It's the little things...
It's been over a week now that I have lost my glasses.
I don't wear them very often - usually in the mornings when I first get up and shuffle into the kitchen to make the boys lunches for school. Of course, I can always go put on my contacts, but that constitutes getting all ready for my day somehow, and I like the wee hours of the morning to feel like warm up mode, rather than full force.
So even though I don't technically need them, I still miss them. They make the far away more clear, and consequently, I've come to appreciate the things up close.
When someone is being "nearsighted" we usually mean they are not looking at the whole picture, but only at what is right in front of them. I tend to think of this as a negative thing, but this past week, it has allowed me to not worry too much about what is far off, but to take a good look at what is right in front of me.
I started finding things all over my house that were put there to inspire and remind me of goodness, that I wasn't seeing anymore. So I took pictures of pictures, which is why some of these are not the sharpest focus, and it got me thinking, and remembering, and pausing to see...
what is right in front of me.
10 things I am grateful for:
1. This picture of a dragonfly from my weekly calendar absolutely floors me. I can't get over the blue on purple and the intricacy of design.
2. This next picture was made by Donovan about 3-4 years ago for Advent Sunday. He was given the idea to make a picture of the road from nativity to calvary. I'm struck by the clarity of his vision and rendering.
3. This painting that is waiting to be hung in my kitchen on our newly painted walls is a stunner. I saw it long ago in Duncan, BC where Norma Jackson was showing us her little studio while the boys were playing with her husband Rodney and his authentic miniature steam engine train. It was leaning against her wall on the floor and I had the audacity to ask her if she might be willing to sell it. After considering, she was, and now we own the first original of many Norma Jackson paintings that have been sold. She credits me with getting her started in sales. --I'm just grateful for a vivid reminder of the arbutus trees of Vancouver Island, and our previous home on the shores in Chemainus.
4. This poster signed by the Edge hangs in our hallway. It reminds me of adventure and my husband, who loves U2. There's a story here, but it is his to tell. Suffice it to say, I'm glad it takes up space in our hall.
5. This next photo is a postcard that was never sent, but adorns my wall in my recording studio in sight of both computer and microphone. It is a rendering of the Elizabethan theatre at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, and it thrills me. I love the colors, the design, but most of all I love that it is a small window into my wonderful connection to a place rich in story and intention, great memories, and if I'm honest: my dream job.
6. And lo and behold, what is this huge hunk of art that has never been properly hung doing in my living room? It is old closet doors from our house in Chemainus that we asked Steve Ellerbeck to go wild with for 20 hours. Just raw passion, color, movement and texture, and it looks great any way you turn it. I love it's boldness.
7. Stuck into the corner of our entry mirror is another work of art containing colors made with abandon: Donovan's rendering of General Grievous. Tucked into the corner of the mirror I glance in before heading out -- a little space villain to check my vanity.
8. Here's another sunbleached photo above our key hooks. Must be 5 years ago now, the boys were so little. A summer morning outside in their pj's eating toast. They're so adorable and innocent. Musn't ever forget...
9. This one is fuzzy, but I know what it says. It is another focus card when I am at my work in my office. Sometimes I breathe it in right before I record a character that needs a lot of courage. I love Donovan's fearless ambition when it comes to imagination, and his look in this too-small ninja turtle suit is priceless.
10. Last one for today - this night of all nights - solstice. The sky is so stunning up here. I see way more of it every day than I ever remember growing up in Oregon. And tonight, it just didn't want to give over to the dark. It's dark now of course, but at 10:40pm there was still a persistent light and I tried to capture it, but like almost all the others I'm sharing - it doesn't do it justice.
Maybe that's a bit like my world right now - every thing just a bit fuzzy without my specs.
But so vibrant and inspiring when I stop to look
what I already have.