Ramblings

Ramblings--

My mind is dry.  No matter how I try to connect words into sentences, most words remain disconnected, wandering around in my mind trying to find a resting place.  I do that frown that pulls the eye brows down and makes wrinkles appear much sooner than they should.  Think, I tell myself.  Think and extract those thoughts that are tumbling around in the brain.  It is all to no avail.  Thoughts I desire to share will not appear.

Some say this is writer's block.  Could be.  However, I believe it goes much deeper than writer's block.  It goes to the heart and soul of all that has and is happening in the world today.  Sometimes words aren't enough.  That seems to be where I am at this point in time.  So much to share yet unable to share.  I feel the need to speak, to raise my voice and scream why.  Why?  What is accomplished when acts of violence shatter lives?  How is humanity made better when those who have grudges or disagreements with others turn to violence in order to even the score?  Remember when people could talk through their differences?  Maybe retain their beliefs but gain a little understanding of others?  I don't understand.  I simply don't understand.

For sure we have all been upset with another person.  We have refused to speak or spend time. We have chosen to keep our distance.  All of these behaviors and more speak to the art of care. Yes, care.  We have given ourselves time to work through our own prejudices.  In taking time and not attacking, we are showing a great deal of care.  We don't have to agree with everyone.  What we do have to do is refuse to be drawn into the world of hate that explodes into our living/family rooms from endless news casts.  We can turn the channel.  We can read a book or visit with a friend. We can take a meal to someone who is sad.  We can meet with others whose beliefs are so different from ours in an effort to gain understanding.  We can be a bit more open to life.

Actions like these require time.  Time to sit down and listen.  Time to refrain from blame in a conversation. Time to think.  This presents major challenges to our present world.  We want it all now.  Right this moment.   That old term we used to use for children-instant gratification.  Here's the thing about that.  Had we taken a moment to think, we might have made a different, dare I say better, choice.  Time is the one thing we seem to lack.

We fill our lives with activities.  We race from one to the other.  If we can say we are so busy when someone asks about our lives, we believe we have arrived.  Busy is the "in" word. And it is certainly true.  We are busy people.  We have children involved in activities that keep us racing from one event to another.  We have jobs and home and friends and family.  All good things that fill life with memories.  Yet, is it remotely possible that we have lost something amid all the noise of our lives? We simply cannot find the time to sit and listen.  To truly try to understand another point of view or life style that might be different from ours. There it is again.  That aggrevating word-time.  It pulls us up short.  Would someone's life have been better had we had time?  Would our own lives be enriched had we taken time to simply be?  Frustrated with myself over time I have wasted.

It is past time for frustration.  It is time for action.  What action, you ask.  That is your decision.  And mine.  If I know someone needs a listening ear yet refuse to be there, I have missed a chance for a blessing.  I have missed the opportunity to practice my faith in a world that truly needs love and care. Do you believe that a simple smile can change a day?  A moment?  I do.  There have been times when all I desired was human contact.  And when a stranger smiled or opened a door for me, my spirit relaxed a bit.  Caring for others is often just that simple.

A few days ago a friend sent a text telling me of a tragedy that resulted in a death.  She wanted to know if she should go to the house and see the family since she is not a "best friend."  I told her to go.  Grief doesn't care if you are best friends.  People filled with grief need others.  She asked what she might take.  I suggested drinks.  Water, soda, etc.  She put drinks in a cooler with ice and went over.  She later thanked me for 'nudging' her to make that trip immediately.  We think too much before we reach out.  Maybe because we are trying to be careful about another's privacy.  Trying to allow them time when what they desire is a caring spirit.  Caring for others is so personal.  Each of us have so many opportunities.  Think of them as golden moments that allow us to touch another life.  And in return, ours is touched, too.

I fear this is a bit of a ramble.  Going from one thing to another.  It is the best I can do at this point in time.  The fact that any words found their way to this page astounds me.  My soul hurts for all those who died or were injured in Florida.  My heart is broken for the family of the little boy at the water's edge.  My spirit weeps for injustice wherever it appears.  That is the most I can write about those tragic events.  It is too painful to see other's hurts.

What to take away from this?  Not sure.  I will leave that up to each of you.  May we all wallow in our own thoughts and beliefs.  May we question.  May we hold a banner if holding a banner seems right.  May we be available.  May we listen well.  May we withhold blame and reach for understanding.

I am tired of thinking.  Blessings to each of you.

