What the Sunflower Lacks in Elegance

Sometime ago I was given one of my most treasured gifts.  It was simple.  It was elegant.  What it lacked in worldly value, it more than made up for in spiritual and emotional wealth, and was poetry to my ears.  It was, in fact a poem, written by my daughter Miranda, who has a way of seeing beyond the obvious and in the lovely way of a poet, imbues the common with sublimity; adding layers of meaning to what may be dismissed as ordinary. 

In her poem, my four children become the hallmarks of a garden, each represented by a distinctive flower that graces my life with unique attributes.  All so different from one another, yet all blessing my life with beauty and grace.

I have been thinking a lot about my Sunflower lately, the fourth addition to my garden of beauties, and have felt to pay tribute to her with my latest creation of glass fusion.  It is easy to see her golden hair.  It is easy to see her big brown eyes.  But most importantly,  "What a sunflower lacks in elegance is made up in the soul, 

For only when they give all things is when they're really whole."

She has chosen to sacrifice her time and all her talents to her Savior, Jesus Christ, serving Him as a full-time missionary. Putting aside the distractions of a busy, silly, crass and crude world, she walks with God, looking for opportunities to serve His children, to teach them the Gospel of Christ and bring them into the fold of the Good Shepherd.

A sunflower keeps its face toward the sun, knowing that is from where it draws its strength.  My prayers are with Miranda every day as she has chosen to be in the world, yet not of the world, keeping her face directed toward the Source of all Light.

My Mother’s Garden

Written by M.L. Haws

For my mother.

Four little beds filled to the brim

Each bright in blazing color

Planted in their youth by a loving hand

In the Garden of My Mother

One is lush with Poppies

In a drowsy and dreamy red

Smooth to the touch, daring the eye

And stubborn in the head

The Poppy will stand vibrant

And have its way, still

But will honor those who need their rest

And serve them with a will

Next, the Birds of Paradise

That stand up straight and proud

Showing off their sprays of light

With wise heads humbly bowed

The Proficient Paradise gives promise

Of strength, beauty and charm

Standing tall in stormy weather

And finds home where it is warm

Third in line, the Orchid

Glowing in elegance

But beneath those pearly petals

Beats a heart of amethysts

The Orchid is all loveliness

With an inner glow of fun

Light and grace, vibrant joy

In its soul unite as one.

Last of all a humble patch

The Sunflowers nod away

In Morning face toward the sun

And contemplate the day

What the Sunflower lacks in elegance

Is made up in the soul

For only when they give all things

Is when they’re really whole

Four little boxes tenderly kept

By their gardener expertly

This gardener who loved them

Though they all grew differently

Four little boxes surround a tree

Growth from a seed of faith

That bears the fruit and creates the light

In which they daily bathe

And from my Mother’s tree of Life

That stands unfailingly

New vines still grow and intertwine

And blossom verdantly

In my Mother’s Garden

There still is much to grow

But come and see, the Faith and Family

Are quite enough to show.

True Colors

God bless America.  Land that I love...

Thought you would enjoy

tiptoeing through the tulips with me today.  Here are a few of the photos I took recently at the Wooden Shoe Tulip Festival outside of Woodburn, Oregon.  What an uplift to walk through the colorful fields.

I wish we could have made it to see them while all my kids were here.  It is much more fun to take pictures of my beautiful children amidst the beautiful flowers.

I Had a Dream...

Yesterday evening I went out into my backyard to take some pictures of Spring.  It has come in a big way and it is breathtaking.  I was just in awe of the beauty that surrounded me.  But as I paused to reflect on my beautiful yard, something took my mind back 15 years ago to when it only existed as a dream in my head.  So I pulled out an old scrapbook that told the story of its transformation, scanned some pictures, and because of the reminder of how it used to look, now I have a deeper appreciation of the Eden I call my backyard.  Maybe you will too.

Come visit me sometime and I'll show you my yard.  And we'll have lemonade.

A Price to be Paid

I have been frustrated.  It is not a new frustration.  It is very familiar, like an old pair of shoes.  Yet it is ill-fitting.  It often makes me wonder why I put up with it; why I don't cast it off, like an old pair of shoes.

I live in Oregon.  The beautiful part of Oregon.  The Willamette Valley.  As the historians remind us, it is the Garden of Eden at the end of the Oregon Trail.  This is where those early pioneers decided to end their journey and stay because it is such a beautiful place. I doubt they arrived in April though.  I have a love/hate relationship with the month of April. Having endured the long rainy months of Winter, resigning myself to that fact of life, I start getting a little antsy for a change. Then Spring comes, and things start bursting forth with new life, and color, and freshness.  BUT, the weather is often so lousy that it is impossible to enjoy the new life, and color, and freshness.  And simply looking out from a window does not count.

