A New Year's Treat!

Would you like to ring in the New Year with a very strange, one of a kind fashion accessory?

Well, just click here and check out the ever so fashionable "skin bags"!
http://www.skinbag.net/

Go ahead!

Click the link and check out the goods!

I dare ya!

PS--No human beings were harmed, or otherwise mutilated to create any of the products featured at skinbag.net! You can purchase your very own skin bag, vest, skirt, belt and face condom with a clear concience, knowing that this company's products are cruelty free!

Angelic Revelations

I've spent the evening playing with my four year old daughter's watercolors.

There is something so inviting about swirling colorful hues of blue and green onto a piece of 110 pound paper....

As usual however, my random water play didn't last too long. Before I knew it, I was engaged in the process of coaxing this winged beauty to reveal herself. Without my meaning to, I've somehow managed to capture her basic form; and, now I am using acrylic paints and India inks to pull forth the colorful details that lie hidden within the fibers of the paper.

There's something magical about Crayola watercolors. Just ask any four year old and they will tell you! Most grown ups have become inured to the mystery of color as it oozes, and swirls, and transforms itself!

Even I forget....

Thank goodness for my children!

They remind me that there are still colorful worlds hidden in the ordinary that are begging to be discovered! All I need to do, is pick up a piece of paper, wet down a pat of blue watercolor paint and start swirling my brush!

Rejected Patriotism

I made these Swarovski crystal embellished dog tags to sell this past summer at various craft shows. I truly believed that these sparkly flag tags would sell like hot cakes given that this was an election year and so many of our kith and kin are serving this country over seas.

Guess what?

I only sold two!

The price was right, believe me. I only asked $8.00 more than the cost of materials. When you consider that each tag takes an hour and a half to make, I'd say I was under selling.

Just last week I sold five more online. I guess I just needed to broaden my market.

Sometimes it sucks to be an artist and especially so when no one seems to appreciate my own particular flavor of art. But then, it's sometimes even harder to be an American in a country where the majority of our citizenry voted for four more years of increased poverty, war, environmental devastation, and discrimination (sanctioned by the Constitution no less).

Ahhh, but it is too early to rant about politics.

I need more coffee if I am going to discuss politics and make it a nice sweet mocha (for my disposition of course) purchased from Starbucks!

I am happy to say that I can still buy coffee from Starbucks with a worry free heart! Starbucks treats their employees well and they don't donate a corporate dime to the Republican war machine.

Want to know more about buying blue? Then click the link below!
http://www.buyblue.org/current_campaign.html

Oh, and did any of you happen to notice that Adam Levine, the cutie patootie from Maroon 5, was wearing a dog tag that looked remarkably similar to my own on SNL last night?

Adam if you are reading, drop me an e-mail! I'll custom design a dog tag for ya!

Lego Mania

Ugh!

My morning began at 6:00 a.m. with my two young sons arguing over legos.

What is so compelling about these brightly colored pieces of interlocking plastic anyway?

The darn things cost an arm and a leg. I know that much for sure!

I also know that legos are addictive. My 12 year old salivates over the lego sales catalogue like a good drunk in a liqueur store.

Maybe the lego company should be federally mandated to put some sort of warning stamp on all lego boxes/sets.

Warning: The Surgeon General has deemed all lego products highly addictive and financially draining. Lego products are known to inspire an increased incidence of territorial behaviors in male children that may result in verbal combat and physical violence. Purchase with caution.

Watch out you dastardly Lego Company!

This fatigued, battle weary mother has a mission and Lego, you're going down!

Never understimate the power of the penis!

This fine silver bead measures a mere 1 inch by 1 inch. It was a part of my fine silver series entitled, "The Faces of Humanity". I had a blast making this study in miniature, although it was not particularly well received by the fine arts community! Go figure!


Here's a snippet from a conversation with my husband this weekend.

"Guess what?" I asked.

"What?"

"Well," I replied, "Last week I put a picture of one of my penis bead magnets on my web blog and I had more hits in three days than I've had since I first started blogging."

"Really? And you are surprised by that?" he asked.

"Uhhhh yeah! I'm surprised."

With a directness and a simplicity known only to the male sex, he replies, "Jerri, never underestimate the power of the penis!"

OMG!

I laughed so hard that I snorted coffee through my nose.

That comment deserved a "coffee alert".

Damn it all man! Don't make me laugh when I'm nursing a mug of joe!

Ballerina Bliss!

Some nights are made for us to shine!

Last night, it was my daughter's turn as she danced her way into the hearts of hundreds of onlookers in her dual roles as Fritz and the Nutcracker in the Nutcracker Ballet.

How is it that my wonderfully sweet and slightly shy nine year old daughter can transform herself into such a self-possessed performer the moment her feet hit the stage?

She has always told me that she was born to dance. Even when she was very young, she was convinced that ballet was her "thing".

I have seen her dance in other recitals; but last night it became clear to me that dance truly delights this child's soul. While she was on stage, I saw no fear, not even a hint of stage fright. All I saw was pure joy in motion!

