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Goodnight, Isaac with an “I“.
May you dream sweet dreams, and when you awake, may you be off to school with wonder and a hunger to learn.
When you arrive back home, may you find more wonder in all of your many books, for in them, there are so many places to go.
But for now, good night, sweet boy. Dream all the best dreams.


This Thursday’s lunchtime view.
Already weary of winter and in the middle of a long stretch of sunnyless weather, this was like a gift, because I was feeling blue, uninspired and very disenchanted with the gray and concrete views all around me at that moment… and frustrated that my opportunities to capture daily life with my camera were few and limited.
Eating a cheeseburger alone in my car next to an abandoned Walmart in the snowless dead of winter on my lunchbreak isn’t exactly the kind of moment I want to remember. It’s not at all what I wanted to document here as part of my joy in my journey.
But in all honesty, my hour alone with a cheeseburger was the perfect prelude to this small scene of berries I’d discover (after almost missing them altogether because I wasn’t paying attention).
My little discovery felt like God was saying to me… See this little pop of red, so small amid a sea of gray and brownish hues, still hanging on, even in the dullest of circumstances?
Or rather… See this little pop of red, so small amid a sea of gray and brownish hues, still hanging on, even in the dullest of circumstances.
And saw it, I did. I noticed, because it was there to be noticed.
It was the complementary image to the words I’d read earlier that day… ones which hit me like a ton of bricks, in a world where we like to discard moments and views that aren’t flashy enough to grab our attention… in a day where slowing down to notice small things is not cool, or at least not convenient.

“There, then, is the role of the amateur: to look the world back to grace… Peel an orange.
Do it lovingly—in perfect quarters like little boats, or in staggered exfoliations
like a flat map of the round world, or in one long spiral, as my grandfather used to do.
Nothing is more likely to become garbage than orange rind;
but for as long as anyone looks at it in delight, it stands a million triumphant miles from the trash heap.
That, you know, is why the world exists at all.
It remains outside the cosmic garbage can of nothingness,
not because it is such a solemn necessity that nobody can get rid of it,
but because it is the orange peel hung on God’s chandelier, the wishbone in His kitchen closet.
He likes it; therefore, it stays.
The whole marvelous collection of stones, skins, feathers, and string exists
because at least one lover has never quite taken his eye off it,
because the Dominus vivificans has his delight with the sons of man.”

Oh, I just loved that. So much so, I’m going to go out and buy the book it’s quoted from.
Ha! And I’m not even a reader. But I’m not sure one needs to be with a book like this. I think it’s more of the kind of book you grab morsels from, in one-at-a-time fashion, to savor and think on.
There’s so much more to see than what we allow time for or give credit to. It just depends what we focus on.
A little red berry with a drop of dew reminded me of that.


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You must have heard me say I want to give you away… that it’s on my list of early-2017 To-Do’s.

Don’t worry, Pink Panther. Isaac heard me, too. And he won’t have it. He argued that, although he never really observes or talks to you anymore and his dad is the one who does all the maintenance of your tank (not to mention the one who feeds you), you’re a part of the family, and that means we just can’t let you go.

You’re safe here. So rest your mind and those worried little eyes.


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New journal…

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.
-T. S. Eliot

If I had a dime for every time my mom said this very sentence to me (“Life is what you make it.”) growing up, I’d be a very rich woman. So imagine my surprise and delight to walk into the journal section at the store and find this journal for 2017. It’s just perfect.