:: tell

I've been on both sides.

I've been the one being told, but I've also been the one needing to tell.

I've heard those words -- It's just not worth the pain and I think I'd rather be dead.

I've said those words -- I don't think I can do this anymore. 

Here's what I've learned from both sides -- tell someone, anyone. Telling is at the very least part of the answer, maybe the most important part of the equation.

When I was told, I had that momentary panic of saying the wrong thing. The reality is it's less about what I say and more about how I listen.

When I told I got good listening, but I got some really good words too. The one that resonated with me was "Don't do that to your kids. Don't let that be your legacy." But I also remember humor from another a friend I told -- "If you don't get it right, think of all the guilt you'll have." 

Different words mean different things, and we can't all say the exact right words in every moment. If you're feeling overwhelmed and like it just isn't worth it anymore, tell somebody, anybody, especially one person you trust, and tell Him over and over and over again. He loves you. He gave you this life, and He wants you to live this life. 

If someone honors you by telling you, love them. Love them the way He loves you and them. Love them the way you'd want to be loved. Realize the honor of being that person. The one they could tell.

And while you're at it, tell everyone you care about how you feel about them. You never know.

linking up with Five Minute Friday

Little Reminders . . .

so my one word for this year is purpose.

look what I found on Ann Voskamp's 25 Point Manifesto for Sanity in 2013

I'm telling you it's there.

All you have to do is open your eyes.

Purpose in a New Habit

I very excitedly jumped on the One Word bandwagon posting my word here on January 2nd. I set up a little tableau to help me remember my word for the year.

I've been keeping watch for my word and to be honest have been a bit bummed that I wasn't seeing it everywhere I turned.

I'm still recovering from a nasty infection that laid me low through most of the holidays, and have been waking up  coughing most nights. I have trouble getting back to sleep and have used numerous "tricks" over the years to lull myself back to sleep. 

I've also decided that this year I am going to tackle Ann Voskamp's memorization plan. I have avoided memorization for years -- telling myself I'm not any good at it; that rote memorization won't really help me; that I will fail at completing the goals I set up, leading to depression and more negative self-talk.

This morning I had an epiphany of sorts. The past two nights as I've been trying to get back to sleep, the verses for this week have come, unbidden, into my head. Without a plan or even a thought, I have begun reciting Romans 1:1-2. A gift? Soothing words of Scripture to ease me back to sleep. Proof that I am capable of doing this. That even though these particular verses are mostly informational, I am finding comfort in the realization that I am doing this -- can do this -- and it's not just rote memorization. I am comforted by these words:
1 Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God— 2 the gospel he promised beforehand through his prophets in the Holy Scriptures

And suddenly there is my word -- purpose. This memorization has a purpose in my life. It may be leading me to another purpose, or it may be THE purpose. I don't have to know the answer to that question right now.

What I do know is that He has a purpose for me, and this memorizing is part of His plan and my path for now.

linking up at One Word 365

Strivings

I live very much in the present. I have good intentions and expectations, but I'm often stymied by tunnel vision. I forget to stop and look around. I realize I do this in my literal walk as well. I watch each step as I climb a set of stairs. When Alan and I walk at Radnor Lake, I'm more likely to be watching my feet and looking out for roots than to be looking at the beauty and grandeur around me. If it weren't for Alan I'd miss all the deer and turkeys and chipmunks and mushrooms. When I first realized this, it didn't occur to me that I do the same thing in my attitude toward life. I'm so busy looking out for potential pitfalls that I forget to lift up my head and look at the beauty I'm dwelling in already.

I read a lot of blogs. Probably too many, but they have given me much fodder for thought and growth. Yet even when reading emily wierenga or Ann Voskamp, I find myself wishing I had known these things long ago so I could have avoided so many mistakes. "If onlys" will drive you right over the cliff. 

Last night, over a year since asking for and receiving One Thousand Gifts, I finally picked it up to read. And right there in the opening pages I found things:
"His secret purpose framed from the very beginning [is] to bring us to our full glory" (1 Cor. 2:7 NEB -- italics mine). There it was. My word for the year -- PURPOSE.
And then this:
". . . maybe you don't want to change the story, because you don't know what a different ending holds."

