The Whistler's Dream

Everybody needs a dream...
Mine is to go to Oklahoma and play whistles for The Pioneer Woman. (Having been invited, not in a "creepy stalker" kind of way, for the record.) Heck, I'd play in a pup tent in the backyard for the joy of the cows and critters. What can I say? I'm a fan.
Everybody needs a dream...

Random Fluffy Foto!

Random Fluffy Foto!
Writing in bed, and Beka editing by ear. Really. The ear typed some letters. Really.

Thursday, March 31, 2005

One of Those days...

It's one of those days... I'm always a little ancy on weigh-in day, but there's other things. So, dear readers, bear with me... maybe if I get some of the jumble out of my head, it'll leave room for what I actually have to accomplish today. :-)

- Had a strange dream. Can't remember the details, but I do know it involved being with my brother and Vicki outside my mom's house, and we were holding hands and praying that the Lord would move in the sale of the house, so that we can move on with certain aspects of our lives. I remember how we were pouring our hearts out to God, but upon waking, I can't remember the words. Just the passion of coming to His presence and casting our cares...

...which makes me think of...

- I wish I had my mom's eyes. :-) Granted, my eyes are blue like hers, while my brother's are hazel. But Mom's eyes were a pale sky blue, very clear, and quite pretty. My eyes, on the other hand, are a darker blue, and if you look closely, there's a ring of yellow right around my pupil - a gift from my dad, who had hazel eyes. There's something to be said for bearing the image of both of your parents, but still... I kind of feel that if my eyes were like mom's , I could look in the mirror, and see her looking back at me. I'd love to look into those beautiful blue eyes one more time. April 26th, it will be two years since she went to dwell in the Lord's house, and it's more on my mind than I'd realized.

...which brings me to...

- Vicki's eyes, which aren't blue, but a pale green, and quite lovely. Depending on what she's wearing, they go from pale green to a bluish-grey. And a steely grey, if she's a little "frustrated" with a certain someone... :-)

...hmmm. Can you tell I have a thing about eyes?...

(last one, I promise!)

- Why can I not bring myself to practice God's presence more? One of my favorite phrases is found on Carl Jung's tombstone - "Vocatus, atque non Vocatus, Deus aderit." Wasn't that moving? Oh - translation, please? Well, the wording is a little different, depending on whose translation you read, but the one I prefer is: "Bidden, or not Bidden, God is present." Why do I mislead myself into thinking that any of my thoughts or actions are hidden from him? If anything I do can bring Him glory, why can I not realize that anything I do can also bring Him shame? But we limited creatures convince ourselves that when we're doing something that is wrong, well, God's probably looking the other way right now. He's talking to the guy next door. He's speaking through the gal from Touched By An Angel and making her glow, so I can get away with it for a mintue... I can't get it through my head that whatever I am doing, wherever I am, He is present. My attention or lack of attention to Him doesn't change his presence one bit. Don Francisco had a song years ago that said "Who do you think you're fooling?" True dat.

(I lied...)

- One of the blessings about the weight loss is getting back things that I thought I'd never wear again. For example, my wedding ring. Granted, this is not the one that Vicki placed on my hand almost 24 years ago - that one was cut off after an allergic reaction to some leather dye I was working with, and subsequently lost. This one is the one I tend to think of as my real ring - it bears Celtic knotwork and a Celtic cross with an emerald in its center. And, since my birthstone is emerald, that works out fine. Actually, my friend Topher and his lovely bride have ones that match it. (or had - don't know if they still wear them) It was fun seeing my ring on someone else's hand. Anyway, I'm finally at the point where I can wear my ring again, and it's nice to see it on my hand again. I remember my mom holding my hand shortly before she passed away, ahd feeling my ring, and saying, "Didn't your ring have a cross on it?" She was holding my right hand, and the ring on that hand has a smooth stone. So, I held out my left hand, and she ran her thumb over the cross on the ring. Nice memory... Vicki is also wearing her rings again, since we found them and she's lost enough weight to be able to wear them again. Her rings came from my great grandmother, passed down from my mom, and it's a special treasure to see them on her hand again. :-)

Whew! Sorry to make you endure all that! But my head feels a lot emptier... which is a better state for me to be in, believe me! :-) I have clinic and class this afternoon, so I'll check in this afternoon with the result. Thanks for allowing me to clear my head. :-)

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