Let's Play!

My favorite playtime as a child involved creating great scenes for storytelling. I would spend hours setting the stage. The mosses and rocks in my front yard were my favorite tools. I would carve out rivers and valleys and line them with the blue rocks that had fallen from our (believe-it-or-not) blue-pebbled roof. The moss would create intricate landscapes in which my sister’s Star Wars characters arranged themselves. My mother finally gave up trying to collect her spoons back from our natural masterpieces and bought a new set.

Although, I fondly remember the comforting feeling this focused play gave me as I worked to build each story, I find that watching my children play brings me an even greater delight.

I love that from the moment that William could crawl towards a door he would open and close it. A wee babe, he would open and shut, open and shut, open and shut any door or cabinet he could inch towards. To this day, his play fascinates me. He wants to know how things work. His favorite play space is the floor. He is very fair towards all of his toys and seems to give them all equal time. I love seeing the choices he makes each morning. Which special police car or fire truck made it into his precious hands? Is it an airplane or series of monster trucks? Who will he ask to bring with us on our morning drive?

In the evening, you can probably find him surrounded by a train track or at the completion of a Lincoln log jail with traps in place. If it’s a Lego set, you can’t pull him away from it until it is complete. He’ll sit for hours working through each step or work without instructions and create house after house and vehicle after vehicle. His intricacy, symmetry and attention to detail are mind-boggling.

His sister Abby delights in caring for her stuffed animals and dolls. She loves to change their outfits by the hour to make sure they are appropriately prepared for each moment of their day. She’ll also take time to create new clothes for them. It started with mermaid tails made of paper. Her animals were beautifully adorned with tails of every color. I wish I had a picture. Then one day when I was sick, she threw a Hello Kitty Party for me to make me feel better. Called to the living room, I found each of her stuff animals adorned with a special Hello Kitty mask and special masks made for her brother William, his lovey Lion, and for me. What a party we had. For Halloween, each of her Barbies had specially crafted costumes, from a tiger to a bluebird to a puppydog. I think there were eight in all. Inspired by a Christmas gift from her Aunt Sarah that included a lesson on sewing through owl pillow making, Abby transitioned to fabric costumes, creating a beautiful new purple gown for her Sofia doll with two buttons no less.

If she’s not changing a dolls outfit or creating costumes or accessories, you can find Abby in the art room (originally our dining room) in all sorts of creative activities. She might be painting, she might be creating a bracelet, or she might be creating a beaded butterfly for a backpack. What I love about her sweet heart is that when she is working on these projects it is most likely with someone else in mind. It’s for her friend Emiko, who she still misses since she transitioned schools two years ago, or perhaps it’s for Caitlin, a sweet friend who we never see enough of. She’s drawing a picture of Isa in a beautiful blue gown or her godsister Ella in green. Maybe she’s made something for me or for her daddy, but I can promise you, every project she works on, she’s thinking of someone else. That makes my heart feel really good, and I’m glad to see that it brings her such joy as well.

There are certain things that Andrew and I strive to teach our children. We have great hopes for them. And although I have worked to provide playful activities for my children and encourage them, I did not teach my children any of these arts of play. These explorations, this creativity, their abilities are unique to their little selves. It is exciting to imagine what these strong focuses and interests might lead to one day.

I can see how my own childhood playfulness has transitioned to part of my adulthood. By trade, I have become a storyteller. I still continue to set the stage so that a fascinating and inspiring story can be told. It may be that I’m prepping a magazine, a webpage, a brochure or a presentation, each crafted with the same precision, care and embellishment that I approached each moss creation as a child. Realizing those playful connections, it makes me want to encourage my children even more to take that time to play, to explore, and to grow because I know it will stay with them and that connection will continue to bring them joy.

For now, I’m thankful that they find happiness in play, that they are able to find focus, that they are able to find success at the completion of a project, and that they also enjoy sharing these gifts with others. William always wants to invite others into his world of play as well as to help others through whatever challenges they find themselves facing. “Come, play with me,” he says. Abby always wants to give to others and bring them joy. “Here, I made this for you,” sweet Abby says with a smile.

So I say, bring on the moss, rocks, and spoons! Encourage the construction paper mermaid tails with string! Champion the Legos made with pattern or by pure ingenuity! Let them play! Let them play! Let them play!

With Love and Light,

LT

Labyrinths and Ladybugs

I love a good walk, especially one that includes the opportunity to gaze at filtered sunlight through the trees, a steady musical beat and my pup happily walking by my side. I can feel the healing and strengthening power with the growing steps as my mind clears and my body breathes more deeply and rids itself of any building toxicity. I find myself thankful that I still have the ability to move my limbs and that my senses enable me to connect fully with the activity and my environment. 

There is another form of walking though that I find even more powerfully stimulating and important for my soul. It is the spiritual practice of walking the labyrinth, a purposefully designed maze of ancient origin designed for a myriad of reasons but mostly focused on journey and centeredness. For me this meditative journey includes focus on my relationship with God and God’s grace in my life and journey. 

I remember the hesitancy with which I approached my first walk. Our church had just purchased a canvas labyrinth and dear sweet Lynda Gayle had taken the time to lead us through a meditation explaining the opportunities for reflection the labyrinth affords each individual along the path. Her words of wisdom included the reminder that for each person a walk upon the labyrinth is unique and also somewhat private. If walking the path with others, we don’t make eye contact, and if we cross paths, we gently move to the side to let others pass. It's ok to pause and take your time. Labyrinth walks are silent and focused, although you’ll sometimes find music added to guided walks to create a calming atmosphere. There is always a way in and a way out, and there are no traps or hidden turns, just the journey. 

