prayer poem

Candlelight

Lord, you love me

as I am. I rest in

your gigantic hand,

trusting you have knit

my ways, measured

out my given days.

Let your goodness

overflow, flooding all

I hope to know

and may your grace

bleed o’er my heart, though

I don’t know the pathway

and can’t find the start.

I’m planning to step,

but it might be to fall.

Lord, you have made

me. I trust. That is all.

©2016 Kimberly Laustsen

snatching heaven

What is the purpose of a blog? For months, I have been struggling to decide the fate of this blog. Who knows? I have decided to embrace uncertainty and to continue posting when I can snatch the time, without holding myself to any deadlines. In this life, beauty and mystery are often paired.

A few weeks ago, I went to the Texas hill country for four days with my amazing tribe of photography ladies. Five strong, we have dubbed ourselves "The Shuttertrippers." A few days before our trip, I was in Pennsylvania, saying goodbye to an angel named Connie: a dear lady who came to live with my sisters, mom, and me when I was two. Connie helped to raise my sisters and me, living with us for ten years: cooking all of our meals, holding down the fort, and keeping us sane. All three sisters were there as Connie drew her last breath. We will miss her. To say the least.

Along a random country road on the photography trip, shuttertripper Laura spied an old house with a porch leading into a field of bluebonnets. Brakes squealed and tires skidded as Laura shouted, "Yeeeoooowwwzzzzaaaaa... ssssttooooooop!"

How like heaven, I thought, emerging from the car, camera in hand. I could not tear myself away from the scene above and stayed there the duration of our stop, snapping shot after shot as if trying to capture a shadow. In my mind's eye, Connie was wandering among the flowers as she stepped into eternity only days before. When I get to heaven, there will be bluebonnets. And so many faces to see.

celebrate National Poetry Month

I've been away a while. I took a breather to do many home projects and editing jobs. All the while, I have been continuing to write poems. My favorite kind to write these days are listing poems. Something about making a list of word is so calming, so satisfying. Like a prayer, words trip from my brain and drip onto the page clearing room for new thoughts. Seems its the same way with feelings. In order to make room for happy thoughts, I must release negative feelings, no matter how justified they seem. I must let go and allow myself to fall into the peace of being, into God's loving hands. Letting go of anything is hard. Guess that's why it has taken me two full years to unclutter my house. Meditation helps with this. So does the habit of listing three things to be grateful for at the end of each day. The older I get, the more I apprehend the fluidity of life, which is frightening and exciting at the same time.

Enjoy this special National Poetry Month! Challenge yourself to write a poem each day, if only a listing poem of random words from your brain to see what happens, to see what space those words open up or what thoughts they jostle loose. Enjoy!

Circuitry

Simple
and
light,
buoyant
and
tight,
free,
breezy,
gazing
about,
hum,
sing,
jiggle,
and
shout.
       -2015Kimberly Laustsen

happiness

Happiness = flowers. I mean that. Flowers are so intriguing to me, so completely lovely, that I cannot fully understand what about them makes me feel such joy. I can't get enough. I want to climb inside  a flower, any flower, and lounge there for a year or so to fully comprehend its majesty. 

Look how many distinct flowers God chose to create. That simple fact says more about him, more about his mercies, than I can wrap my brain around. How mysterious. How perfectly beautiful.

crazy for the girl

I love beauty. I am dedicated to my blog. That said, sometimes one needs to refuel and refill. This is my excuse for the dearth of posts these past few months. This summer, QG and I went on a vacation with daughter number two Kelly and her boyfriend David, traveling throughout Boston, Vermont, and New Hampshire. Amazing. Blissful. Delightful. Every moment of our trip was golden.

Have I mentioned we had a good time? We even got to spend a night in the home of  my college roommate, Margie, and her family. Perfect. Love that girl. Margie is a national treasure: a beautiful person who came into my life at a critical time when I was eighteen and completely clueless. Margie gave me the idea that good grades could be a worthwhile goal. Crazy, but before this amazing sweetie (aka, Margie) came into my life, I thought that "C" grades were perfectly acceptable. But Margie was all about getting straight "A's." Makes sense, considering she is now a college professor. Up to when I met Margie, I had not been exposed to much except the hairdressers at my mom's small-town beauty shop, where I'd worked since seventh grade, the fast-food workers at Wendy's, where I also worked, and my family: folks who regarded a "C" grade as just fine, no questions asked. Not that there is anything wrong with a "C" if it reflects your best work. In high school, too disengaged to care, I slid by with whatever grades I could get with with no effort.  Enter Marjorie, who rocked my world with her kick-a_ _ 4.0 and her curious habit of always doing her best.