Thoughts on Shop Ownership

Thoughts on Shop Ownership--

What are the good things about having a shop?  There are many.

Meeting new people and making new friends tops the list of shop ownership.  Every time the door opens is another opportunity to enjoy a few minutes visiting and assisting someone in their quest to make their home the best it can be.  We visit about style.  We talk about color.  During these discussions I receive information that will help me when I shop.  Maybe they make a purchase.  Maybe they don't.  My hope is they will add  my shop to their list of favorites and return with friends.

Another perk of shop ownership is seeing friends again.  Life moves all of us.  We move away. We lose contact with people we have known for years.  The shop is a reason to reconnect.  To visit again. To learn what is happening in the lives of people who shared our space once upon a time.  It is a time to laugh together or share a tear because of loss.  What joy when those from our past walk through the door.  We smile and hug and talk.  A precious time.

Of course, my hope is that items in the shop find a new home.  I carefully select each item.  Only those things that I would allow in my home come to live in the shop.  Perhaps this is not the most professional way to run a small business.  But, it is the way mine is run.  I won't sell something that I know is wrong for a friend's home.  Purchases keep the bills paid.  That is a fact.  However, this shop isn't just about the money. It is about helping others make their nests perfect.  If someone finds an item they have been searching for, my goals for the shop are realized.

I view the shop as an extension of my life.  Another journey taken.  A dream realized.  Will it succeed?  I believe it has already succeeded.  It started as a thought, an idea.  It moved to a plan.  That plan became a reality.  And now I have the wonderful opportunity to open the doors twice a week and invite the outside world in.  Some have asked why I decided to do this at this particular stage in my life.  My answer is why not.  Why not learn something new.  Why not take a chance.  Why not move away from what is known to the unknown.  Why not embrace life in a different way.  Why not stretch my mind.  It isn't about years of life.  It is life being lived in a new way.  It is being willing to risk knowing that all of life is risk.

Certainly there are challenges.  But, I have found that people are willling and eager to help when they know their skill and talent is needed.  Friends and strangers who have become friends have offered their assistance to help me get this shop off the ground.  They have spent hours of their own time doing what I cannot do.  And because of them my dream is realized.  People are good.  Yes, they are.

My suggestion for each of you is this.  If something knocks on your heart's door, listen.  Maybe open the door a bit to examine what is on the other side.  Close the door if the time is not right, but don't lock it.  Leave it open a crack.  You never know when the time will be perfect for your dream to take form and live.  It may begin as a hobby.  It may begin as a plan written in a notebook or journal.  Whatever form it takes, welcome the creative process.  Who knows.  One day you may find yourself opening yourself to a new venture.

Just like me.

Shopping, Shopping, Shopping

Shopping, Shopping, Shopping


  Daffodil Lane has kept me running.  Something leaves the shop.  Something comes in. Shopping, shopping, shopping.  Near and far.  In state and out. Searching for the right items is challenging.  Who would want this?  What group would this appeal to?  Questions.  Questions. Questions.  Take one thing.  Leave another.  Did I make the right decision?  Miles on the truck.  Miles on me.

Am I complaining?  Not one bit.  You see, when you set your mind to achieve a dream, all the work is part of the process.   The cost is counted before the action begins.  Actually, it is a huge learning curve.  Forms must be filed, numbers granted by the state.  Space located.  Weeks pass as more work is done.  Painting, cleaning.  Bringing in the items for sale comes close to last.

Opening day arrives.  With no idea if anyone will grace the doors, it opens.  There is a sense of accomplishment.  The dream-reality.  People give warnings.  They say things like they hope it works. They hope it isn't a failure.  Most offer positive encouragement.  Interesting the take on other's dreams.

Here is what I think about the failure comment.  Failure occurs when a dream remains a dream.  There is absolutely no opportunity to fail when nothing is attempted.  To be fair, not all people are wired to take risks.  The absolute fear that would accompany risk keeps some rooted in their present spot.  I get that.  Personally, I applaud those who take risks, and those who don't.  It's not a good/bad thing.

Failure?  Never gave that a thought.  When I look around at my little shop, I celebrate all the hours and hours of planning.  Time spent engaged with other people who also had a dream and worked to see it become their reality. All the conversations with other women who never stop moving forward brings me joy.  They reach out for that next adventure.  They embrace all that a new thing brings.  And when that part of life is passed, they move on.  You see, nothing is forever.