For an instant, seeing her made me wish I were young again. If only I were limber enough and thin enough to wear a leotard and tights! After seeing my daughter dance, it is all too easy to imagine the soaring freedom of a ballerina's gravity defying leaps!

She made me want to fly!

Brava my dear child!

Brava!

Mystery Gift

Does anyone out there desire a mystery gift?

Perhaps you know a teenager or young woman who needs a little something extra under the Christmas tree?

If so, please e-mail me.

This mystery gift features a pair of sterling silver french wire earrings with German glass accents in a lovely purply blue color. That's all I'm going to say, but I will add that this particular pair of earrings sold well at the summer art fairs I did.

This pair is the only one left and I have decided to "gift" it to the first person who asks.

Why?

Blame Jesus if you must.

Christ has given me so much over the past few years that I often find myself spontaneously desiring to give to others. Love is that way. Once a little love gets inside our thick hides it can't help but squirt out in other directions.

No, you don't have to be Christian to "qualify" for this gift. I'm an equal opportunity giver! Christ was too if you think about it.

So e-mail (delicadame@yahoo.com) and I'll have this to you before Christmas. I'll even throw in a little Merry Christmas gift card.

How's that for a deal? Hmmmmm?

Hope Flies!

Last March I began an art doll round robin. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the round robin concept, let me explain it to you.

This particular art doll round robin was comprised of 8 individuals including myself. Each person in our group created a doll torso out of any medium they desired. The only requirement was that the torso had to be three dimensional.

Once we had completed our torso's we mailed the doll, with a journal and a disposable camera to the next person on the round robin list. That person would then make additions to the both the doll and the journal, shoot a couple of pictures and then send the doll on to the next person. This process would continue until each doll cycled through all of the artists in the round robin and returned to the original artist in its completed form.

My doll began her journey as a sewn, stuffed fabric torso. Over these intervening months, she has acquired a face, wings, feathers, copper hands, lovely bead embellishment and a name. Her name is Hope.

She really is a fascinating little art doll and I just thought that it might be fun to share her with all of you.

If you have never tried a round robin but would like to, I highly encourage you to give one a try. I gained enormous insight into myself as an artist by my own participation.

A round robin is just a great way to learn about yourself and about the creative process of other artists! So the next time you hear of one that interests you, give it a whirl! It's a whole lotta fun!

X-rated?

Were you horrified when you looked at this image?

Did you giggle nervously and avert your eyes?

Maybe you laughed a good belly laugh?

Ahhh C'mon people! It's only an x-rated refrigerator magnet for Pete's sake! Shoot I'm not so sure it's even x-rated.

My 12 year old is reading the "Odyssey". I never would have thought that my 12 year old son would enjoy reading Homer's epic poem; but he does. I think he enjoys the battle scenes more than anything.

He did make one comment that I found mildly amusing. "You know Mom," he said this past weekend, "I really enjoy reading the Odyssey; but I sure could do without all of the porn."

Porn?

In the "Odyssey"?

I suppose I should investigate. It's been a long while since our community had a good, old fashioned book burning.

Burn, baby burn!

So what's my point? Well, I suppose that my point is this.

One person's classical literature is another person's porn; while one person's x-rated refrigerator magnet might just be another person's risque expression of magnetic whimsy.

Ok, so don't fill up my mailbox with hateful e-mails. I agree that child porn and bestiality are bad things. There are other things that I find equally odious and intolerable; but for today, the "Odyssey" and a penis bead magnet are not two of those things.

So relax! Scroll back up. Look at the magnet and have a good giggle! Then go find a copy of the "Odyssey" and settle in for a good read! I promise that neither activity will strike you blind!

Why Recovery?

Years ago, over a decade ago actually, my husband had a case which involved a mentally ill man who lived in a small high desert community.

The thing I most remember about this case, is that even after this poor man's dog had died, he would still attach a leash to Fido's collar and drag the dog's corpse behind him as he biked throughout his community on his old, rusted out Schwinn.

Wherever he would go, and whenever he would stop, whether it was to the grocery store or to the city library, this fellow would carefully tie his dead dog to the parking meters that sat all along the main street of his community.

I'm not sure why I was thinking about this particular man today. I suppose it is because I sometimes have days of my own where I feel as if I am dragging the corpses of old regrets and resentments, the corpses of bitter memories, as well as the corpses of loved ones whom I refuse to let go.

On those days, it's as if I'm peddling along in my own life, just as that man did in his own high desert community; and just like that fellow, I'm dragging all manner of the festering thoughts and behaviors behind me.

The regrets torment me. The resentments anger me. The bitter memories haunt me. The loved ones just smile sad, sweet smiles. And every time I stop to rest, or to eat, to work or to play....I make sure that I carefully tie each regret, each resentment, each memory and each beloved, to the same secure and stationary object.

