i gave myself 15 minutes...

I gave myself 15 minutes to write today. I don't know what will come up during the next 15 minutes, but whatever it is will be posted for the world to read, so I hope it's meaningful in some way.

I'm meeting a friend for lunch at 1 pm on a Friday afternoon.  This is a complete luxury, because on any other Friday I would be at work in a windowless cubicle trying to focus on what's in front of me, instead of what's around me. Friday afternoons at work tend to drag a bit.

So, today on this Friday, I'm discovering how "I can while away the hours ago, conferring with the flowers, consulting with the rain. And my head I'd be scratching while my thoughts were busy hatching, if I only had a brain". (Name that tune and that movie, please.) The Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, sings this as he explains to Dorothy what he wants from the Wizard. It can be applied to what I'm thinking about today. How I've wished for time to work on some projects, and clean my house, and read some books, and play some music, and run some errands, and talk to people, and sleep, and cook, and...well, you get the drift. I would ask the Wizard for time, or Hermoine for her time turner. (By the way the auto-correction for Hermoine is heroine, which I find totally fitting.)

And here I am suddenly with an abundance of time on my hands, feeling the pressure to get things done, but also not wanting the success of being furloughed to be a completed to-do list; rather, I want to fell more rested and more better. I've read some fun books, cleaned some nooks and crannies that desperately needed it. Thankfully, I haven't discovered a carpet beetle infestation like some other friends did, who are now spending their furlough days doing laundry, cleaning, and running to the Goodwill or the dry cleaners. My time is my own, and it's so very nice.

I guess my point in writing this, is that I hope I use this time off wisely. Sure, I have a to-do list, and I've crossed a few things off it. But in the end, time spent on the back porch in the hammock, soaking up the last sunlight of summer, drinking cold lemonade, listening to some really good music, and reading a lovely tale is the most delicious part of this time. Who knows, maybe I'll blow off my to-do list entirely, and just give myself up to the back porch entirely?

How I wish this was my back porch...
via here

thoughtful thursday: my country

boxing up

Today I helped a woman pack up her life. She has cancer and will soon go home. 

I went through her papers and photos. I decided what should be shredded and what should be kept. It was sobering. I found myself holding back the tears as I sat on the floor catching just a glimpse of her adventures and her life. It was so hard, realizing that we were helping her put her life in order. 

She has so much she still wants to do. She's worried about hurting feelings and treating the people around her with love as she deals with being very, very sick and leaving behind the life she loves here. Her body is starting to have to work much, much harder to do even the simple things like lift her hand to her mouth. Her attitude is the best, she's still laughing and enjoying the life she has. I hope I can be more like her in living and appreciating the life I have no matter what.

All week I've been thinking about her, praying for her, hoping for a last minute miracle. I have also done a lot of thinking. How life is so short, too short, too often. There's so much I want to do. That God has a plan for each of us. That it's the plan even when it seems like the plan has been abandoned and thrown to the wind. That I'd like to know more of the plan up front sometimes. And that life really is good even when it's not, and I would not trade this life for anything.

Above all I was thinking that I know she's in good hands. We all are. 

And I kept thinking about this quote:

God’s light is real. It is available to all! It gives life to all things. It has the power to soften the sting of the deepest wound. It can be a healing balm for the loneliness and sickness of our souls. In the furrows of despair, it can plant the seeds of a brighter hope. It can enlighten the deepest valleys of sorrow. It can illuminate the path before us and lead us through the darkest night into the promise of a new dawn.
 - Elder Uchtdorff, General Conference, April 2o13

thoughtful thursday: make these days memorable

i love this quote!

Do not let us speak of darker days;
Let us speak rather of sterner days.
These are not dark days; there are great days--
The greatest days our country has ever lived;
And we must all thank God that we have been allowed...
To play a part in making these days memorable
In the history of our race.
--Winston Churchill

i create

"Creativity is not something you wait for. It is something that waits for you. You must decide to be creative, not wait to be. You must challenge yourself. Pick up the brush. Grab hold of the camera. Start cooking the meal. Get to the workplace early. Propose the solution. Advance the idea. Become the answer."

I don't know who the author is of these thought provoking sentences.  It's stuck with me ever since a colleague, who sends daily emails with inspirational quotes, sent it to me. I copied and pasted it into a Word document, played around with the font and color, printed it, and stuck it up in my cubicle with my magnet that says, "Keep Calm and Boldly Go". I needed those words that day.

I've been feeling stuck in a funk lately, and very bored with work. Those words helped me start to look at what I create when I'm at work. They were the kick in the pants I needed.

I read somewhere else lately, that waiting around makes a person a consumer, who takes what they can get, instead of being a creator, who makes their own reality. I don't want to be a consumer. I want to contribute and create.

via here

I started a mental list of all the things I create in my life, and then started writing them down so I could remember them.

I create...

Beauty in my garden by taking care of the plants I put there and removing the weeds.

Smiles from people walk by looking at my garden. It's fun to sit and watch people coming and going.

Order at work by keeping on top of y projects and filing completed projects. (I really dislike filing, so this one is really hard for me to keep up on.)