My story, my pace, my approach . . . maybe they are all part and parcel of God's secret purpose for ME. And constantly reproving and reproaching myself, maybe that's no different than reproving and reproaching God and His plan.

And so I am reminded again of Scrooge in A Christmas Carol having his epiphany to "live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach." And I pray that in living with purpose I too will allow for such strivings.

Day 11 of 31

Have you seen the BBC show "Jekyll"?

My son and I are BBC addicts. I don't know what it is -- maybe it's the accent -- but we gravitate toward BBC shows on Netflix.

This past weekend my son introduced me to "Jekyll". It is not for the faint of heart. The basic premise of the show is similar to the novel, but with a twist, Jekyll and Hyde communicate via pocket recorder and  an assistant/keeper of sorts.

The show got me thinking about what we as a society teach about abusers and bad guys in general. We warn kids about "stranger danger", when in reality the person most likely to molest a kid is someone they know and trust -- a coach, a mentor, a troop leader, a minister, an uncle (or aunt). We do this because we want our kids to grow up believing they can control things. They are safe if they stay on guard, and that's simply not true.

Every person who abused me was someone I knew. Someone my parents knew and trusted. They all went to church and held jobs and lived in nice houses. 

The scariest thing about "Jekyll" is that there is so little physical difference in Jekyll and Hyde, but their characters are poles apart. Yes, it's fiction, but reality is like that too.

I have always referred to one abuser in particular as a monster. No one would think him a monster to see him on the street. He had a nice easy smile, charming demeanor, and good looks. The boy next door. But when he became an abuser, he was terrifying. A monster with claws for hands, elongated teeth, and a gaping mouth rushing to devour me.

Maybe that's why I find such comfort in these quotes:

"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness." Joseph Conrad

Fairy tales do not teach children that dragons exist. They already know they do. Fairy tales teach children that dragons can be killed. -- C.K. Chesterton

They take the onus off of me and place the blame directly where it belongs -- on the abusers, the evildoers, the monsters.

Day 10 of 31

I had one of those conversations yesterday. You know the real ones where nobody pretends like everything is wonderful? Where you ask real questions about hard stuff? It was just lovely. And the funny thing was it led to laughter, and I felt maybe I was understood, and that little click of connection may have sounded.

I've known of this person since high school. I was reacquainted with her a few years ago through a mutual friend. Recently I hired her to do some work for me.

I'm not good at asking for help, even when I'm paying for it. Everything just came together in one of those ways that makes me think God's got to be in this. Planets aligning and all that.

We chatted before she began working. Filling in information gaps. What we knew, thought we knew, about each other -- exchanging it for what was real and true. 

Her life's not perfect either. She grew up going to church and the right schools, but it hasn't been picket fences and window boxes. And that made it easier to talk about my window boxes being empty, and the struggles of abuse, betrayal, distrust, a bipolar daughter, and an extended family that fails. 

What amazed me most was the laughter. It didn't feel like we were ignoring each other's pain (hers is divorce, blended family, chronic illness -- variations on a theme), rather it seemed that we just understood. There wasn't all that effort to try and explain to someone who hasn't struggled. She knew what it felt like, and so did I. So we moved into that click connection with little or no awkwardness. 

And isn't that what it's meant to be like? Really seeing, sharing, and understanding another person's life without judging or fearing judgment. 

linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann Voskamp

Day 9 of 31

Anger is the reaction that we have when we feel we have been treated disrespectfully. It is a natural reaction just like fear, and it is often connected to fear as it serves as a warning signal that we may be in danger.

According to Websters anger is: a strong feeling of displeasure and usually of antagonism

When I think of anger, I think of abuse. The two are totally entwined for me. As a child, I saw the abusers' behavior as anger, not recognizing it for what it was. Abuse.

So I'm looking at anger right now trying to get a grasp on it as an appropriate and acceptable emotion. Trying to recognize the difference in anger and expressions of anger. Anger is not bad, but how we choose to express it may lead to negative, hurtful behavior.

It's syntax, but syntax is important, especially when I'm trying to unlearn and relearn basic life skills and understandings.


linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann Voskamp

Day 8 of 31

Three weeks before my son was born, I planned his funeral. 

Pregnancy was hard for me, and I've never known how much of that was abuse related and how much was just the vagaries of fate.

