WHERE DID IT GO?

Welcome 2017 !

Have you ever wondered aloud? Where have the years gone?  

This painting is in remembrance of my Grandmother Rhoda, enjoying an evening with one of her lady friends.

The ladies never went out in public without

 proper hats and cotton gloves. 

Luncheon dates were de rigueur. Chatting and gossiping, black coffee with cream and sugar, thin sliced spam on crackers. 

Tall ice cream floats, in the deep heat of summer.

The pièce de résistance was the  monthly ladies' bridge club. Bridge was played with concentrated seriousness.

Card tables were set up in the living room surrounded by chintz slip covered chairs. 

Delicate crystal dishes filled with pink mints, mingled with crisp new playing cards,

on the tatted ecru linen table cloth .

My mind is filled with memories. 

I miss my Grandma Rhoda. 

She lived a few months shy of 100.

Where do the Years Go? 

Are you ever overwhelmed by the fleeting essence of  TIME?

May your New Year be filled with warm friendships, harmonious family relationships, meaningful work, spontaneous fun, compassion for all, a time to nurture one's self and a sense of inward peace.

Smiles: Sharon

Quiet Moments

As I look at the beautiful globe of light in the sky, a feeling of celebration and happiness rushes over me. Winter Solstice Moon golden, glowing, wishing we would all look UP and witness HER shine over our entire world. 

 

I wish to think that SHE is sending Moonbeams of COMPASSION and PEACE, if but for a few short days. 

 

It is amazing that we can all look UP into the inky black universe and see the same benevolent beaming moon....
 

SHE shares her all with EVERYONE, no exclusion. All we need is to look UP and SEE.

Circles of Snow, Sandi

Today is a quiet marker honoring and celebrating

Sandi's long path of healing and inner peace.

Supported by loved ones and friends,

she nevertheless has travelled this path solo

with only herself for company.

Today is the closure of one circle.

Circles of Snow

Yesterday the snow slowly spiraled

in lofty carnations of white.

Mother Earth welcomed the peaceful softness

for a moment's respite.

But all was not as it appeared;

raging wind storms buffeted about,

rearranging the cushy white softness.

Through out the day

the Master Weaver frosted the glimpse of the sun.

It was a day for quiet introspection.

What is the Greatest Gift?

Mary Oliver

What is the greatest gift?

Could it be the world itself--the oceans, the meadowlark,

the patience of the trees in the wind.

Could it be love, with its sweet clamor of passion?

Something else--something else entirely

holds me in thrall.

That you have a life that I wonder about

more than I wonder about my own.

That you have a life--courteous, intelligent-- that I wonder about more than I wonder about my own.

That you have a soul--your own, no one else's--

that I wonder about more than I wonder about my own.

So that I find my soul clapping its hands for yours

more than my own.

M.O.

Sandi you are the flower, standing straight and tall. This morning the Winds ceased their anger and the Sun shines to cast a brilliant palette of dancing light and happiness. May your heart, mind and memories focus on the good, the truth, the splitting open, the distanced travelled the warmth of love that is for you. Mom Sharon

On This Day-MLK Day

Rosa sat

So Martin could walk

Martin walked

So Obama could run

Obama ran

So our children can fly.

Mia Farrow

Martin Luther King Day

This day gifted a time of reflection and thought. "On this day...." please enjoy the beauty and serenity that graced Havre de Grace.

See that curve beckoning as if to say

Come along and see

mysteries of crystal and white

On the sculpted banks and ice coated edges

Waves caught in a still frame

frozen froth.

A lonely feathered sentinel

overlords

the Chesapeake

Velveteen cloaked

A touch of grace, comings and goings

leaving ripples

frozen in time

Shards of ice, bully the fleet of

Lah-de-Dah boats

The Lantern Queen hibernates

from her summer gaiety.

Cemetery cold, frozen soil, deep somber gray

warmed by red striped flags

reminding us of a life

that made a difference.

The bay was quiet

only an occasional snapping crack of ice as it shift to a more comfortable position or a goose eerily

honked searching for his mate.

Few were out in the grayness, the deep cold.

In the distance a biker stood on the edge of the pier, holding ever so still.

Did I dare interfere with his reverie?

With the slightly embarrassed "hi" I met Mike.

Mike: free spirit, world traveler, keeper of journals, biker, runner, reader, poet, reads Mary Oliver poetry and Terry Tempest Williams, thrives in ice and cold, looking for the next adventure, pursuing second career, loves architecture and numbers, grand talker, friendly and hopes we meet again.

As we spoke, the snow had deftly fallen,

sift like fine face powder

from a feathery puff.

Pure magic on Martin Luther's Birthday!

Walking to Bethlehem

Today it was very cold. The sky was gray, gun-metal gray.

Did we really want to leave the warmth of home and venture out.

Did we really want to Walk to Bethlehem?

The answer was a simple yes. And so our journey began.

A simple country woman handed us a few shekels to do with as we please.

