Ten Thousand Saints

     As the snow keeps pouring from the sky...covering my part of the world in a lovely white, I fear that my patience with winter has grown weaker with each passing day! I am so ready for spring!
The house is quiet, which is rare these days, and I can concentrate a bit to write. Grand babies are asleep, and the big boys downstairs in the "man cave" eating subs and playing games. Around here is a little crazy as of late, since my youngest daughter is temporarily back home with her children. Life is very full with homeschooling our youngest, trying to keep our 18 year old son busy, my husband Ken teaching college, me working away and trying my best to stay well and energized, and our  daughter trying to find her way through school and parenting and life.
Life is very VERY full. 
     Recently, I was asked by an amazing man and very talented stylist, Christopher Fulton, to create some hair jewelry pieces for an upcoming movie he is working on. It was quite a challenge, which I truly love.The movie is set in the late 1980's, so I had to do some period pieces, which was great, (since I was very much there in the 80's and all) and I remember that time very well....(I'm smiling to myself)
One character is a high class woman, for which I made a selection of barrettes, combs, modern pony tail holders, hair bands (made from vintage modern necklaces), and clips~

80's style hair jewelry

The second character is a bohemian type artsy woman, quite the opposite of the first character. She has long, flowing hair and needed pieces in a boho-hippie style...hair sticks and simple pieces reflective of her character. For her I made hair sticks out of antique fan parts with authentic Art Nouveau pieces, combs and ties made from real Art Nouveau and Victorian Gothic buckles, and a leather barrette made from a very old tooled belt that I aged and sanded further to make it look as if she'd had it forever~

bohemian style hair jewelry

The movie is called Ten Thousand Saints.  I am so thrilled to be a small part of the whole huge process. Thanks to late night photo-texting and Chris' infinite patience and support, I was able to pull this off in a short time frame and come up with usable pieces for the shoot.
I think that is what I like most about creating the things I do...I get to be a part of something much bigger in the world...people that wear my work carry with them a bit of myself, my thoughts, and my deep love for my work and for humanity, into weddings, huge events, little victories, into work and now into a movie...how truly wonderFULL life can be.

me, circa 1988 (see? told you I was there!)

Affirmation, a Mother's Day Letter to My First Born

My Dear "Little Prince",

            Mother’s Day morning is here, and I reflect today in the rare stillness of early morning; my thoughts turning to you. My first child. Born to me on the edge of 18. I could not stop looking at you. So incredible. So beautiful. So mine.
            I was a natural, even at that age. I know I've told you that before haven't I? I surprised everyone. I just knew what to do somehow, as if guided by something unseen and unknown. A force of pure love. I imagine that is what is called maternal instinct...
            I fumbled through your later years, as I imagine all parents do. We grew up together. I made mistakes that, in my mother's mind, are completely unforgivable. But you have forgiven me before I have even begun to forgive myself. Thank you for that.

            I am writing because I want to share with you one of my fondest memories. I have years upon years of memories stored up in my mind of you and your four siblings...fleeting glimpses of the past, like tiny movies I can play and re-play. And I so agree with  Pavese who once wrote,  “We do not remember days, we remember moments. The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.”  Isn't it strange how a memory that only lasts just a few seconds, can change a person so...but the richness of the moment stays with us like sweetness on our tongues after desert is long gone.

            It was 2006. You were graduating from high school. Your father and his wife had the “good” seats, while I had to sit in the balcony section for guests... straining to find you among the sea of caps and tassels and gowns. And it was ok. Your father and his wife are the ones who were there in person, and urged you onward and finally got you to that place, a graduating senior, while i lived 3,000 miles and five years away from you.

            You had just received your diploma and I only applauded loudly as requested by the high school staff. You must have known how hard it was for me to stay reserved. I am never one to be demure! I had to quietly swallow the burst of pride that I felt, and tears of joy mixed with regret and longing leaked from the corners of my eyes. You walked by your father and his wife and found your seat and then it happened.

            As I watched in earnest to catch your eye, you turned around in your seat, searching the balcony crowd for my face.  My face. We made eye contact. You raised your diploma in the air and smiled at me. I waved and smiled back.

            It was two seconds. The most life affirming two seconds of my entire life.

            To be loved by you, I find such grace.

            There are the broken places inside of me that still ache for a second chance to get some things right, though I know it isn’t possible. And I know, as a parent, all parents have those tender, achey places.

