You've Got Mail

This little ditty is dedicated to Valerie. A friend and sister who I know isn't feeling well and has a long road ahead of her. She has been on my mind a great deal, and all the gifts her friendship gives me. One gift in particular has been swirling around my mind the past few days... the gift of a letter. Not an email. Not a text. A really true, honest to goodness, handwritten, handcrafted letter... on paper. I'll never forget the first one I got from her. I remember being taken by surprise. "Why is she giving me this letter? She could email me. Plus, I see her almost every day in field service?" But at the same time, the giddy little girl voice in my head was saying, "Oh goodie, I have mail!". She reminded me of the joy of letter writing.

In this fast paced, techno mad world, the art of a hand-crafted letter is getting lost. Now, it might seem a little bizarre, that I am writing this in an online blog. I'm a hypocrite, I'll admit it. I haven't written a letter in quite a while. But as I was unpacking I came across my box of special letters. It brought back a flood of memories and a smile to my face. What email or text could ever do that? So, I have begun a crusade to write letters to people I care about. But I'm making a discovery. So lost is this art becoming, that when I Googled 'letter writing' (I know, another act of irony) that mostly what came up are are little social groups dedicated to keeping the art alive. (You know something is getting lost when artsy-fartsy coffee house people start support groups for it.) And try shopping for the paper to write on! All I have found are soulless, tacky 8 1/2 x 11 printer sheets with balloons or birthday cake. Oh, I did find one set, but it only came with 40 sheets, small potatoes in letter-writing world, for $20! That's 50 cents per sheet! (I know, I used my calculator... and my toes).

The way I see it (well you knew this was coming) writing a letter to someone is giving a little tiny bit of yourself. In this time when we feel so disconnected that we constantly try to be connected (electronically), imagine holding a letter in your hands. To be holding and object your loved one held. To read from writing from their own hand. Writing that sometimes is as much a part of their personality as their voice or their smile. The effort itself is an act of love. No 'delete' button. No 'spell-check'. You have to really think to write. And yet, your friend could be thousands of miles away and here's this little part of them in your hands. And if a letter is a gift, then a letter from Val is a treasure. She not only hunts down stationary (her eyes positively glaze over in a stationary store) but she finishes it with a wax seal... an art in itself, full of symbolism and history.

So will you join me? I'm not against emails and texts. It has made the world smaller, in a good way. And for some, who are very far away, it is the only way to stay connected. But the next time you are missing someone you care about, why not write to them? Put the phone away, turn off the laptop and slooowww down. Put pen to paper and give them a gift. Who knows? Maybe you'll get mail too!

Brilliant

My life is the Sun.
Always the warmth behind me,
always the light around me.
It warmed me in the cold day.

I close my eyes,
I lose my way.
I don’t know this path I’m on.
The Sun is still shining, waiting.

I turn toward the Sun.
It now warms my face.
The rays dance across a chill
I didn’t know I had.

Boldly, full of fear and joy,
I take a step forward.
I had to turn my head around.
I had to chose a new direction.

The same Sun. The same warmth.
But I am different.
The future is brilliant.
I will learn to soak it in.

NASA... we have a problem.

Soo... I have good news and bad news. First with the good news. I finished the long awaited video of Iley and family!! Took me six hours, and its now 2am, but I finished it! Now the bad news... I lost it all. Yep. Turns out I pulled the footage from the wrong source file c drive //>> or some gobbledy-guk like that. So now, its 2am, I'm tired, cranky, my head hurts and I'm hungry (after all its almost breakfast time). Of course that could have something to do with my new way of eating. I call it the "Devil Wears Prada Diet". You know the one... eat nothing and when you feel like you are about to faint, eat a cube of cheese. Nah, I'm just kidding. That's not healthy.... I replace the cube of cheese with a broccoli florette. Anywho... I promise the new stuff will be up soon. Hopefully tomorrow. Oh wait, meeting night. Well you'll get it when you get it. Told you I was cranky. I'm going to sleep now.... Or maybe Dairy Queen. Are they open 24 hours?**

**footnote: True story... up above next to where I typed "c drive" I had a lot more symbols in a delirious attempt to be humorous. Some how I ended up blocking the rest of the paragraph from being published. Whole thing ended right there. I am doomed tonight. That's it. I'm not even going to use a night-lite. I'll just light a candle if I need to use the restroom tonight.

It doesn't get much better than this!

Found this little gem on YouTube. One of my all-time favorite pieces performed acoustic, by one of my favorite artists.... on a gondola.... in Venice. The only thing better would be if I was in that boat!

Random Thoughts

If Brits call cookies "biscuits", what do they call biscuits?

Have you ever told someone that you saw a 'shape' in a cloud, even though you really didn't, just so they'd stop pointing and trying to convince you? Do you now realize somebody did the same to you?