When I was pregnant with my daughter I developed pre-eclampsia late in my third trimester. They put me on bed rest and then induced me 2 weeks after my due date. I labored for 24 hours to no avail, and wound up having a c-section to deliver my beautiful red-headed 9 pound baby girl.

Throughout my pregnancy with my son there were all kinds of difficulties. Early bed rest. No heavy lifting. And inside my head was the question, "Why can't I do something as simple as pregnancy right?" 

That day I went to see the ob/gyn and he said don't do anything until this baby is born. So I went home, glad that I'd hired a college student to come and help with housework. She came that afternoon and I fretted while she cleaned my house and I did nothing but lay on the sofa. My daughter was 3 and as I picked her up, I felt a gush of water. I called the doctor and he said go straight to the hospital labor and delivery. I called my husband.

As we drove to the hospital, I told him if the baby died I wanted a funeral. He was a real person, and he deserved to be recognized as such. I was 7 months pregnant and this was 19 years ago. I didn't know what his odds were, but I assumed they were bad. And yet I was calm. I would handle this.

I spent the next 3 weeks in the hospital praying for my baby to be all right and wondering why I couldn't do things right. Why did I always have to screw things up and make drama?

When my son was born all those weeks later, it wasn't him they were worried about. It was me. I was in intensive care for a couple of days, and I railed at God to please let me live to care for these children. I wasn't scared of dying. I just didn't want to leave my babies without a mama.

Over 19 years later, I look back on that time and the first thing I feel is gratitude. My son is healthy and happy and away at college. He is strong, loving, and full of humor. When I wrap my arms around him I am still amazed.

But the second thing I feel is sadness. Sadness that I spent all those months of pregnancy worrying about what I was doing wrong. All those weeks sitting in the hospital berating myself for failing at something so simple as having a baby. 

The lasting effects of abuse.

But the final emotion I feel? It's joy. Joy for that beautiful baby boy grown into a fine young man, and joy for me that I have pushed through to the other side. Not perfectly, but with resolve to fight to the end to reclaim my life.


linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann Voskamp

Day 7 of 31

God of peace, dawn reminds us that your mercies are new every morning. You have been merciful to us despite our sin. Teach us such mercy. Open our eyes to see the violence we condone with our silences and with our consumption. We give thanks that repentance is the beginning of true conversion. Amen.  -- Common Prayer

And I think about mercy and forgiveness. These gifts bestowed on me, that I have the opportunity to bestow on others.

And then I think of "the violence we condone with our silences", and I know that silence is not the answer. To speak is the only way to teach and lead and show.

And so I speak.

And I work on understanding appropriate anger, and how to display it, while still offering mercy and forgiveness.

And it is a big calling. 

And I see the grace and beauty of not walking this path alone.


linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann Voskamp

Day 6 of 31

warning: adult content

I am 5 years old. My parents are out and have left my sister and me with babysitters -- an engaged college couple. He is pre-med and loves to write. All-American good looks with wavy, sandy hair, he dresses in the fashion of the day -- slacks and an Oxford cloth shirt. She is dark haired and pretty in a little dress. 

We are all in the living room about to watch tv. He asks if I want to see something -- just the two of us. Of course I do! He takes my hand and leads me to through the dining room and into my father's study. He is chatting and I'm listening, commenting, and excited about what he has to show me.

We walk around my father's desk and he asks me questions about things in the room. I point out favorite items and explain that we are only sometimes allowed to play in this room. 

Suddenly he slams me against the pine paneled wall. My face is pressed into the wall and his left arm is across my upper back. He leans in close and begins to say things to me in an angry sounding voice. Spittle comes off of his lips and lands on my ear and cheek. 

The the pain begins. Words I don't understand. He is doing things to me I can't begin to understand. Items from my father's desk that he is using to harm me. I think I am going to throw up and fall down -- neither one of which can end well.

I see the French doors and I will myself to go toward them. I open the door (so quietly) and go down the steps onto the patio. I walk across the yard and sit in the cool grass. It is very important not to look back at the house, so instead I focus my eyes on the fence covered in honey suckle, and I listen to the sounds of the neighbors coming and going. Voices and barking dogs soothe me as the cool of the grass soothes my pain.

