Matters of Art

My artistic card-maker friend in Michigan, over the past month, sent a series of origami [folded paper] frogs--two of each, so Chuck and I could conduct frog-jumping contests. One set was Japanese, one Chinese, and one American. They're adorable but don't jump very well. Yesterday's card represented her "first attempt at Folk Art," which she defined as something that "just happened." She made a card-sized quilt! Six scraps of gorgeous fabric that she purchased in the last six weeks and sewed into clothing. That, I think, is the real art of the matter: the time, skill and patience to put those lovely colors and textures together into clothing for her daughter and herself. I've often lamented my lack of artistic ability. Today I'll watch for opportunities to "quilt" ordinary pieces of life into a thing of beauty.

And maybe I'll work on developing an art skill after all. My scholarly friend--the one who encouraged me to try blonde wigs as kemo was making me bald last February--now suggests I should try to express my soul journey in poetry. "But I'm not a poet," I wrote back. "Then try parallelism," he insisted. "It's a form of poetry." Well, I'm pretty left-brained for poetry, I'm afraid, but I like the idea, so I'll try it in my private journal.

Yesterday I sent one Christmas card--to the only serviceman I know who's in Iraq right now. If you know any military people who are on duty away from home, please write to them. And let's all remember to pray for them. Like all wars in our history, this one has stirred up strong opinions. Whatever our opinions, the courageous men and women in uniform need and deserve our appreciation and prayers.

Something's wrong, and I don't know what it is. Yesterday was a fairly successful Saturday, as Saturdays go. Housework, yardwork, a good walk, phone calls with the kids, etc., but something was wrong. I feel somehow out of sync. Falling asleep last night, I came up with only two good things that had happened in the day, and even during the night I couldn't think of a third. I think days like that "just happen" at times, so I'm planning to move on. But I'll be listening to God, through his Word and in church this morning, in case I'm missing something He's been trying to tell me. Maybe I simply need to adjust to the untidiness of "folk art."

Blessings,
Carol