Auntie Joy

Joy has been calling to me, offering her hand out to me for a good while now.

She's been showing up in unexpected places like winking at me from book pages, waving 

to me via song lyrics, and shimmering at me through photo prompts.

Charmed by being so whimsically wooed, a few weeks back I delightedly curtsied and 

accepted her warm invitation to be dance partners in 2018.

Grinning big because I stopped in a store yesterday on a whim and found her twinkling 

at me... again. 

So, of course, this will be my next journal.

Ok, Joy, you lead and I'll follow. 

💕💕

#AuntieJoy2018

.           *           .

August Break :: Secret

Just looking at my carefully curated cup collection 

warms me to the soul, even before filling 

one with a warm, soothing beverage. 

And sometimes?  

When I need a little lift and it's too hot outside?  

I'll still allow one to choose me 

and fill it with either cool water or icy cold milk. 

#augustbreak2016 

.             *             .

Everyday Beauty :: Compassion

"Unattended Sorrow" inspired me 

to choose my first "official" word of the year, 

Mercy, in 2012. 

Once I finished savoring it, 

I had trouble finding another 

Mercy-themed book that resonated. 

Since changing my word never felt right, 

I just borrowed resources from "her" synonym, 

Compassion.  

"The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion" 

was my favorite.

.            *             .

Beauty

Sweet dogwood beauty

tenderly consecrating,

dancing in the spring.

.       *       .

Our dogwood trees are starting to bloom! 

What better sign of Hope 

than flowers in the spring?

Yes.

.         *         .

Practicing Hope-Dance Turns

Stunned

surprised

 ~ and hurt! ~

by just-noticed 

unfriending.

A quiet boundary?

No, probably more a wall.

I can certainly bang 

both head and hands

demanding entrance

night and day

or 

I can simply notice,

feel and honor my feelings

then gently turn towards faces

of sincere warmth 

and welcome.

What would be most nourishing?

While not easy,

yes, I already know.

(And already started practicing 

these tricky True-Hope dance turns)

Please help me?

Yes, dear girl, 

we see you,

we love you,

and

we are here.

Remember, our love, 

that you are Enough

~ exactly as you are ~

in. this. moment.

.     *     .

Let it Be

It's not a matter of letting go -

you would if you could.

Instead of 'Let it go,'

we should probably say

'Let it be'.

~John Kabot-Zinn

I love this quote so much.  It feels affirming and like supportive nourishment.

So rather than letting go of false hopes, perhaps I can focus on letting them be as I join in the dance with authentic and real Hope.

Yes,

.      *      .

A New Dance, A New Hope

My word for this year is Hope and, as I've shared before, it was a real surprise to find "Her" snuggled up here next to me around Thanksgiving.  The truth is Hope has never been a word that I’ve really used or, quite frankly, trusted.

Because of some things that are happening in some of the lives of those I love, what I’m beginning to really understand and appreciate is that in order to truly practice Hope, I have to begin by first letting go of *false* hopes.

It is dawning on me (I'm having a spiritual awakening) that there are some things that I didn’t necessarily realize I've been pinning my "hopes" on that I am beginning to see, given the circumstances and the people involved, really aren’t possible.

(Well, no wonder Hope never felt real for me … because it wasn’t.)

I am ready and willing to let go of false hopes.  Smiling softly because they've been with me for a really long time so it may very well take some time and patience.  With Grace's help, I will simply do the best I can in any given moment, Mercy-fully trusting that this is Enough.

My intention is to practice gently and calmly turning my eyes and my heart towards living into a true and trustworthy Hope.  Smiling softly because this feels very right and powerful, like a refreshing invitation into a new, beautiful and much more honest dance with Hope.

Hmmm... in light of all of this, the picture above has an even deeper meaning for me.  It's now a very real and poignant visual reminder that I want to remember to keep turning my face, my heart, and my body towards the light of true Hope.

Please help me in my journey, Mama Grace and Auntie Mercy?

Yes, dear girl.  We are both right here beside you (still).  We remain your loving, faithful, trusted (and trustworthy!) guardians, lighting the way.

And, yes!  You can Hope in -- and dance with -- us.

I am deeply grateful.

.     *      .

Dancing with Hope in 2014

Hope, my word for 2014,

was a bit of a surprise.

Because of some things

that happened a long, 

lo-o-o-o-o-ong 

time ago,

Hope has 

never 

been an easy word 

for me.

Or, 

to be quite honest,

one I had much use for,

especially in my teens. 

I sense her companionship

in the coming year might just be

an invitation to heal

in some deeply meaningful ways.

I am willing and feeling ready.

Smiling softly because Hope began

gently knocking 

on the door to my heart,

asking for this dance,

around Thanksgiving

and we are settling in nicely.

When thinking of song lyrics, 

as encouraged in our 

One Little Word project,

the song, 

I Hope You Dance,

by LeeAnn Womack 

one that I love so much 

was the first one 

that came to my heart.

And then I remembered the selfie above

from last summer.

Uneven legs 

are a quiet, 

constant 

reminder 

of my 36-year old cancer journey

(a large part of my 

keeping Hope at arm's length).

Several years ago,

a kind friend called my left 

a "dancer's leg."

This fond image seemed perfect

to begin my dance with

Hope.

As I played with the picture

in PicMonkey

I smiled at thought of me 

dancing in the arena 

of my life.

And

I want to do so,

as best I can in each moment,

while daring greatly.

.     *     .

Adding an afterthought . . . 

The thing I miss 

the very most

about being permanently on crutches

(to the point of *aching* at times)

is dancing 

the Texas-Two Step and Waltzes.

So

it's a very real blessing

to be able to 

tenderly, 

intentionally

reclaim 

the gift of dance

in some small way.