A Few Friday Quotes

"Earth's crammed with heaven, and every bush afire with God; But only he who sees, takes off his shoes - The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries."
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

"Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius - and a lot of courage - to move in the opposite direction."
- Albert Einstein

"I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."
- Jesus Christ

I didn't have much to say today so thought I would post some quotes I have hanging on my cube at work.

Mama's Wig

Mama hated her wig. She found it to be hot and itchy and not at all the thing for her. I really should preface this with Mama’s penchant for going against popular fashion conventions.

Sometime during my pre-teen years, Mama acquired the ugliest knit winter hat you ever saw and made it her favorite.

It had stripes of colors—red, black, yellow, white—going around and leading up to a red yarn ball on the crown. It wasn’t a skull cap; the kind you pull down on your head and fold up the end. It was more like a biker-mama hat with a small brim only knit and striped. She loved that thing—we, her children, hated it.

All through my years of junior high and high school, she wore it. Every year at Christmas, we would buy her a nice, conventional hat, scarf, and glove set. Every year she thanked us and wore it at least once. Then, it was back to being biker-mama.

As much as I hated that hat and hated her to wear it, I could instantly spot her in the stands cheering me on while I performed in the marching band. I always felt a little calmer after I’d see “The Hat.” Like all was right with the world, Mama was there and she had not changed.

During my senior year in high school, Mama was diagnosed with leukemia. Her doctor’s started her on chemotherapy. She suffered all of the usual side–tiredness, depression, and of course, hair loss.

Her hair came out in little bits and clumps. Eventually, she had only a few strands left. At home she didn’t bother covering her head. When she was going to work or church, she usually wore a bandana or a scarf.

One day, one of her friends gave her a wig. It looked pretty much like her hair—kind of an auburn red, short, and wavy-curly. She started wearing it to church and to work rather than the scarves and such.

I got home from my sophomore year at college in time to attend my sister’s end-of-year band banquet. This was a dress up affair and so Mama wore her wig.

We were in the middle of our dinner when my brother looked up at Mama and said, “Mama! Your wig is sideways.” Then, Mama just swirled it around on her head until no one knew which way the front was. We all laughed and had a good time with Mama’s Sideways Wig.

The next month Mama collapsed and my sister and aunt rushed her to the hospital. She had a stroke a few days later and died.

The night she died, Daddy, Amy, Leslie and I stayed up talking about what we wanted for her funeral. Daddy asked if we wanted to bury her in her wig. He hardly got the question out before all three said “No, she hated that wig.” So, we buried her sporting her almost-bald head.

My mother was unconcerned with convention. She went her own way. I like to think I go my own way, too. I hope as I get older, I continue to "come into myself" and be the person God made me to be. When I am buried, I want to be buried sporting my true self.

Sodden Saturday

Sounds bleak--but it's not, really. It's been raining off and on all day and it is just wonderful! The grass has pretty much been crunchy since August. Besides, I took advantage and gave myself a lazy day.

I just finished a Dorothy Gilman book called Thale's Foley. Very good story. Ms. Gilman writes the Mrs. Pollifax series of mystery/spy books. Mrs. Pollifax is a retired widow who decided to do something with herself and so, went and volunteered at the CIA--something anyone would do, I'm sure. Thale's Foley is less of a mystery and more of just a story.

I found it at Half-Price Bookstore, my most favorite bookstore in the whole wide world (Amazon.com is my second favorite.) I think I might head over there this evening making this a most decadent day!

I went to visit Granny this afternoon. She's doesn't seem to be doing too good. She broke her hip for the second time a few weeks ago and is on souped up pain medication. If you pray, I would appreciate your prayers for her. Her name is Pauline Pullen.

I halfway watched (I was reading my book, mostly) this show today. It was something about Muscle Cars on Spike TV. I've about convinced myself I ought to find myself a fixer-upper. The only flaw in that plan is my lack of funds to buy one, they use an enormous amount of gas that is only getting more and more expensive--oh, and I'm not interested in learning to fix up cars. This would be a time when it would be handy to have a car-savvy boyfriend or my sister and brother-in-law (who is car-savvy) to live closer. So, given all of that, I guess I'll stick to my little Civic.

I'm going out to dinner with one or two friends and I'm going to start another book other than that, I've written about all the fun stuff for now.

The Rosary Maker

My Rosaries are not the usual Rosary—they are knotted rather than chained. I am not the usual Rosary maker—I’m a Protestant rather than a Catholic. Aside from all of that, I make beautiful Rosaries.

I began making Rosaries accidentally. I had gotten interested in making beaded jewelry—you know the kind like is in Robert Redford’s Sundance Catalog. And, actually, that catalog is why I got interested in the jewelry in the first place.

I bought beads and wires and clasps and all the accoutrements for jewelry crafting. I made necklaces and bracelets—I pretty much have stayed away from earrings, I’m not so good at the wire work. I decided that I wanted to make myself a pearl necklace but before I could do that I needed to learn to make the knots that go between the pearls.

I ran across a web page that had free jewelry patterns and one of those patterns just happened to be a hand-knotted Rosary. I thought to myself that would be a great way to learn to knot and I would have a gift for my Protestant-Catholic friend, Irene. I call Irene Protestant-Catholic because she was raised Catholic and says she will always be Catholic but she felt the need to be baptized and did so in a Protestant church.

