Busha Full Of Grace

The Bathroom Door Canvas

My friend Carla has done amazing things at my school. She is such a gifted artist, to say the least. Here is a photo of the bathroom door in the younger children's room:

Isn't it absolutely beautiful????

More on Toesies...I kid you not.

So, the dilemma once again. That pedicure question. Yesterday I was standing in line at the ATM and people watching, like we all do at the ATM I would imagine, and I looked down at the toes of the woman in front of me. She had a beautiful pedicure with shiny red polish. Then I took a double take...she had one very wide baby toe on her right foot, with two perfect toenails, each painted red. Once again the marketing of pedicures came to mind....did she, or did she just leave a little extra with the tip?

Visiting

Tuesday night I needed to go to Mom's house to help her figure out her glucose testing machine. She had prepared some stew for us (out of week old meat) that sadly, I was afraid to eat, but did. The gods were with me because I didn't get sick.

But when I arrived, I was a little stressed out from a very long day. She answered the door cheerfully, clearly glad to see me. And she tried her hardest to be nice. I could tell. When I sat down to chat with her and really had the opportunity to look into her face, I could see that sometime that day she had cried. She was cheerful now, but what pain had brought the tears rolling down her cheeks. My poor mom battles with deep, deep hurt. I didn't mention that I noticed. I thought it best to let her live in the happiness of our visit and not remember the hurt that visited her that day. I need to remember that when I get impatient. And I need to try to separate her hurt from her lifelong meanness. It's a task. But when she is sad, or confused, or lonely it is my pleasure to be with her. When she is critical and mean-spirited, I cannot bear the day together. A lesson to me to work through my demons and let them go.

The Ant House - 4 year old train of thought

"Boooosha...this is the house that saves all the ants from the prey like chameleons at our house we have a tree and under the tree is "a" ant home and they crawl out everywhere even onto my cat's fooooood and where do you think the live busha they come out in a line and go all over my house everywhere lots of ants oh there's a spider do spiders eat ants nooooooo they don't eat ants they're their friends all creatures are friends where do they come from Booosha?

"Perhaps they live in a home in the roots."

"NOOOOOOO, Booosha, silly..... I have to go potty"

"BOOOOOOOOSHA.......SOME PEOPLE ARE REALLY SHORT YOU KNOW. BOOSHA, WHERE DO ANTS LIVE?"

Flower Story with Beeswax

My dear friend, Lisa, wrote to me yesterday, that her mother's passing was very close. She had been sick with cancer for a very long time. I went from the computer to my garden, where I cut some beautiful flowers: echinachea for healing, and roses, the fragrance of the angels. I put them into a vase of colored stones and clear, fresh water. You see, Lisa loves stones. She sees stories and healing and grand things in rock formations. They hold her to the earth.

I lit a beeswax candle and said a prayer for the angels to come and carry her safely home. Later that evening, the candle was getting low. I don't know why, but I decided to photograph my little kitchen table altar for Lisa; but I didn't get to the computer to send it.

This morning when I awoke, the candle had burned out and the biggest and softest peach rose had wilted. I took that one bloom out and put it in the compost. I said another prayer and wondered what the night knew.

But before I put its tired, wilted petals into the compost, I noticed the beautiful scent that lingered. I pondered our mother earth and the cycles that carry humanity on so that we may heal our land, our relationships, our souls.

And then I turned around and saw the other flowers still standing tall in the bright morning sun, in silent blessing.

Lisa sent another email telling of her mother's passing during the early morning hours. Much love, dear friend. Rest peacefully, Betty Burns.

Manifest....oooooooh

I'm here. Really. And I have been for awhile. I just haven't posted because I haven't been waxing very eloquent. My head is full of numbers, not beautiful happy words. I've come to the end of my loan application and my license application and now have a wee little bit of space in this head for words.

The school is coming along beautifully. The small building has been lazured and my office is beginning to look like an office. Still sparse and the home to some junk, but considering it was a storage loft in its last life, it is coming along just as it should.

I've never had "an office" at work before. A nurses station, a desk, yes, but not an office. Funny thing is, I think I manifested this office. A while back I got an email from my old boyfriend/disappearing act/ friend/whatever, stevematts, asking about my plans. The email I wrote back ended up being one of those "where will you be in five years?" notes to myself. I have never had one come to fruition quite like this one before. I cannot remember all that I said, but I do remember the part about a desk where I could look out my window at quiet treetops as I wrote. So, last night the school was empty and after I watered grounds, I went up to my loft office and just sat at my desk. And there I was, looking through streaming sun at the treetops all around the property. I grinned (and shivered) smugly.

I did it! I believed in something so clearly it happened. I've tried this many times in my life, but this time I was matter-o-fact about it, without attachment. I know that sounds new agey without the feeling in my heart behind it. But it is felt...and a huge, glowing, happy feeling of success for me.

By the way, my loan was approved yesterday too. It's all good.