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Names..

1/8/2019

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Tigers are my favorite animals. I am attracted to their colors, elegant movements and the fierceness in the way they protect their territory, whether it is the land they hunt or their family. They are built for power and are a symbol of strength and courage. Oh and yes there is no distinction between male and female in their color or demeanor. Both are just as fierce and dominant, which makes them an equal opportunity couple. Recently, I completed a jigsaw puzzle of a close-up photo of a tiger’s face. It was one of the most difficult 1000-piece puzzles I have ever done as well as the most beautiful. It took true persistence for me to finish it. Many times I walked away and threatened to quit. However I persisted! Weeks after finishing it, I decided to glue it together to create a work of art to hang on my wall. As I write this blog, I am looking into her eyes and the courage hiding deep within their depths. I believe this courage is one of the reasons why I am so drawn to this animal.

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Delighted...

12/19/2017

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God delights in me…
Are you sure God? Have you noticed how impatient I can be and how I want answers to my questions immediately? Do you remember that I am always looking for the fastest checkout line so I won’t have to wait? Or how I get irritated with slow drivers and people who don’t use their turn signal. You must remember…

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Holding Space...

7/25/2017

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Just a simple, “How are you?”
I hear the words “tough day” whispered from her lips.
Should I ask or should I let the words go unsaid?
I cannot.
“Do you want to share?”
The sadness unfolds and begins to escape from her eyes.
 Today she took her boyfriend’s ashes home.
They were safe now and under her care.
He was finally free from the drugs that haunted him.
“I am sorry for your pain,” I say.
I listen to her story and watch as the grief overtakes her.
Yet her words are strong and courageous.


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Win the Crowd...

6/6/2017

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I love the movie, Gladiator! I shouldn’t like it so much because the story-line is brutal and unforgiving.  However, the main character Maximus, played by Russell Crowe, is a courageous, strong-willed fighter who finds a way to overcome his own adversity to help others. Without going into great movie detail, after his wife and son are murdered, Maximus is also betrayed by jealous leader and enslaved as a gladiator. The story follows the wounded broken man’s life, as a fearless warrior, fueled by hate and vengeance to become a leader willing to die for someone's freedom.



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Thinking about Mom...

5/16/2017

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This is once again the time of year that we celebrate Mother’s Day, when children of all ages honor their mothers and show them how special she is to them. I will acknowledge this can also be a very painful time for women who have tried to conceive and have been unable to do so. There are many children who have been abandoned by their moms as well as others who have felt the pain and fear of abuse.  Still others have lost a child they so dearly wanted. My heart aches for all of these women and pray for their peace and healing as they struggle with this holiday each year.


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Lion's Heart...

2/7/2017

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In the movie, “Lion,” a 5-year-old little boy, Saroo, gets separated from his brother and ends up lost. He boards a train, thinking he would find his brother, Guddu, however the ride will take him thousands of miles from his brother and his home. The story of Saroo takes us on a journey from an obscure village in the hills of India through Calcutta to his new homeland of Australia where he lived with his adopted parents. Eventually, memories of his childhood come back to him, which sets him on another kind journey to retrace his travels to find his birth mother.  With their encouragement of his adoptive parents, he searches and finds his “mum” and in that moment, he understood that he had finally found his real “home.” He knew that his adoptive parents loved him and yet he was missing something very tangible, his heart’s home. He had been lost for 25 years.


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What's Your Story?...

1/17/2017

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There is nothing better than a good story especially when the storyteller captures our imagination with his or her words and expressions. I love to listen to personal stories. When I was young, my family would gather on Sundays and reminisce about our teenage experiences. I was the youngest of 12 children so I didn’t say much but I listened with a bit of shock and awe at some of the stories my brothers told about their escapades. I am pretty sure that some of their stories were embellished a bit and came as a surprise to the ears that were listening, including my parents. They were an adventurous bunch and I listened with rapt attention to their tales of high speed, devilish pranks and some really clever wit. I was enamored with their words and maybe a little naïve about believing some of their antics. It was a fun time.

