In Print

It's always seems so funny/weird to see my name in print. But I just got an email from the Western Regional Conference on Christianity and Literature  - I've been asked to speak. I also ge tto be a part of the reading at the opening reception. This feels like an honor/humbling learning experience. I should start really practicing what I will say and read...

And speaking of things being "in print" I've been putting new cards and patterns up on Etsy. I'm really excited with how my profile of Oliver came out:

Super cute, right!?

Picture Windows

I think I drew this charcoal sketch of the view from my childhood bedroom window about 15 years ago:

It sits in my bedroom now, above my desk where I write, grade papers, and am currently trying to teach Oliver to fetch (it's a process -his goal is to teach me patience).

We (my family and I) said goodbye to our childhood home about 2 weeks ago. I found myself taking pictures of the windows - the views. I was really trying to avoid pictures of an empty house. I wanted to remember it full of us. In the end, everything went into the moving truck and as we walked down the driveway for the last time, I believe the walls were still vibrating from all the noise we made over the years. It never felt empty.

I did snap this one of the closet my sister and I shared:

(I'm not sure I'll ever find a dresser that will hold that much stuff ever again!)

My sister and I used to climb up to the top, and pretend that we were trapped on a speeding boat or a runaway train. I remember writing with my finger on the dirty window pane: "Save Us!" In my neatest 8 year old handwriting. Of course it was backwards to anyone looking in - which was pretty much impossible because we were at the top of a hill. And then the rain would regularly wash it away. It's funny the small things we remember.

Honestly, letting go of this home was rough but it was time to move on. This place will always be special but it's just a house and walls that kept us safe from the elements - what I will always carry with me is who I lived there with, all the noise we made, and the view from the windows.

Open it

I hope your Christmas was filled with joy and wonder. I've decided my favorite part of Christmas comes right after I hear myself issue this command: Open it! Open it! 

Making bright pink leg warmers for my niece, Payton; and a gray scarf for my nephew, Cole was fun but seeing them wear it was more than fun.

And then, tonight I got to celebrate Christmas with "the girls"... and I got to give them these:

These two are not fans of getting their picture taken... hence the B&W.

Oh what fun!

As Hard as We Can

This is a picture I snapped at about 8:30 am this morning as my students were scratching away at their final exam. An in class essay on what they got out of the class. They did not look nervous... maybe a little more tired than usual... 

The only sound I could hear was their pencils scribbling across lined notebook paper. It was a peaceful sound even as I watched them chew their bottom lip or look at the ceiling to recall a phrase, pens racing, eyes editing on the fly. 

As they worked, I turned to reading for next semester. I have to do a unit of poetry at some point in the fiction section. Right now, Billy Collins is my favorite. The last few lines of "No Things" might be the best:

What good is the firefly,
the droplet running along the green leaf,
or even the bar of soap spinning around the bathtub
when ultimately we are meant to be
banging away on the mystery
as hard as we can and to hell with the neighbors?

Banging away on nothingness itself,
some with their foreheads,
others with the maul of sense, the raised jawbone of poetry.

Writing is my way of digging for the truth, searching out a mystery, answering the questions deep inside of myself.

Watching these students bang away at writing this semester... watching myself talk them through it... or off the ledge in rare cases... and understanding that we've all walked away with new skills - to hell with neighbors... this peaceful place is filled with crazy characters, loud ideas. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Surprising

I've been thinking all day about what I would say about love and the advent season...

Last night, at church, and every year about this time, I am reminded that the Isrealites were actually looking for a leader, they anticipated a war, they wanted the current government overthrown - to be released from oppression.

They followed a star.

What they got was a baby.

Whatever else love is, it's always so surprising.

Tonight I am grateful for the reminder.