A Homemade Holiday

These are gifts made for family and friends. I loved allowing this season to provoke self-expression, and in turn, passing on bits of myself to others. There is something very special about using your eyes, your hands and your heart to craft something new. Where there were once bare wood items and blank canvases, there are now brand new creations in the world. Creations that will hopefully brighten corners of rooms and corners of hearts for my loved ones.

I am finding more and more that for me, creation is such an important part of my human experience.

I still believe in summer days.

Japan 2006

05.06.

Don't let expectation spoil the experience...let something be whatever it will, or will not be.

Go easy on yourself...you have a place here. Just look at your two feet planted on the ground to know this.

You're okay.

Shells and Sprouts

I see us

Like grass.

Our fragile husks

fall,

shed,

wither away.

And fading bodies reveal

the forever God-spark

contained in all.

And when I close my eyes

to the weighted haze of all things held

in human hands,

I sense a new Way.

I am

Learning to relax the weight of my body

into the unseen.

And hoping to God

that from this tiny mustard seed,

pressed hard into the palm of my hand,

will come a

sprout,

plant,

tree.

art cred.

Kaoru Kawano Woodblock Prints

"Doves and Girl" & "Yellow Canary"

"Dancing Figure" & "Child With Flowers"

"Black Gloves" & "Little Bird"

Tree-Shaped Love

I never knew I had a tree-shaped hole in my heart, until this beaut entered my life. The roomies and I have been celebrating the commencement of Advent by doing a little Christmas decorating around the house. This is the result:

Organic-themed Christmas tree 2008
Take a closer look, you will find twiney nests, sparkling birds, golden acorns and shiny holly.

Up Next:

Advent-themed stocking holder art! These concepts are inspired by the Advent movement of Jacob's Well, and of course, the anticipation of the baby Savior.

"Hope" by: Karlie M.

"Bend Low" by: Yours Truly

"Wait" by: Amy L.

These pieces of art nest nicely on our fireplace mantle...where the stockings have already been hung.



We're a little bit excited for Christmas...

Like Birds On A Wire

This Thanksgiving started out like any other normal Thanksgiving for me:

-Bonding over teaching stories with my Grandma, who used to be a teacher.

-Coming up with another creative way to answer "no" to my Grandpa's favorite question: "Any guys hanging out around your doorstep these days?" I've tried to mix it up throughout the years...keeps it interesting.

However, this has been no ordinary Thanksgiving.

My world was shaken on Tuesday afternoon as news came to me that my dad's brain tumor had returned. Once more, I think, bracing myself for all of those familiar fears and emotions. This is the third time my dad has faced cancer. Each time the same questions arise and the same emotions swell.

Surgery to remove the tumor happened on Wednesday morning. All went well, however facing my dad in the ICU afterwards proved to be a difficult task. Still drugged up and bandaged up, my big strong dad appeared before my eyes as a small, vulnerable child. In this situation, I found that I was the one needing to be strong. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stepped up quickly into that role. Soaking up his new surroundings, his eyes were wide and his brow furrowed.

I winked to break the tension...he winked back.

"You're so beautiful," he said weakly.

Swallowing hard and laughing a little, "So are you" I replied.

Keeping things light seemed to be my saving grace.

I left after a few intense interactions and made my way back to be with my grandparents.

Thursday: Thanksgiving Day
Friends and neighbors have brought baskets, bags and boxes of food over for us. My dad is out of ICU, and now into his own hospital room. We spent the afternoon in his room, muddling through conversations. His tumor had grown on the outside of the speech lobe. The swelling in this area after surgery has made language production extremely difficult (Ex. toothbrush=truck driver). He found success in spelling out words or using weak motions to gesture at what he meant. We leave and find Thanksgiving food to eat at home. Food made by other's hands. Food that is familiar and comforting on such an unfamiliar Thanksgiving day.