I suppose dragging around one's painful memories, resentments and regrets is a sort of madness. Refusing to let go of loved ones, whether dead or alive is yet another kind of madness.

I'm certain that in my own way, I'm quite mad for tying myself to the very things that prevent me from living fully in my present and I suppose that I'm totally insane for dragging around the very things which disallow the possibilities of my future.

In the end you see, I'm not really all that different from the poor fellow who couldn't stop himself from dragging his dead dog through the streets. In fact, the only real difference between myself and my husband's former client, is that I'm well aware of what I'm doing.

My husband's client never really understood the stares, or the whispers, the tongue clucking or the disgusted looks that greeted him whenever he squeakingly appeared with his dead dog in tow. For him, his dog was still alive, running behind his rusty old Schwinn, with that lopsided, goofy gait that dogs sometimes have.

I, on the other hand do understand. I understand all to well that I sometimes choose to drag the dead and rotting pieces of my life behind me.

There is enormous pain in knowing that I've tied myself to the decay that doesn't belong with me anymore; but, therein lies my solution as well! Unlike my husband's client, I know that I must, and that I can let go. It's a simple process really: acknowledge, feel, release and heal.

This is what my recovery journey is all about. This is what I do in my recovery groups month after month. Tether by tether, I am freeing myself from the decay of my past to be transformed into the person God intends for me to be....a vibrant, unhindered and passionate woman!

I think we all sometimes tie ourselves to things that don't belong with us. Sometimes life itself ties them to us. Either way, we all have the power to choose whether or not we drag that wreckage of our pasts behind us. For myself, I choose to acknowledge, to feel, to release and to heal!

I choose freedom.

This is what recovery is all about, empowering ourselves and one another to live achingly vibrant, and passionate lives!

Why recovery?

Why choose anything less?

Got Soul?

Anne Sexton once wrote, "Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard."

It takes courage to put one's ear down to their soul and to listen hard. Most of us, myself included, have neither the time nor the inclination to listen to anything, much less the murmurings of our own souls.

These past few months, I've been reading and working through a study guide for Brennan Manning's book, "Abba's Child". Doing so, has inclined me to listen more closely to my own soul.

At first, all I heard was a roaring sound that resembled "white noise." To me, it was a sound that didn't make sense and that was displeasing to my ear. I was afraid to listen. I was afraid because I feared that all I would hear would be the nothingness of white noise.

In spite of my own cowardice, I persisted and I continued to listen just in case my own soul had something to say about me, or to me.

It has taken time for the white noise to settle; but settle it has. I can now vaguely hear soft whispers. They are whispers of tenderness, a tenderness that flows forth not as words; but as warm and soothing sounds for which there are no words.

I am beginning to understand that I need to take more time to listen, more time to discern what's real underneath the noise of my own life.

As I do so, I cannot help but wonder how it is that I have grown so out of touch with my own soul. How is it that the needs of this body, and the demands of this world have so completely closed me off from the very essence of my own being?

In the end, I suppose the "how" doesn't really matter. What matters is what am I going to do about changing things?

Me?

I think I'll follow Sexton's advice! I'm going to keep putting this old ear down close and listen hard!

The "New Colossus"!

The shock has worn away. America has spoken and this is what she has said:

President Bush,
Vice President Cheney,
We give you our tired, our poor,
our huddled masses yearning to breathe free.
We, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore
commit ourselves to four more years of
increased poverty,
education for the elite, health care for the wealthy,
a constitution infused with hate,
environmental devastation,
and tax cuts for the richest people in our nation.

Oh Mighty Ones, we give you our homeless,
and the tempest-tost.
Long may the lamp of your injustice
shine upon us!

Amen.

Chocolate Covered Insects?

Wow!

Aren't you just salivating at the prospect of trying a chocolate covered cricket or insect larva? My kids sure ate them up! They happily slurped and crunched their way into chocolate heaven.

Me? I wasn't about to eat one.....

Just imagine if you were the product control taster at the chocolate covered insect factory! How would you distinguish between a good chocolate covered larva and a bad one? Would it be the "ooze" factor?

Oh my goodness, I'm cracking myself up!

Time to sign off and get back to my insect eating family!

Why?

Why vote and does it matter anyway?

The sister questions of, “Why should I vote?” and “ Does my vote count?” are important and I have several responses.

Let me begin by responding to the first question. I believe that it is both my privilege and my duty as a citizen of this nation to exercise my right to vote. Thousands of men and women have suffered genuine deprivation, pain and even death to ensure that I would have this opportunity to participate in the democratic process as an informed voter. One way that I am now able to honor their sacrifice is by casting my ballot. At the same time, it is by voting that I am working to ensure that future generations will also enjoy the privilege of casting their own ballets.

I could discuss my opinions regarding proportional representation and whether or not this country is a genuine democracy until the cows come home. Whether I agree with the current standard of vote counting/ballet casting or not, whether I approve of the two party system or not, whether I completely approve of one political candidate’s platform or not; one fact is indisputably clear. Voting does matter.

