A Grave Matter {part one}

One day {soon}, the mist of our lives will vanish. The puff of smoke that is my daily grind will float away and disappear. Life here on this earth will be over... in the blink of an eye. The shell that is the physical body will be buried on "Blue Hill," and I'll join the millions that have gone on before, their bodies buried beneath rugged headstones. The oldest ones are covered in moss, and you can hardly read the names anymore. Such is our fate, friend. A single glance in the mirror will confirm that we're getting older; we're slowly marching toward that great day, when we'll stare eternity in the face.

 For now, most of us are content to pretend that such a day will never come. "I've got plenty of time," you say to yourself, "I'm just getting started! They say I've got my whole life to live yet..." and we run off to entertain ourselves. The latest fashion, the newest gadgets, the coolest cell phones, or that favorite TV show are so much more tantalizing than your little sister who needs quality time, the package that you've been meaning to send to a friend, that 30 minutes you said you'd spend reading the Word.

What are the things {words, thoughts, deeds} that will last for eternity?

And what things {popular, material, worldly} are the hay and stubble of this life?

Driving through town in a whirl, I couldn't help but notice the cemetery. The headstones all lined up, looking solemn in the fog and rain. They have something to say to me: the struggles and frustrations of today won't last forever. The stuff of life isn't all there is. The wild-goose chase of the nine to five job is not something you do for it's own sake. To earn money to spend on pretty things is missing the point. You can't take it with you.

To hear those words echo in my head has been healthy. Indeed, if life is nothing more than the daily stuff we grind through down here, we have no reason to do anything but sorrow, and look for pleasure while it may be found. The good news is, there's more. Much more.


"Our personal relationship with the Father through our union with Christ is not only what makes us live forever; it is also what  makes it worthwhile to live that long."          -- Dr. Donald Williams, "Credo," pg. 120

it's name is mud.

This is my Subaru. It likes to go outside and play in the mud. 

All wheel drive means you can skip the weather report. And I always do.

There's something about a Subaru. I found this awesome ad from their 2009 campaign. Judging by the sparkling clean white of the Honda next to me in the garage, I think the glory of the mud splatter is unique to Subaru. In any event, it means Spring is coming, and there will be a lot more mud puddles to plow through. 

I can hardly wait.  

Dreaming...

Ever have a week that's so busy, all you can think of are those elusive hours that you wish you had for quilting... or scrap-booking... or journaling your busy-ness? That's the sort of week I had. Here's what I've been dreaming about:

a new quilt for hanging on the golden, "buck-wheat" colored walls of the office. It's a patriotic star pattern, as you can see. The rows are all lined up and arranged in a pleasing aesthetic, and now it's the impatient stage. There's still a lot of work to be done, but I'm close enough to see how truly wonderful it's going to be. Just like that moment before the sun comes up in the morning on the commute; it's sort of like that sigh you take before you lift that perfect cup of tea to your lips; or maybe more like anticipating stepping onto the stage of Carnegie Hall for the first time.

In any case, the difficulty is a good sign that the end result will be well worth the wait. As DaVinci said, "O God, Thou sellest all good things to men at the price of effort." Quilts are no exception.