And I wonder. How many times do I recount a story in my head or in sharing it with others before it loses it's power over me? Am I weak because it still causes my hands to shake and my heart to race and my breathing to quicken? Or am I only human that stories of horror and pain generate such strong emotion? Because I don't ever want to become jaded to pain and suffering.


linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann Voskamp

Day 5 of 31

Well I've made it to Friday, and we've talked about joy and writing and welcome and pain and self-doubt. All good things to talk about. Honest, open feelings. 

What I haven't mentioned is that a member of my congregation died suddenly this week (read the full story here). I didn't know her personally, but all week I've been hearing and reading about her strength and perseverance and love. She was married to a man who has been struggling with ALS for 26 years. She was the mother of 2 adult sons who have had their own struggles. She helped start and run an after school program for underprivileged kids (The Wayne Reed Christian Childcare Center). And now she is gone from this earth. But certainly not forgotten.

And I wonder at the strength of people who are struggling in this world, to take on bigger problems, willingly. Not to ignore their own struggles, but rather to embrace more for others. How do they do it? 

My answer is, it's a calling. We all have difficulties, tests, and trials in this life, of that I am sure. With some people it's obvious what they're fighting. Others of us not so much. 

This is what I do know -- God loves me. He put me here for a purpose, and He allows these trials for a purpose. If I stay in communion with Him and open my heart and really listen, I will find my calling -- my purpose in being in this place, at this time. It may not be big, but it is mine.

Blessings!

Every desirable and beneficial gift comes out of heaven. The gifts are rivers of light cascading down from the Father of Light. There is nothing deceitful in God, nothing two-faced, nothing fickle. He brought us to life using the true Word, showing us off as the crown of all his creatures. -- James 1:16b-18 (The Message)

linking up at imperfect prose on thursdays

Day 3 of 31

Today Lisa-Jo said write the story you know. And I think about how I've been trying to do that for a long time. Not that long ago I shared about it here.

When I think of the stories, fiction and nonfiction, that have moved me the most, they are rarely the stories of great beauty and romance. Stories that move me are gritty and tough, repetitive and full of struggle. Perhaps because they are so true. The human condition is not a pretty story, but a story of perseverance.

I keep trying to visualize the end of my story. When it's over and the abuse doesn't effect me everyday any more. I think that may be part of my problem. That's not the ending that will come. Maybe the end is more about me taking control of and accepting the impact the abuse has on my life everyday. 

My husband tells me not to feel bad for feeling bad. To get angry at the people who did this to me and toss all the crap right back on them. 

I'm just not sure how to do that. I don't want to do "confrontations".  I tried that approach with one and it didn't go well. One of the abusers is dead. Another I tried to contact, but she won't communicate with me. Honestly I don't want to talk with any of them.

So I think and write about my experiences to clear my head and I hope (and I pray) that by being open and honest about my own struggles someone out there is being helped to move beyond their own pain and seek help. 

And #&*% the abusers.

linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann Voskamp

Day 2 of 31

So Ann is writing about crazy joy. Her post today gave me a lot to think about.

I consider myself to be a joyful person. In general I try to see the good, find the humor, and enjoy the little things. But sometimes (often lately) all of that is made more difficult by the memories of abuse I carry with me.

I've had people say more than once, "It was a long time ago. You need to let it go", as if I am deliberately holding on to the pain. I have worked hard to understand what happened and not focus on the why, but accept that it wasn't my fault, and it shouldn't have happened.

But it's hard to connect. I stand in the foyer after services at church and I try to reach out and speak, but so many people rush by. I am alone although surrounded by good, caring people. And I don't know what I'm doing wrong.

I had a counselor tell me once, it would be easier for others if I had cancer. People know what to do with cancer, they don't know what to do with abuse. I'm glad I don't have cancer. 

So this is the real me. I am joyful at the sight of twin baby girls next to me during worship, but crying in pain as a little girl stands at the front and sings out purely, "Yes Jesus loves me".