If an individual desires to find a reason to vote that exists outside the confines of the current social and political debates which polarize this country, then I believe they must find that reason within themselves.

I personally believe that each individual vote does matter. Why? Because each individual matters! Moreover, I believe that one single individual can effect change on both the local and the global level (change for either humanity’s benefit or its detriment). History has proven this truth over and over again. Examples of this abound in even our most recent world history.

Ultimately, I vote because I matter. I vote because the dreams I have for this country matter. I vote because I believe I can make a difference. I vote because I understand that I do not live in a vacuum. My actions and behaviors have consequences; and the act of voting is no different. Voting does have consequences, just as choosing not to vote has consequences.

Voting matters and each individual vote matters.

So get out there and vote!

Q-tip Cutie!

Whatcha think?

Do you like this Q-tip cutie?

This is the face that I've added to another person's doll for a recent art doll round robin. This little doll face still needs her make up, but once I work my cosmetic magic, I will style her glorious wig and send her to the next doll artist.

Participating in this art doll round robin has taught me much about myself as an artist. I have been challenged to stretch and to grow in ways I would never have imagined.

I'm not rushing to sign up for a new RR however. It's a lot of work and some times dealing with anal retentive doll freaks fretting over their doll's exact location can drive me up one side of Venus and down the other.

Sheesh! Relax I say!

Pardon me, but I've just gotta take time to smell the roses and admire the q-tip cuties that come my way! Life's too short to constantly be nagging and bragging and acting like a complete nimrod!

Anal retentive nimrods? Now that's too funny!



Jerri

Self Portrait!

I've been painting.

The swirling colors of red, bronze and baby puke green ooze from their paint tubes and demand display on the canvas. What you see here is the beginning of my self-portrait...

I think that this painting already reflects the zombied, toxic waste kind of feeling that I have bubbling under my skin. I just feel....wasted. Not "drunk wasted"mind you; it's more of a "used up wasted".

I began this self portrait because I desire to give voice and vision to the under current of sorrow and self-loathing that seems to bubble up from within my soul. I am convinced that if I can just expose this part of myself to the light, healing will happen.

So I paint...and you know what?

I already feel better!

The Unfeeling President!

I detest the President.

I don't have the eloquence or the ability to adequately articulate my disdain for George Bush and the current administration; but there is someone who does.

Please go read E.L. Doctorow's essay entitled, "The Unfeeling President".
http://www.easthamptonstar.com/20040909/col5.htm

Doctorow articulates what I feel but am unable to express in words. I myself am beyond words. I am sorrowing for all that we, the American people have lost and may yet stand to lose under this administration.

Just click the link and read. It's worth the five minutes out of your day.

Just Kill It!

Ok, so I belong to a bead related e-group and the other day a woman writes in detailing how her Mom has died and how she promised her Mom that she would take care of her Mom's cat after her Mother's death.

Follow me so far?

Well then the writer describes how the cat is seriously psycho and has bitten her child, blah, blah, blah. The woman's next questions concern the pending euthenization of her cat. Should she put the cat down? How could she do that and still honor her mother's wishes.....blah, blah blah.

The responses so far from our e-group members have read something like this, "I love animals; but if one bites my kid, it's toast!"

Hmmmmm, here's a cat that has lost everything familiar. It's home is gone, it's human companion is gone and suddenly it is thrust into a new environment. There are kids and noises and other distractions......

The cat responds with biting and we all stand around saying, "Baaad kitty! Baaad kitty!"

Or worse yet, we respond with, "Just kill it! Kill it! Kill it!"

Am I the only one here that sees the insanity of this?

Can't anyone else see the obvious solution of finding an older person or couple who desire a pet companion and who might be willing to welcome this cat into their home?

Why are we so quick to respond with, "Just kill it!"?

"Just kill it!"

What a mantra for the modern world....

Metal detector uncovers a wealth of memories!

Tonite at dinner, my 14 year old asks, "How much does a metal detector cost?"

Surprised I replied, "Well, why do you ask?"

My daughter shoots back, "Because I think I want one for Christmas!

A metal detector? My 14 year old daughter wants a metal detector?

What thoughts swirl inside that amazing head of hers to incline her to desire a metal detector? When most other 14 year olds are asking for cd's, shoes, clothes and bling-bling, my darling daughter requests a metal detector?

Does she truly believe that there is still buried treasure in this tired, worn out world of ours?

I know the answer to that question because I asked my daughter, and guess what? She does!

How very blessed she is to be imbued with the belief that something wonderful lies hidden in the world around her! She may never unearth any worldly treasure; but I guarantee that the adventure of searching will provide her with a wealth of memories that most of us won't even dare to dream!

I don't understand why I occasionally forget that there is still mystery in the world.

I'm just grateful that all it takes is a 14 year old armed with a metal detector to re-ignite my old dreams of buried treasure!

Undecided?

Do you know which candidate you intend to vote for in this coming Presidential election?