            On this Mother’s Day, I want to thank you for your love. For loving me despite all of my faults. For forgiving the seemingly unforgivable. Imaginative, dynamic, beautiful child of mine;  thank you, for your unlimited love and grace.

                                                                                        Love Forever,

                                                                                        Mom

Smitten...and Busy!

I became a grandma this week! Little Benjamin was born on November 12, and weighed in at 8 pounds and 3 ounces! He's a quiet and observant little fella...chubby-wubby cheeks...and I am completely smitten with him...and busy with holiday orders (for which I am so incredibly grateful) and helping Em with the baby. I just wanted to share a couple of photographs with you here. I am still recovering from almost living with Em in the hospital for an entire week. She got very sick before she was due to deliver, with sepsis from a nasty kidney infection. To be honest, I thought for a moment that I would loose her. IV antibiotics for an entire week to manage it. I have never been in a constant state of prayer like that before...ever.

Benjamin David

exhausted new grandma and baby Benjamin

I was given the honor of being present during the delivery, and the incredible grace to calmly see my daughter through a very difficult labor and delivery. Her quiet strength astounded me, and renewed my belief in my own inner strength.
I am so looking forward to watching the changing dynamics of our family...seeing the interactions...watching my husband relish being a new grandpa, and having a new baby to hold and talk to...
there is just no limit to the amount of love a heart can hold.

I wanted to share this little idea and photograph sent to me by my dear mama today. She is so creative and crafty!
Simple ingredients:
glass ornament, old rusty spring, chandelier crystal and pillar candle holder! Turn ornament upside-down, attach the crystal, set inside the spring and into the pillar candle holder and....voilà! How nifty is that? I'm thinkin' maybe I'll try it with an old plate instead of a candle holder, and an old Christmas ball instead of the heavy glass ball, I'm thinking with lighter ingredients there might need to be a bit of glue involved.
whatdya think? Feel free to share this idea with friends!

cobalt blue assemblage by my mom

I Believe in Love...

Every time I receive a lovely photo from one of "my brides", it reassures me...and always, always melts my heart. As I have said before, weddings give me such hope. Weddings hold such promise...and I believe in love.
When I create a piece of jewelry for a bride, or for anyone for that matter, I infuse each piece with my greatest hopes and love for the wearer. My customers often say they can feel it when they wear it...that means everything to me.

Lovely Ashlee's Wedding

Ashlee's vintage assemblage bridal comb

Glass Garden, vintage assemblage necklace

Glass Garden

In Love, shabby bridal earrings

Ave Maria, vintage assemblage earrings

I have a grandson coming tomorrow, so I'm busy "nesting" here at home. He and Em will be with us for awhile until she can get on her feet. I cannot even describe to you the excitement I feel when I think of seeing his little face for the first time. I find myself gently shaking my head in disbelief, as I write here in the early morning hours, that nine months have flown by already. It has been a rough road for Em, but I know this little fella will help direct her path from here on out. Yup, I have a very good feeling about him...and about her too...

Em

The next time we talk, I'll be a grandmother for the very fist time...magic!
Warmly,
Jennifer

WINNERS!

Hello everyone! I wanted to tell you the winners of the giveaway.
I put everyone's number into a random generator and here are the results!
The first winner of the Kelly Rae planner is Lois Johnson.
The second winner of the photo album is "bks".
The third winner of the vintage assemblage jewelry holder is Nancy Lefko.
Congratulations ladies! Will you contact me with your address so I can send you your goodies?

On another subject, the weather here in Michigan has gotten a bit cooler and tolerable to be out in (finally!) I spent some time outside with the kids and the cats. We have a huge yard. We hate to mow. So we made a "wild" area way in the back by the tree line that Jeremy calls "Shady Badoo"...a secret place to hide and lay in the grass. And so we did...

me and my K.W.

K.W. and our son Jeremy in "Shady Badoo"

Walking on the Sky

Since the passing of my dear Cutie Cat recently, it has made me more aware of my other pets and having a nice picture of each of them. So we had a cat photo shoot as well...quite fun trying to get them still...