Have you ever known it snowed outside overnight before you even open your eyes in the morning? I love that! The light in the room is totally different and when you peek your eyes open the room glows in a totally different way, and you've woken up to a world of white (and I don't mean Utah).

Isn't it strange how clouds that look like mountains in the sky are next to mountains anyway? (Okay, so that's a John Mayer lyric. But I thought of it before the song!)

Americans pay money for someone to tell them not to eat, while people the world over can't pay to eat. A little too ironic if you ask me.

Think of the perfect mountain scene. Did you know that in the world of art, blue (sky) is the perfect harmonious color to green (trees), that white is the perfect highlight to blue (clouds)? And black/brown (tree trunks) is the perfect anchor to green making it more vibrant? Seems like somebody knew what they were doing! Jehovah is the Greatest Artist, and the Earth his gallery.

Have you ever dreamt that you woke up, and started getting ready only to wake up and realize you are actually running late? (I hate that feeling)

I always think of the perfect sunset as one enormous, glorious rainbow capping the part of the earth where you are standing (the only missing color is green). Hmm, does that mean a rainbow is an itty bitty sunset?

It seems like there is some resort or grand lodge in every corner of the earth. Here's my speculation. (Some of ya'll have heard this before. My apologies.) Wouldn't it be great if Jehovah preserved some of these through Armageddon, and we used them immediatly as Bethel Homes? That way we could pull our resources, learn to work together and everyone could begin our new life experiencing the unity, camaraderie and hard work that is 'Bethel'. There are large kitchens, large laundries, large dining rooms, private living quarters with baths, meeting rooms for worship, and as one sister pointed out, sometimes golf-courses and pools for recreation (hadn't thought of that one). Just a thought. But nobody's asked for my opinion yet. Ha!Ha!

I held the Bebe'!

I finally got to hold the little peanut yesterday. How did it go? Well...she was passed from Grandma, to Grandma, to Grandpa, all the while just as serene and cherubic as can be. Then my turn. She felt so good in my arms, all warm and soft, and she smelled good. Success! And what's that I see?... A little smile?... She's smiling for me! No wait, its turning into a yawn. I'll take a yawn. That's pretty cute too, eh?.... Up, no, wait. Here we go. There's going to be crying. Yes folks. Crying. A self-fulfilled prophecy. (Spell check! Is it me, or is it hard to stop putting l's in fulllfilleld? I digress) Well, in my defense, it was feeding time. (Is that what they call it? Sounds like a farm chore, or something) Anyway it was time for her to eat. And I certainly didn't have her lunch..... Meh, I'm down with that. I'd probably cry too.

It's funny, when I first found out Jeremy and Darla were going to have a kid. It blew my mind! My BROTHER, a DAD?! My best friend, whom I've known since she was 11 and wasn't even shaving her legs yet, buying maternity clothes?! And even before Iley came, as recent as last week, I couldn't quite wrap my head around this new little person in the family. And I can usually wrap my head around things pretty easy (It's a pretty neat trick. I'll have to get a picture sometime.) But when I walked into the hospital room yesterday and saw the three of them there, nothing ever felt so 'right'. They are a family. Just the three of them. And THAT blew me away, in a good way, even more than before. I didn't cry when I first saw Iley. But I got really choked up when I saw the three of them together. Three of the people I care most for in the world feeling happy, safe and loved. Does life get any better? I submit that it cannot. :-)

It's a girl! (Good thing or she'd need an ENTIRELY new wardrobe.)

My precious niece was born today. Best. Day. Ever. I am exhausted and overwhelmed, so this will be short and sweet. (Gee you'd think I had the baby, or something. I'm such a wimp.)Mama and Baby are fine and healthy. Jeremy, however, could probably use a good raspberry Bellini. (The boy is not much of a drinker, and that's a good thing.) No, actually he did really good too. I always thought babies came out looking like aliens... or raisins. BUT, I was determined to oooh and aaaah, no matter what she looked like. But I didn't have to. Iley is beautiful! I could oooh and aaah from the depths of my heart. (Good thing, because Jeremy and I have a gift for always knowing when the other is lying.)

Tomorrow I get to hold her. I approach this with no little amount of trepidation (def: noun "a state of hesitation or concern" Now, put the dictionary back and keep reading). I like kids, I really do. A few in my life I have even loved (not the bratty ones). But I emit that special signal that only babies hear, the one that makes them wail. You know, like the whistle that only dogs can hear. I have the gift for turning an adorable, cooing, burbling infant into something resembling an ambulance siren. And the moms always look at me like, "What did you do to my child?" Can I help it if I wasn't born with the mommy gene? (Not to be confused with 'Mom Jeans'. You know, the ones the make your butt look 10 miles wide. I did have those in the 90's, but I don't think they'd help me with babies.)
Well, we'll see how it goes tomorrow.

I'm going to bed now before this post gets any weirder. And dream of 'Mom Jeans'. (oops! Too late!)