How is it possible that anyone could still be "undecided"?

If you are (and it baffles me how you could be) go check out this website. It will give you simple, unbiased and factual data that contrasts and compares the last three administrations' numbers on important things like poverty, war spending, unemployment...stuff like that!

Even if you already think you know which candidate is going to get your vote, check this site out. It won't take you long, and the site is easy to navigate. Who knows, you might even be surprised by what you read there!

http://www.readythinkvote.com/index.html

If you aren't registered to vote, get your keester off the couch and get registered. Then when election day rolls around, bounce that behind of yours on over to the election polls and cast your ballot.

I'm guessing that more Americans will make beer runs, than will vote on election day.....

Maybe we should offer a free Budweiser with every ballot?

Hmmmm, that just might work!

Jerri

Two More Lost.

This morning, I woke up, I scanned the headlines on the front page of our local newspaper and I read, "2 Oregon Guardsmen Killed in Iraq" This brings Oregon's contribution to the American war dead in Iraq to 24.

24 lives lost. Gone forever. Dead.

I am horrified by the images that stream out from Iraq. I am horrified by the loss, the destruction and the death. Civilians and soldiers, warmongers and pacifists, all swirled together in one bloody picture of man's inhumanity to man.

Do you all see what I see?

Or do you hide your eyes under your hands and pretend?

As you drive your SUV, sipping your latte, does it even cross your mind that there are families wailing with grief over the loss of their loved ones who have fallen in this senseless and sanctioned violence we call war?

How much longer will we close our eyes to the devastation and the death that war inevitably produces?



How much longer?

Poor Me Syndrome!

Today, I have a raging case of PMS!

I'm not talking about a mild case either! I'm talking about a full blown, in your face case of PMS!

Now some of you might think I am referring to Pre-Menstrual Syndrome; but the PMS, I have is far different and much, much worse!

I'm suffering from what I like to call Poor Me Syndrome. I'm convinced that many people suffer from this ubiquitous form of PMS. I think we've all been around our fellow whiners and moaners enough to know that this is true.

So here I sit. I have food in my refrigerator. The bills are (mostly) paid. The kids are hale and hearty. My husband loves me. The sun is shining and all I can do is wallow about like some cantankerous pig in the mud of my own PMS!

Ugh! Or should I say, "oink"?

Just throw me a bone already!

Today, as my three year old sat at the breakfast table laughing and gnoshing on fried eggs and toast, she looked up with a delighted face and exclaimed, "Mommy, you are so funny!"

Somewhat startled I asked, "Ciara, why do you think I'm so funny?"

With the simplicity and directness so frequently found in three year olds she replied, "Because Silly, you make me laugh!"

I think what struck me as so extraordinary about this rather mundane conversation was the realization that outside of my immediate family, it is highly improbable that other people think I am the least bit funny.

I wonder why this is?

Is it because I am too afraid to expose this silly side of myself to others? Am I so concerned about what others might think of me that I won't risk revealing the humor that so magically transforms a three year old child into a 30 pound bundle of giggles and glee?

I know that I hide too much of myself from the outside world and that I miss much by doing so.

On days like this, I cannot help but wonder why I choose to walk this tightrope of tension between desiring to be known as I truly am and fearing the transparency that is required.

The answer to all this wondering is quite simple really; but it's one I choose to ignore. Until I am willing to admit to my own self-loathing and fear, I will never be completely free to be the woman I am meant to be.

If another person were admitting this to me about themselves I would want to cover them with my love and acceptance. I would want to tenderly whisper love into their life, hoping against hope, that some would filter through like osmosis and take root in their soul.

This is what I want and need for myself. My Christian friends tell me God has already done this for me. One would think I would know if God had suffused my spirit with His love; but I see little evidence of this supernatural event having occurred...

The question then becomes, do I need the evidence in order to believe? In this one instance I say "Yes!" Yes, I do need some verifiable proof. Would it be asking too much for God to throw this old dog a bone?

I'm asking you God, in full view of any who might actually read this blog, I'm asking. Just throw me a bone, ok?

Jerri

Letting go.

Letting go can be so freaking difficult.

I seem to have an unnatural instinct that compels me to hold on, to preserve, to maintain. I don't let go of anything very well.

I try to let go gracefully, but I rarely let go easily....

Today my youngest child went to preschool for the very first time. As I watched her leave, I smiled and waved and blew kisses; but inside my guts were knotted as I was forced to accept that my baby was moving further away from me and transitioning into the world at large.

It's a natural thing to venture beyond the influence of one's mother. It's healthy to seek the experiences that lie beyond a mother's reach. I know this to be true. I even celebrate this truth; but part of me mourns as well.

Like I said, I don't let go very easily. It's hard to let go gracefully; but I must. The alternative would be to smother the child that I love so profoundly.

So with a knotted gut and firm resolve, I do what every mother must eventually do.

I let her go.

Bloody Stool....