Whaaat? I thought. Straight "A's?" I had not, heretofore, considered such a thing. But this crazy, lovable girl, who I lived with starting half-way through my freshman year at Penn State University, got all A's and, by gum, considering that she could do it and, moreover, seemed to thrive on the excitement of learning, I suddenly and radically decided that I could, too. And I did. More or less. Nobody's perfect. Margie changed my life. Plain and simple. She introduced me to a new way of thinking. Besides that, she was funny. We laughed a lot. She washed all my laundry once when I ran out of clean clothes. She sang and played Dan Fogelberg tunes on her guitar. How cool. I am still thankful. Life is a journey. I would be nothing without the people I have met, and come to cherish and learn from, along the way. Like my adorable college roomie, Margie.

button flowers

I find it so inspiring to watch other people create beautiful things. 

Such endeavors strike me as almost spiritual, like perceiving something beyond what can be seen and bringing it into being for others to appreciate. 

How wonderful that, in this life, we always have the options to create and to learn. 

My friend, Lydia, makes flowers out of old buttons, giving new life to these castoffs in magical pairings of perfect bits joined together to make art that I could look at all day. 

She was nice enough to let me borrow her stash to photograph. Love these.

thankful

Today I'm thankful for many things,
like flowers from my neighbor Tammilynne:
a dear, dear friend of seventeen years,
a cohort through many trials and fears.

Life's surprising and one
never knows what will die and what will grow.
The flowers here were volunteers
sprung from a crop that grew and died,
leaving buried seeds behind.

Actions always lead to ends, though
tempted otherwise, don't pretend. Decide
what to stand for, who to love, what to speak out
and what to leave, unsaid, for God above.

refreshing beverage

Here's an idea for a refreshing beverage: club soda + maraschino cherry with a bit of its juice (I used blush cherries from Tuesday Morning, which do not contain red dye and feature Oregon cherries) + a wedge of squeezed lime. Aaah. Refreshing, low-calorie summer delight. Try it.

On an unrelated note, I wanted to recommend a couple of shows that QG and I have recently watched. First is Salamander: a Belgian series with twelve episodes. It is available on instant Netflix now. This is an interesting drama featuring many layers of intrigue. It is well written and reminded me a bit of The Killing, one of our faves fo' sure. Second is True Detective, starring Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson. If nothing else, this series (8 episodes) is worth watching just to study the plot and construction. And then there is the acting. Dang amazing. Love this series, despite its creepiness and occasional harsh violence. Live and let live, that's what I say.

fallen just so

This is a picture I took in May at Koreshan State Park in Estero, Florida: a fascinating place if you ever get the chance to visit. I got mesmerized, snapping about five billion shots, by the dozens of evocative flowers that had fallen haphazardly from the tree above. Something about these two, perhaps their ease together, reminded me of QG and I. Corny, I know. I was pondering every blossom, as if trying to remember something it was hinting at, something mysterious humming beneath the showy surface. Nature is the best teacher, revealing ever more in equal measure to my open heart and palm. 

At length, my daughter had to forcibly drag me away from my precious to head to the car. Apparently, not everyone thinks hovering over a patch of ground for hours is a good time. The upside is that I am a cheap date: forget the fine dining, just take me to a park and let me stare at the ground. 

egg sammie

Toasted English muffin, slice of white American cheese, sprinkle of salt, sliced garden-grown tomato: perfect lunch. 

vegan ice pops

When we were in Baton Rouge recently, we stopped at a great sandwich shop called Street Breads. Walking out after lunch, I was saying to my daughter that I needed a little something sweet when we noticed a gal pushing a popsicle cart across the street. Perfect! We zigzagged our way across the street, dodging cars, to fetch us a treat. They were vegan pops, mostly coconut milk based, which the thirty-ish gal had invented. She said she'd gone to the Dallas Art Institute and had worked in design a few years before deciding to become a titan of the popsicle world. Interesting career choice. The pops were so inspired that I am experimenting with recipes of my own. Here is an easy one I like a lot.

Pineapple Vanilla Ice Pops

1 cup light coconut milk
1 1/2 cups fresh chopped pineapple
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1-3 tablespoons honey, to taste

Throw the above into a blender and then freeze in ice cube trays or small paper cups, inserting a stick into the center when almost frozen solid.

I made some with blueberries instead of pineapple and lemon juice instead of vanilla. Delish!

PS - Happy Fourth of July!

Noodle Hands

I've been thinking about Noodle Hands on a daily basis since my friend told me her story last week. She'd flown in late the previous Saturday, her flight having been delayed several hours, after a week spent at a grueling workshop. Her husband, who she'd called ahead from Seattle to alert to her delayed, starving, and tired state, picked her up from the airport at close to midnight to whisk her home, where she expected to find a cooked dinner or, at least, a sandwich awaiting her. She discovered a fridge devoid of even so much as a slice of bologna: nothing having been bought since her departure seven days prior. Her husband, it seemed, had been struck with a week-long case of severe  "Noodle Hands," wherein, should you raise your hands before you like a puppy begging a treat, your fingers only flop about uselessly, like overdone noodles caught in the breeze. Fortunately, my friend was saved from starvation by a frozen dinner she was able to chisel out of the bottom of her deep freeze.

