photo – BethSings

Having your Cake and Eating it Too

Nine weeks seems like a long time in May. It’s not.

Once, when little ones were under foot and summer days were filled with ‘what are we doing today, Mommy?”, days were adventures. Without our even recognizing it, days and weeks change. This summer’s delight has been spending time – quality time with family and friends.

Anthony DeMello

I’ve long said that social media is often twisted, taken way too seriously and could very well be the downfall of real conversation. Sometimes it’s the best we can do but I wouldn’t consider it ‘quality time’ although I do miss exchanging the occasional bon mot with a few people.

To keep focused on the present, I purposefully didn’t take my camera on three trips so that I could remember each adventure in my mind’s eye. I did take a few snapshots on my phone…. Boston 4th Only once did I wish I had my Nikon.

Last week I took it on a day trip then when editing those photos

Longwood roof compressed 2

I noticed that the last shots I took were on my birthday last November, nearly eight months ago. Good grief! Longwood long view compressed

It may sound odd but that camera had been a friend just as others have been, when I didn’t feel I had a voice. I discovered in these years the importance of listening over talking or singing, patience in letting go. Picking up that camera last week was similar to the visits I’ve enjoyed with friends and family this summer. Talks over delicious meals, coming home to a comfortable place where the conversation was just as we left it. Here’s to welcome change, new adventures and much more…..

Tea and Scone

Much More

Witness

How does a moment last forever?
How can a story never die?
It is love we must hold onto
Never easy, but we try
Sometimes our happiness is captured
Somehow, a time and place stand still
Love lives on inside our hearts and always will.

Last week I woke up vividly remembering a dream. It was the kind of dream that seems real and lingers. I was 8 or 9 years old sitting in a circle, singing with other children at the community center my mother once managed. I was leading a song. My mother was there in the distance. I couldn’t see her face but felt her presence, comforting and secure. All of us in that circle were connected through the music. What was happening seemed right and important.

The dream was a memory.

Journey Window – St. Aloysius Catholic Church, Baton Rouge, La.

That recollection has been with me for the last week. I thought of it again today as I witnessed a mother’s sad farewell to her son, a seventeen year old with a sparkling personality who I had the honor to teach. A bittersweet day in a myriad ways. Countless really.

Sometimes our happiness is captured with friends and family, frozen in time with stories that will live on. We’re blessed to have them and remember them. Moments that last as long as we do…..and beyond.

For now I’m content to continue dreaming….teaching…and learning until I find ‘my corner of the sky’…..

Corner of the Sky – Pippin

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No Labels

What can I write that others haven’t already written or said!

After watching the news reports Sunday I did what many did, checked in on family and friends. It seemed important to feel their pulse, for them to feel mine. Life in the midst of such a senseless act.

Orlando. Newtown. Lafayette. Charleston. Boston. Columbine. 911. Connected. And not. These incidents have become a part of the fabric of our lives making the world a far more complicated place.

It’s become easy to point fingers, to blame others, to name call. Sunday I turned off television and social media…enough.

My mother, my grandmothers, great-grandmothers faced an uncertain world with faith, finding common ground and love. A long line of women who were not always so big into labeling, meeting their neighbors and the time in which they lived with arms open, often with a casserole and flowers.

It served them well….

maybe our generation could start there….

Shells in the Stars

Spring has been heavy with activity. Partly my fault really. Too many good choices it was hard to say “no” that my well-intentioned “yes” kept my hands and calendar full. I’m not alone in this fatal flaw.

It reminds me of a story I heard a few years ago by motivational speaker Rob Bell. His son is playing on the beach when a large, beautiful starfish comes floating by. The little boy looks up and wants to grab it. Rob yells over, “Go get it buddy” but his son yells back “I can’t.” Rob says, “Sure you can, just run into the water and grab it.” His son replies with emotion and frustration, “But Dad… I CAN’T.” Rob says, “Why not?” and his son says, “My hands are full of tiny shells.”

He had been picking up all these little shells. His hands were so full that when the big starfish came (opportunity) he couldn’t reach out and grab it because he was too afraid to let go of the shells already in his hands.

The giant starfish was right there… right in his reach but he just couldn’t let go in order to get it. Sound familiar?

We live in a society that has such a hard time letting go…. a world that teaches us that busy is not just better, it’s the only thing….when less IS so much MORE.

What is the quieter, better ‘yes’ that frees us from ourselves……

of being ‘too busy’ to do what matters most.

of toxic relationships. You deserve to spend time with uplifting and supportive people who truly care about you. Find your tribe.

of letting your past define your future.

