Christmas Eyes

If you have had cataract surgery, you will maybe know what I am talking about. If not, then here is what is is for me.

Imagine this: looking up at trees you cannot see the individual leaves. You know there are individual leaves but they are indistinguishable to your eyes because you are on the ground and those leaves are far away up high.

I have a new toric lens for astigmatism in my right eye. Now that it is settled in and has become clear—are you ready?—I can see the leaves. I can see that street lights have fixtures and bulbs in them. I can see the fence posts all the way across half an acre.

But the other eye sees colored shapes with no detail and fuzzy color. My brain allows these two eyes to work together, minimizing the fuzzy eye and letting the clear eye dominate for distance vision!

The lesson for me is perfect for Christmas. Our hearts and eyes need constant renewing focus through the deep lens of God’s word.

John 1:1-5 says,

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome[a] it.

That’s the Lord Jesus. The Word. From the beginning. Always and ever. I can see Him. Amen

May the Light of the Word help you focus clearly this Christmas.


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Making Books

I like to make books! I like everything about books: the paper, the cover, the words, the ideas. I like the cool papers used for the end papers. I like to fold and cut and paste and sew. I like writing with all kinds of tools. Just think about all the materials God created and used to create our universe. Elements and structures and designs. Beautiful. Thanks, Lord! Gases and liquids and cells. Amazing. I will have to make a book about that.

Lazy or Stunned and Afraid?

Today I have been out of bed for two hours. The breeze outside and the birds are so endearing and refreshing that I hate to end my time with them. I came inside when the dog, always whining for who knows what, finally got on my nerves. She does not whine inside. I think she is a great huntress, frustrated by smells of animals she cannot reach under the shed. So then on the couch, my occupation was yet more email on the phone and finally got sucked into Mozilla’s podcast, IRL. Evidently we are some of us duped by the information on the internet. Who knew, duh? I am stunned. But I am not afraid. Perhaps a little lazy, true.

A Little Winter a Little Work

We don’t get a big winter here. Today in mid-January we have light sleet and snow so schools are closed. I saw a map of the US and Texas was marked CLOSED. But ice is ice.

Here in my snug home with all the gear I could possibly need at my fingertips, I am ashamed I have not shared my extra coats with ones who have not.

Subscriptions to minimalist magazines and work with a dream coach and books about clutter management and years passing too fast all leave me in a state of partial wranglement of THINGS. But only partial.

I stop writing here to get up and pack the teacher bag for tomorrow and proceed to wrangling. A bon idea!

From Whence Come the Tears?

Weepy at the music: I Love You/Wonderful World by Conspirare, Austin, Texas.

My friend will want that at her funeral. How fitting.

Anyone reading this, send me your funeral music. It will go in my book,

and I appreciate it so much!




The Joy of Tidying Up

Somebody said to purge the house of that which brings not joy.

OK. Will do. As far as clothes, art stuff, kitchen stuff, papers, etc.

But not as far as things related to family and responsibility and duty.

There are a few activities I’d like to forget.

There will always be things we don’t want to do.

There remain some memories I can’t yet process.

Somebody said to unpack the memories.

But they will make a mess.

There exist some titles on little bits of paper around.

But I signed up to participate in this and that.

Maybe I will just take off a month.

Then I can visit all the stuff and purge it.

OK. Somebody said that is a good idea.



Looking for Myself Again

Lord knows, we all grow.

I seem to grow in fits and starts.

Some days I flourish and flow.

Certain music leads my thoughts to certainty and confirmation.

Endeavors ring true and inspire further.

Then sometimes, days at a time, halting insecurities inhibit the game.

The next move evades me.

A purpose for doing disappears, confused.

The textures of the quest shine, then muddle.

They skitter and shake.

The metaphors mix.

The materials and tools rattle in the drawers and on the shelves.

The notebooks and keys linger awaiting the fingers to fly.

The nibs rust and inks dry.

The dreams color the life.

The music stirs the heart and the growth continues.