields, late late that night. keeping watch over the flocks.

They are the first to know. The lowest, least educated people are informed first. and they are informed in the middle of the night, when the synagogue rabbis and the Roman soldiers and the royal Jewish families are sleeping.

So many of the realizations I have had came from times when I have been awake and all the world is sleeping. Something about the quiet of the night that makes the Spirits' voice loud and clear in my mind. Times I have to read and study usually occur at night, when the house is quiet and I am alone with my thoughts. The best songs are written then, the realizations I have about life and love. The quiet talks with God, the scriptures, the tears, and many revelations.

I have learned that those moments of insomnia are to be treasured, not dreaded. That winter can come and I can enjoy the cold wind on my face. Knowing that some of those long, cold, nights, the Spirit will nudge me awake, and I will see the Father's face.

Reveal

Jupiter and Venus are shining through my window
And its 2 a.m.
And I woke with the noise of silence all over
and I cant find a friend

for the worlds frozen over, and all of the clover
Is now a blanket of solid white.
so the sleep that was waiting for me
will wait a bit longer tonight

For tonight I am open and free
reveal it reveal it reveal it to me
Since I cannot see what you want me to be
Reveal it reveal it reveal it to me.

take me out of the familiar
and take my spirit high
So i can be ready right when you call
Like those shepherds on Xmas night

On the fourth watch of the night
wont you call to me?
I will hear your voice over the storm
and let me walk with you, out on the sea

Sometimes it seems like the night is held fast
and morning never comes
But I will hold fast to the hand of
the one and only risen Son.

For tonight I am open and free,
Reveal it reveal it reveal it to me
Since I cannot see what you want me to be
Reveal it reveal it reveal it to me
Reveal it reveal it reveal it to me.

The Road

I am learning Italian. I bought the bullet and purchased software that uses visual cues. Plodding through the lessons, I realize that my grammar is atrocious. So it goes. But hoping that in the future I could ( at least,) read a bit of Italian, I continue.

My language quest is really about the future. The P.h.d I plan to pursue in the humanities. The dream trip to Rome and Venice and Florence that I plan to take with my hubby and son . The thought that perhaps, I might be able to read Giacomo Puccini's opera libretto in the
original language.

The saying "all roads lead to Rome" is appropriate for me, it is what I am planning for.

The challenge this week is "the road." So I must produce a song or live in shame. Mermaid #2 is already hard at work on her own "road."

Roads are so applicable to life. They are long, they are windy and you never know where there might be a dead end, or a sharp hairpin turn. Sometimes so smooth, like glass. Sometimes like driving in New Mexico. (ugh) Sometimes the google map is completely wrong and takes you the long way. Sometimes your Garmin is way off base. Sometimes you have to trust yourself to choose the road you need, and sometimes it is chosen for you.

The very unexpected aspect of the road draws us. Turn a corner in Rome and you will see modern apartments, but turn another corner and there is the Pantheon. The road to the Spanish steps is lined with mall-like stores. The roadways in Venice are water, and they are very dirty, but the next turn shows the Doge's palace dome. Whether mundane or marvelous, the road is something to be ventured.

Road trip, anyone?


The Road Knows

I asked the wind as I saw him on my way,
Where will you take me, and I heard him say
Oh, only the road knows.

I asked the trees in the forest of green
What do you think tomorrow might bring?
And the leaves shimmered…
“only the road knows.”

And the road, goes on and on
And the road, winds on and on
Singing never ending songs

I asked the sea, to search its’ depths for me
And find the answers that I was bent to seek
the waves crashed and I was told
Only the road knows.

I asked the stars shining above
Where would I go, and when would I find love?
And they called down to me
Go ask the road.

and the road, goes on and on
And the road, winds on and on

I asked the road to open up to me
Answer my question and give to me some peace,
But it sang, ‘follow me’
And you will know, just what the road knows.

And the road, goes on and on
And the road, goes on and on
Singing a never-ending song
Only the road knows.
Only the road knows.

Hope

What a funny little word to blog about. Four teeny tiny letters that keep us going, day in and day out. Whatever our religion, background or belief, hope is the one thing we all share.