Lately, I've been an emotional mess. The events of this day have done nothing to help matters either.

Just a few moments ago, I entered the kitchen only to discover alarming amounts of dog feces and blood all over the linoleum. Clearly our little Lily beast has blood in her stool. I suspect that this is not a good thing and I'm certain that our visit to the vet later today will confirm that suspicion.

I also received a letter from my Grandfather today. It's been nearly a year since my Grandmother died. My Grandfather's loneliness and grief permeated his note. I was defenseless against the raw sorrow that I read there. His stark emotion rose out from the written word and pierced my heart.

I was left shaken and crying by his concluding lines "Bert passed at 10:30 pm on October 6th. God I miss her. I have to sign off now and cry."

In that one moment, all of the loss I've experienced this past year swept back over me in a wave of quiet despair.

I feel as though I cannot bear another loss. There have simply been too many losses this past year, and right now, one more might leave me completely and utterly bereft.

What will happen then? Will I simply slip away into my own nightmarish world of sorrow and grief?

And if that should happen, what then of my Grandfather? Who will bear witness to his pain and suffering?

What strange questions on such a lovely day.....

Screaming Hearts!

Do you suppose that it is possible for our hearts to scream?

I'm convinced that mine has and does....

I've heard it's peeling scream in the midst of my own grief. I've heard it screaming in righteous anger for abused children. I've heard it scream out to God for comfort and peace...

Today my heart is too tired to scream. Like the day before, I seem lost in my own weariness. I'm tired dammit! Not that anyone cares; but it feels good just to say it.

By the way, did I mention that I'm tired?

Jerri

Wanna be your hands!

There's a song stuck in my head this morning. It won't leave me alone. It just keeps playing and playing...

Several lines go like this, "I wanna be your hands! Wanna be your feet! I want to go where you send me! Go where you send me!"

For those of you who don't know, this is a Christian song and it's speaking of the singer's longing to serve God. I've mentioned in other posts that I'm one of those "second rate" kind of Christians. I'm the kind of Christian who openly admits that God doesn't fit into a nice tidy box. I'm the kind that wrestles and questions and wonders.

Ahhh, but getting back to the tune...

When I hear this song I cannot help but wonder, "Does God really give other Christians roadmaps for their lives? Do they really know when and where God is sending them? Do they really understand what it means to serve, to be the hands and feet of Christ?

I think that there are some us in the world, who do believe that God will conveniently plunk secret spiritual roadmaps into our laps. George Bush seems to be such a man and some of the Christian right seem to think he's such a man.

George Bush also seems to think it his mission is to save America by invading foreign soil. Bush certainly has no qualms about sending this nation's sons and daughters to die on foreign soil. He's rather bold about sending others, don't you think?

Does Bush have any idea what it means to serve this country? I'm not sure that our president has a clue about what it means to serve. He may want to "help"; but helping is a relationship of inequality. It implies one person is stronger, reaching down to lift up another. It has been my profound experience in helping others that I sometimes rob them of more than I give by helping in the first place....

Serving on the other hand, well serving is a relationship of equality. It is about bringing out into the world for others, all that is whole and healthy in ourselves. Is this what our politicians are doing? Are they truly serving?

If I were able to ask all of our declared Christian congressmen and women just one two fold question, that question would be it, "Are you truly serving and if so, whom are you serving?"

I wonder what they would answer, if they answered at all?

Jerri

Om!

"In the beginning was the word...For the Hindus & Buddhists, Om is the primordial sound, the first breath of creation, the vibration that ensures existence."

I need a sound that ensures my existence today. I feel out of touch with the ordinary and lost to the extraordinary. It's as if I need to focus all of my energy on simply being.

I wonder if quietly intoning "Om" will help?

Jerri

The mystery of DNA.

How do you explain the mystery of DNA?

I was confronted with that question at 7:30 this morning when my six year old son walked up and asked, "Mom, I've been wondering. If it takes a sperm and and egg to make a baby, do I still have your egg and daddy's sperm inside me?"

Try answering that question for a young child before you've had the chance to infuse your own biological system with caffeine!

I love it when my children wonder about the the world around them, as well as the world within them.

Through their eyes, I've been given the rare and unique opportunity to appreciate and to admire the miracle of life over and over again. I've always considered the miracle of birth as one of my most profound experiences...but I think it is in raising children that I have truly experienced the miracle of life.

Jerri
PS--Paul Thiessen created the DNA graphic and has graciously allowed me to use it here in my web blog. I would be remiss if I did not mention his website: http://www.chemicalgraphics.com/paul/DNA.html

Hop on over and give his website a gander! You will see some wonderful images and all are available for purchase in poster form!

Second Rate Christian?

I've always had the feeling that I'm a second rate kind of Christian.

I don't understand God the way others do. I don't talk to God the way others do. I don't experience Him the way others do. I just kind of flounder around and reach for Him as best I can. Sometimes I don't even do that, sometimes I just flounder.....