In all of this, my heart has been full. When the wire that this little bird perched on was shaken, I watched as my dear friends were shaken right along with me. They rode this wave out with me, praying and fasting with me, checking in on me, strengthening my inner-self. In every morning that I awoke I sensed a new strength rising up in me. New eyes to see beyond physical realities. Thank you, my sisters, for standing with me.

I am young in years (no matter how old 25 feels to me...) and have maybe faced the idea of death more so than others my own age. In facing death, I have come to hold Life in my heart with more weight. I am learning that life and death do not compare to Life and Death. In this trial, I have tasted a little bit of Paul's joy in his chains, Mother Theresa's hope in heartache, Christ's obedience in suffering. Pain sucks...but it is simply incomparable to the gift of Life. I sense now more than ever that I am held in his gaze, utterly loved, and can never be left Fatherless.

In His stronghold, we are simply unconquerable.

Children's Illustrator: Mehrdokht Amini

Aren't these magical? I love how the moon seems to remain mystically present in all of these illustrations, whether in form or lighting. They are each taken out of various stories, yet they all seem to carry the same deep and mysterious mood.

Still

I am learning more deeply of the forever loneliness that walks alongside every human.

Birthed alone, we arrive with huge singular souls knit into tiny singular bodies. Wide, bottomless eyes that seek to know, but cannot. And no matter whose human heart beats loudly for this baby, whose smile opens broadly for this baby, or whose eyes carefully track this baby, her steps must be walked out with her own muscles and her own feet. Even when in the warmth of community it is still only you, reaching out from your own insides to strange outsides, hoping to be received.
And on this day, what I want is to hear my name spoken by other lips, and feel my movements traced by other eyes. To unlearn sadness in solitude. To know myself. To sense again, adventure in His possibilities for me.

Tell me my story once more, Father.

Naomi Kobayashi

Advent Conspiracy

Best night of my life.

Last night was the Coldplay concert. Beautiful music, a high-energy crowd, amazing special effects and great company made it the best concert that I have ever been apart of. We left the Sprint Center like you should leave any good show: sweaty, pumped up, and with soar throats from singing our hearts out. Here are some tasters for you:

Pre-concert celebration: Happy hour at Tom Fooleries.

Roomies enjoying the lazer show:

More than just great music:

Close to the end, thousands of paper butterfly were released over us. They lit up in the blacklights as they rained down on the crowd:

At one point in the show Chris Martin made his way down the extended part of the stage, and sang Green Eyes about 20 feet away from us:

Best night ever.

Sharpie Portraits

Runway Red Riding Hood

Googly-Eyed Grape Head

Oprah

Smirking at the Yard Work

F-F-F-Fashion ...YOW!

Pierre the French Acorn

McTasty McRibb

Skin and Bones

I got my hair cut off. Something in me needed to do it. The best way I can capture the force behind it, is by labeling it the act of "shedding". Definitely more than shedding of hair...a little Felicity-esq, if you will. A physical symbol of what is going on, unseen inside of me. I have noticed a great impatience in myself with things of superfluous nature, especially in words spoken which seem unnecessary. I find myself hungry for that which is bare-boned and cut away. Do not dress it up or dramatize it, I need it to be plain right now. Be simple with me and let me find my own form.

In the cutting of my hair I have bared my neck and exposed my head shape. In cutting my hair I acknowledge that less men will look my way...and for some reason I like that. Maybe Ani Difranco is rubbing off on me again :-) I have added some boyishness to my outer person, and in this moment I feel as though it accurately matches the inner. I need to feel allowed to be unemotional, strong in myself, and a little pissed off right now. So, cut it all away and whittle it down to its untainted meaning. Forget flowery dreams and imagined meanings. Hit me with that cold, harsh, black and white truth. This is most comfortable for me right now.

Starting Over

"Israel, out looking for a place to rest,
met God out looking for them.
God told them, I've never quit loving you and never will.
Expect love, love, and more love.
And so now I'll start over with you and build you up again..."
-Jeremiah 31

Forgive,
Open,
Soften,
Restore,
New Breath, New Life.