I braved the elements this morning and took my camera out into the muck.  I wanted to have reminders for myself of how beautiful this place is, how much promise April holds.  And when an Oregonian becomes afraid to get a little wet, she has no business being an Oregonian. 

I was happy to see there were still a few blossoms left on the cherry tree after the violent winds we have been having.

One of my new little lemon trees has not fared as well.  This may be the tenth time it has fallen victim to the wind.  We simply haven't found a break in the weather to get it planted in something more substantial.

I was able to get my flowers planted, though.  I only got rained on planting the last three.

The clematis is almost ready to pop out.

Despite my frustration, and sometimes harsh words about the Oregon weather, it would take an awful lot to convince me to move away.  I do live in a beautiful place.  And most of the time, I am willing to pay the price to live here.  Just not during April.

That's Ridiculous!

No, THAT's Ranunculus!  Sorry, very bad joke.  What IS ridiculous is this weather we've been having.  I know, I know.  It is Spring, and it is Oregon.  But the flowers I bought on Saturday are still sitting out in the rain on my front walk, waiting to be put into the ground. I decided to forego the regular geraniums this year and try something new.  I was totally drawn to these beautiful yellow ranunculus-es. ( I wonder what the plural for that is....) 

 I would love to get just a tiny break in the weather, a little sunshine, dig a few holes, get my hands dirty; then my flowers will welcome the rain and I won't have to worry about watering them. But I am not going to plant flowers in the rain.  I am not going to plant flowers in the rain.  Well, if this keeps up I guess I may be planting flowers in the rain.

Happy Spring!

Don't you just love a good Synergy?

A synergy is where different entities cooperate advantageously for a final outcome. Simply defined, it means that the effect of the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

I particularly love it when there is a collaboration of some of my favorite things, and they come together to create something that is timeless and memorable.  An example is the movie, Now, Voyager.  Never heard of it?  Let me enlighten you!

Now, Voyager
Now, Voyager is a 1942 American drama film based on the 1941 novel of the same name by Olive Higgins Prouty. She borrowed her title from a line in the Walt Whitman poem "The Untold Want," which reads in its entirety,
"The untold want by life and land ne'er granted,
Now, voyager, sail thou forth to seek and find."

This classic oldie stars one of my favorite misunderstood actresses, Bette Davis, as the leading character Charlotte Vale.  I think this may be her best role.  Never too proud to appear at her worst, the film begins with her severely depressed and put upon by a tyrant mother, suffering from the lowest self-esteem.  As the film progresses, she nurtures her desire for a more fulfilled life through the help of a psychiatrist and friend, played by Claude Rains.  Her timidity is replaced by confidence, and her mousiness is replaced by the beauty that comes from such confidence.

Eventually her heart is given to a married man, who also cautiously returns her hesitant love.  Through a journey of frustration and heartache she finally comes to a place in which she can find fulfillment, if not the full measure of happiness that we all aspire to attain.

When Jerry, the man of her affection, asks her if she's happy, Charlotte finds much to value in her life and if it isn't everything she would want, tells him, "Oh, Jerry, don't let's ask for the moon... we have the stars," a line ranked #46 in the American Film Institute's list of the top 100 movie quotes in American cinema.  And the music behind the line swells with my heart everytime it is delivered.  Masterful.

I first discovered this gem of a movie, several years ago.  I still remember that Saturday night.  My family had all gone to bed, and as an exhausted mother of four young children who just desperately needed some alone time, I chose to stay up and watch whatever was on the American Movie Classics channel.  I had never heard of Now, Voyager but I was intrigued by Bette Davis so I gave it a chance.

So where's the synergy?  Well, I love old movies, I love Bette Davis, I love the poetry of Walt Whitman, I love powerful sound tracks, and I love camelias.

Camelias?  Yes.  That's right.  As a tribute to their unfulfilled love, Jerry would often send Charlotte camelias to wear.  I love camelias.  I have a couple of camelia bushes in my garden.  The uniqueness of camelias is in the timing of their blooming.  They are unexpected; they are unique; they are beautiful in their boldness.  You see, they blossom in January.  While the rest of the garden sleeps, they choose to brighten my life during the dead of winter, when I am most needing a lift, when I am most needing a reminder of the beauty to come once the dismal gray days of winter come to a close.

A couple of days ago, I looked out my kitchen window, and sure enough, there they were. 

 I think in some ways I identify with Bette Davis, and camelias.  They may not represent the most mainstream beauty, but they celebrate their unique style and nonconformity. I can relate to that...