Maisy in Shady Badoo

Alice in Shady Badoo

 There are other fur babies, but I won't bore you with tons of cat pictures! Most of our dear pets are rescued strays.
Thank you all so very much for the outpouring of sympathy and love about my last post. I received Cuties ashes today. It made me so sad all over again, but suppose that is normal.
Well, on a lighter note,


I'm so in love with the assemblage jewelry I've made recently... I want to keep it for myself! I've been so drawn to blue, once again. I talked about it in this last post.

Thank you all so much for being here!
Blessings and Light,
Jennifer

Unconditonal Love and the Dead Bee Heart

I raised my voice at my 6 year old yesterday. It happens rarely and he is very sensitive....so he writes me a note. I have only gotten two notes so far...so I guess I'm doing ok. I was having a particularly difficult morning and in my frustration to try and get him motivated to get ready for school, I told him he needed to get dressed, NOW. As I went about getting myself together for the day, this note appeared on my dresser, quite matter of factly. Delivered by a frowning and resolute little boy.   

Needless to say, it immediately lifted any frustration or crabbiness from my mind and replaced it with laughter and gratitude. It has been said that our children are our greatest teachers. I believe it.

His frustrated scribbles inside a cut out heart shape said it all. I think it is about unconditional love....like the love we have for our children...like the love that God has for us. No matter how much we "mess up". No matter how many mistakes we make or how often we stray, God will always accept us back into the fold of his heart, dead bees and all.

Yes, I'm Being Followed by a Moon Shadow

Moon Shadow, unknown date

I dreamed of him again last night. Every now and again he visits and I tell him how much I miss him...how much he meant to me...and I hold him tightly as long as I can before he has to go away from me once more. Even after almost 30 years, the tears well up and spill over my cheeks with the intense missing of him...my step-father, Jerry Roberts. He came to us a funny, gentle and playful angel. He made our mother smile and laugh like we'd never seen her do...he made us all feel safe and loved. He made us feel precious and seen and relevant. We mattered. He loved our mother deeply and he loved us girls like his own.

And then he left us. He didn't want to, but for whatever reason, God took him home. He was killed in a car accident in December of 1983.

We watched the joy leave my mother's face and turn into deep sadness. Our little world, our utopia by the lake, under the boughs of Hickory trees laden with moss...was completely shattered. Only a deep chasm of emptiness and grief remained. My sister and my mother and I were forever changed...forever altered by an unimaginable and unbearable grief.

and Here I sit, almost 42 years old....with the same wounded heart of the 14 year old girl he left behind...

I need to tell you this. It is a part of my story, but it is only a part of the reason why I am writing this now. Sitting here vulnerable. Fighting the tears that blur the computer screen as I type.

He comes to me in dreams every now and again...sometimes picking me up in his truck. Sometimes we talk on the phone. Sometimes we meet at the lake; but this time we met at the track and he let me drive the dragster he named "Moon Shadow". Why, after almost 30 years, did I get to drive it?

I think I know.

He knows how I struggle. I feel his presence around me much more so these days...and I hear the sweet phantom sound of his southern voice. When I worry about not being alive for my children....or when i feel the energy drain from my body and I succumb once again to the blue-plate-special-illness of the month. When I am fearful and a little crabby, I remember his playfulness and his smile and his laughter....how i reveled in his attention and generosity; his dark and kind eyes looking back at me...his gentle voice filling my ears. I adored him beyond reason. He was mine, and our everything. He was a wonderful father to me and my young sister. The only one I ever really knew. He loved us deep and wide.We felt it. We knew.

...and so now, I've gotten to drive the car. I had always yearned to. I would dream of it when we'd go to watch him race at the drag strip....he'd let my sister and I sit in Moon Shadow every now and then just to have the thrill of sitting in it...

I know it sounds silly, but I think the dream, well it was a message from him...and in a way, a message to you and that is why I am spilling open here, wider than ever, to bring you the message.

He knew I needed to finally drive the car. To feel the power as I pressed down the gas and the loudness came and the front end came up off the pavement. I felt empowered. I felt alive and joyful. I knew where I needed to go. I knew what I had to do. I instinctively knew how to drive it and I wasn't alone because he was watching and he was proud.

In the dream I was driving the dragster, yet I could also see myself in it at the same time. He was showing me that I could do it...he was showing me what he saw as I drove.

and what a thrill it was to be driving!

But more so, I think his message was this: no matter how limited our time here on this Earth, love is the only thing that matters. It is the only thing we can truly leave behind.

What we leave behind in the hearts and minds of others is all we have. It is all we can truly give.