We have started something new, and mermaid number 2 and I have decided to write weekly to get our songwriting chops back into shape. Each of us will take turns deciding a one word or phrase to write about, or an idea. Last weeks word was "glass" and my song was in my last blog. This weeks' word is harder, both to write about and to maintain, the word is "hope."

why is it that we are all so caught up in hope? You cant see it or touch it or feel it. Yet it is all around us and in everything we do.

When we are children, we hope for the future, we hope we are older, we hope for Xmas to come...right now! Time, though, has a way of changing that. Then we hope for others' future, hope for the world, hope for eternity. We live and learn and experience joy and pain. Yet hope remains as palpable at 50 and 60 and beyond as it did at 5 and 6.

As far as my life is concerned, only one thing has stood between me and hope, and never for long. It was my past. I could use the past to become bitter, as I have experienced terrible sadness and tragedy and physical pain. Or I could use the past as something to hold tightly to, as I have also experienced incredible joy, thrills, excitement and opportunities that few see.

I choose to hold to neither, but to live well for this day. Hope, it seems, must have its way.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast
Man never Is, but always To be blest
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come. -Alexander Pope,An Essay on Man, Epistle I, 1733

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Let It Go

There is a gray cloud in my way
I saw it on the sidewalk as I stepped out today
And I heard it crying and raining down
And I couldn't pick my eyes up off of the ground.

But tomorrow is a new day
New hopes are rising and the gray clouds fade
And there is a better time coming, if I will be bold
Turn to the future before I grow cold

But I know, the winds are going to blow,
I'm going to leave the past and let it go.

The open box of Pandora's, started it all
she shut the lid quickly, then she heard a call,
something tapping on the inside, making us know
That hope must follow trouble, wherever it goes....

But I know, those winds are going to blow,
I'm going to leave the past and let it go.

Don't know if its wise, Dont really know at all..
But I am going to listen to hope, whenever she calls,
So if she comes knocking on your window tonight,
Tell her I will be waiting in the morning light...

Because I know, winds are going to blow
I'm going to leave the past and let it go.

Mermaids Tears

I was sad today, no particular reason. My family is getting better, we had a great visit with my extended family and a fun, busy weekend. But never the less, today I was blue.

So many things I should be happy about, so many to be thankful for. There was a time I would have been ashamed to be sad. But the older I get the more I realize that life and feelings should be experienced as they come. As we experience the happy so do we experience the sad, each in its own turn. Sickness sometimes turns to healing, and sometimes joy changes to sorrow as well. There is a time for both.

I can see the jar of sea glass on the shelf. Sea glass is also known as 'mermaid's tears,' which I find rather beautiful, especially since I am feeling blue. Sea glass starts as sharp clear broken pieces, then spends years of tumbling in ocean waves, softening the sharp edges of shards of broken glass. The edges smooth, and the color mellows from clear to opaque, as the water is infused into the core. The result is a lovely glistening jewel on the sand. Trash is transformed to treasure.

We experience the highs and lows of life, and as we do our sharp edges are burned away. We are transformed into treasure. Our traumatic metamorphosis in the sea allows us to find the true beauty in our souls. Our purpose is better understood, as we are refined and revealed. We are created and we are transformed. So the hard times come and the great times come and each prepares us for the bigger picture.

So I embrace those "mermaid tears" when they are flowing and the 'mermaid songs' when I am joyful. After all, they are really my true self.

Sea Glass

There is a jar of sea glass
On the bookshelf in the living room
And the colors range from red to green
To aqua shades and teal and blue

And all the glass in the jar, tells a story
Of each piece and its’ shattered broken past
But the beauty within a shard is revealed
As it is tossed and thrown to the sand at last

For We are all shattered and scattered
Taking our chances on the salty sea
Crashing over seas of joy and suffering
Love and loss and life to see….
And the sand is polishing, the waves are washing
Taking us to places never seen before
Preparing all of us for a different purpose
Becoming what we all were created for.