Have you ever thought about your own story and how it has shaped your identity? What does your story reveal about the choices you have made in your life? Yesterday, I visited the Salvador Dali Museum and listened to the docent describe some of the history behind Dali’s paintings. He was undeniably talented even though his art is somewhat bizarre and “interesting” to say the least. Each canvas is rich in color and cleverly crafted to tell his life story without the need for words. One of the largest paintings in the collection is named, A Portrait of My Dead Brother, which honors his dead brother. The portrait is full of elements that point to the struggle Dali had with his dead brother. The man in the painting, who bears a striking resemblance to Charles Lindberg, was an adult version of the first and eldest Salvador Dali, who died at the age of 2-years-old.  The second son, Salvador Dali, the artist, was born a year after his brother’s death.  Dali spent his entire life feeling like he was a replacement child for his lost sibling. I understand that it was a common occurrence for parents to give the deceased child’s name to their next child. Ironically, this practice not only affected Dali but also was the case for another famous artist, Vincent Van Gogh. Both men lived with feelings of unworthiness and throughout their lives struggling to be known in their own right and not be defined by their dead brothers. Dali’s art is intentionally rebellious, bizarre, and at times disrespectful and defiant in appearance. Many of his paintings illustrate his challenges with family, his difficult relationship with his father, his questions about God and his issues with religious authority. In so many ways, his art was pure genius.
 
Another artist on display at the museum was the Mexican artist, Frida Kahloe, who was known for her self-portraits, her passionate nature and her bold use of vibrant colors. Frida’s early life was also filled with the pain as she suffered from polio at the age of 6 years, which affected her walk. At the age of 18 years, she was involved in a terrible bus accident, which left her with a severely broken body. Unbelievably, in her 47 years of life, she endured 34 surgeries to repair her brokenness.  As a student, she intended to focus on medicine, however after the bus accident, and being confined to a bed for many months, she began to develop her artistic abilities through painting.  She lived a physically and emotionally painful life, spending a good portion of her life in a hospital bed recovering from surgery.  On a personal level, she was entangled in a very public tumultuous relationship with her artistic husband. When you look into the eyes of her self-portraits, you can see real pain, sadness and resilience. Her paintings are splashed with bold, rich colors that shout her story of strength and power in such a way that words could not.
 
What I appreciate about these two artists is their willingness to give us a glimpse into their somewhat tortured lives. I wonder if fear drove them to paint with such fierceness and extraordinary intuition of their inner pain. As the story goes, Dali had a constant fear that he would be known only as a replacement for his brother. Did fear and sadness drive Frida to paint her self-portraits in order to show the world her pain? Near one of her paintings, this was written, “I paint my self-portraits because I am so often alone and because I am the person I know best.” Both Dali and Frida’s artwork is so dramatic, intense and full of emotion that I wonder if they ever found what they were looking for hidden in their painted stories.
 
Spending the afternoon looking into the lives of Dali and Frida has me contemplating my own story. What would my life look like in pictures? How is my life defined by my choices and actions? While I love art, I am not blessed with the skill to paint my life on a canvas. But wait, a friend pointed out to me that my life started as a blank canvas and with each new experience, struggle, pain, joy, peace or even dream, new colors are added to my picture. My life is a developing story that is rich in creative design and exploding with vibrant colors. Some of those colors even reflect those Sunday afternoon chats with my mischievous brothers. What is your story?
 

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The Annunciation By Denise Levertov

12/20/2016

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We know the scene: the room, variously furnished, almost always a lecturn, a book; always the tall lily.
Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.
But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions courage.



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Whistle of Armor...

10/25/2016

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This week I heard a report on NPR that Mexico’s City Mayor Miguel Angel Mancera started a campaign to sell whistles to women for $3 in an attempt to stop men from sexual harassing women on the transit systems in Mexico City. The women are encouraged to blow the whistle when they are groped and grabbed throughout their ride on public transit. The whistles are a way for women to “break the silence” of the sexual assault they experience on a daily basis. According to the report, the officials say that this is the first step of a comprehensive plan to stop the violence against women in Mexico City. There is a protest against this plan because it puts the burden of protection on the women rather than holding men accountable for their actions.  It was noted as well that there are pink city buses for only women riders so that they can travel around the city without harassment. It appears that our neighbors to the south have a serious problem and by starting with the whistle of armor campaign, they are at least acknowledging that something needs to be done to stop this assault on women.


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My Quarterback...

9/18/2016

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I am the youngest of twelve children. Growing up my siblings teased me that I was the baby of the family and I would always push back that I was not the baby but the youngest. It was my effort not to be categorized, as a baby because that meant weakness and I wanted to be just as tough as my seven brothers. Almost every Sunday afternoon, we played some sort of sport like football or softball. We always had enough kids to have 2 teams of some sort. My favorite sport was football and my favorite quarterback was my brother Jon. He was the best at leading the charge to out maneuver the other side. He taught me how to run a post pattern and how to run towards the center of the field and just look up for the ball. We would practice for hours preparing for a “game.”  I have to say he taught me more than football moves on the field.  He taught me about how to grab onto life and make the best out of every opportunity that we are given.
 


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