Bruiser

My loving dog, Bruiser, has just passed is 13th birthday. This very short film was taken toward the end of a game of fetch, and though he's completely pooped out he still drops the ball a second time in front of me anticipating my next toss. I thought this would be a fun way to share a little of our time together with family and friends who have not seen Bruiser now for 9 months.

He's still my baby and a wonderful friend. He knows my moods. He knows when I want to play, or relax or when I need comforting. He will nuzzle his nose under my hand when I am down. Whenever I am home he almost always has me in sight. He's been an amazing part of my life for a long time....and I treasure every day we have together.

Below is Bruiser gets a second wind and shows he still has some spunk...

Awakening...
Bright eyes to a new world...
Innocence...
Joy and Laughter...
Days of wonder...
Precious moments...
Concentration...
Loving life...
Little Hero...
Mischievous...
My new cap...
Excitement...

The wind in my face...





Tonight I found my thoughts wandering far away, to a little boy. His eyes peer back at me from behind a pane of glass; he is held within a photograph. He is always in my heart.
I have captured so many expressions, yet I only see what is at the surface. I can only imagine what he must see through those bright blue windows. What does he dream, contemplate, imagine?

I pray that you are always safe. May any moments of fear or pain be brief, and followed by new discoveries or triumphs. May you be forever surrounded by joy and comforted by faith. May your fascination with music and nature become a passion for the beautiful.

May your life be full and wonderful, and may you never forget how very deeply you are loved.

I love you my Little Pumpkin....

If you didn't know...

If you didn't know how old you were, how old would you think you were?

A magazine article I read yesterday referenced a birthday greeting card posing just that question.
It made me think about how I sometimes let myself get too wrapped up in numbers, in comparisons, in expectations.

If I didn't know how old I was, how old would I think I was?
If I didn't know how much I weighed, would I be happier with my body?
If I didn't compare my looks to others, how pretty would I think I was?
If I didn't wonder what others believed in, would I find more comfort in my faith?
If I didn't think about past mistakes, would I takes more chances?
If I didn't think about what I might lose, would I enjoy more what I have?

There are probably 100 questions I could put down and ponder. I guess the most important thing is that the saying on that card made me realize how important it is to relax and enjoy life as it is.

There's no yesterday where I can retrace my steps. There's no tomorrow where I know my footing is sure. There is only today and the step in front of me. I can do a little tweaking, but in the end I'm just me. I'm a good person. Most days I feel like a young 44 and I'm not in bad shape. I get a little satisfaction in that I can still turn a head from time to time. I believe in God's love and grace. I truly adore my family near and far. I'm living a wonderful life. I am blessed.

For some reason I all of the sudden I feel a little more alive and a little more ready to take the next step.

If I didn't know that I could fail, what would I dare to dream?

Faith

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.' II Corinthians 5:7”

I walked up to this statue and felt as if it was looking through to my soul. The stone held eyes of kindness. His hands, outstretched to welcome me to this sacred place, were worn and missing fingers. I felt a warmth as I walked nearer to him. I'd walked a new route on this day, and I feel there was a reason I found this place. I sat on one of the benches surrounding him and cried as I prayed.

I believe in God, but I do not quiet my mind often enough in prayer or meditation. There are times, though, that I feel him. I knelt in a chapel days ago, with my hands palms upward and my arms outstretched. It felt as if he touched my fingertips and flowed through my veins. How to describe such a feeling of love, peace, forgiveness.... for a moment I felt whole as I am. Tears came again. Many days I feel like there are so many pieces missing.

I met a woman recently who is recuperating from a kidney transplant. She is a patient at a hospital where I currently volunteer a couple days a week. The first day I met her I almost

passed by her room. The curtains were pulled and there was only a bit of daylight peering from beyond them. The door was ajar, but her eyes were closed and she looked as if in a peaceful dream. As I was about to walk past her doorway (I try not to awake the resting), I heard her sweet voice invite me in to sit with her. She informed me that she had been meditating.

Her sweet, round, dark face had the glow that drew me in. She was blessed. She believed.

She talked to me about her quiet moments with God. She has learned how to silence the world around her, and the busy thoughts that can keep God's comfort from finding you. I could see her faith in her eyes and I could hear it in her voice. She had no fear. It was her that led me to that chapel in the hospital, though she will probably never know.

And with my hands outstretched I will pray... and try to find my peace.

Australia's wildfires

Photo taken by Rick Rycroft/Pool via AP

I seldom find myself drawn to talking about news stories or politics, but today I found myself lured in by pictures of fires currently burning out of control in Australia. Pictured here are the charred remains of a church called St Andrew's outside of the community of Kinglake.

News today speaks hundreds of wildfires that have been burning in up to 117 F degree heat, with extremely low humidity and 50 mph wind gusts. Apparently Australia is very prone to wildfires this time of year, and in these conditions they are extremely difficult to battle. The article notes much of Australia's vegetation, such as gum and eucalyptus trees, contain flammable aromatic oils that are also feeding the flames.

As you glance through the pictures of the devastation you see the heartbroken faces of people who have lost family members. Some have lost everything they own. Many lost their lives. Today the toll has reached close to 200, and the numbers are expected to rise. Flames spread so quickly that some of the victims were burned in their cars or on roadsides trying to escape the flames' fury.

