spring light box

 

Today I am using my ipad as a light box.  (pressing VERY lightly with a mechanical pencil)

The sun is shining and I am diving into some projects from my clayer mishima class.  I have a kiln to fire, that I have been putting off because I like to cram as many pieces as possible in it. Two half finished books, two rich bible studies, half baked meals, a dozen phone calls to make… and a slew of posts that are partially written in my drafts.  My daughter had her spring concert last night, that I dragged her to in tears because she didn’t want “100 eyes” on her.  We were overtaken by spring mud last week and this week a fresh blanket of snow to cover it all.  The spring dance has arrived.  I have been drawing slews of daffodils, iris, peonies, ferns, hacianths, and a whole swarm of butterflies.  They will be awakening on fresh beds of white clay soon.

  

foundation for a legacy

 

This past week we celebrated at the annual SpringHill Christmas party.  It is always such a treat to gather all Michigan, Indiana and Daycamp staff and volunteers together and fellowship, something that doesn’t occur often as we are usually the ones serving from several location.  I love this group of people, for the shared vision and commitment to Jesus and kids.

This year our party coordinator/detail extraordinaire Dina, included us on the fun!  All the centerpieces were made by staff/volunteers and were part of a game.  Guess that Christmas Carol…  Mine I  bet will be obvious to you.  I was so excited to put my ‘O little town of Bethlehem’ votives together I was literally the first one to decorate my table, and one of the first ones to the party.   I tried to leave my hands open as to who would join us at our table and prayed that Jesus would bring the right people to the spots.  Well you can imagine my disappointment when after 35+ minutes of mingling not a single person sat at our table!

 

A little crushed and dinner almost ready to begin, two couples discreetly entered in.  Chuck and his wife, one of our creative duo at Site and Enoch and Joan, our Camp founders.  My fears aside, He brought just the right people, I am so thankful.  Even though we were the closest to the buffet line we were the last table called.  I didn’t mind,  I was in awe of the conversation taking place with Chuck and Enoch talking shop about the dining hall renovation.  Of all the conversations I hear around camp about kids, numbers, revenues… these two were talking about details of the building, specifically floor tiles.

Enoch recounted the 8000 tiles he personally laid in the original dining hall and still exist today in the space.  Talk about laying a foundation for a legacy!  I love that such a dynamic and personal leader was willing to get on his hands and knees to serve a place that reaches so many.  What a great example of humility to all who aim to serve.  Being willing to do even the most redundant lowly projects, that get walked on every day, not for recognition because it’s what needs to be done!   Not delegating just doing.  Something both of these men know a lot about.

I don’t think I could have hand-picked two better couples to sit with.  What a delightful evening it turned out to be, plus the girls crushed at family feud!   To pass on the fun, can you pick out some of the carols?

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“And there, in the stable, amongst the chickens and the  donkeys and the cows, in the quiet of the night,  God gave the world his wonderful gift.  The baby that would change the world was born.  His baby son… And they gazed in wonder at God’s Great Gift, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and lying in a manger.  Mary and Joseph named him Jesus, “Emmanuel” – which means “God has come to live with us.”   – Jesus Storybook Bible

locked out

Its been a bizarre 12 hours,  thunderstorms, grumpiness, power outages, and then I was locked out.  It kind of rattled my cage today, but once I was in I found myself gazing out.  It’s just one morning, one day, one miniscule trial – it’s the same air on both sides.  Just take a moment and breath and let it all wash over.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  2 Corinthians 4: 16-17

under the magic lilac bush

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A child has not made up his mind yet about what is and what is not possible.  He has no fixed preconceptions about what reality is; and if someone tells him that the mossy place under the lilac bush is a magic place, he may wait until he thinks that no one is watching him, but then he will very probably crawl in under the lilac bush to see for himself.  A child also knows how to accept a gift.  He does not worry about losing his dignity or becoming indebted if he accepts it.  His conscience does not bother him because the gift is free and he has not earned it and therefore really has no right to it.  He just takes it, with joy.  In fact, if it is something that he wants very much he may even ask for it.  And lastly, a child knows how to trust.  It is late at night and very dark and there is the sound of sirens as his father wakes him.  He does not explain anything but just takes him by the hand and gets him up, and the child is scared out of his wits and has no idea what is going on, but he takes his father’s hand anyway and lets his father lead him where he chooses into the darkness. 

Federick Buechner, The Magnificent Defeat

The other day I looked out the window across the street and saw a gaggle of boys climbing in a tree, hanging from its limbs.  My daughters begged to join them, and after approval they flew across the street like so many times before.  As I glanced across the street again I reached for my camera, it seems safer sometimes to grieve good friends moving from the other side on the lens.  A van pulls up and more kids pile out.  Their little laughs and giggles seem so natural, in fact this is all they know in life, they have played together since they were born.  I quietly trail behind them snapping photos as they move from one favorite playing spot to another.  They play hard together like they know the last time they get to be all together is coming, but I doubt they fully grasp yet the reality of that.

