drowning vs. living

When I was not quite 4 years old I almost drowned. I was wading in a Bar Pit on a very hot summer day. The water was cool on my ankles and feet, and I was envious of my older brothers swimming and horseplaying out in the deep. If you are not familiar with a Bar Pit (yes, I know that is not the correct spelling) it is a man-made hole, the sand on the bottom gets gradually deeper, like a beach.
I ventured farther and farther out, all the while checking over my shoulder to see if Dad objected. He was near the truck with his buddies, leaning and talking. I took a step too far and my face went under water. I was shocked and tried to pull back, which somehow propelled me a little deeper. Now the water was deeper than I was tall. I pushed myself up with a lunge and gulped for air and tried to yell at the same time, my brothers were just over there! My mouth filled partially with water and I choked on the way back down. As soon as my feet felt the sand, I lunged again, determined to get air and yell loud enough to be heard.
I don't know how many times I lunged and gulped and yelled, which was more like a gurgle in reality, but I do remember the feelings and thoughts I had during those few short minutes.
At first the shock, the water closing in around my face, I don't even know enough to close my eyes. I have to push! I remember thinking that if I lunged hard enough I would go high enough to accomplish my goal to get help. Over and over I lunged, over and over I sank back down with my head turned upward toward the surface. I remember seeing the watery sun, looking straight up as I sank down for what seemed the millionth time. PANIC. PUSH. BREATHE. YELL. SWALLOW. SINK. PANIC. It never seemed to end, rather the panic grew every time I sank.
I was getting tired. Now, in addition to the previous order of things, something else was pushing it's way into the mix. Resignation. I realized that I could not keeping jumping in the water forever. My legs were tired, the panic had worn me out and the adreneline rush was over. The time with my face above water was getting shorter with each jump. Resignation.
I remember the last plunge to the surface. No yelling, just air. How long would it last me? I did not jump again. I needed to rest my little legs. I was very tired and resigned. I knew in my young mind that I was in big trouble, the panic had run it's course, I was too tired for that now. In between each push, at first, when my feet touched the sand to push again, I had felt hope. Now the hope was gone. As my lungs started to burn with my last breath, I knew I would have to release it.
As the huge bubbles started to burst from my mouth, I felt a steel band around my arm and I was jerked to the surface. AIR. My brother Hal had come to my rescue. He drug me to the shore and of course I cried. I was wrapped in a towel and fell asleep on the bench seat in Daddy's truck.
I learned to swim the next year, and I loved the water more than the average kid. I can't answer why I didn't fear the water after that, but I didn't. As I grew, we did daring, wonderful things in and on the water, and I love it as much today as I did then. I am still like a little kid when someone says, "Let's go swimmin'!".
Today, in real life, I feel like I have been drowning for a long time, and somehow have been jerked up to the surface for that first, precious, huge gulp of AIR. I have been sinking, and pushing, and gulping and hoping and fighting for a long time. But today, today is different. I will not sink again. I may go back into the water, but it will be with caution and the knowledge that the bottom is sometimes too deep and I need to tread lightly.

Ladies of the Lake

Today I went to the Lady of the Lake quilt guild in Lake City. Last year, at my own guild, we gave a program dedicated to Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. After working on how I could adapt it as a trunk show, my friends in Lake City agreed to allow me to try it out on them.
They were so gracious and patient, and I think they enjoyed it to boot! I had a good time, and learned what I need to do to make "Ode to Marjorie" the best that I can make it.
BUT...the best part of my day was this...

Last year I was at their annual quilt show at Stephen Foster Cultural Center and bought a few raffle tickets for their opportunity quilt. You guessed it: I won the quilt!! Yea!!
I LOVE this quilt! I have 3 lap quilts that are red/white/blue, now I have a bed quilt to match. I feel so fortunate today.

Name change

I think I need to change the doggie's name to Elmer. He is stuck like glue to me since I got home. It is nice to be loved that much.

Florida girl is COLD!!!!!

Beauty

What makes a person beautiful?

We are conditioned to immediately think of physical appearance.

A certain shape and size is more desirable than another.

Curves in the 'wrong' place are not.

You've heard the phrase "A beautiful mind", is that what makes a person beautiful?

I love to talk to smart people, they think much more than I do and I think that makes them more considerate and kind. They actually think through the circumstances of their actions and words beforehand!

Is it our talents?


When Susan Boyle took the stage in that talent contest, the camera panned through the audience and judges, they were smirking and snickering. She sang her song and their jaws hit the floor. Her song made her beautiful, did it not?

I think that it is our soul that makes us beautiful.

Our inner selves that makes us love for the sake of love itself.

Think of the people you love the most.

If their appearance changed drastically, would you love them less? Make them less beautiful to you?

If they suffered a debilitating illness that took away their mind as you know it, would you love them less? Then would they be less beautiful?

If they left this earth altogether, do you stop loving them? Do you not still see their beauty in your soul?

I think that if we are not souls then we wouldn't be able to love this way, seperate of mind and body. When I think of beauty~ mind, body and talents are important but our soul is what makes it all come together.

ps. in case you haven't figured this out, we are focused on portraiture to start 2011.

Good Day.

Yesterday was a good day. period.

New Choir Robes!

Brand new choir robes for Christmas! Aren't they pretty?
This is quite a feat, since we haven't had new robes since....since....well...hm.
This is the first time we have EVER had new choir robes!
Our church is almost 200 years old and, to my knowledge, this is a first.
They are made of peachskin fabric, which is WAY soft and comfy. We bought new stoles from the 'seconds' bins and only paid $4.50 each for them! Two reversable sets equals 4 colors to choose from each week.
We wore purple and white for the Christmas services. We can also choose red or gold.
We love sportin' our new robes!