What do you look for when it is raining outside and your house looks like this?
Sometimes, eye candy (like sock yarn) seems to be out of stock. Oh, you know that more is on back order, but you want it today, not six weeks from now. Maybe you even need it today, because you've had a rough week.
Can't go outside because it's raining. Must be something picturesque in the house somewhere, right?
if you know where to look. Or, more to the point, how to look.
If we only use our eyes, we see packing boxes and dust bunnies, laundry piles and crowded "in" baskets, grass that needs mowing and dishes that need doing.
But if we look with our hearts, the view undergoes a remarkable change. As we shift our focus from macro to wide angle, we begin to see beyond the surface, beyond the mundane, beyond our limitations. We remember where we have been, we recognize where we are now, and we envision where we have yet to explore. It is this engagement of heart that allows us to imagine a coat of many colors when we behold a humble fleece - full of burrs, sheep sweat, and just plain dirt.
Here's what I saw this rainy June morning:
a thank you gift from a dear friend, purchased at a cute little gift shop by the shore of Lake Michigan on a sun filled October afternoon
A fledgling refrigerator masterpiece by my niece (from her early stick figure period)
An inspiration angel from one of my writer friends. She is holding a bird and the card reads, "Take the freedom to soar, be what you want to be." She keeps watch over me as I write (both the angel and the friend.)
A chipped tile trivet that bears the hand print of Baby Boy (now twenty for those of you who are new to the blog, or who aren't paying attention, or who have trouble remembering whether you turned off the oven last night and tied your shoelaces this morning (that's me!) Mother's day 1995. He was eight. I was lucky (and knew it.)
Eye candy surrounds us, if we just open our hearts.
Instead of our eyes.