  Already I have met wonderful people.  People who came to shop and stayed to talk.  To visit about life and things that have real meaning.  To say that success is measured by the amount of money banked at the end of a work day misses the point.  Certainly it is necessary to pay all the bills.  And have money left over to do that endless shopping.  However, the real value in this for me is the ability to help others make their homes and lives better.  To make their homes a place of refuge from life.  It is also about valuing each person who walks through the doors of Daffodil Lane.  To see each one as a new friend.  To learn.  To listen.

Even when no one is shopping, I feel a sense of pride in the knowledge that my husband and I created something new from nothing.  We are a team. We work together.  We took an idea and ran with it.  I am so proud of us for not giving up when we had hurdles to cross.  We kept moving forward toward the dream.  And now it is here.

I am writing this in my little shop.  It is quiet.  I am surrounded by pretty things.  It makes my heart smile to know that maybe someone will come in and find that one or two things that will make their heart smile, too.

Was it worth it?  Absolutely.  You bet.  As with all things in life, it will have its day.  And while it has that day, I will enjoy every minute.

The Black Lid

The Black Lid-

For the past four weeks we have been quite busy putting a store together.  In case anyone says there is nothing to doing that, let me be the first to smack them up beside the head. It is work.  From beginning to end.  But, it is enjoyable work.

Four walls, some openings for doors, a ceiling and a floor presented themselves.  How could I pull this together into a store?  Bit by bit it took shape.  The flower unfolded and blossomed right in front of me.  However, all of that time spent in that place meant things at home did not get done.  Laundry remained unfolded, a washer full of washed clothes  lost that newly washed scent.  One more go-around for that load. And the floors-it was time to get the old broom out and round up all those dust bunnies.

So, with broom in hand I headed for the farthest room pushing all the bunnies toward the common area where the dust pan awaited.  The job was nearly completed when I decided to open the door to the pantry and give it a quick swipe with the broom.  All was well until I spotted what appeared to me to be a lid.  It was rectangular in shape.  Black in color.  Must have missed the garbage can, I thought.  Nothing to do but shove the broom into the deepest part of the pantry floor and retrieve the lid.

I knew trouble was afoot when the broom seemed stuck to the lid.  Probably something sticky in the container it belonged to.  Pulling the broom out of the pantry, I put my big toe on the black lid.  My big toes are quite large.  My brother-in-law called them obscene.  That might be a slight exaggeration.  Nevertheless, they are substantial in size.

It seemed strange to me when my big toe stuck on the lid.  Now the straws on the broom and my big toe were stuck.  I shook them, pulled at them.  They were firmly held on the lid.  You have probably figured this out by now.  My husband had placed one of those sticky pads in the far back of the pantry to catch any critter that might wander into that space.  Like a mouse.  A mouse was not stuck on that pad.  The broom and I were.

It took quite a bit of effort to get my toe off that pad.  When my toe came off, yucky, sticky stuff came off with it.  One of our family was doubled over in laughter.  One wasn't.  The laughing one had to do the pulling to free me from my trap.  Then the real trouble began.That sticky stuff came off the pad with my toe.  The entire bottom of my toe and my fingers that tried to free the toe were sticking to everything.  My fingers were sticking together.  My toe was sticking to the floor.  What to do?

Warm water and soap did not help one bit.  Finger nail polish remover was useless.  So I tried rubbing the sticky off.  Nope.  Wouldn't budge.  I scrubbed my hands under hot water and eventually they began to return to normal. Not so with the toe.  Could not put socks on.  They caught on the sticky and stayed.  Finally, the one who laughed suggested a bandaid. Maybe I could put a bandaid over the worse part of it and go about my business.  It seemed only fair that he be the one to locate one for me.  During this process I do believe socks were thrown at the offender.

After wrapping the bandaid around my big toe, I was able to pull on a tennis shoe.  However, my toe stuck to the bottom of the shoe.  At least I had a shoe on.  I could go about my business.  And the one who laughed could use that broom and dust pan to collect all the dirt that lay in a pile next to the pantry door.

Ok.  I have to admit that during the process I laughed.  A lot.  As I write this, I am chuckling.  It was one funny moment.  Me with my foot in the air with a black lid hanging from it.  And a broom that was held as firmly as I was.

What lesson was learned?  Let someone else do the sweeping!

Update on Daffodil Lane

Update on Daffodil Lane--

Three weeks ago we began a new journey.  Were we out of our mind?  Sometimes we think so.