He gave me all of the generosity, laughter and love to pass it along. Life is so precious. So mysterious. So filled with beauty and despair and resilience and grace and tragedy. I am learning how to love the questions. I'm learning to love with my best possible love. I understand that I will always be a work in progress. I am learning to be more gentle with myself. I'm learning to find more and more humor in it all. And I've finally gotten to drive Moon Shadow. I know I can leave here any time now, knowing I've planted seeds of laughter and generosity and love. This was his message to me.

He gave that to me.
He gave me that, to give to you.

In Loving Memory of
Jerry Stephen Roberts

November 6th 1949 - December 27th 1983

It's 2 a.m. and I'm Thinking About You

Precious baby boy True...Right now I'm thinking about your mama, my sister, and how your smile looks so much like hers. I'm thinking about your eyes and how they shine and I wonder if they will be the prettiest green; like hers. I'm thinking about how your tiny breath would feel on my neck as I rock you to sleep and sing to you the song of pretty horses...the same one I sang to her in the night. Night after night to soothe her in the darkness.
I'm thinking about how the tiny bubbles in your bottle as you drink must sound almost the same as hers did, while she lay next to me more than 30 years ago...it seems like it was just yesterday. (it's a dumb old cliche, I know, but I don't know how else to say it.)
I hold a lot of your mama's memories, you know, and someday I hope to hold some of yours too....and I promise I'll keep them safe, like hers. And I'll bring them out later when you have a birthday or need reminding or maybe you need to remember where you came from if you get lost along the way. So many times, your mama has found me when I was lost along the way. She is such a remarkable person and you; well you are a very very lucky boy.
I think of you every day and I am so grateful to see your smile, even if it is just a photograph. When I see your little face on the screen my breath catches in my throat. I hold you  in my heart and in my thoughts always. Since you've been born, life seems lighter somehow. Greener. The hard things seem a lot less important.
Sweet child, you are a lantern in the darkness. You are hope. You are healing.

You are True.

Luminosity

They seem to appear from the canvas,
with searching eyes, somehow manifesting from the drips and smears;
a soul of their own doing.
Brought to life through his hands,
these waywards finally at rest.
A life story made real
yet transient and fleeting
as the fog rolling by
the car windows on a sultry nighttime ride.
Luminous
soft
fluid
and
smoldering
from the palette of his dreaming.

(Untitled acrylic on canvas)

("Speed" acrylic on canvas)

("Transgressions" acrylic on canvas)

(Jeremy, crayon and acrylic on canvas)

("Apparition"acrylic on panel)

( These are an example of work by my husband, Ken Morford.  His online Etsy shop is still under construction,but  inquiries about purchasing paintings are welcome. His blog contains a little more about his work. Click here.
Ken is also a poet. You may find his beautiful poetry here.
I am a lucky girl. Surrounded here at home by his talent, and graced with his words.

True North

I received this letter today. It was resting upright on my jewelry table when I awoke this morning. Of course the tears came...in this letter he speaks of our favorite song together, Float On by Modest Mouse. And in the top right hand corner his letter says "True North". Something I told him years ago that he never forgot. I talked with him about what it meant and how to know if he was truly heading in the right direction in his life...what made him truly happy...and what his personal True North is. He has overcome so much in his 15 years of life. A rare congenital disorder, learning disabilities, being teased and bullied in school because he is so different. Still, he remains the tender hearted, creative, hopeful child filled with questions and wonder that he has been from the very beginning. My compass. My constant.
This child of mine....this child, holds a constant mirror to my soul. (I am tearful with joy and gratitude as I write this.) Such joy I find in my children...I know how fortunate I am. I know....
He says to me in his sweet letter, written in his best hand, that my father would be proud of me. That Jerry would be proud and that I am stronger than most and that he is proud of me....and to remind me, that no matter what, no matter how heavy things get, we will all float on alright.....my dear child, this I know. We will float on.....and on. Alright.

Crystal Springs and Dreams of the Sea, assemblage necklaces and Stories of Water and Wonder

When I was a girl, I went to Crystal Springs, Florida with my family...and rode in a glass bottomed boat. I will never forget seeing the fish swimming under the boat as we cruised along....the water, was so clear that you could see the bottom from where you sat in the boat...we gathered around a window to the springs....a window to the summer of my youth. I remember being a little scared, but feeling the comfort of family enough to bravely drape my little sun-kissed hand over the side of the boat and let my fingers trail in the coolness of the spring water....Yes, this necklace is about coolness and clarity, and summer and family, and the beauty and silent wonder of water.
You can see more of it here.

