Sunday Scribblings: Muse

With one simple question my friend at radical ramblings and thoughts of a southern girl has inspired me today.  "Isn't it all holy ground?" she asks.

Earth's crammed with heaven
and every common bush afire with God.
But only he who sees takes off his shoes.
The rest sit 'round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Yes, I remember, it is.  Or it can be, when I look for it, see it, participate in it.  I've been more focused on the tasks lately:  pluck the blackberries, fix the pudding, change the channel, fix the mashed potatoes and gravy, help Grandpa walk, fix the car, tutor, etc. etc.  I did remember once to see, when a grasshopper got stuck inside the window well and allowed me to observe him closely with awe as he crawed up the glass and back into the yard.  But I forgot to pay attention to Grandpa's smile, to my student's need for a variety of activities, to the rain (hallelujah!).  I've been so focused on my own little world that I haven't been able to see or be moved by the miracles of the worlds around me.  But here I will take off my shoes, be still, watch, and listen.  I hope to see God.  What do you see?  What is your muse?


See what others have to say at http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/ and share your own thoughts!

running with Barbie coatracks

When I was about 5, I played with Barbie.  (Back in the old days, children, she was just called "Barbie."  Not "Nurse Barbie" or "Malibu Barbie" or "Fairy Princess Barbie."  Maybe that's why I get grumpy sometimes.)  I didn't play with them for long; my stupid-little-brother-with-a-doctorate ended up playing with my dolls, which just goes to show...never mind.  There was a period when I was about 12 that my cousins, brother (told you) and I had a LOT of fun building Barbie houses out of cardboard boxes - so much fun that we never got around to playing with them.  But this has to do with a memory from when I was 5.  I was running with a wire coatrack made to hang Barbie clothes on, because everything you do at that age is vitally important and you must get there quickly, when my mom called out, "Don't run with that!"  Huh?  I slowed down, and when I came to a stop I looked at the coatrack.  It was the only thing I was carrying, so it must have been what mom was talking about.  Why not run with it?  Do good little girls not run with coatracks?  Why?  I was clueless.

I was reminded of that episode the other day.  N's dad was talking to me, but I only caught the first part of the conversation because the back of a blond head kept popping up and down behind the dad's head.  I tried to focus, but then I caught the glint of metal.  I looked more closely at N. and saw that he was trying to pop his brother's helium-filled birthday balloon with a long kitchen knife.  And it wasn't the bread knife, it was the long, pointy one.  Yeah, that one.  I started laughing and couldn't stop (heck, he's not my kid).  Seeing this generally happy, sweet boy jump up and down with a large knife trying to pop his brother's balloon while I had his dad's attention really tickled me.  (In case you don't know I'm not a monster, N. is 11 and is an accomplished equestrian with excellent balance and motor skills.  I wasn't worried.)

(When I don't draw legs that means we're sitting.  I am a bit artistically challenged.)

Nick never did pop the balloon, though.  Or maim himself.  So the moral of this story is don't run with coatracks or jump with knives unless you are athletic and my mom isn't there.  You're welcome.