Now, add to all of this that authorities believe many of the 400 fires that have burned in the past few weeks have been arson....and it leaves me feeling an emptiness that is difficult to describe. How can any human being find joy or satisfaction in destroying nature, homes, livelihoods and families. There are natural disasters. They are a part of the world we live in. Perpetrators, if they find them, will likely be charged with murder. I hope they are not young children or teens that did not realize what the ramifications of their actions could be. How can you live with taking so much away from so many?

Tonight I pray for those that have died, those who loved them and those who will have to struggle to rebuild. I'm not sure if I can find myself praying for those who are responsible for some of the fires... yet I feel that they may need love, and forgiveness, as well.

Thief

The other day I was walking in an affluent neighborhood I am just starting to explore. Yes, there are absolutely gorgeous homes and manicured gardens, but what I find myself drawn to most are the magestic oaks of the boulevard. Other items catch my eye, like stone walls being enroached upon by vines or a beautiful garden gate. I am awestruck by a number of the homes, but they seem more like fortresses to me than a place I would find comfort.

Anyway, I was nearing the end of my walk when I noticed a fluttering out of the corner of my eye. A lovely, dove-colored bird was angrily poking at a cluster of blackberries on a tree. She obviously felt my gaze and turned toward me. I stood still hoping not to startle her, waiting until she had lost interest in me before I slowly reached into my purse for my camera.

She moved quickly, grasping at the berries, pulling them close to her and then letting the vine snap away. Hopefully with every bounce back the branch took, she was able to taste a bit of the juice she so longed for. While I was watching her intently, trying to hold a pose through my lens' eye long enough to steal a bit of her loveliness, then a voice came from beyond....

"Is there a reason why you are taking pictures here?" A woman in the far traffic lane, far because a huge boulevard separated the east and west routes in this little community of mansions, apparently found my presence irritating. She'd rolled down her window and was yelling across at me. You don't belong here, is what I heard. She acted as if I was stealing from her.

"I'm taking a picture of a bird", I shouted back. Not in an angry tone, mind you, just loud enough so that she could hear me. Not loud enough, so I tried again. "I'm taking a picture of a bird!". "Oh", she responded. Meanwhile a truck had pulled up behind her and jabbed at his steering wheel to give her a little move on honk. I don't know that she was finished with her line of questioning for me, but she succumbed to move on.

Of course, when I turned back to the tree, the subject of my interest was long gone. I came away with only one blurred image in which his tiny head was hidden behind his tussel of grey feathers. I was disappointed, but I know you have to have time and patience to capture wildlife... You surely need silence, and apparently it was not my day for that either.

I came away wondering if I was intruding in that neighborhood, or others I have ventured to, when I bring my camera. I do not peer in windows, nor photograph anyone in a way they would be recognizable. Typically the people are a distant form. No more are they the subject of my art than a cloud or a crack in the sidewalk. Wait a minute, sometimes those are my subjects. But you get it, don't you?

I left that neighborhood with the thought I will still bring my camera in tow on my walks, and I will still enjoy trying to capture bits and pieces of the beauty I find. Even if I never use them to paint or draw, I can still filter through them now and then and maybe feel again what drew me to that place.

It Had To Be You....

Recently my father-in-law was in the hospital and I accompanied my husband, Jeff, for a couple of visits. F.I.L. has had alzheimer's for a number of years, so I did not have the opportunity to meet him when he still recognized faces, names, foods or places with any consistancy. I've never been close to anyone with alzheimer's, so as I am new to my marriage I am also new to this.

Luckily the handful of times I have seen my F.I.L. he has been in good spirits. I've been told he can be unpredictable and irritable from time to time, but wouldn't you be if you were not sure who you were, where you were, who you were talking to or what you were being fed? I would be terrified. Maybe the blessing is that when he becomes frightened he forgets just as quickly why he is so frightened?

Both trips to the hospital were to give F.I.L.'s wife a chance to leave the hospital and breathe for a couple of hours. She'd been spending the nights there and much of the days with just a few "relief pitchers" to help out. Jeff filled the time reminiscing with his father about different places he had lived, family as well as friends of the past, jobs that his father had held, time spent in the military, sports figures that have come and gone, and memories of singing in (and conducting) the church choir. His father looked unsure much of the time, but he did seem to recognize some of what was presented to him....if only for a moment. About a friend of the past he might say "he really was a nice guy". He might smile as a memory briefly lighted on his mind and drifted away again.

Having known my F.I.L. only a few months I wonder what memories I will have with him when he is gone. He still sings, which I think is very endearing. He's always loved singing, and his children have memories of many evenings at home where he sang and played piano. His voice is still beautiful and out of the blue he will start humming or singing aloud whatever tune pops into his head.

When we arrived for our second visit to the hospital Jeff strode to the end of the bed to greet his father. I don't recall if Jeff had a chance to say hello before his father burst into song...."it had to be you.....". Though F.I.L. asked a number of times who Jeff was, who I was and who was making noise in the hallway (he wasn't retaining he was not at home but in the hospital) he seemed to have moments of clarity where he told Jeff he was a great guy, and that he loved him. Tears seemed to form, but then quickly disappear.

There is something sweet and child-like about his mannerisms and his smile. I hope he continues to remember a tune or two, as it obviously brings him joy to find his voice. It brings me joy to have him find his voice.

It had to be you.......