Silent Sermon Sunday

Until you are home again, Evan...

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka WSM

The Last of Christmas

I can't put it off any longer. Day-light savings time has been here for awhile now. I started the garden clean-up; started being the operative word.

Most of the Christmas decorations have been packed away; most being the operative word in that sentence. I've hung an early spring wreath on the front door. Even my slow tree in the front yard is beginning to bud.

Yep, winter has gone, the Solstice was a few days ago. Even as I contemplate this idea, I'm still amazed that for many of my blogging friends on the far side of the world, it means that summer is over and they are headed into fall. I wonder, if I could time share with them, it means I could live in my favorite season all year long! I'll have to give that more consideration...

The thunder storms have started early. The spring rains are doing their best to remind me of the season change. And yet...here I sit looking at this last vestige of the holiday season. Yes, because of the adorable wee lights and the colors, but mostly as a way to recall a significant kindness done during the season of lights.

You may have read my post about Dad making a ceramic Christmas tree for me many years ago. When I wrote The Season of Remembering I was toying with the idea that the things in your life take on a different meaning and importance as we get older.

Very shortly after I posted it, I got a Face Book message from the daughter of a friend of mine; I haven't spoken with her in a years. Alea wrote to say that she now lives in Florida and has a ceramics shop. She wanted to let me know that she had got a great many requests of late for the Christmas trees, invariably a patron saying, "My (fill in the blank,) had one of these when I was little and I thought I'd make one for our home because I remember the lights..."

She wanted to know if she could print and post my blog because she thought it really captured the appeal of these holiday tchotchkes. I whole-heartedly agreed. I suggested she print a bunch and leave them at her counter for people to pick up. I went on to say that I had always wanted one of the really little trees but, they weren't around when Dad made mine and that, yes, I really did love the one he made.

It was great hearing from Alea; a nice holiday moment of catching up. Hearing that a once tiny, precoutious child is finding her way happily and creatively through life is always a gift.

A few days later, in the mail arrived a wee tree. The accompanying note from Alea said she hoped it would add to my joy of the holidays and thanked me for letting her print my post. Many people had been in to paint a tree for their home.

And so, a tradition continues for another generation to enjoy. That's really what the holidays are about...creating a moment when life is predictable and gentle and joyous.

Shortly after the holidays, I had surgery and one thing lead to another and, well, the little tree never got put away. And, I never got a thank you note off to Alea, which is very unlike me. I hope she reads this to understand how grateful I am to her generosity and talents. And how the little tree will be a new moment of remembering.

Today it is pouring buckets and its so gray and gloomy that, even though I was going to put the wee tree away finally...I think I'll just sit here and look at those tiny sparks of color and smile a bit longer.

I hope you can find some color and love in your day today.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Aunt Holly

Silent Sermon Sunday

~ Amen & ARRRROOO

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Rory & Fiona's Human

Eye of The Beholder

Somewhere near, a robin trills its morning song. My bleary eyes slowly focus on what has caught the bird's prayer. I join in silently...

"Thank you, God, for my eyes."

Today, I hope you have a moment that lights your heart and sparks your gratitude and imagination.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Does Not Do Mornings

Silent Sermon Sunday

Prayer does not need to be a complicated act.
Simply breathing in and out with complete attention....
That is prayer.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly
Image courtesy of The Internet

Here's Another Question For You

I'm driving home from my doctor's appointment today, and pass the Beehive, one of the (way too many in my humble opinion,) gentlemen clubs that you see along any of the country's highways.

We had another in the area, called Climax, with a...wait for it....drive through lane. No waiting for your jollies, no getting out of your car...nothing but a mobile quicky behind your wheel. But, sadly this one closed. Another victim of a down economy, I'm sure. If you're looking for a business opportunity, the place is for sale!

At any rate, the sign outside of the Beehive raised the same question whenever I see these stupid places....

It generally reads, "Live girls, Live Dancers," or words to that effect. And, I can't help but wonder and never have the answer, so maybe you do; if so please share.

My question is: "Why do you advertise this? I mean, after all, has anyone ever seen or paid to see a dead dancer?!"

I'm juz sayin'...

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is Curious