We are all pain and joy. It's the blending that is so difficult.

linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann Voskamp

31 Days

Two of the blogs I read regularly are doing it. And I wonder about the benefit of following suit, all the while wondering about the topic to pick. Abuse? Recovery? Relationships? God?
I talked with my husband yesterday about the difference between whining and talking through difficult things. I'm still a little foggy, but it's becoming clearer I think.
So what could I write about every day for the next 31 days that would benefit both you and me? 
Maybe the answer is, whatever comes to mind on any given day. Lisa-Jo is writing about her life as a writer. Ann Voskamp is writing about crazy joy.
I can't make any guarantees about what will happen, but I'm going to share for the next 31 days. 
Buckle up, it could be a very bumpy ride.

Day #1 --
I'm eclectic. Anyone who's read my blog for any length of time knows that. I'm also insecure and full of self-doubt, but at the same time I am driven to write. I argue that it is to clear my own head, and that is true. But what is also true, is that I crave validation. Maybe everyone does. My need goes back to an abusive childhood where I was constantly denigrated. I want to trust in my own belief that I am a person of value. (All people have value because we are all made in God's image.) I know in my head that it is a good thing to share and talk and wonder, but my heart has difficulty following. I know others don't have it all together, but I have difficulty retaining that concept.

I started out by saying I'm eclectic. And I am, in decor and music and books and movies. But I'm also eclectic in emotion -- I was raised in the Bible belt and have the emotions and convictions of my conservative history. I was abused emotionally, physically, and sexually by numerous individuals, so I have all of the baggage that implies. But I have a master's degree and was raised by a minister/American literature professor who quoted Mark Twain more than scripture. I love to cook and crochet and read and watch crime shows and independent films. I like k.d. lang, Evanescence, Michael Buble, and James Taylor.

So what does this tell you about me and why does it matter?
It matters because I need to feel that I matter to someone out there. That the abuser was wrong when she said she could drown me in the well and no one would even miss me.
Would you miss me?


linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann Voskamp

August Joy Dare #2

"Enter the password: 'Thank you!" . . . Thank Him. Worship Him!

--Psalm 100:4

August 20th -- 3 gifts serving

1. housework

2. sharing in struggles

3. preparing my son to move

August 21st -- a gift straight, curve, turn

1. crisply made bed

2. a drive with my daughter

3. chicken on the grill

August 22nd -- 3 gifts in light

1. light found in scripture

2. light found in talking

3. light found in listening

August 23rd -- 3 gifts old

1. 27 years of marriage

2. antique hankies reminding me of love

3. time spent alone with my husband

August 24th -- 3 gifts moving

1. recovering from moving my son to college

2. arranging a freshly painted table and chairs

3. driving with my husband

August 25th -- 3 gifts fragile

1. emotions

2. chronic pain

3. wild flowers from the market

August 26th -- a gift cut, sewn, buttoned

1. fresh vegetables for a salad

2. comfort in stitches for an afghan

3. a denim jacket for the morning chill

Share at: a holy experience, one thousand gifts, Facebook, #joydare, #onethousandgifts

August Joy Dare #1

"Enter the password: 'Thank you!" . . . Thank Him. Worship Him!

--Psalm 100:4

August 13th -- 3 gifts green

1. grass watered by a late summer storm

2. the polka dot plant on my desk

3. sticky note reminders

August 14th -- a gift in a ring, curve, sphere

1. a new ring to remind me of good things

2. the arch of my arm as I swim laps

3. the beauty of blueberries

August 15th -- 3 gifts ugly-beautiful

1. recognizing and reconciling difficult things

2. improving from a virus

3. exhaustion from hard emotional activities

August 16th -- 3 gifts of family

1. getting to "choose" your family

2. laughter

3. understanding

August 17th -- 3 gifts in the morning

1. productivity

2. peace

3. kindness

August 18th -- a gift red, read, written

1. the hummingbird feeder

2. this blog

3. this post

August 19th -- 3 gifts in church

1. thoughts from Thomas Merton

2. old hymns

3. refreshment of my soul

Share at: a holy experience, one thousand gifts, Facebook, #joydare, #onethousandgifts

July Joy Dare #4

"Enter the password: 'Thank you!" . . . Thank Him. Worship Him!