Noodle Hands is a tragic affliction. Now that I have a name for it, I am noticing it everyplace. Like in the mirror. Today is the day I promised to re-start my blog after my two-month sabbatical (a.k.a.riot of indolence and sloth), so I woke up knowing what I had to do. After all, both of my readers might be checking. Must post. I sat down at my keyboard first thing after coffee to discover my hands were missing their bones. Noooooo. Could I diagnose the cause and recover in time?

Starting a blog is fun because it is a blank slate with no readers and no expectations other than to practice your writing and play with ideas and pictures. Then you do it for a couple of years, conning your relatives and friends into reading it once in a while, and, next thing you know, you are taking yourself way too seriously, worrying about whether you have run out of good posts or might disappoint someone. Like when you learn to ride a bike and are seized by a major "yikes" moment, thinking what if I fall?, when you first apprehend that you are peddling on your own.

Perhaps I over-thought a bit. Over-thinking is my thing, as in nemesis. Whew. In year four of teaching myself to relax, which process the actual blogging has helped a lot with, I've discovered it is insanely helpful, when overwhelmed, to break a task down into parts and tackle them each in turn whilst affecting nonchalance. Open blog, write blog, add picture, post, learn. I really like blogging and want to (nonchalantly) continue.  My new blogging mantra: relax, breathe, try, keep it simple, keep it light.  And that's how I cured myself of Noodle Hands in eight hours or less.

You can, too. If you ever become afflicted, just remember to relax, breathe, try, keep it simple, keep it light. Welcome back to my un-serious blog. Don't expect much and I won't disappoint!

off gathering wool

Why should a life be anything other than a pleasure?

Happy May! Happy sunny weather! After over two years of blogging, I am taking a couple months off to recharge, indulge in some loitering, and do some thinking about where this blog is headed. I will also be painting several rooms and my kitchen cabinets, teachcing myself InDesign and advanced Photoshop, making jewelry, working at my editing business, writing, reading, painting, and taking loads of pictures. Wheeeeee! See what fun you can get up to in the next two months and meet me back here on the first of July.

take joy

Cornelia (of yesterday's post) graciously gave me permission to feature her paintings. 

Love these. 

They inspire me to explore art in new ways. 

I love their honesty. 

The dog portrait is a tribute to her daughter's elderly dog, who they recently had to put to sleep.  

It is never too late to try something new. Never too late to turn a corner. Enjoy.

don't be afraid

I like this picture because it reminds me that we do not always see clearly. It looks like this jar might hold a mountain range and a sunset or a submerged volcano preparing to spew light. This jar, like each of us, is full of possibility. A have a friend Cornelia who has faced a tough year full of health challenges. But she's still here and getting stronger every day. She had recently taken up painting and is sprouting beauty out of her paintbrush. I will ask permission to put some of her creations here soon. In life, we all have struggles. They can't be avoided. But afterwards, when we take up our paintbrush, our camera, our pencil, our knitting needle, our pots and pans or whatever else we can find to reclaim joy and spread it to others, we declare goodness the winner over our dark days. We find our power. We feel the sun's warmth spreading even to our fingertips. We begin to understand what Jesus meant when he said, repeatedly, "Don't be afraid."

If you could do anything...

I am in love with color. This is a picture I took today. Finally, I stole some time to play with sunshine, water, color, and camera. Few things make me happier. Aaaah. It gives me joy to look at this, which leads me to today's affirmation: Follow your passions. That is not just a fluffy phrase. Usually, the stuff you love to do has a lot to do with what God created you to do. At least, I think so. Don't panic. Do what energizes you. Repeat. That is a start. Where it will lead is anyone's guess.

mindful

To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven. I love this idea, though it is easy to forget, easy to long for days past or waste time dreaming of a season to come. This line  helps me to stay open to change, to letting go of old moments and welcoming the new, just as I release spent breath and usher new air in to fill my lungs. I want to live in gratitude and to look for joy around every corner. One of QG's coworkers died last week. The man was not sick. He just suddenly died one afternoon at age 65, just before the great retirement he had planned. Another young coworker died unexpectedly of the flu last fall, leaving two young children behind. What stark reminders that life is fleeting. We must appreciate each moment and live mindfully.

cowboy fiddler

I love this scene, which I have tweaked a bit, out of The Book of Cowboys by Holling C. Holling, published in 1936. Old books have the most fascinating illustrations. This simple work fills me with peace. I can almost hear the sweet music. The way the boy is gazing off into the distance seems hopeful, and the sky is so inviting. Art is everywhere to fill us with inspiration. Love that. Holling passed away in 1973, but his work lives on spreading joy.

believe it

Ever have the feeling that something good is about to happen, though you don't know exactly what? I feel that now. God leads us into one thing in this life and then, as we are ready, to the next. I am thankful for the mystery because if we understood all of God's plans it would not be interesting. Relax. He's got this. All that you were meant to be will eventually come to pass. God is good. He will not leave us comfortless. That is a promise. Believe it. Open your heart. Open your hand. The first Easter happened for a reason. We are that reason. It doesn't make sense. Not one bit. That is the best part. It is called faith.

let go

Enfold yourself in peace. Let go of strife. Just breathe.