Drop a few of the shells. . .

……then go after the starfish. . .

Nimrod from Enigma Variaions by Edward Elgar

Scavenger Hunt

Creativity is a scavenger hunt. Elizabeth Gilbert

I dictated this installment in my head numerous times over the last weeks: driving to the theater, driving to my hometown, to my son’s house, on the return trip to Baton Rouge. With each drive I reworked the story. I knew once I sat at the computer the story, the music and photos would change. I like to drive, especially in the spring…new life, hope. The journey this month has been, as Elizabeth Gilbert so eloquently states, a scavenger hunt.

For years I had each holiday planned down to ‘soup and nuts’. Looking back, it was an occupational hazard working for a church and wanting a nice holiday for my two children. Passion for both. Loved both. Until I walked away and I realized that only people love back—for some, unconditional love is difficult. Rules, stipulations. SPARKLE

On Good Friday I ran into my long-time colleague and friend. After being a part of ‘the club’ do I miss it? In the four years since I’ve left we’ve returned to the support we had for one another in the beginning of our professional life. I had missed that. We had both become so passionate about what we were doing neither could see the forest for the trees. It happens in work. It happens in life.

One of my favorite high school teachers, Mr. Russ Harding, taught American History. He was a challenging teacher. I sat on the front row absorbing every word, imaging I would major in history then go to law school. He said that history was an insight into the future. We can’t change it, but it can change us. I believe that. Music was always my first love but rarely a week goes by that I don’t quote Mr. Harding: you can’t change history but you can learn from it.

Boyfriend Band Two weeks ago I was preparing for warm-up before a performance, playing with the Timehop app on my phone and saw a picture of myself from five years ago compared to today. History. Thinking about what has transpired over these years, my head started spinning.

Five years ago I was very comfortable but not necessarily content. In the rearview mirror comfort was beginning to feel complacent. Yes, I had a circle of friends and family. Five years ago I was planning to travel to a foreign country alone…in fact, I’ve traveled a lot in these years. I’ve seen both of my children settle in as adults. I’ve reconnect with old friends, resigned from a job I had for over two decades. Interviewed. Rediscover photography. Sang new songs and rediscovered old ones. I conducted an orchestra again. I embraced theater again and she embraced me. I developed a young musicians program for the local theater, collaborated and helped form a Composer’s Residency. . . and finally started finding a healthier me. Timehop

A few years back, when my kids were younger, when I was younger, there were confusing days….ones of discernment: financial…professional…personal… I found myself alone in a dark church one evening. One of the dear Sisters came walking through, sat behind me, put her hand on my shoulder, with her thick Spanish accent said: “Beth, you are a creative person. God has so much in store for you. Listen. Look. Find the creativity within you.” Then she added her signature. God is crazy about you. . .That conversation stuck with me. Frankly, I was embarrassed to be found there crying. In my mind, I was supposed to have the answers. Mothers and teachers always do. That night I realized that the kingdom is bigger than Stuart Avenue and that a scavenger hunt might be possible. My enthusiasm and courage had gotten me through…it wasn’t going to leave me when I needed it most.

Velveteen Rabbit

Last Saturday I texted my oldest friend Leslie before heading to north Louisiana. “You got a hot second”? Monroe had a terrible flood March 9th. She’s been packing up her mother’s house. Her son’s house flooded too. So many houses flooded the streets reminded me of post-Katrina. Monroe High Water I helped for a few hours to pack her mom’s house so they could begin the sheet rock and mildew removal. On the way out of town I was heading to the cemetery to visit the family plot but stopped. . . the water on the Ouachita River was so high.

I decided to stop at the River and skip the cemetery this trip then drove on to Ruston to start the holiday with my son. My parents and grandparents were masters at scavenger hunts. Like the women on Easter morning, I would be looking for something that “wasn’t there”. They have risen! Easter 2016 Paschal Lamb

History. Present. Future.

The Velveteen Rabbit was a childhood favorite. He ‘became real’ by going on his own scavenger hunt.

Boyfriend Angel Happy hunting!

Pruning

Love is little, love is low
Love will make our spirits grow
Grow in peace, grow in light
Love will do the thing that’s right

Shaker hymn

BYU Concert Choir- “Love Is Little”

Simple. Connections. As we grow older I believe that’s what we’re looking for really. Family, friends, colleagues. Sparks that light the way in a world that’s often overrun with chaos, too many choices and confusion. Voices of clarity. They challenge us, as the Shaker hymn suggests to ‘do the thing that’s right’.