With a song in our hearts and a hymn on our lips, may we all Walk to Bethlehem.

In Bethlehem, in Israel, this blessed Babe was born,

And laid within a manger upon this blessed morn.

From God our Heavenly Father, a blessed angel came;

And unto certain shepherds brought tidings of the same;

how that in Bethlehem was born the Son of God by name.

Loving shepherd of Thy sheep, keep Thy lamb, in safety keep;

Nothing can Thy power withstand, none can pluck me from Thy hand.

They looked up and saw a star,

Shining in the East beyond them far;

And to the earth it gave great light,

And so it continued day and night.

This star drew night to the northwest;

o'er Bethlehem it took its rest,

And there it did both stop and stay,

Right o'er the place where Jesus lay.

Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay

close by me forever and love me I pray.

bless all the dear children in Thy tender care,

And take us to heaven to live with Thee there.

O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie;

Above thy deep and dreamless sleep,

The silent stars go by.

Yet in thy dark streets shineth

The everlasting Light;

The hopes and fear of all the years

Are met in thee tonight.

Look at the world, everything all around us;

Look at the world, and marvel every day.

Look at the world; so many joys and wonders,

So many miracles along our way

Look at the earth bringing forth fruit and flower;

Look at the sky, the sunshine and the rain;

Look at the hills, look at the trees and mountains,

Valley and flowing river, field and plain.

Think of the spring, think of the warmth of summer

Bringing the harvest before the winter's cold.

Everything grows, everything has a season,

till it is gathered to the Father's fold.

Every good gift, all that we need and cherish

comes from the Lord in token of His love;

We are His hands, stewards of all His bounty His is the earth,

and His the heavens above. Praise to thee, O Lord, for all creation,

Give us thankful hearts, that we may see;

All the gifts we share, and every blessing,

All things come of Thee.

The Cattle are lowing, the poor Baby wakes,

But little Lord Jesus no crying he makes.

I love Thee, Lord Jesus, look down from the sky,

And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.

Lord make me an instrument of Thy peace;

where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy;

and all for Thy mercy's sake.

O divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

to be understood as to understand;

to be loved as to love;

for it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

The Lord bless you and keep you;

the Lord make his face to shine upon you

and be gracious unto you;

the Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon you

and give you peace.

Amen

Tents of Hope, Washington, D.C.

"I wish for the whole world to have strawberries and good food."

Sunday we drove to DC to participate in the last day of the Tents of Hope interfaith weekend of prayer and action for Sudan. Communities across America and abroad transformed canvas refugee tents with liberal doses of paint and love into unique works of art that express compassion and desire for peace for the people of Darfur and surrounding areas.

We walked out of the Air and Space Museum to view a magnificent panoramic sight. Over 350 tents, lined up like colorful soldiers, stretched down the length of the Smithsonian Mall grounds. One speaker noted, “We are only passing through, this world is our family.” Looking at the colorful tents, this is our family, this is our world, and these are our people. And some of our people live desperate lives.

Dr. Clements, “…so when genocide is happening and we stand idly by we are part of it.” Within view of the stage where the speakers and entertainers stood, is the Native American Museum. This is an American genocide. Three blocks south, stands the National Holocaust Museum. In Rwanda, I have written to four different women, one year each, all directly affected by that genocide. Kosovo is the same. And in each case of unfettered genocide the world stood idly by, taking action after thousands had died.

It is difficult to imagine entire families living in these small tents, which barely give protection against the winds and heat. Tiny patches of vegetables, scratched out in the parched soil, cooking fires, flirting with the flimsy canvas, this is real life.

Many displaced, refugee camps have been systematically destroyed by Omar Al-Bashir’s forces. Each sign represents a village that is gone, vanished, destroyed.

One citizens group is making efforts to provide solar cooking panels to the camps and teaching people how to use them. This helps to reduce the need for gathering firewood, which often results in the women and girls being caught and raped. The men do not go out for wood because they are killed, girls are sent because they are raped and not killed. ( I suppose that depends upon what you consider death.)

These are a few of the beautiful tents painted for the refugees. At the end of the day they were dismantled, wrapped and ready for shipping to Sudan. Money raised over the weekend was to help defray costs of shipping.

Visit http://www.savedarfur.org/ to learn more about the Sudan. There is a web stream slide show of the entire weekend. Also on this website you can sign an e-postcard. The goal is to collect one million signed postcards to present to President-elect Obama on April 26th. President Obama will be 100 days into his presidency, the coalitions to stop genocide, will invite him to the Smithsonian Mall and give him the million post cards. You can do it on line if you would like to lend your voice.

It was a spiritual experience to walk amongst these tents, thinking of those who painted them and who would live in them; focusing on this event which shouldn’t be happening; putting a face to those who have committed untold hours and dollars to help these people who suffer; watching the youth lead; our country is in good hands with this new generation of compassionate, vocal, intelligent younger adults. These men and women will be the generation who provide strawberries for those who are repressed.