Dear America,
there is a portrait of a woman hanging just above my desk.
the color palette is primarily bronze and malachite green, with swooshes of gold and brown, and assuming acrylic, possibly oils...she is very pleasing to the eye in multiple dimensions. Her expression is warm, though looking down. Her lips are full, her face soft, and leading one to believe she is either contemplating something significant or simply deep in prayer. She doesn't appear sad in the least bit -- more soul-searching, reflective, or taking a moment to collect herself.
Most striking of all, is that her head is covered, wrapped around with some kind of cloth; if I didn't know any better, she could very well be the spitting image of Mary of Magdalene, or even Mary, mother of the baby Jesus. This girl is all woman, and definitely not of this (modern) world.
and there is not one day that goes by that I don't look at her.
sometimes it's a mere, almost accidental, clareless glance
and sometimes it's a long, contemplative gaze taking me somewhere -- as in, anywhere, but here.
in any event, she is usually my first glimpse of anything close to human on any given day.
and I like it.
If I were to describe my mood these last few days, this portrait of some unknown woman captures it.
These days mark an end to an era. And although perfectly okay with it, almost elated and overjoyed -- it comes with this deep sense of bidding farewell, of valedictory, to a time that was and isn't ever coming back.
My baby girl is finished with school, swiftly embarking upon her career years, and with a Hail Mary or two, is doing so miles and miles away from home. Oh "Holy Mary, Mother of God!" -- how does this happen in a matter of a blink of an eye, in God's time...
Was it even celebratory enough -- given the profoundness of such an occasion -- to have her last meal fulfilled with an In N Out burger and not even any fries? I think not.
Come Sunday morning, that little flying monkey of mine took the air right out of my sails. It feels like I've been bobbing around, sans all navigational equipment, for weeks now -- and it's only Wednesday. Oh "blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
And yet, such is life.
THIS IS LIFE...watching her life expand and grow and move beyond whatever shelter I may, or may not, have given her, over her twenty one years. The symbiotic nature of mother and child offers mutual benefits for both -- be it the role of teacher and student, parent and junior, suffice it to say, the lines can occasionally get awfully fuzzy, like a smudge of golden rules and cerulean dreams, the canvass is in constant play.
it is such a beautiful thing.
------------------------------
politics just isn't doing it for me these days;
while our culture is frayed, obsessed with petty divides and the tragic loss of any semblance of civility. ugh.
my wish this morning is for one, come all, to take intentional stock of what is right in front of you...for time and children and love and life are not static; though they may sit for a moment, for a portrait, perhaps, these precious things do not stand still for long...and we wouldn't have it any other way.
Oh how I love my blessed child, who is no longer all mine.
She is of the world now.
And thankfully, the immaculate design of the entire universe is in full tilt,, giving way to whatever we can dream or imagine. Every purpose and portrait under heaven is in motion and deep in thought congruently and seamlessly and graciously, if we are open to It.
May God bless you and keep you, baby girl.
Make it a Good Day,
G
the color palette is primarily bronze and malachite green, with swooshes of gold and brown, and assuming acrylic, possibly oils...she is very pleasing to the eye in multiple dimensions. Her expression is warm, though looking down. Her lips are full, her face soft, and leading one to believe she is either contemplating something significant or simply deep in prayer. She doesn't appear sad in the least bit -- more soul-searching, reflective, or taking a moment to collect herself.
Most striking of all, is that her head is covered, wrapped around with some kind of cloth; if I didn't know any better, she could very well be the spitting image of Mary of Magdalene, or even Mary, mother of the baby Jesus. This girl is all woman, and definitely not of this (modern) world.
and there is not one day that goes by that I don't look at her.
sometimes it's a mere, almost accidental, clareless glance
and sometimes it's a long, contemplative gaze taking me somewhere -- as in, anywhere, but here.
in any event, she is usually my first glimpse of anything close to human on any given day.
and I like it.
If I were to describe my mood these last few days, this portrait of some unknown woman captures it.
These days mark an end to an era. And although perfectly okay with it, almost elated and overjoyed -- it comes with this deep sense of bidding farewell, of valedictory, to a time that was and isn't ever coming back.
My baby girl is finished with school, swiftly embarking upon her career years, and with a Hail Mary or two, is doing so miles and miles away from home. Oh "Holy Mary, Mother of God!" -- how does this happen in a matter of a blink of an eye, in God's time...
Was it even celebratory enough -- given the profoundness of such an occasion -- to have her last meal fulfilled with an In N Out burger and not even any fries? I think not.
Come Sunday morning, that little flying monkey of mine took the air right out of my sails. It feels like I've been bobbing around, sans all navigational equipment, for weeks now -- and it's only Wednesday. Oh "blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
And yet, such is life.
THIS IS LIFE...watching her life expand and grow and move beyond whatever shelter I may, or may not, have given her, over her twenty one years. The symbiotic nature of mother and child offers mutual benefits for both -- be it the role of teacher and student, parent and junior, suffice it to say, the lines can occasionally get awfully fuzzy, like a smudge of golden rules and cerulean dreams, the canvass is in constant play.
it is such a beautiful thing.
------------------------------
politics just isn't doing it for me these days;
while our culture is frayed, obsessed with petty divides and the tragic loss of any semblance of civility. ugh.
my wish this morning is for one, come all, to take intentional stock of what is right in front of you...for time and children and love and life are not static; though they may sit for a moment, for a portrait, perhaps, these precious things do not stand still for long...and we wouldn't have it any other way.
Oh how I love my blessed child, who is no longer all mine.
She is of the world now.
And thankfully, the immaculate design of the entire universe is in full tilt,, giving way to whatever we can dream or imagine. Every purpose and portrait under heaven is in motion and deep in thought congruently and seamlessly and graciously, if we are open to It.
May God bless you and keep you, baby girl.
Make it a Good Day,
G
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