Then, there are Dreams of the Sea... several years ago when I could still feel the gentle rush of the ocean over my toes, and the crush of tiny shells beneath my feet; I fed the seagulls on the Jacksonville shore with my mother. It is my absolute fondest memory to date...our hearty laughter mixed into with the whipping ocean winds and the cries of a huge flock of gulls overhead. They were so close we could look into their eyes, and they were riding on the wind...somehow they remained stationary above us, and all vying for the perfect spot to catch the next morsel. Some were brave enough to eat right from our outstretched hands. I remember the feel of a rough beak grasping the tips my fingers for a moist crust of bread, and the boisterous laughter and  the wonder in my mother's bright eyes when she looked at me... In that moment, it was only she and I and the ocean and everything else between us dropped away; lost to time... lost to the sea.

You can see more of this necklace here.

Tears for the Bookbinder's Son, an antique assemblage

It has been quite some time since I've created an assemblage. I have been focusing my energies on creating "functional" artwork and jewelry. I think this is actually the first though, that I have had a specific feeling behind the creating of it...I guess maybe more an emotion...or quite simply; grief.
This piece is about my father, as a way of expressing some of the emotions I've experienced since his death. Looking through old journal pages the other day, I came across pages from a time many years ago, in which I struggled with debilitating depression. I often had days in which I simply needed to list "what was good"...as if seeing it in writing made it somehow more real. It helped to keep more focused on what was important and what was, in fact good. Going over my list, I came upon an entry that stole my breath and made me choke on the sobs that wanted to escape from my throat. Just one line in my short list that day, of what was good:
"Hearing my father's laughter."
I have good days that string together one to another to another, when I think the worst of it is over....and then there are those days when my heart feels as if a heavy stone is tied tightly to it and the tears leak from behind my eyes no matter how I try to stay out of the shadows of grief and focus on the light.

p.s.(I took these shots without a tripod, by the way, thus creating the not so crisp pictures...I have since ordered a little tripod.)

An Early Morning Rain

Today there was an early morning rain. My little son came running in to me excitedly to let me know...he had gotten up before me and raided the freezer for some Ben and Jerry's Cinnamon Bun ice cream for breakfast. (he knows better, but I was asleep so it was fair game)
When I asked him if he'd like to go out in it, his eyes lit up and we proceeded to go through my beconning and messy studio to the back door and he excitedly ran out into the heavy downpour. Dancing and laughing and playing like a five year old would. Then he asked me to join him....at first I said no because I was still in my pajamas. But then I remembered, this life is the only one I have. As I remembered from Simple Abundance, this is no dress rehearsal. This is it. This one life. And  so I ran out into the warm summer rain in my black faux satin Walmart special p.j.'s and I stood there under the sky and I felt so connected to the earth and to God at the same time as the rain pelted my body. In that moment, I remembered again, that this joy....this kind of high, can be attained every. single. day. It is all about living in the moment. It is all about mindfulness. It is all about realizing what really matters in this life; and it isn't about what the neighbors will think of me out in the rain in my pajamas. We all know what it is, but if you are anything like me, you get lost sometimes....and you need a good rain to wash away the dust of day to day living; the film of weariness that sometimes covers us...we get jaded and we loose hope. But know this; you are not alone in this world.
I need to hear that every now and then. I just need to hear it, I need to read it I need to feel it I need to breathe it.
Today, I felt it in the rain. I felt the splendor that this world can hold in a single raindrop. The wonder of life and the joy that comes with just being.
If I could bottle it somehow and give it away....that kind of simple joy that I felt today...well, this is as close as I can get...this blog is a message in a bottle, of sorts.
My message to you (and to myself) would be simple. My message would be:

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Yesterday, during an incredible thunderstorm, I was thinking about one of my favorite poems. Maybe because of the references to water...
My husband and I often read aloud to one another on long trips or sometimes before we drift off to sleep. Yesterday, I opened the curtains and we lay in bed together to watch the play of the wind in the trees and listen to the thunder. He listened attentively as I read aloud the many pages of  The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock...

"There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea."

