the work of my hands :: custom handmade stoles.

i've been asked for a handful of custom stoles of late, so i thought i'd create a catalogue of sorts here.  here are a few of my handmade stoles.  each is love.  each is delight. 

easter stole.

easter cross stole.

landscape stole.

wrapped with love.

                      

stole with cross, pitcher, and basin. 

the work of my hands: a lenten image.

our church used a drawing or work by artists in the congergation for the sundays of lent.  here's my contribution.  can you tell which of the lectionary texts i was representing?

art+spirit: stations of the cross

i set up the stations of the cross in our church yesterday.  the stations are present today, good friday, for folks to come and walk them.  each station (10 of the traditional 14) are interactive, using the senses to fully experience this prayerful meditation.  i enjoy the ability to move into my ministerial role in various spaces.  with the intersection of art + spirit groups, gatherings, and opporutnities such as this.  i am thankful for the reflective spaces such art+spirit offerings can create for others.

life stories: sacred moments.

i continue to practice awakening to glimpses of the sacred in the every day.  naming what and where i see the divine in daily living.  in the dust, dirt, smiles, tears... in our meals, our rhthms...

see what i see in these small glimpses.  each day of lent will lend itself well for further reflection and space. i look forward to my daily gifts of giving and receiving in this sacred season.  living well. loving well.

take a moment: take a deep breath. know that you are loved. know the sacred rests within you, within each breath.  give thanks.

sending you love and light this moment. peace. peace to you and yours this ash wednesday.

lenten lessons

among the lenten lessons learned, i've been challenged today by my wise sage: my therapist. she's a kindred spirit, colleague, sojourner, and wise one. among those fabulous traits i consider her to be a speaker of truth.

when i told her today that i'd given up my inner critic for lent, she suggested that i should never give up my inner critic saying, "i'm so glad that it's almost Easter because you need your inner critic. you need her." from her words through the stirrings of today i'm beginning to believe that i need her voice within me. she's the one to call my heart into attention when something is out of line. she is there to help me to become mindful. she is present in times that i need her voice.

she is also there and can sit with the wise elder and be heard. the wise elder knows how to listen to the inner critic. you need both to be whole.

wow. that is something to ponder. it seems fitting that my wise sage challenges me this holy week, on the final path to easter. as i ponder, i will look with wise eyes and allow the inner critic to speak to me, i will listen. i will not react. i will not turn the critic's voice into my own, but i will listen. she may have learned something from the wise elder. i know the wise elder is with me and present to me. i know that when i live in the fullness and wholeness that is me, i am not pulled apart by critic, elder, muse. i am not woman, mother, wife, teacher... i am me. i am whole. i am divine.

it is in the divine light that i seek to be made whole, seek to be restored, seek to be a light for others. today, now, i seek to be me. in the fullness and beauty of me. me. in the light and darkness of life, for in darkness we see light. in darkness we grow and are warmed in our mother's womb. in both light and darkness, with both the critic and wise elder i am me.

there are very real lessons that i am able to learn each day, as we all are. sometimes we must stand in the light of our truth and the light of our love to see our fullness, even for a moment. there i want to reside. there i want to grow. so, i will be. i will be enough, not resisting the critic, but living with her. through lent i have found that her presence has been quiet most of the time. when i try to push her away, she fights back. when i rest with her, she is still. there's still a pondering there, but maybe a birth place for the critic to herself grow into a wise one. perhaps.

kitchen table memories

each day brings something new. my spirit continues to grow and to be fed through the every day arts: through sweeping, baking, cooking, gardening.... i'm so glad to see others who are finding their spirits renewed and delighted through what their hands can create, make, bake, or discover. friends are baking bread, feeding their young new first foods, engaging in play, and creating. oh, it is so welcomed to see and hear what others are bringing into their daily rhythms.

each day brings something new. my routine continues to be refined for this day, this moment. each day that i am able to practice yoga or pilates, to use my hands in preparation of art or to write a letter, i find myself more centered. my mind becomes in focus of the breath and the spirit's breathing within. i am upbeat and focused.

often each day brings something familiar. i mentioned the path of my lent to live into the "long spring days" and to grow something new from within. my discovery of the desire to write to others, making contact with neighbors, creating new rituals is good and will stretch my body in new, loving ways. the familiar voice of the critic seems to be a little louder, trying to be heard. with intention & the daily moment-by-moment practice of mindfulness i will stretch myself into new, loving ways as i learn to silence the inner critic. rather than carry baskets filled with the noise of the inner critic, i will carry baskets filled with what i create: art, love, bread, letters, vegetables from the garden, and inspiration.

sometimes the day calls lost memories like a gift. i keep returning to an image i have of my grandmother, sitting at her kitchen table with the phone in hand. the oven is hot and the stove top is on with simmering pots. she's talking to her friends with the southern blend of community gossip, recipe trading, & stories of family happenings. she has her community within reach and can respond to crisis within seconds. she is well known and well loved. her table is always open to others to drop in from the fields, and the pastor & family are welcomed on sundays. there's a welcome and wisdom at this table. there's a welcome & wisdom in her presence.

the gift that my grandmother gave me after making divinity in home economics in junior high, "if you can make divinity successfully, you can make anything." she taught me to make biscuits, cornbread, apple fritters with her pie crust. i watched as she created endless dishes, worked hard in the garden, collected pecans. she watched from that kitchen window as we fished in one of the ponds. we children were happy little chicks playing around the hen house.

there is something within these lenten days that brings the images of her kitchen table to mind. the memories of her and her hands are filling me as i silence the critic's voice. there's clarity in creating sacred space for new growth. i always connect my grandmother's hands to mine on days that i make pie crust, like today.