The past three weeks have included painting, cleaning, lifting, arranging, rearranging, arranging again.  We have spent countless hours poking around and through items looking for the right one.  We have loaded our truck and car with treasures.  Well, maybe not treasures exactly.  But certainly interesting pieces.  We have driven hours and hours to find the perfect piece.  We have met new people who have offered their advice and assistance.  We have called on friends to help with lifting and carrying.

Sleepless nights are the norm.  My brain does not stop when the clock says it is time to sleep.  Ideas flood my mind pushing any thought of sleep into tomorrow.  An "aha" moment becomes ten or twelve as the clock makes its way to 3 AM.  Who needs all that sleep anyway.

So, how is the new shop looking, you ask.  Well, I am happy to say that it is coming together.  Only a few days ago I sat in the room full of stuff and wondered how I could make any sense out of it.  Then I remembered to see one tree and not the entire forest.  One step at a time.  Slowly but surely sense from chaos emerged.  Or rather is emerging.  Seeing one section come alive is exciting.  Each new thing added brings that look I am working for.

And then it hit me.  If someone actually purchases something from the shop, it will have to be replaced.  At that moment I thought about keeping it all for me!  So much easier.  Then I remembered how much I love seeing other people make their nest perfect.  My hope is that merchandise in my shop will be just what someone needs to make their room feel right.  That makes my heart smile because our home is our refuge from all the noise of the world.

So, we keep adding.  Lifting, arranging, moving.  Creating spaces.  Hoping that when people enter the door of Daffodil Lane, they feel joy.  They smile.  And enjoy a few moments created just for them.

The opening is 10 AM, Saturday, May 7.  Come say hi!

Walking the Labyrinth

Walking the Labyrinth--

We turned off the main road and began the ten mile drive up the mountainside.  Eventually we left the paved road and continued our journey on gravel.   Tall evergreen trees lined both sides of the roadway.  Fog encircled the mountain top.  It had not yet been burned away by the heat of the sun.  Blue sky showed through small patches of fog announcing that soon it would overtake the whole expanse of the heavens.  The day was crisp and sweet.  Our destination was a lovely retreat center.

Many years ago we discovered this special place while exploring new countryside.  Those who dreamed it and then built it desired that it be a place for people to meditate.  To reconnect with themselves.  To perhaps engage in conversation about life and its meaning.  Classes are offered during the summer.  It is a place for thinking.  For touching that quiet place within us that often becomes lost in the busy of life.  Paths meander through the tall evergreens gently whispering to us that nature welcomes us into her arms.  Ferns flourish on the forest floor.  Wild flowers decorate the woods.  It is a place like no other.

On this particular trip up the mountainside we came upon a welcoming center.  Inside were two people who greeted me with genuine kindness.  Since our last visit years ago when one could drive into the center, changes had taken place.  Now reservations were required to enter.  Did I have a reservation?  No, I didn't.

During our conversation I mentioned that we were visiting from Illinois.  Our trip was almost at its end.  And then I mentioned the real reason I wished permission to enter.

Several years ago I had the opportunity to walk a labyrinth.  A labyrinth is a circular path that has a beginning point.  One enters at this point and continues along a path toward the center.  The path through the labyrinth is often outlined with stones set into the ground providing direction to the walker.  It winds inward toward the center.  After reaching the center one retraces the steps until the beginning point is again reached.  It is an ancient tool for meditation.   Walking a labyrinth is a spiritual experience.

This center built a labyrinth in a clearing beside a beautiful stream.   It was set with stones.  It was quite large with a winding path.  I knew this because I saw pictures in a magazine of this particular one.

I was disappointed that I would not be allowed to enter the grounds and make my way to the labyrinth, but I understood that rules were rules.  So, I thanked them for their kindness and turned to leave.  The woman who was answering my questions stopped me.  She said she was going to do something she seldom did.  She was going to give me an hour to visit the labyrinth.  One hour.  I asked if my husband could join me.  She took both our names and directed me to the path that led to the river.

We hurried down the path and across the grounds searching for this most special spot.  Eventually we located it.  So simple.  Rocks formed a path placed by someone who understood the significance of this activity.  Someone who brought hundreds of stones and carefully laid them out in a specific pattern forming an exact circle.  I entered.