                    My Husband and fellow poet, Ken.

And, with gentle humor, during the rare moments that I look closely at my aging face in the mirror, I have been known to quote Eliot's words:


"I grow old ... I grow old ...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each."


and then, the end; is my most favorite part:


"I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown."

Make yourself a cup of tea...you might like to read the whole thing here.
Do you have a favorite poem? I'd love to know what it is....

Many Beautiful Things

I've been meaning to tell you all about Stephanie Lee for months. The incredible metal and plaster book she gifted me sits quietly on my dresser..well, more like an alter of sorts I guess, in my bedroom on a stack of my collection of jewelry boxes I spoke of many months ago. I pass by it each day and I remember her words to me, the only ones I remember by heart, "Now that the sweetness of your jewelry is in the world..." and I think to myself, who could give such a gift....a gift created with so many hours of work and given so freely. I cried when I opened it, I remember....

because I knew about the hours, the smell of the solder, the hand stitching, the carefully smoothed plaster pages...I knew of the self that goes into an artists work, and each time I pass it by, I smile to myself in disbelief that it is actually mine.

So many times, I've caressed it and admired it and brailled my fingers over the smooth cool plaster....thinking to myself, whatever goes into this book has to be, must be as amazing as the treasure itself...as beautiful as the one who created it...

...and It  finally happened...only yesterday; and want to keep this tiny memory for the rest of my days, and retrieve it when I begin to wonder if I've really made a difference in this world...as I do sometimes....as I think maybe we all do.

We have five children. Our oldest girl, now 19, is on her way to her own life. She still lives at home, working and going to college and saving little by little. She is becoming her own woman now, yet I see the little girl in her emerge now and again. The little girl who sleeps with kittens...

and brings me feathers....yes, she knows of my adoration of feathers and birds and natural things and somehow she carries that inside her everywhere...a seed that I planted so long ago, when I would take her for strolls and present her with gifts of colored leaves and feathers and dandelions to blow and make wishes on. Before her memories began.

Yesterday, she brought me the tiniest, most perfect feather. Not just any feather, but one she found and carefully carried all the way home from her walk from work...and presented to me as if she knew how much it would mean; like she knew she was giving me everything she had, as she smiled to herself with the light of wonder in her eyes.

A first tiny entry into "Many Beautiful Things". Not a favorite poem or a love letter or a concert ticket or a pressed blossom or leaf, but an ordinary yet extraordinary feather and the memory of that smile and a mindfulness; a single profound thoughtfulness from one so understandably caught up in the swirls of her 19th year.

Later, I will write a line or two on light paper and "marry" it to the beautiful plaster page, as Stephanie so eloquently says to do. and I shall find a tiny vellum envelope for my tiny grey feather...my gift of love that will reside within a gift of such love.

Happy Birthday, my Sister, my Friend

There are better photographs of her and me, but this one, with its less than perfect color and all of its faults, is by far my favorite. Maybe because it is at a time when my memories of her really began to take root....I don't ever remember my mother being pregnant, but I do clearly remember the first time I saw her there in her Jenny Lind cradle in her pretty pale green room...and every year I tell her the same stories and every year she kindly listens to me go on about her pale green room and of slinging around her sock monkey by its tail and how I loved to hear her baby laughter as I did. She listens to the same stories as I tell her of how I loved to finish her baby food deserts and the sound of the tiny bubbles in her plastic bottle at night as she drifted off to sleep next to me...but this year, it seems so different, so much more intense; so much more special...because this year, she'll have a little one of her own. My baby sister, my only sibling, is having a baby now. A little nephew, who I'm sure will look much like the cheeky little face above, and who I know will completely steal my heart at first sight...he really already has.
Kelly Rae, I am in complete awe of you. I have so loved watching you become the incredibly talented (in so many ways!) and soulful and spirited woman you are. You bring such joy and such clarity to me and for that I am so deeply appreciative. You have been one of my greatest teachers and a healer when no one elses voice could calm my tearful ranting. You have brought me back to me so many times, and inspired me to dream bigger than I ever imagined. For all of my selfish, selfish reasons; I am so grateful you were born on this June day in 1975. I hold your memories inside of me like sacred points of light. Know that you live in my mind and in my heart  each and every single day. My sister, you make life so faceted and so lovely. Thank you for your grace.
Happy, Happy Birthday my sister, my friend!