Right now, if you were to ask me how I would describe my spiritual life, I would tell you that I am currently experiencing an electrical short in my spiritual wiring. That's certainly the image that comes to my mind when I consider my spiritual life. I feel like I'm one of those downed power lines that hisses and spits and sparks all over the place. I feel cut off, and disconnected, and angry.

I do not like how this disconnected feeling forces me to look inward and confront my own failures, anxiety and self condemnation.

I have an intense aversion to looking upon my own flawed soulscape.....and yet this is precisely what I find myself compelled to do. Moreover, I feel compelled to do this in God's presence and I am afraid. What if God doesn't see me through the eyes of His perfect love?

Somewhere, deep within my spirit, there is a part of me that does not waver between belief and unbelief. It exists as a quiet rustling and a gentle murmuring, which says to me, "Fear not Jerri. God loved you before, He loves you now and He will love you always."

I suppose that some might call this "faith"; but I don't feel the need to name it. Right now, I just have the desire to believe it, and do you know what?

I think that I do.

Jerri

Healing made simple?

Nothing profound to say today.

Just a little quote to ponder, and perhaps apply to your own life!

Healing may not be so much about getting better, as about letting go of everything that isn't you - all of the expectations, all of the beliefs - and becoming who you are
-- Rachel Naomi Remen

Sounds awful simple don't you think? Do you suppose it really works?

I'm thinking it just might be worth the try!

Jerri

Coffins Costco Style!

You will never guess what I've just learned! Costco is now selling coffins! Yes, you read correctly, coffins!

Hmmmm, don't believe me?

Click the link and read for yourself!
http://www.npr.org/features/feature.php?wfId=3860056

Am I the only one who thinks it is strange for Costco to now begin selling coffins?

I'm sorry, but doesn't Costco get enough of our money while we are alive?

I shudder to think that Costco's next traveling trunk show might feature their economical, yet super glam coffins....

Of course, my understanding is that Costco won't be selling coffins in their warehouse style stores anytime soon.

Thank goodness I say! I'd hate to be reaching for my jet fresh fuji apples and accidently bump my head on the coffin display!

Jerri

Race For The Cure

The other day, my six year old son and I were watching tv. After viewing a commercial about "Race for the Cure" which is a 5 K run/walk held all over the United States in an effort to raise breast cancer awareness and money, my son looked at me and asked, "Mommy, can men get breast cancer?"

I told him that yes, sometimes men get breast cancer too.

He then asked, "But Mommy how can men get breast cancer when they don't have any breasts?"

What followed was a brief anatomy lesson, that I'm sure was only partially understood because as I mentioned words like "tissue" and "areola", he would look confused and ask for clarification. At one point, we even pulled up his shirt to use his own body to help explain how even though men and women's bodies appear to be different; they are in actuality, very similar.

On a very basic and fundamental level, we are all similar. We each experience the same response to painful stimuli (emotional or physical). Disease and illness don't discriminate and are equal opportunity destroyers. After all, once the common cold gets its viral hooks in you, no one escapes the ensuing snot fest.

I suppose it is in understanding our sameness, that I fail to understand why the human race seems so determined to destroy itself by perpetrating horrible acts upon itself. Mass genocide, ethnic cleansing, war, child abuse, murder, rape, pedophilia, starvation, female genital mutilation, theft, assault, racism, torture...this list could probably run for pages.

We are nothing, if not ingenius in the ways we devise to torment both ourselves and one another.

I just don't get it...

Do YOU?

Jerri
PS--For more information on "Race for the Cure" please visit this link!
http://www.komen.org/intradoc-cgi/idc_cgi_isapi.dll?IdcService=SS_GET_PAGE&nodeId=298

Let Me Out!

This summer I have been locked in a constant state of inner turmoil.

I vacillate between believing that I am the most evil person on the planet and thinking that maybe I'm fairly groovy for a fat, middle-aged mother of five. This thinking seems to mirror my opposing beliefs that God is imminently pleased with me on the one hand, and that He desires to chop me off at the knees on the other.

All of this inner angst is further pricked by the fact that I feel both constrained and tortured by the choices I have made throughout my life.

I feel constrained by my decision to marry and to create a family. I am bound by the demands these relationships present me; yet all the while I am tortured by the many missed opportunities to make a difference in the lives of others.

I am constrained by the city, the neighborhood and the home I have chosen to abide: and yet, I am hopelessly tortured by my own indifference and unwillingness to choose differently.

Deep inside myself I hear this persistant voice demanding, "Let Me Out!"

No, I don't want out of my marriage; nor do I want out of my role as mother. I don't even necessarily want out of the neighborhood where I currently reside.

What I want is for the real me be free. I want the strong and loving woman I know that I am to assert herself and to be the caring (both self-care and other-care) empowered person she truly is.

What I want is for the fear, the self-doubt and the self-loathing to remove themselves, or at the very least to loosen their grips on my soul, so that I might break free of them.

