A Nest of Treasures

Yesterday my daughter and I took on a big project. At least once a year, we clean out the collection of junk she has hoarded in her little pink bedroom. It kind of blows my mind that a 9 year old can stash away so many papers, bouncy balls, stickers and shells in just one year. But she is my daughter.

We spent almost 6 hours moving furniture around, vacuuming, dusting, throwing out old math homework (she thought she might use it for reference in the 5th grade. I convinced her otherwise.)

I'd like to say we sorted through all her collections and culled only the finest pieces. But my heart wouldn't let me do it. As she carefully dusted and rearranged each penguin-shaped eraser, glass unicorn, and piece of beach glass, she smiled the smile of the treasure collector, a smile I know well.

I had to let her keep these treasures. I even dug through the storage room to find some special shelves to better display them.

At the end of the day, our throats were scratchy from the dust we had kicked up. We had to get out and go for a walk just to clear our heads. Later, I tucked her in to sleep. She was almost giddy to slip into her bed in its new place in the room. She looked around dreamily at the reading nook we made with pillows in the corner, the painted parasol from Thailand (a gift from her Aunt Amy) that we hung, canopy-like above her head, and the shining collection of treasures mounted above her desk. Nothing of great value to the rest of the world, but precious delights to a fellow magpie.

Woman, Mend Thyself!

A few weeks ago, I turned 42. I'm truly in the middle. These 42 years of living have taught me many things. Unfortunately, so many of the lessons I have learned are the result of mistakes and wrong turns. Sometimes, I struggle with the scars of regret and when I reflect back on my life, those scars are the only thing I see. I don't see sparkly eyes staring back. I see the wrinkles, stretch marks, and hairy warts of poor choices.  

But I have hope. I have art. And through art, I can mend so many things. 

Many years ago, something sad happened in my life. I had a miscarriage. The grief I experienced was like nothing I knew. The darkness was like a riptide pulling at my heels while I struggled to stay afloat. But I knew I must stay afloat and I did. I was lucky to have the love and prayers of my family. And lucky to have embroidery. Yes, embroidery helped bring me back to shore. Every day I snuggled up in a cozy chair with my dog and stitched. I stitched quaint tea towels, a denim jacket, and an enormous poem on a quilt. And with each stitch, I felt better. 

And so I kept moving my hands. Stitching more, painting more, cutting more, and pasting more. And I realized... these acts of art are healing me. Art was bringing me back.

As I wallowed in my birthday-induced regrets earlier this month, I knew what I needed to do. I got to work in my studio. I threw myself into some new projects and got my hands moving. As I created this collage, a phrase stuck itself into my brain. Woman, Mend Thyself! In other words, quit moping around in the regrets of what you didn't do ... do it now! Fix it now! Take the rest of your life and fight for your dreams! Work hard. Take yourself seriously. And just stitch up your battle scars as you go.

Patchwork is more interesting than perfect anyway.

A Real Page Turner

I am not a bookmaker, but I recently tried my hand at one. I was inspired by a nifty binding machine I got for a steal on the clearance rack at the craft store. I call my book "Traveling by Hand."

 
My idea was to create a place where I could write or doodle as escape. I would like to think of myself as a great adventurer, but in reality I struggle with jet lag, motion sickness, homesickness, and anxiety. I dream of being that worldly woman traveler who can dance with the natives and pick up languages quickly, all while carrying everything she could possibly need in a small backpack.

And so I turn to art to live the dream without having to leave my comfortable hobbit hole.

 
I haven't written anything in it yet. Where should I begin?

  Perhaps like any great adventurer, I should just set out and see what happens.