there's a desire within me to keep my community close, to respond to crisis within seconds. my community is stretched from the deep south to home in VA to a country an ocean away. the gift of this here internet is good, but a hand written note or piece of art or edible treat sent to them is something better. as i am mindful of my own care, i am mindful of them. i send blessings to each on their lenten journey and spiritual lives rooted in the every day. from sweeping to baking to playing to writing and all the spaces between. i pray a blessing on their hands, and yours, for you are in this community as well even if i don't see your face or know your name. you bless me, just as one of you sent the kindest of remarks in a moment that was appreciated on friday.

and it's sweet to feel that connection through the sharing of good recipes. i see so many online and mark them to return to them, but often through divinity girl, a still life, and others, i can get a taste of what will fit into my rhythm. now i'm the one sitting at the table on the computer saying, "Yes! i have made this recipe and have that cookbook on the wish list. the sticky buns, rolls, and loaf from that recipe made us so happy...and here's what i want to try next." there's an intimacy in food that's so rich and beautiful and of course, tasty. and i love sharing. i get so much energy in sharing and its witness to others.

each day brings something new. these days i can feel the something rising within, a birth taking shape again (metaphorically) where all this good energy, focus, baking, writing, and work is going to become something beautiful. i look forward to the day that i can name that something, but i know that it's connected to both the mindful act of silencing the critic and the mindful practice of living creatively. once named, then i can fill those baskets again and again, sharing them with you, my community.

reflections on lent

silvertreeart on twitter:

for your lenten fast, add something to your spirituality: deep breathing, meditation, a handwritten letter, an encouragement, speak peace...

there's only so much you can write in 140 characters or less. sometimes, that's all you really need if you have a point to make, a thought to share, or a wish to send into the world.

as i am filled with the words of others from the last week, experiences of yesterday, and the moment of now, i am reaching into the Creative Spirit to deepen my understanding of now. i am reaching into this moment, calling into it something new. my thoughts are centered around lent and how much i love this liturgical season. i do not see it filled with self-denial, but with self. we shed something about the bonds that are surrounding us and moving us into a place of freedom.

for me, i will shed the negative thoughts and the inner critic. those thoughts/conversations with the inner critic keep me from speaking at times while other times dancing around my truth.

each of us are created in light: light to illuminate the darkness of our self-doubt, self-loathing, the questions about our thighs, and the uncertainty of tomorrow. do i hold truth? yes. but there are temptations presented daily to challenge the truths within. we know our truth, we speak our truth, and we hold it in our hands.

i believe that each day of lent that moves us closer to the darkest day of good friday can bring us into illumination from within. we will be the lights that travel that lonely road into the dark. the dark itself isn't "bad" or evil. the dark is good and holy and is where alchemists do their work, where babies are nurtured in womb. the dark is only a space. we are to be the light for ourselves, using the light of the world to illuminate. we are to shed those unwanted pounds of self-doubt, materialism, and greed.

so it's both: giving and receiving. the guest needs the host and the host needs the guest.

as we reach into our daily practice, may we dance within ourselves and take delight in our truth: our center: our very being. as we reach into shedding what we do not need, what hides our truth, let us then turn outside of ourselves and share ourselves with another.

the other side of the coin is to put something back into yourself: to breathe deeply, to write a handwritten note to someone near or far, to speak in kindness, to tell the truth to yourself (you are beautiful, you are good, you are amazing and these hips don't matter), to call a friend just to share your voice, to speak peace to that neighbor or person, to carry something from within your dreams into the open: dance, practice yoga, love deeply, read often, and savor life. any one of these, hey-name your own, can enrich your spiritual practice and deepen the experience of lent (spring). what will spring forth from your truth? what will you share?

grace, peace, and love. let us journey together.

ashes, ashes, we all fall down...

there wasn't much talk of ashes in childhood.  i remember feeling really big when i could scrape the ash into the bucket from my grandparents wood-burning heater, which heats the entire house.  that's about all i knew of ashes, certainly not of any religious use of ashes or deep meaning attributed to wearing them.  ash wednesday has become a very significant pause in the liturgical year.  as i assisted in planning and then helped lead the service at my church, i was given the opportunity i love:  to create meaningful spaces in worship.  as i held my vessel, created during worship as a reflection, and watched the procession to receive their ashes, i honored those i presented with ashes last year, but who are not living this ash wednesday.  i mark my grief for these special people now at peace.  while a chaplain in 2008 working at an assisted living - nursing care - specialized dementia care facility, i walked the building an presented ashes after our service totaling around 300 folks (residents, staff, and family & visitors).  so many people to mark & remind that we are dust and to dust we shall return.  a holy moment.  a treasured moment.  and as barbara said in her sermon last night, lent is a time to give meaning to God and to create meaning in our daily moments -- in new ways.  we already create and attribute meaning in our lives (we hope). during lent, beginning ash wednesday, we seek to structure some new addition to our existing spirituality or new form of devotion into our days so that we create a new way of being.  some choose to give up certain foods--sweets, carbonation, meat, caffeine.  whether you take on a new habit, give up an old habit, or a combination of both, may lent be a reflective time - a time of preparation - a time to pause.  

my first year of seminary, lo those eight years ago, was marked on ash wednesday by a gift from a good friend & professor.  i don't remember the reason for the gift, but i remember the moment.  i remember the mark of that gift.  

tonight our bereavement group gathers to reflect on the too real thought of ashes.  tears, laughter, and a moment marked that forever changes one's life.  

remember that you are a gift, dear reader.  take a deep breath.  mark each moment, some through goodness and sharing and a pause.