What I really and truly want is to fully grasp the enormity of God's love for His children and for me. Above all things I desire to claim and to live His love out loud!

I hate this process of discerning what it is I truly want from life. It always forces me to give a brutal and honest assessment of myself. I frequently don't like what I see. To expose all of my spiritual warts, my physical blemishes and my emotional scarring is enough to strike the sighted man blind.

One day I hope to answer that persistent voice within, and then instead of hearing "Let Me Out!", with my own lips I shall joyfully cry, "Free at Last!"



Jerri

The Falling Months!

This summer is rapidly drawing to a close. I can feel it in the shortening days, see it in the changing leaves, and smell it in the air. Funny how we really don’t need calendars to tell us these things, isn’t it?

Right now, we are in an in between time. By that I mean the air is still hot and sticky, but already the leaves on the trees are beginning to blossom from green into orange and crimsom hues.

Soon, the leaves will have completely transformed themselves and they will begin to fall. At first one will slowly drift down, followed by another; and then, as if by magic, they will begin to drop in soft waves that undulate with the Fall breeze.

I find that my own life often mirrors the seasons. Like these late summer leaves, I feel as though I am in an in between place. No longer young, but not quite over the hill, I too am transforming pieces of my life.

Slowly, one by one, I am letting go of my old habits, as well as the self defeating thoughts and behaviors that no longer serve me in my present life. It's a painful process at times and truthfully, I fear to see myself naked and seemingly barren, like the trees themselves shall soon be.

As I begin to transform my old defensive habits, as I begin to let go of the resentment, and as I begin to release the haunting fears that have dominated my life, what will remain? Who will I be then?

Hmmmmm, just who will I be then? I wonder.....

Jerri

Disturbing News....

Every now and then I will read something in the news that is genuinely disturbing to me.

Perhaps you know the kind of disturbing I mean.

It's the kind of "disturbing" that seems to stick with you for a few days. It's the kind of "disturbing" that you feel in your gut before you even realize you are thinking about it in your head.

Here, I have a good example. Go read this story.
http://www.wftv.com/newsofthestrange/3643877/detail.html

Did you read it? Did it disturb you?

Wasn't there anyone in this woman's life who cared that she was living in filth and literally becoming "one" with the couch? What an ignoble and inhuman way to live; much less to die.

Do you suppose that there might be someone like this existing in your neighborhood? Do you even care?
I do care.

That others might not, disturbs me even more....

Jerri

Summer Colds, Soul Whispers and Denial....

I'm sick today.

Yesterday I tried to pretend I wasn't ill. Don't ask me why I sometimes think if I just pretend hard enough, whatever is wrong will just disappear! Unfortunately, denial is a futile endeavor. No amount of pretending is going to make this sore throat go away....

Is there anything worse than a summer cold? (This is a rhetorical question...of course I know there are things which are a thousand times worse!)

The one good thing I will say about having a cold, is that it slows you down.
Sometimes I get to spinning so wildly out of control in my daily life, that it takes something like a cold to slap me into stillness.

There's much to be said for stillness. I myself have been frightened by it of late. I'm hearing too many quiet whisperings inside myself when I'm still. Whisperings that are demanding life changes I'm not prepared to make.

So, I'm doing to the whisperings what I did with the cold. I'm pretending they aren't there. Eventually, as with the cold, the day will come when I shall no longer be able to pretend, or ignore or deny.

Stay tuned...perhaps when that day comes, I'll share the whisperings with you!

Jerri

Life itself is the proper binge!

If I could go back and relive any age, I think I would choose to be three again.

Why, you might ask? Well, have you ever watched a three year old?

Only a three year old knows how to properly marvel at a spider web.

Darn near every three year old still thinks they can fly!

A three year old intuitively understands that their Mother is the most amazing creature on earth....and all because she knows how to turn their clothes right side out!

Three year olds are also some of the most authentic artists of our world, because they haven't yet forgotten how to draw pea green skies and purple cows.

Julia Child once said, "Life itself is the proper binge." I think three year olds live that truism from moment to moment in their amazing, young lives.

Somewhere along the way, we grownups have forgotten how to be awestruck by life itself, and try instead to fill it with cars, and jewelry, and houses,and designer duds, and trophy wives....

Ohhh, how thrilling it would be to dive off the living room couch and really, really believe that I could fly!

Yes, I do believe that given the opportunity I would love to view the world once again through three year old eyes !

Jerri

Living out Loud!

What does it mean to live out loud?

I think it means many things to different people.

For too many years I've been living in the shadow places of my heart. I've pretended peace in the midst of turmoil. I've pretended joy in the midst of sorrow. My real feelings have always been hidden deep inside and lived solely in the shadow places of my inner being.

The time has come to live out loud, and in full view for all to see. It's going to be messy at first, and uncomfortable at times; but this little jailbird (who's really not so little) is breaking free!

You are welcome to join me on this journey...or not! Your choice!

Adios and LOL! (That's, Live Out Loud!)

Jerri