Friday, June 26, 2015


Over the last year the blog has been quiet although I would argue I've been busier than ever living out my theme of writing or making a better story out of my life.

I've been writing a better story I've just not jotted it down on paper. Or on your screen. Or in the blogosphere. Whatever.

I'm actually living.

I'm doing and organizing and scheduling & then doing all I've scheduled & organized. 

I miss writing. Not for you, or my audience, but for me. Writing is often how I process my feelings. It's also how I'll become a better story teller. And that's what I want people to say at my funeral, "She was really great with words!". 

Nevertheless I miss writing. So if I love it & if I want to write, I had to ask myself why was I not creating space in my life to practice it? 

While reading Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle, I was recently reminded, that when I am constantly running there is no time for being.
And when there is no time for being there is no time for listening.
And listening - to myself, to my thoughts or that still small voice - is what prompts me to question and wonder and process and ultimately ... write. 

And so that's what I leave you with today; how can we ever know anything  (know anything for sure? know why we believe? know what to do?) if we don't ever take the time to sit and listen and be still?

Before we plan and process and organize what if we made space to be quiet
and pause
and listen?

Because I fear if we never stop to listen how will we ever hear?

This idea of being still, or making quiet time isn't new to me. But it is one I've wrestled with consistency  throughout every age and stage of my life. 

It's always a good reminder.

And hopefully, it will help me get back to writing again.

What about you? What would you do more, or less of, if you could take some time to be still?

Sunday, June 21, 2015

A Tale of Three Trees

I don't have a green thumb
but I have three trees.

A crab apple tree. 
A cherry tree. 
And two years ago we planted an apple tree.

the 1 yr the cherry tree bloomed
The crab apple tree blossoms beautifully every year, grows miniature crab apples, drops them to the ground and sprouts the messiest, most stubborn chutes you can image. They've managed to choke out every geranium, mum or Hosta I've ever tried to grow around its trunk. 

It's a beautiful, worthless mess. 

The cherry tree is my husband's favorite. He's longed for cherries from that tree every year, for ten or more years and each spring he is disappointed. In 2011 I wrote how the tree bloomed beautifully and it seemed inevitable that fruit was coming. And while a few sweet red cherries came forth we never got enough for a pie or cobbler. I think the birds enjoyed that year much more than we.

That was it. The tree never blossomed again and last year suffered an infestation of Japanese Beetles and has not recovered. I fear it needs to come down altogether.

a baby apple tree
However, our third tree, a tiny fruit tree we planted two years ago near the cherry tree in hopes of coaxing a little pollination, holds a lot of promise. A lot. This year the tiny, baby tree was covered in beautiful blooms and now, has tiny, baby green apples hanging so delicately we watch them in awe. Sometimes I think we're watching them grow.

But we can't help it were so proud to have produced fruit after a long exhausting battle with wimpy impotent trees.

I've lived here 18 years and never eaten the fruit of the land. 

But I long to. And now, maybe I will this year. 

Except, after dinner yesterday, just as I sat down on the couch nestling in with a book in front of the picture window I looked out across the yard and 2 neighbor children were picking my apples.

I stood up, banged on the glass, ran to the door, flew out on the porch and screamed, "You can't pick my fruit! That's MY fruit!" The dog was barking, my family ran out behind me to see what all the fuss was about and together all of us looked like lunatics.

The children apologized and I returned inside.

Man! That is MY fruit. I've tried so hard and waited year after year. All I want is to grow something myself and eat it. 

People, growing fruit is hard.

We don't appreciate the time and effort it takes to get something of substance worth savoring. 

What if this is true about other things?
What if the stuff that matters takes time to grow and build? What if the stuff the sprouts up overnight with little or no effort, in all its flash and sparkle, is nothing but weeds?

And worse, what if after all that effort people want to take what you've worked and waited for?

I know, we all want stuff faster but what if there's good stuff in the waiting???

Don't rush it.
Fight the urge to hurry.
Don't settle for quick and shallow roots.
Wait for substance.
Give fruit time to grow.

And leave the weeds to themselves. 
Because growing fruit is hard.

But fruit, not weeds,
time, not quick results
is what people long for.

And if I can ever get my three trees AND a green thumb, to get it together well ...
then I'll share.

And the world, well okay - just my neighborhood - would be a better place.

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