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.

This Is My Quest

Funny how life imitates art.

I have always wondered why the familiar quote wasn't the other way around. Doesn't the artist draw inspiration from life, then twist it, bend it, soften it, refine it and produce something elevated from the mundane, coarse, and common?  Oscar Wilde, however, claims that "Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life".

I am becoming a believer.

Recently I have watched as the influence of a song lyric has woven itself into my psyche; it has touched my heart, leaving me at random times with inexplicable tears.  How could the merest suggestion of lyric and melody ring with such truth?  It is just a song and yet it expresses a universal longing.  

Last Christmas I was given a unique gift.  It wasn't the extravagance of the gift that provoked my wonder; it was the complete and utter confidence in me, which it showed, that I have found to be the most profound.  My husband believed in my talent enough to buy me a glass fusion kiln. Through this gesture he has shown his love for me as well as his license to continue forward in adding this new skill to my wheelhouse.

In anticipation of firing up my new toy, I have prepared a beautiful studio.  I have purchased furnishings and supplies which would enable me to create to my heart's content. There is even plenty of workspace to have others join me in playing with glass.

With everything in place, just short of being able to plug in the kiln, I completed the initial stages of my first project.  I was inspired by an image that symbolizes the haunting melody which I have recently found so inspiring. 

Little did I realize that the final task of actually plugging the kiln in would become fraught with roadblocks.  At every turn there have been delays, setbacks, obstacles, and even what seems an insurmountable impossibility. With patience I will press forward, certain that anything worthwhile comes at a greater price. Truly the impossible just takes a little longer.

Therefore, it is a strange paradox that my unfired project is a windmill.

For those familiar with Don Quixote, the windmill is symbolic of a wanderer's impossible quest, something tauntingly just out of reach. In the musical Man of La Mancha, that quest of Don Quixote is described musically with the stirring passion of unfulfilled dreams, and the strength that comes through the search, the patience, the dedication to a quest.

I haven't given up.  Someday soon I will be able to access enough voltage to be able to plug the silly thing in.  I'm not sure exactly what hoops I will have to jump through to do it. Nor how many windmills I must challenge before I am finally triumphant.

To dream the impossible dream 
To fight the unbeatable foe 
To bear with unbearable sorrow 
To run where the brave dare not go 

To right the unrightable wrong 
To love pure and chaste from afar 
To try when your arms are too weary 
To reach the unreachable star 

This is my quest 
To follow that star 
No matter how hopeless 
No matter how far 
To fight for the right without question or pause 

To be willing to march into Hell for an Heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true 
To this glorious quest 
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm 
When I'm laid to my rest 

And the world will be better for this 
That one man scorned and covered with scars 
Still strove with his last ounce of courage 
To reach the unreachable star 

Playing with Glass: Breaking Through Parameters

With any new endeavor comes the trial period.  We ask ourselves, what is possible?  What are the limitations?  What has been done?  What hasn't been done? For years I have explored the possibilities of papercrafting, surprising even myself at the wide range of paper's potential.  I love when others marvel at what can be unexpectedly created with "just paper."

I have begun exploring another medium, called Glass Fusion.  It is the art of combining random pieces of colored glass which will then be fused together in a high-temperature kiln to become a functional, decorative piece.  This, too, appears rather limiting; but as I play with the possibilities I am finding that one is really only bound by the preconceived ideas of what those parameters are. The sky is beginning to seem like the only limit.  When one isn't afraid to imagine more, then more becomes possible.

I fear that, too often, we put restrictive parameters on ourselves in other facets of our lives.  We imagine preset boundaries that we convince ourselves are unyielding.

     "I can't do this because . . ."
     "I'll never become . . ." what?
     "I haven't the talent to . . ."

Hogwash.  Where are these restrictions coming from?  Most likely from our own fear, hesitation, lack of vison and imagination.

My friends at Mor-Art in Lincoln City are so helpful and encouraging.  They have convinced me that anything is possible and willingly offer suggestions on how to make my ideas and visions become a reality.

Where paper may seem too weak and two-dimensional, and glass may seem too rigid and unmaleable--incredible things can be created, stretching the limits of the expected.  And that is very gratifying.