--Psalm 100:4

July 24th -- 3 gifts of sand

1. like sand in an hourglass --

time alone with my son

2. feeling "sand" in my eyes I'm so tired

3. looking forward to a sandy beach

July 25th -- 3 gifts of endings

1. this last summer before they're both in college

2. my two weeks of extreme busyness

3. sleep deprivation

July 26th -- 3 gifts fresh

1. an unexpected fresh (new) car

2. a fresh start on time with the hubs

3. a new feeling of tranquility

July 27th -- a gift on vacation, at home, in relaxation

1. scuba diving at the rock quarry

2. alone time in the house with the hubs

3. milkshakes in the new convertible

July 28th -- 3 gifts of beginnings

1. the beginning of the last month before college starts

2. recognizing myself as a writer -- not just a would-be writer

3. watching the summer Olympics

July 29th -- 3 gifts together

1. pulling together to straighten the home

2. lunch with the kids

3. helping the neighbors

July 30th -- 3 gifts heard

1. birds chirping as my alarm clock this morning

2. my son playing guitar just for me

3. Olympic commentary --
all of these athletes are inspiring

Share at: a holy experience, one thousand gifts, Facebook, #joydare, #onethousandgifts

With Thanks to Ann Voskamp

7 Keys to Creativity

1. Quit trying to fit. Why try to squeeze all your extraordinary into ordinary?

2. God made woman to be a maker, to open her empty places and let life be knit from within her.

3. Creativity, it’s good theology; it’s what God did in the beginning.

4. When we stop fearing failure, we start being artists.

5. Don’t let the sun set till you’ve done one thing that sort of scares you.The only trees that ever grow tall keep relentlessly stretching into unknown territory.

6. Art, it’s the second person present indicative of the verb to be. Art is a way of being and when you make your life art — thou art.

7. You have to bury your fear in faith. Otherwise you bury your talents.

for her full post see Why Everybody Needs Make Art Everyday

July Joy Dare #3

"Enter the password: 'Thank you!" . . . Thank Him. Worship Him!

--Psalm 100:4

July 17th -- 3 gifts learned

1. forgiveness listening to my husband

ask for it from our children for being 

angry sometimes

2. patience as I deal with my own issues

and my daughter's

3. that no one's life is perfect

as watch so many others

struggle around me

July 18th -- 3 gifts musical

1. the joy of live music from

the James Taylor concert

last week

2. my iPod summer playlist

3. the soundtrack from
"City of Ember"

July 19th -- 3 gifts baked

1. apricot oat bran muffins

2. the frozen pizza my son made for lunch
that I can't eat because I'm getting ready for 
a colonoscopy!

3. 

July 20th -- a gift in light, dark, shadow

1. sunrise

2. sleep through the procedure

3. relieved exhaustion

July 21st -- 3 gifts of story

1. finishing a good book

2. watching a fun movie with my husband

3. writing about my experience

July 22nd -- 3 gifts understated

1. God's grace

2. My husband's love

3. afternoon naps

July 23rd -- 3 gifts high, low, far away

1. exciting plans

2. bittersweet plans

3. taking my son to register for college

Share at: a holy experience, one thousand gifts, Facebook, #joydare, #onethousandgifts

July Joy Dare #2

"Enter the password: 'Thank you!" . . . Thank Him. Worship Him!

--Psalm 100:4

July 10th -- 3 gifts in weakness

1. sleeping late because of bad dreams

2. too much chocolate

3. recognition that eating right/exercising
DOES make a difference

July 11th -- 3 gifts in jars

1. demerara sugar for my tea

2. A Jar of Summer

3. mayonnaise for my tomato and cheese
sandwich on rosemary/olive oil bread

July 12th -- a gift of life, growth, decline

1. a lovely steady rain

2. plants returning to the land of the living

3. exhaustion after a 1 mile swim

July 13th -- 3 gifts curled

1. my fingers around my morning

mug of tea

2. the vacuum cleaner cord as

my daughter completes the cleaning

3. my legs as I curl up on the sofa

chatting with old friends

July 14th -- 3 gifts yellow

1. the sunflowers at Whole Foods

2. one of the colors in my new

Blessing Basket

3. the circles in my tie dyed shirt

July 15th -- 3 gifts of stone

1. my Jizo statue

2. a zebra stone inadvertently broken

3. stepping stones made years
ago by my children

July 16th -- 3 gifts hanging down

1. my curly hair

2. wind chimes on my front patio

3. a ribbon on my magic wand

Share at: a holy experience, one thousand gifts, Facebook, #joydare, #onethousandgifts