And the glass is no longer clear or whole
It is in pieces in the time and tide
And the colors play with light and shade
Revealing the journey over oceans wide

For we are all born, clear as crystal
And we are all meant to break and go
Scattering out, over deep wide oceans
Changing into something better than before….

For We are all shattered and scattered
Taking our chances on the salty sea
Crashing over seas of joy and suffering
Love and loss and life to see….

And the sand is polishing, the waves are washing
Taking us to places never seen before
Preparing all of us for a different purpose
Becoming what we all were created for.

Angels

My birthday was last Wednesday, and Mermaid #2 gave me a lovely journal and a devotional book. She is a traditionalist when it comes to literature, so the book was The Imitation of Christ, By Thomas a Kempis. Originally written for monastics in the 14th century, the language is beautiful and very "King James." I am a sucker for anything renaissance/restoration, so a perfect gift for me.

During my last night's reading of that devotional tome, I started thinking about quiet service. About the angels that run around on earth, and just do good works. Quietly, not drawing attention, they love and give and make a difference.

I call myself blessed to know, love and be best friends with 3 ladies that are quiet and gently serving, serving. Each in her own way takes extra care with her family, her friends and the people she meets. Quietly, mermaid #2 teaches and reads and prays and serves. Loving and selfless, mermaid #3 mothers in a gentle way everyone she meets, while serving in her quietly gifted way. Not drawing attention, mermaid #4 offers solace and rest and hope and love, and gives gives gives.

So many people aspire to be something great, something seen and heard in a grand way. But the lives of quiet service are beyond worth. We sometimes forget that the unseen and unheard service are the things that are most prized with our God. I would like to pay a tribute to the women in my life, my Mom, Grandmother, Sister in laws, Mother in law and my close dear friends that have touched me in a quiet way that has changed me forever. Changed me to be more giving, less selfish, more generous and less worried about what others might think of me when I am more like Christ.

I wrote this song for Rikie when she moved away. She has always sounded Angelic, but people don't always know that she also has other angelic qualities, working diligently to serve God through serving her family and friends. She is such a loving, gentle mom, and I love her dearly.

I like to think of the four of us as those spirits in Hans Christian Andersons' The Little Mermaid, going around the earth helping quietly, not asking for things in return. They have shown me that the seen is so much less important than the unseen. And I am so grateful, as my mermaids continue to show me what it means to serve, really serve, and know that quiet service really does matter.

Cry Like An Angel

When words are unspoken when heartaches run long
When the mountains are misty and the heather is gone
When winter has frozen your heart to the core
You can cry to me softly, without any words.

Cry like an angel, sing like the sea
Cry like an angel, come cry to me
Dance like the fire, and soar like a bird
Cry like an angel, when there are no words.

When miles are between us and leagues still remain
The river will guide you back home again
When miles are between us and the storms rage and roar
Use the ocean to send your message to shore...

When your soul grows so tired and lonely with fear
Cry out on the western wind, and I will hear.

and Cry like an angel, sing like the sea
Cry like an angel come cry to me,
Dance like the fire, and soar like a bird
Cry like an angel...when there are no words.

Joy in the Morning

The last few nights we have been up all night. Robert has been ill and Ryan has been ill and we have not slept. Excruciating to wait until the morning comes. Sleep is elusive and loneliness is your only companion. After a while you run out of things to pray about, and the prayer becomes a mantra, of "Lord, let me get to sleep!"

But then I was looking through a letter this afternoon...I had put it away to think and pray about it. It was from a friend who has seen some lonely times and has a living testimony to share. She and her husband are adopting a child and I sat and just cried tears of joy and relief.

(of course that is easy to do when you are working on 2 hours of sleep, but I was very happy, too.)

I love to vicariously watch some one's journey from sadness to joy, from darkness into light and from night to morning. I read scripture to Ryan last night, it said "though the sorrow may last through the night, joy comes in the morning."

Much like the dark of night, the sadness that consumes us is consumed by the sun that rises in the east. My friend has always had the metaphor of the caterpillar on her blog and emails. A caterpillar lives and cocoons and then,must think...'this is all there is.' But the darkness of the cocoon is short lived, and the caterpillar must be very surprised, awakening to change and to beauty and to flight.