Sometimes people carry a stone while they walk.  Others might repeat a mantra.  Still others walk with folded hands.  That is what I did.  I folded my hands and began my journey.  And it is truly a journey.  With each step my mind journeyed inward.  What was left for me to learn?  What could I do that would move myself and others to a more peaceful place?  Even the question of who God is entered my mind.  Eventually I quieted all the voices in my head-well, almost all of them.  And I simply was.  I felt such peace.  All the beauty of the earth was right there within my sight.  It was overwhelming.  Tears made their way down my cheeks.  Tears that expressed my deep love of nature.     And my awareness of the spirit indwelling.

The hour passed quickly.  Leaving was difficult.  Connecting with our spirit is a precious time.  I knew once I left, I would return to life.  But, I also knew that part of me would be changed forever.  I would have the memory to take with me.  We hurried back to the welcoming center.

I walked inside to thank her for allowing me this time.  I told her what it meant to me through those same tears.  She replied that she never does that for people without reservations, but that she felt a connection with me and knew it was the right thing to do.  

The fog had lifted during the time we were at the center.  The sky was beautiful.  All blue and bright. The tall evergreens stood guard over the road, and the river continued its rush to its destination. All as it should be on this most beautiful day.

Treasures of the Ocean

Treasures of the Ocean--

One of our favorite things to do is walk the Oregon coast searching for agates.  We read the tide charts because the best time to go is when the tide is out.  All the rocks and treasures that the ocean gives up are found when it is low tide.  We have spent the past five weeks in high rubber boots and jackets doing that.  It is easy to spot people who hunt for agates.  They walk slowly along the edge of the ocean or perhaps wade a little into it.  Their heads are down.  In their pocket is a zip lock plastic bag or a bag from a grocery store to hold found objects.  Agates are usually found where rocks abound.  They come in all sizes and several colors.  Agates are little rocky nuggets of silica that formed inside ancient rocks or shells millions of years ago and as the outer layer wears away, the agate remains.  They come in varied colors ranging from orange to red or pink to lavender-even black.

Another treasure the Northwest ocean gives up is sea glass.  Sea glass is glass from bottles that have found their way in the ocean.  After being tumbled and tossed by the waves, the edges of the glass are rounded and smooth.  Often the glass has a cloudy appearance.  The usual colors are blue, green, white and clear.  People who hunt for sea glass use it for jewelry and art objects.  If the edges are not rounded, it is considered new to the ocean and not desirable.

People who collect agates often place them in tumblers.  After three weeks of tumbling, the rocks are smooth and shiny.  They are also used in jewelry or placed in bowls as found objects from the sea.

 We are leaving soon so we decided to spend today searching.  The best times to search are low tide after a storm.  The ocean deposits treasures everywhere after high waves.  As there was no storm,  pickings were a little slim.

I was walking along the edge of the ocean with my head down when someone spoke to me.  A young man walked beside me and told me I had missed two agates.  He opened his hand and there they were.  Before I could say anything, he handed them to me.  People don't usually share agates.  Yet, here he was offering me two beautiful ones.  After I thanked him, he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out two large agates that had been tumbled.  As he held them out for me to see,  he told me to select one to keep.  I was shocked.  He was offering me something wonderfully beautiful.  He held them up to the sun so I could see the designs inside the stones.  I asked him which one he would like for me to have.  He selected the most beautiful of the two and placed it in my hand.  At that point I told him I was visiting from Illinois.  He told me to tell my friends that I found it.  He said he finds them all the time.  It was such a lovely moment in time.

A little later we were making our way toward our car.  I was walking slower with my head down still searching for a few more for our collection.  Looking up, I saw a man approaching.  As he came closer, he asked me if I was having any luck finding agates.  I told him not much.  He stopped, opened his hand and showed me four he had found.  Then he handed them to me.  Surprised, I mumbled a thank you and told him we live in Illinois.  His response was awesome.  He said, "God bless you in Illinois."  And he continued his walk along the edge of the water.

These are only two of the experiences I have had with gracious people.  People who were searching just like I was and were willing to give up treasures to a stranger.   When one woman learned where I live, she placed a beautiful agate in my hand and gently closed my fingers over it.  She said she lives here and can look anytime.  That she wanted me to have what she found.

A moment in time.  A treasure far greater than a found agate.  One person touching another with grace and kindness.  Never to meet again yet leaving a lasting impression.

That's what it's about, isn't it?  Touching others with gentle spirits.  With a giving attitude.   Giving up something you desire so that another can experience the same joy.  Spending a moment connecting with a fellow walker on the planet.  Makes me wonder how many times I could have shared yet didn't.  The good thing is this.  There is another day waiting for me to give of myself to others.  Strangers, family, friends.  And I shall.