Walking the labyrinth is not a daily or weekly practice of mine, although I do hope for this opportunity in the future. For now, I’ve taken the time to walk the labyrinth during times of great transition in my life or when I find myself with the most questions. Each labyrinth walk has been significant.

I’m in Santa Fe, New Mexico to celebrate my dear friend Ebet’s birthday with a special trip. We find ourselves walking the labyrinth in front of the Cathedra Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi. I can feel my parents’ presence as they take time to sit and rest and wait for us. My heart fills with joy and comfort when after reaching the center of the labyrinth I watch my friend step confidently into the center and begin her journey outward enabling me to follow. I’m just beginning to realize that this trip is the beginning pages in a new chapter in my life. 

I’m in Santa Fe, New Mexico again, this time at the Museum of International Folk Art. I’ve just finished walking the labyrinth with my daddy and my babies, Abby and William. It was their first walk. We are getting ready to leave when Abby grabs William’s hand and they run back onto the labyrinth. At first I start to call them back, but instead, Daddy and I just sit back and watch. When they reach the center, they laugh and dance holding on to each other’s hands. A sense of relief engulfs me as I give thanks for the friendship and love that they share and will share for a lifetime.

I’m on Sanibel Island in Florida and my sisters and I have met a wonderful new friend on the beach. She has just finished building a four-circuit labyrinth out of shells, seaweed and driftwood that she has found on the beach. Her husband has early onset of Alzheimer’s and walking the labyrinth helps him to reconnect with his memories as well as to stay connected to the moment at hand. She is lovely. He is lovely, and they take great delight in sharing this journey with me and my children. She builds a labyrinth for her husband everywhere that they go.

I’m at Saint Columba Conference Center in Bartlett, Tennessee. After a walk at dawn across misty fields covered in dew, I walk the beautifully natural labyrinth crafted of stone and moss. Afterwards, I stand in the beams of light from the morning sun and reconnect with another powerful moment in the same space. Feeling fully present in the grace of God, I do not want to turn around to leave it, but I know I must. When I finally turn, I find myself joyfully overwhelmed and delighted that I am faced with the same love and light and full feeling, it’s just different scenery. God is everywhere.

I’m at the West Clinic in Memphis, Tennessee. It is Saturday and the buildings are deserted, and I am most grateful for the clinic’s gift of the labyrinth garden. I’m finding myself in one of the most powerfully challenging moments I’ve crossed in my life. I enter the labyrinth sadly and feeling alone. When I finally reach the center, it is the first time I’ve found myself sitting down during a labyrinth walk. I bury my head. After a while, a ladybug lands gently on my arm and suddenly I don’t feel so alone any more. The words and scenes from “Under the Tuscan Sun” fly into my mind. Frances and Katherine are discussing sadness. Katherine explains that when she was a little girl and would fall asleep in the field, she would wake up covered in ladybugs. As Frances continues on her journey, she eventually gives in to enjoying and celebrating the experiences she is having and the people who surround her. As she rests in one of the final moments of the story, love walks into her life and finds a ladybug settling on Frances’ arm. This thought fills me with peace, and I find the strength to stand and continue my journey. I realize and remember, I was never alone in the first place. (I must share that as soon as I wrote this very last thought, my husband sent me a fun and sweet text. My heart is full.)

So whether you’re walking through the neighborhood or you find yourself upon the labyrinth, I highly recommend walks as a reflection and prayerful exercise for your body and soul. 

With love and light,

LT  

Editor’s Note: On my list of labyrinths yet to walk are those at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, California; Chartres Cathedral near Paris, France; and St. George Episcopal Church in Maple Valley, Washington. I would love your recommendations for other walks as well! Please feel free to share in Love and Light’s comments!

Learn to listen, dear little ones

Dear little ones, my beloved,

I hope you learn to listen. You will learn so much and enjoy life with abundance. Through listening I hope you will find yourself inspired, fulfilled and protected.

Listen to the story being told. It's exciting; it's meaningful; it has a lesson.

Listen to the birds singing. They are filled with delight and want to share it with their glorious song; they are welcoming the morning; they are singing praise for the light and for being provided just what they need.

Listen to your teacher. Wow! What amazing gifts each teacher has to share. You don't want to miss a minute. Hang on to his or her every word. Each is a challenge for your mind to grow, to understand and to build something extraordinary.

Listen to the music. The notes are intricate; they can beat with your heart; they can move your soul and body. They were created with passion and love.

Listen to the person talking to you. Ask questions that help him or her better share his or her story. Hear what they have to say. Open your heart to the response you are called to give. Between listening and response is a pause for thought and prayer.

Listen to the wind rustling through the trees, a perfect balance between power and peace. There is thoughtfulness and pause in the swaying branches, the leaves dancing in the reflection of the sun. This simple act of looking up and listening can help you catch your breath and fill you with strength.

Listen when you are called to action. It may be a boardroom, an emergency or a quiet counsel. Be ready, my sweet, hone those listening skills because you will be called. What you hear will teach you, guide you, shape you and enable you to respond to others.

Listen to the rain; listen to the water rippling along the shore whether it be sand or rocks, they sound different. Listen to the water in the shower and how it sounds as you move your hand through a bath. Listen to and appreciate clean running water. What a gift! Let the water remind you of its energy and the new life it will bring you in every refreshing moment.

Listen to the kind words shared with you. Please, please do not ignore them or brush them off. They are powerful gifts of love being purposely said to you with the intent of filling your heart. They are meant to help you recognize the unique you and to empower you. Listen, listen, listen to the kind words and share them yourself.

Ultimately, you must decide what to believe in what you hear, but listening will enable your heart the growth to make the good response still the same.

With love and light,

LT

PS Sweet Abby, thank you for looking over my shoulder while I wrote this, for being thankful for my words (our book :)) and for pondering these thoughts in your heart. I am always thankful when you listen.