As a mother my heart breaks for these kiddos, I have learned to love them as my own, watch them grow, prayed for them and celebrated them.  My heart is mindful of the  teachable moments as I press through my own tears, for many of them this is their first “loss.”   I can’t predict how they are going to respond or hurt as their little world changes, but I can come alongside to embrace and encourage in this moment.  My youngest we tried to prepare by telling her they were moving around Easter,  has remained quiet other than saying repeatedly “mommy, I don’t want Easter to come.”   But my little love, it is here, now is the time to say our good byes, and hope that even this sad event may demonstrate to our kids about the meaning and cost of love, how to leave well, and the tie that binds.  It’s Easter – it all happens according to His plan and glory.   Thank you lord, for friends to journey with, our lives have been enriched and we have been blessed.

beauty of silence

“Peace is first of all the art of being.” - Henri J.M. Nouwen

There is a stillness this week, it feels like Christmas but the pace has slowed.  I have a Christmas tree up and a poinsettia on the kitchen table,  but I hope the nutcrackers’ and other decorations don’t mind their boxes for another year.  I realized I haven’t set foot in a mall, and really just stopped at one physical store.  All my gifts are handmade or bought online.  Some may argue that I am missing the season but as I am on the couch more often these days with a cold I cannot shake, the knocking me off my feet is kind of what I needed.  Without the commercialism of the “holidays,” hype at school, numerous parties and fabricated to do lists, I just sense “peace.”  Today I got to read to my 5-year-old and hold my 7-year-old as she was melting down after-school and I realized that the excitement of Christmas could have easily  carried me right past these tender moments.  How precious to embrace peace, to focus on the story, the quiet night, the entrance of a new family, a new journey, a new place, a new hope.

What I learned from a year of blogging

I just finished my first year of blogging!

This is a great milestone for me because it is not the first time I tried.  I registered this blog in 2009, but in two years I wrote 2 post, with probably as many views.  I had recently quit my job to stay at home full-time with my kids.  I thought I would have so much time but discovered I had less time for myself than ever.  I think there was just so much going on I failed as I struggled coming up with something creative on a regular basis. Truthfully it was just the lowest thing on my priority list. Did the world really need one more mommy and craft blog???   One year ago on November 28, I felt compelled to revisit the idea of blogging, which terrified me.  I had in my mind this was a writing and journaling thing.  What would make this time around different?  I followed through with that burden laid on me and I found a whole new relationship with blogging.  I feared the day I posted my link on my Facebook page, and my world knew I was writing.  Here are some of the things that encouraged me and defined the time;

1. Write about what you’re PASSIONATE about and add ORIGINAL photos!

When my girls were little I had very little time to make artwork,  I turned to photography as a quick way to capture all that was going on around me at its fast pace.  When I returned to blogging I began to see how important this hobby was in telling the story.  I love using my own photography on my blog, it often speaks just as loudly as the words.  Not to mention it adds consistency and I don’t have to worry about infringing on someone else’s copyright.  I found that there was more than one theme I was drawn to writing about – I let my heart guide me towards what to write.   I love looking back now and seeing the growth in my interests and artwork.  My passions lead me to my “voice.”

2. Give yourself a creative project

I think I stumbled upon the post-a-week project around new-years.  I just didn’t have the time or ambition for a daily routine so once a week sounded more my style.  I often give myself goals every year but always add a few fun goals along with the serious ones.  So after receiving an ice cream maker for Christmas, the idea of a flavor a week in 2011 began.  The two ideas really rolled together and gave me a sure post every week.  Amazingly, I averaged about three posts a week when I added something about my family, a reflection or an art project I was working on.  I am thankful for these different areas as they narrow down the blogosphere of readers but didn’t limit me to just one topic.  I read up on tagging, and try to be consistent when labeling my posts.   I think I surprised myself this year writing over 185 posts and almost 15,000 views!

3.  Be flexible

It was daunting at first to commit to posting every week but after a while it became a habit .  As ideas came to me  I started  keeping a note in my email so when I had a chance to sit down I didn’t just stare at the screen.   I also learned that you can write posts and schedule them ahead of time.  That way if I was having a good week I could write-up my post and schedule a date in the future for it to automatically publish.  Sometimes it just doesn’t work that smoothly (sorry to any of you who got used to 8AM posts…)  I found that it was important to let this be a natural thing – so If I didn’t post much during a week it meant there was a lot going on or I just didn’t have much to say…  Beyond scheduling I have found that some of my random posts at odd hours are the ordained ones.  How encouraging it is to post something in the middle of the night and get an immediate response from someone trolling around commenting “I really needed to read that just now.”  I would have missed that if I kept to a rigid schedule.

All in all, I am thankful for this experience to write and share in this space.  I have grown in confidence  in all areas and it has challenged me creatively, spiritually and professionally.   I have even written a few guest posts and diy’s art projects shared on other blogs.  I thought blogging would connect me to the world outside this small town, but found in addition to that it has connected me to my family and friends even more.   Thank you for reading and commenting,  sometimes that is just the encouragement I need to continue writing.  I have loved having a chance to be transparent  and grow as a follower, wife, mother, friend and artist, and share that journey with my readers.  For now the plan is to keep writing and making more artwork to share in this space.