I thought last night about the garden and about loneliness, and sleeplessness and terrible sorrow. I thought about the lonely nights for the disciples..Friday night, Saturday night. No joy to be found in those mornings. And the nights: long, cold, dark, hopeless and helpless.

But Sunday, Sunday always has a way of coming. And the caterpillar awakens and the night is gone and the Sun rises. And the Son rises.

So I am happy for my friend and I am happy that her morning of joy has come. Welcome, Elora, you are greatly loved, you are greatly wanted. I am ready to see you fly.

See You Fly

In your cocoon
Cozy like a womb
We are waiting for you, keep waiting for you

A love deeper than the sea
A crown of victory
We are waiting for you, keep waiting for you

For God is sending you right into our midst
Keeping all the mysteries hidden in his fist
Finally letting go and looking to the Sky
He has plans for you
And I cant wait to see you fly

Shining like a light
Like a beacon in the night
Hope is calling to us, calling to us

When the night was dark
There was always a spark
When Love was looking for you, and we were looking too.

For God is sending you right into our midst
Keeping all the mysteries hidden in His fist
We are letting go and looking to the sky
He has plans for you
And I cant wait to see you fly

There is coming a day
When I will see your face
And I will look at you, and God will be there too

You will spread your wings
And our heart will sing
Music that will rhyme, our story written before time..


For God is sending you right into our midst
Keeping all the mysteries hidden in His fist
But we are letting go and looking to the sky
He has plans for you
And I cant wait to see you fly

Edge of the World

It has been a month since I last blogged, and it seems like a constant whirlwind of activity has been going since then. Our vacation to the caribbean cancelled, the hurricane and its aftermath. Our spontaneous trip to california..my husband very ill. Then school starting, the finishing touches of our recording and the non-stop care of my special needs son.

As my husband has learned this month, there is a link between suffering and compassion, between pain and understanding. The ability to empathize only comes through experience. We are innately available to serve when we are offered the opportunity to suffer.

Oh, but it is so hard! Trying to reason through pain. Trying to "figure it out" and solve it ourselves. It never works. It never will.

Mostly because pain doesn't come to bad people or because we do wrong things. This is one of life's hardest lessons; pain is no respector of persons, or time, or money. It comes to us all in its' own measure.

After we suffer, we want to close ourselves off. Take no risks. Make safe choices and be careful to not offer too much of our hearts and minds and souls. Failure might happen and pain with it. But right then, right then, is the best chance we have to make a choice to risk again, and be so useful to others as well as ourselves.

I look at my son and I realize that everything he does is a risk. Life itself is a risk to a special needs kid. A risk to try since he has so many fears. A risk to love, as he is so intensely involved in others souls that he cannot extricate himself. A risk to fall and a risk to fail. But he takes the chance everyday, and he is strong, strong, strong, and I love him for it.

I hope he continues to chance and risk and love. I hope he sails to the edge of his world and beyond. Most parents want that for their children. I want him to be happy, but I know he will share in suffering in this world. When he does, I hope that he continues to sail, and continues to keep his heart open. Thank God that He allowed His own son to suffer for us.

There is a lot of open water. Want to dive in?

Edge of the World

Go to the edge of the world
Out where the ocean is crowned with island pearls
And the sirens are singing free
They are calling to you and calling to me

At the edge of the world
Ride with me, let your wings unfurl
Keep the horizon in your view
the edge of the world is out there waiting for you

go to the edge of the sea
Walk down the shore and into the deep
Treasure is waiting there for you
If you hold your breath and dive into the blue

Go to the edge of the night
Catch a ride on a chariot taking flight
Before that golden orb comes into view
The edge of the night is out there for you

Columbus knew, and I do, too
That the edge of the world is just a point of view
Sure it is safer when you stay
But adventure is yours when you sail away

at the edge of the world
Ride with me, let your wings unfurl
Keep the horizon in your view
The edge of the world is out there waiting for you.