A Contemplative Life

  In working on the Lavender quilt, end blocks need to be constructed on the fly, so to speak. The one above, with its corresponding block, was actually fun to make because Past Me had cut in half triangles and half hexagons, so all Present Me needed to do was to choose appropriate fabrics, baste those shapes, then sew them together. The low volume decisions were easier than the vibrant prints for the triangles. Why did I save those scraps, I now consider, but I don't ponder it deeply, mostly because much of my life is currently about trust. Learning to trust even more thoroughly than I ever have previously, not due to poor health or other erroneous situations, but merely that trusting in God is what God wants from me, ahem. Like prepping a manuscript that might be queried. I say might because I'm still reading it, but in a manner not previously done, other than for agents. I set aside the first fifty pages double-spaced, read through it, and made a few changes to the original...

Probably. But you never know.... Because novels/very long short stories end as they are wont, both in the form as well as the content. The Deadfern Miracles concluded in a three-chapter marathon over the course of one day, DUDE! I didn't even know I could pull something like that outta my hat. However, this basically untitled tale is taking a more languid course, and equally I am JUST FINE with it. Because, um, the end of this story with no proper name has a slightly, no, definitely darker conclusion. Or the penultimate chapter is chaotic. The one before that one is also on the less stellar side of human reactions. Sometimes those sorts of stories emerge, because life isn't all roses and donuts. Having just read over the entire chapter, all twenty-six hundred-plus words, I'm pleased with the results, if not a little heartsick for the plotline, which I knew was coming from early on. Well, once I grasped this wasn't a short story, then.... Then the eventual end was going...

Seven of eight hens, as one was being camera shy. More about the chickens at the end of this post. While I've placed several excerpts of On Being Brave within this blog, now the end is nearing, so no spoilers. In part for myself, because if I change my mind and drastically alter a chapter, though usually I don't, I also don't need that recorded here. This novel, which wasn't meant to be a novel, carries great hope and some darker undertones. And sometimes it's tricky keeping my head above the rollicking waves, assured of my own safety. I don't write dark fiction. I do write tense, emotionally charged scenes. I write deaths, I write deep loss. But overall a Happily Ever After triumphs because that aligns to my core beliefs. A week or two ago the Sunday reading was about Peter walking on water to meet Christ, standing on the lake. Peter was doing just fine until he took his eyes from Jesus, then promptly began to sink. Jesus hauled him up, and the main takeaway i...

The last heart, almost done! Ten hearts remained after Friday night's stitching. Ten out of over two hundred. Ten hearts that were randomly scattered, a few clumped together. And now all those hearts are hand-quilted, and I'll wash it tomorrow, then mail it off to a lovely person who adores hearts. What could be better? Yet, an English paper-pieced quilt doesn't happen overnight. This particular project began late in 2024, a kit by Jodi Godfrey . I dove into it as, well, as hearts seemed wholly necessary to embrace, as my country fell under an influence absolutely dark and menacing. As I cut fabrics, basted jewel shapes, then stitched them into hearts, my chest muscle was slightly assuaged. And the more I worked on it, amid learning the Kawandi method, the better I felt. Defiant hearts. Strong hearts. Supple hearts. Beating hearts. Wearing my heart on my sleeve hearts. You get the idea. June 2025 Then in June of 2025, I finished the top. What a monumental completion! And a...

Yesterday's green addition to Peace Round the World. Been up a while now. Not sure why, other than God wanted my attention. And in writing that sentence, there's a meaning behind it beyond someone tapping my shoulder, seeking my attention. When we say or think, "So-and-So wants my attention," often the meaning is they desire our consciousness directed toward whatever it is they wish to show or tell us. But what if our attention to them is so they can love us? That's a novel notion. I've noticed with my grandsons how the younger interrupts the older. They are eleven and seven and I won't even get started with where has the time gone because the time is already gone. It's almost five a.m. as I begin writing this, still dark outside. No stars. Marine layer entrenched. I made a second pot of half-caff tea because the first one was MEH. Only had one cup of it, but something about it was bland and not worth drinking. I used different tea products for this ne...

The formerly nimble Nadia, now a broody Puffmeister! She's Puffy the hen until the broodiness passes, hopefully soon. And one more excerpt, lol. I considered putting up an excerpt earlier this week, but didn't. This morning, reading over yesterday's writing, well, it's time. Sometimes following the Spirit is like that, just gotta keep moving forward in love. Anyway, if you feel like looking for backstory on what's going on, first read Far Away from Home , then Home and Far Away . While these novels are Parts Three and Four of The Enran Chronicles , I wrote them more as their own little duo with no need, unless you're truly curious, to read Parts One and Two . Not that I wish to dissuade you from my novels , merely that The Enran Chronicles is an interesting series, so far written that if someone only wants to dabble in it, they can read two books, then decide how far they wish to go. And I'll also say this; if you read Three and Four , well, definitely ch...

The Warm Hearted quilt neatly folded and resting on the back of the couch.   I so badly want to sew on the Warm Hearted Quilt this evening, but my forearm still has an Aquaphor-covered wound and I don't want to slap a band-aid on it because band-aids of all varieties (plastic or fabric) give me a rash. I did receive good news today that the spot biopsied was benign, which is GREAT! I juxtapose that with a dear friend's youngest son, who is in his forties and suffering from lung cancer. Enduring toxic chemotherapy in the hopes he'll survive long enough so his youngest child, three years old, will remember him. Sigh. We can't plan life other than daft outlines for what we'd love to occur. A week ago, when I had the biopsy, I stitched hearts like all the other days I'd been stitching hearts; I had a piece of gauze taped over the wound and no Aquaphor in sight. Since then, I've done very little sewing on that quilt. This afternoon I managed some Peace Round the ...

Hearts along the edge sewn last night, including different colours of the same print, lol. Some people have trouble with the word blessed . It conjures a false sense of living, it conjures the hypocrisy of America's current government, it conjures anguish for pain suffered at the hands of those espousing religious sentiment or judgement. I understand it's a difficult word for some people in this moment of history. However, I'd be remiss not to use it for how it applies to my manner of living in Christ's expansive and inclusive love. If that offends, I apologize, but I also ask you to hear me out. And if you can't or don't wish to hear me out, I sincerely wish you a peaceful day. Okay, so I was going to make sausage/carrot chili this afternoon, but my goodness last night's Warm Hearted Quilt stitching did a real number on my relatively feeling good right shoulder. Sigh. I recently had a biopsy on a very small red spot on my arm, and the wound care requires Va...

If we give everything away, we have nothing to lose. My BFF left early this morning, a few days of World Cup games, card games (gin rummy, which I'm hoping to teach to my eldest grandson), MUCH CONVERSATION amid football and gin rummy, and sharing last night's fireworks seated in the closed-off parking lot nearest to the Fisherman's Statue at the Woodley Island Marina in Eureka. We'd never taken her there, and she wandered over to the Fisherman, who honors those lost at sea. Meanwhile I snuggled under my Quilt of Grace as it was a marine layer evening that became a misty, breezy night as we waited for darkness to fall. Fireworks began before the ten p.m. announced start time, and were quite impressive! Only a few headed into the clouds, slightly lessening their brightness, but all in all it was a marvelous show, and we headed home grateful for the outing, and for forty-five years of friendship shared. Cropped from a landscape shot, but a decent example of how large is t...