Last week was Mardi Gras break. My North Louisiana roots always show the final weeks of carnival season when I escape to different adventures, mostly back to those Monroe roots.

This year, travel lead west to see friends and especially my daughter. I drove back from Austin on a dazzling day. I was well past Houston before I turned on music. The first song on the playlist was that Shaker hymn….I replayed it several times, listening to the lyrics. “Love is little. Love is low. Love will make our spirits grow.”

“Lent is as much about quitting the obligations that clutter our life as it is about learning to dedicate ourselves to more eternal tasks — because fewer branches equal better fruit.”

Since the word Lent comes from the Old English, “lencten,” which means Spring, “pruning my branches” during these next weeks seems very apropos.

Another beautiful day hanging between winter and spring, my daughter and I visited the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center. If we stop long enough to ‘declutter’ the ‘fruit’ is much better.

If you’re looking for me in the next weeks I’ll be pruning…..pruning…..and relaxing into spring….

Pruning doesn’t mean…”you don’t have to try so hard, bend until you break…..or giving it all away…” Take a listen!

Colbie Caillat – Try

Reflections

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

In the last few weeks I’ve given thought to why I started this blog. A few reasons, really. As a novice photographer, I wanted to thank and share my journey with my son. Christmas 2013 he had surprised me with a Nikon. Both he and my daughter are excellent photographers. A connection to them, to home, a way of keeping track of progress. Over these years, the blog has evolved….and so has my photography….

At my son’s request a week or so ago I returned to one of my favorite places in Baton Rouge to take some shots of the cresting Mississippi River. It was one of the first places I went three years ago. There’s no place lovelier at sunset.

First Photo on the Mississippi – December 2013

Three years ago, when the water was significantly lower I started this blog to say thank you: to my son for his generosity, to my daughter for books and advice and to family and friends near and far. Those two words are as sincere today as they were then.

I’m grateful for rediscovering photography and it’s quiet voice in the second half of life.

Only Karen Carpenter can say it better…..

Sometimes - The Carpenters

The World So Wide

It’s no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then. Lewis Carroll~Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

I’m not much of a television watcher but January has traditionally become my time to ‘hunker down’ with Netflix, revisit a handful of television shows……Gilmore Girls. Bewitched. Andy Griffith. Mary Tyler Moore. The West Wing. Some had better acting and writing than others but the common thread weaving all of them together was community. Characters were supportive and rarely unkind or hurtful to one another. My idealism is showing.

It seems easy today for some people to say petty, unnecessary things, abuse social media. Why is it much easier for humans to wrap themselves around problems, negativity and blaming rather than around joy? Why is it easier to point out differences than embrace what makes us unique or see the common ground. The week had been complicated.

Having an early morning breakfast with a friend yesterday, I recalled the grieving I went through several years ago. Not in the traditional sense like when someone dies but in the crazy, unconventional way that parents, especially mothers can understand. . . when your children leave home. It’s like when a team filled with seniors, lead by a dedicated coach wins the play-offs; the coach is left to rebuild or choose to move on. A bittersweet feeling. Children are never meant to stay in one place….I have discovered, neither are we. None of us are ‘place keepers’.

As idyllic as Mayberry or Stars Hollow appeared to be, I wasn’t cut out for that life. We’re not intended to live our parents lives or even the lives of our childhoods. As a single mom, my children and I created our own traditions and defined family using our own lexicon—a new normal with just the three of us, embracing others into our family along the way . Single moms and their families learn to depend on and take care of each other while instilling independence in our children. It’s a balancing act in the best sense. My children are living proof.

When my mother asked “Are you a person of fear or a person of faith?” she was teaching me that a person of character will have many moments in their life. Decision making. Joy. Sorrow. Betrayal. Misunderstanding. Leave-takings. Homecomings. Finances.Hormones. Aging. It’s our job to embrace and find peace in them ALL.

On New Year’s Day 2011 I walked a labyrinth under a beautiful sky filled with stars. Under the stars that same winter my daughter was in her third year of undergraduate school studying in Prague, my son was in his mid-20’s working his way up the corporate ladder. The steps we all took that year were adventure-filled marked with enthusiasm. We were miles apart yet connected. It had seemed like such a short journey from infancy to adulthood for them. That night at the beginning of a new year, I resolved to start on a path of self-discovery. I’ll always be their mother but the time had come to find an adult self apart from being a parent. Along this new journey I’ve had the time to nurture my own interests and career, travel, to reacquaint with friends from childhood, college and beyond who had been on adventures of their own—building careers and families. I’ve explored and discerned. Some choices were great, some not so great but they were mine.