Thanks for joining me on the ride.

Kate

 

new day

I’ve been hiding out in this gloomy weather.  This week I am a bit weepy as my heart lags behind my head in knowing things are going to be alright.  I woke up monday with an overwhelming sense of  today is a “new day,” what a glimmer of hope that is!   I am hanging onto jj heller’s song back home, and the forecast for this weekend – sun.

the rising cost of food…

12 jars of homemade apple sauce all lined up.  I made these with some friends this week who cranked out dozens of jars,  I could only help out on the tail end due to the story below.  These jars of sweet pink-hued sauce came with a tough price for me…

Two weeks ago I went apple picking, last week I went back for a few more.  On this second trip I walked through a picker bush, that filled my clothes full of burrs.  They left these almost translucent pickers on my skin and one of those ended up in my eye.  I flushed my eye many times and did everything I could do to get it out.  I thought it would come out on its own but after 5 days, intermittent pain and sleepless nights, I resorted to a trip to the eye doctor.  After more than 30 minutes he found the culprit thorn lodged on the inside of my upper eyelid.  It was scratching my eye and causing me a great deal of pain.  I had no idea something so small could be such a huge irritant. I can’t explain the feeling of gratitude I felt toward my doctor who was so gentle in removing the thorn.

I had almost forgotten in that short amount of time what a normal eye had felt like.  How could something almost invisible to ‘naked eye’ cause such pain?  I could help but think about  Matthew 7:3 “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?  After this whole ordeal I shiver at the idea of a speck, not to mention a plank.  I am thankful that God is so full of grace and gentle in removing those irritants.  I remember saying to my doctor as he slowly drew near my face with a pair of blunt tweezers. ” I know you need to do this but I really don’t want you to…”  In the end my fear of how steady his hand was, gave way to my fear of facing the future in this condition, and the health of my eye.  I guess I’ll just put the question out there, is there something in your life that is obstructing your vision?  That is painful to think about removing but is absolutely necessary in order to restore sight and return to a peaceful normal state? Perhaps its time to schedule an appointment with the great physician, so the healing can begin.

 

good to the core

This seems like a magical year for produce.  I spotted this little grove of apples on camp that I’ve never noticed before.  Tucked out-of-the-way is a grouping of twisted trees, surrounded by weeds and tall grass, pressed down by groups of deer that gravitate towards the fruit.  Surely the herd wouldn’t mind if I picked a few.   I am not sure what the varieties are but these were most definitely planted 50, 60, 70 years ago – by the size of the trees.

The way to get the best apples is to climb the tree which inevitably scrapes your arms or any exposed skin. I try to pick the biggest and best apples I can see.  I think these would qualify as “organic” as I may as well be the only one who has picked here in a LONG time, much less sprayed the tree with anything.  My first fear was that the apples would be bad, ridden with bugs.  My family quickly picked just one basket – which again, I had to hold off my greedy fruit picking tendencies…  At home I quickly went to work making a large stockpot of applesauce and homemade apple pie.  As I sliced through apple after apple I was so surprised they were consistently good to the core.

As I reflect on my fears, I can’t help but compare apples to people.  I tended to go for the apples that looked the best from the outside but  there were very few without blemish.  From afar they all look like apples but up close you can see the changes in roundness and shape.  Scars, blemishes and malformations appear to be the “natural” part of the growing process.  We can judge whatever we want from the outside but we know nothing of the fruits health until we cut in and view it from the core.

Here’s to being content, great apples and eating pie!

Psalm 17:7-9   Show me the wonders of your great love, you who save by your right hand those who take refuge in you from their foes. Keep me as the apple of your eye;  hide me in the shadow of your wings.

 

hidden beauty

It’s the last week of summer vacation – we are too busy to grieve it. This week has been about 1-on-1 breakfast dates with the girls, parties, friends, camping, bike rides, and movies just because in the morning. I am trying to squeeze every last moment of snuggles and tea party time. I have barely been down to the studio, but I did manage to squeeze a few yarn bowls and buttons in. Next week school begins and I will resume my kiln loading schedule.

I have also been a bit of a book-worm this week, mostly with Madeline l’Engle’s book Two Part Invention: The story of a marriage. There is something beautiful about one sharing their story, the rawness of emotion and ability to see beyond the figures, to get lost in their pain and caught up in their joy. Maybe that is our nature to be curious about others journey not from the outside but in its raw state. I am savoring and pondering her words, I may have more to weigh in on later. For now, here is a raw view of my clay, still wet and vulnerable to change. Fingerprints still visible on the surface as they are slowly dried and waiting for transformation; first in the heat, then their surfaces will be painted. Afterward they will be admired from the outside, the seen form. Will the beauty of the rawness be forgotten? Will anyone see them for the love and personal touch that is underneath? That is the real story, the process, the making, the transformation.