Music when I sing and play the piano.

Warmth by crocheting hats and blankets.

Cleanliness when I clean up after myself and keep my house neat.

Friendships with people at work, in the neighborhood, at church, in line at CVS.

Love through service.

Laughter when listening to people share their funny stories or when I share my own.

Food. I enjoy cooking and making good things to eat and share with people.

Ideas by thinking about stuff and writing.

What do you create?

thoughtful thursday: be patient, dream and pray

"Too often we pray to have patience but we want it right now."
"Sincere prayer is answered sometime, somewhere."
"He that watches over us shall neither slumber nor sleep."
Elder Hales,

"God expects you to have enough faith
and determination
and enough trust in Him to keep moving,
keep living,
keep rejoicing.
In fact,
He expects you not simply to face the future...
He expects you to embrace and shape the future—
to love it
and rejoice in it
and delight in your opportunities.

God is anxiously waiting
for the chance to answer your prayers
and fulfill your dreams,
just as He always has.
But He can't if you don't pray,
and He can't if you don't dream.
In short,
He can't if you don't believe."

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland
"Terror, Triumph, and a Wedding Feast", CES Fireside, Sept. 2004

thoughtful thursday: 10 gentle reminders

via inspirationlane.tumblr.com

this city

I am sitting in a restaurant with friends one evening eating some really good pizza, some really, really good pizza. I face the open door watching the comings and goings of everyone on the street. I watch the sky changing colors above the rooftops as the sunset comes and goes. The cars honking and rushing past. The couple next to us signing their lively conversation. The cyclist leaning her bike against the wide open door and looking for acknowledgement that someone will help her keep an eye on it. I'm paying attention to the dinner conversation but am so very aware of life moving all around me at top speed. I take a bite of perfectly crunchy crust with spicy tomato sauce and other assorted toppings, and it hits me. I am just a girl from Paradise, Utah who lives here in this city.

It hits me quite frequently that I live in this city. I often miss the mountains. I see photos on Instagram and Facebook from people who live in my hometown and there is a tugging of my heartstrings to go back. Sometimes this city begs the question: How does anyone leave Paradise to live here in this city? 

But there is a lot to love here, and it feels like home now. Sure, I could do all these things I do here someplace else where the view out my bedroom windows didn't overlook someone else's backyard, but I would miss out on some pretty great (and not so great) experiences. And, oh, this city... 

This city where all in one day I see the Capitol dome or the Basilica at Catholic University rising in the distance. I spend an afternoon basking in the beauty and history of a museum or two. I find a garden sanctuary and soak in the greenness. I meet up with friends for dinner. I attend a musical or theatrical event. 

This city where my country girl roots seek refuge in the garden plots filled with flowers and plants that are just one form of cheap but effective therapy. 

This city where I forget sometimes to look at the sky because of all the trees, and thankfully its skyline is short and majestic without the skyscrapers of other urban centers. 

This city where, amazingly, sometimes on a weekend in the early morning light, the only sounds are my feet hitting the pavement and my breathing. 

This city where my breath is sometimes grabbed away from me by the smells of humanity and oppressive hot, moist air of summer. 

This city that has treated me kindly and not so kindly. 

This city where only going the speed limit means you get cussed out and honked at. Where every intersection is an often unwanted concert of different music pouring out of open windows. 

This city where I can find a beautiful oasis of peace in a garden, museum, or concert hall. Where sometimes when I'm walking somewhere I hear the most beautiful music pouring out of someone's home as they play a musical instrument or sing.

This city that I have fallen in love with, albeit begrudgingly at times.

This city with some really kind people...

The neighbor across the alley who was on her back porch noticed me coming down the back steps. She called across to wish me a good morning and then asked where our dog was, as she missed seeing him out back. When I told her that he died a few weeks ago, she stopped moving and put her hands on her heart and said how sorry she was. She said meet me in the alley, 'cause I'm coming to give you a hug. I had never spoken with her before, but here she came to give me a hug and look me directly in the eyes to tell me how sorry she was about the loss of Josiah. 

The next door neighbor who hosts dinner parties on her back patio and spontaneously invites me to join her group when I'm in the backyard. I often do and have a wonderful time.

There is a group of us on our block who garden together. We compare notes and plants, and share our love and knowledge of all things green. 

The dogs that come up to say hello to me when I’m in my garden. They know who I am and are genuinely pleased to see me; at least that's what their wagging tails tell me. I think I might know more dog names, than people names.

When I’m out for a run and see someone I know who is out for a run too. They often don't mind if I join them for a few blocks. 

The young man who sees me struggling up the sidewalk with my arms full and offers to help before I lose everything.

Arriving home late one afternoon, after a very long long and stressful weekend of reserve duty, I parked down the street from my house. As I very tiredly walked home wearing my working uniform, a few of the older gentleman came down from their porches to thank me for serving and talk with me about their own service. They even knew which house was mine--the one with the flag and the flowers. "Oh, we've noticed you," they said. Another gentleman on a bicycle sat straight up and saluted as he passed me by. 

This city I with which I have, begrudgingly at times, fallen in love. And the life that I have right here, right now in this city.