Twenty-six years ago this week, with two small children and the promise of a future we moved to Baton Rouge to begin a new life. In four months my son will be the same age I was then. Ironically, last week some dear friends who have lived in Baton Rouge for these same twenty-five years revealed they will be moving.

We aren’t meant to stay put but to move forward. Have no fear….of the movement or of time….The world’s so wide. Enjoy the ride!

These Are That Day

And how could we endure to live and let time pass if we were always crying for one day or one year to come back–if we did not know that every day in a life fills the whole life with expectation and memory and that these are that day?
C. S. Lewis

I’ve started this one more than once. Some in my head, in traffic. Some lying in bed—early morning, late at night. Walking to work. In the shower. Finally at the computer.

Like the proverbial light bulb, something hit me.

Expecting. Anticipating. Waiting Counting days. Whether we use candles, games or in the silence of our hearts.

Waiting for….a miracle.

Fifty-six years ago tonight my parents had been playing a waiting game. The eight years between my brother’s birth and my adoption. My uncle’s untimely death. Ordinary days. Extraordinary days. Wondering, waiting, hoping and praying. ….every day in a life fills the whole life with expectation….My family were such people.

A drive to Shreveport, a family is changed. I was changed. Everything is changed…

by love….

by the gift of patient waiting.

Over these December weeks I’ve focused on giving of self rather than something that can be wrapped and tied with a bow. My parents’ ninety mile journey that December was such a selfless act….

but others also show such acts…..parents, children, friends, strangers.

Last weekend, the A Capella caroling group I sing with had the opportunity to sing for the residents of one of our local retirement communities. It was a lovely morning singing carols and Hanukkah songs as well as celebrating the 97th birthday of one of the long-time arts supporters. As we were wrapping up someone tapped me on the shoulder, asking if one of us could sing a carol in his mother’s room. We all went.

Voices of all ages filling a room. A son gently holding and caressing a hand that had once cradled him…

Silent Night. Holy Night. Sleep in heavenly peace.

…..every day in a life fills the whole life with expectation and memory and that these are that day……

Connection. Gift. Selfless……Love’s pure light.

My take-away is this: miracles aren’t the same as magic.

Miracles are found in ordinary things like oil or a baby, a song you’ve sung thousands of times, sharing time with family and friends. The gift, at least for me this year, is to remember how extraordinary ordinary is….then to wait for it…

in gratitude….. for each day…

Puzzle People

Driving home from my oldest’s friend’s son’s wedding last Sunday it occurred to me that life is like putting together a puzzle. At times we’re not quite sure what the picture is unless we look at the box.

Not too long ago someone said they had seen some of my photography, asked when I took lessons. On that drive home I recalled those “lessons” and others in the process of putting ‘the pieces together’.

Mr Galleon was my 7th and 8th Grade Science Teacher. Unconventional, he believed in “life lessons”. He built a dark room in the science lab so that those of us who were interested could learn photography. He took photos around town for everything from sports events to weddings. What a profound influence both he and my band director, Mr. Howard Jackson had in my life. Mr. Jackson rebuilt the old Paramount organ at the school. The band room was the place everyone would hang out. That was over forty years ago. Both Mr. Jackson and Mr. Galleon were educators who went beyond the classroom. They were servants, not people showing up to do a job.

Follow your bliss and doors will open for you that you never knew existed. Joseph Campbell

We are all worth more than the worst thing we have done in our lives. Sister Helen Prejean

In mid-June the final pieces of the puzzle for a composer’s forum came together, numerous artists and arts organizations sharing their time and talent to bring about an amazing weekend of art song and opera, some had never been performed in Louisiana. For over thirty years I’ve been an events organizer but this puzzle was different. Given the opportunity to discuss and collaborate with the creators of the works, our artistry was called to a deeper place. We were called to a place of patience, understanding, forgiveness.

Sometimes puzzle pieces fit. Other times the discovery takes sifting for the picture to become clear.

In the summer, my grandmother always had a puzzle going. The creativity of each individual piece fitting into another individual piece.

People and their lives are like that. There’s always another piece of the puzzle waiting. My theater friend Carole had figured that out. Eighty years old when she died a week ago Friday, she volunteered not only at the theater but also with St. Vincent de Paul. Lovingly nicknamed “Moose Lady”, she was a puzzle person.

Lately I’ve been less concerned with the big-picture….and enjoyed the pieces. Like Mr. Galleon, Mr. Jackson, my grandmother and Miss Carole, hope that makes me more of a puzzle person.