The pattern called for 6mm and 8mm Lapis Lazuli round beads—these are lovely blue beads. To me, they look like little bitty earths as seen from space, where the clouds are all swirled over the blue of the ocean and the green/brown of the land—and 4mm clear cut-glass beads and 12 crystals. I found them on ebay.com and in a local bead shop. I got the string and a needle and some glue. I got the "bead tips", a center and a crucifix. I purchased an awl-type tool for tightening down the knots. I gathered information on the correct way to tie and tighten the knots to make them even. After all of that I was ready to start.

I measured out the length of the string I needed, strung the needle and doubled over the string to tie a knot. I got it all prepared and began stringing the beads in the pattern and order required for the Rosary. I got no more than 6 beads strung and I could tell this was going to be really pretty.

This first Rosary I made took probably four hours to complete. I was completely absorbed by the process—count the beads, string the next one on, wrap the string around two fingers, run the needle back through, use the awl to snug the knot down to the bead; string the next bead. I continued the stringing through the five decades of the Rosary.

I finished the five decade Rosary. It was truly beautiful. The blue Lapis with the clear cut-glass was stunning. The string and knots gave it fluidity and the beads heaviness not felt in a chained Rosary with wooden beads. The Rosary had a very satisfying feel.

I put the Rosary in an organza gift bag I had purchased just for it and made a lunch date with my friend Irene.
Irene and I sat down to our lunch. Before we began to eat I gave her my gift. I told her it was her early birthday present. I couldn’t wait for her actual birthday because I was so excited for her to have it.

She opened the bag and pulled out the Rosary. The Rosary slowly unfolded itself out of the confines of the bags. It hung from Irene’s hand with the crucifix gently swaying against her arm. I began to explain how I came to make it for her until I looked at her face—she had tears in her eyes and goose bumps on her arms. I knew, then, I had made and given her something very special.

A friend of mine in my Wednesday night Bible study found out that I make Rosaries and asked that I make one for her to give as a Christmas gift for a dear Catholic friend of hers. I made this one with pretty little white glass beads with little pink roses fused into the glass set off with pink crystals. This one, too, turned out lovely.
She gave the Rosary to her friend and pretty much got the same reaction I did from Irene. Since that time her relationship with her friend has blossomed.

Another one I made I used hematite beads with blue crystals. The hematite is a charcoal gray metallic looking bead said to possess healing qualities. I decided I’d give it to my hairdresser who is a lapsed-Catholic. I had hoped that perhaps she would begin to heal her relationship with God through my gift.
I gave it to her when I was in next to get my hair cut. She almost started crying and her face turned beet-red. She thanked me with a big tearful hug.

The most recent Rosary I made I used Agate and Jasper. These are two very earthy looking beads. These look like red cliffs you might see in a picture of the desert. I gave it to another lapsed-Catholic friend of mine who was finding his way back to faith. He did begin to cry.

I really didn’t understand about what I was doing when I decided to make that first Rosary. I wanted to learn to make good knots and thought it would make a nice gift for my friend. I realize now, in making this "icon" and giving it to my Catholic friends, I have been building "religious" bridges to them. I am honoring and respecting their faith and the tools of their faith and giving myself space and time to ponder prayer.

We Protestants shy away from using icons in anyway for fear of the icon becoming the "thing". We American Christians shy away from anything that looks as Eastern as meditation does. However, we are admonished in scripture to meditate on God’s word. We are shown by Jesus the importance of spending "vast" amounts of time in prayer. I have begun to think, with a little change to some of the prayers, praying the Rosary would be very helpful to my walk of faith.

Today's Update

OK, so weekly is not really going to work out for me. One of my friends has already admonished me for being a little bit behind on my updating habits. So, as I am not ready to post the article I'm "working" on, I will write a bit about the antics of my chickens.

You've read where I got the hen/rooster safely delivered to my cousin's and a new hen deposited in my little flock. A few days after I made The Switch, I noticed two of my chickens had awfully conspicuous tail feathers. Long and flowing and very pretty. Then, later I noticed how these two chickens had larger combs and wattles than any self respecting hen would sport. Shortly thereafter, I heard a crow and knew that, in fact, I had two real roosters on my hands.

One of them is mostly a Rhode Island Red--we'll go ahead and call him Red for short. He's "mostly" RIR becuase he has green tail feathers. RIR's are true to their name and are red all over, certainly they are never green. The other rooster is an Americauna--we'll call him Bob for want of any more suitable name. Bob is beautiful--he isn't really very smart, though. Of course, it is difficult to tell if he is any less smart than the average chicken. Chickens have little pea-chicken brains and those brains work about as good as a pea.

One Saturday a few weeks ago, the whole flock (two hens and Bob and Red) escaped the confines of their cozy yard and ran free in the backyard. They were quite proud of themselves having taken advantage of the gate coming open. I let my dog Maxine out to do what dogs do when they need to go out and Red took exception to her intrusion into his paradise.

Red circled the other three, packing them into a tight group and left Bob in charge of the girls while he stood guard between them and the Monster Dog. When Red felt Maxine had come too close to his flock, he charged at Maxine then did a little war dance--he stretched one wing down to the ground then circled around it, daring Maxine to come closer, I guess.

Finally, he'd had enough and decided just to chase Maxine off. There's really nothing more funny than watching a chicken run, except perhaps watching a chicken running after a dog three times its size. Maxine was unaware that Red was courageously sending her on her way until she spotted him out of the corner of her eye and turned around to face him down. Red sensed that he'd met his match cowered down and backed off, until Maxine abandoned her temporary curiousity about him and ran off. At that moment Red decided to claim the victory, and did his little war dance again. I'm sure that in their little hearts, the hens were swooning over his bravery. Bob was still there just hiding behind the girls.