Tuesday, January 31, 2012


My dad's been watching through a DVD he requested for Christmas, a 1960's TV show called The Prisoner, where a man is sent to a village where he is told he must conform to their standards or face dire consequences which usual end up being physiological. It got my father and I talking about how conformity is always viewed as a bad thing.
Clearly if it's done to dumb down people to make them more manageable , like in The Prisoner, conformity is wrong. If one conforms just to be comfortable and spared from making decisions then yes it's wrong. But if one conforms to a good thing, like obeying laws they morally agree with or as a Christan, to the Lord then conformity it not just good but expected.
Like many things, the question is balance conform when it is needed, but pray for the wisdom to know when you need to rebel against comfomrity.

Monday, January 23, 2012


Over the past twenty some years my mother had hand sewn me many, many articles of clothing, from the delicate, white crocheted baby dress, to the long skirts I wore in high school, to the Phantom of the Opera purse she made for my trip to see the show on Broadway. I am ashamed to admit that as a child, I took these handmade treasures for granted, in fact was at times, ashamed of them. I was carrying my lunch money in a crocheted purse shaped like a bright orange fish long before such things were considered trendy. I liked the purse, but could not understand why many of my classmates thought it was strange and un-cool, unlike their normal, store bought articles.

It was not until my freshman year of college that I appreciated Mom’s impeccable talent as a seamstress. She was born with a degenerative muscular disease called Muscular Dystrophy and as a result had to reluctantly give up sewing. Her hands were just too weak to hold even a needle, much lese operate a sewing machine. It had been almost two years since she had made anything and yet one weekend I came home to find a dark blue skirt made for me, handmade, by Mom. Since then, I have accumulated sun dresses, purses, aprons, even oven mitts and potholders.

It was with a bitter sweetness I wore the white dress with tiny black flowers and red buttons she made me to her own funeral and yet it seemed fitting somehow. Her home economics teacher was there and able to see some of her former student’s finest work. That 1950’s style dress however, was not the last nor the most precious dress she made me. I was tempted to wear it to the service but a Renaissance Faire wench dress would not have been appropriate and yet it’s the dress that means the most to me; she put the most time and effort into it and it’s truly unique, a true testament to the innovative, and strong woman my mother was.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

It is August yet?

I actually like winter, but I find myself anxious for August, must be because that's when Ren Faire begins! I think I'd like to investigate others, having only been to the PA Ren Faire, any suggestions?

Monday, January 9, 2012

I wonder....

Sometimes I really wonder what God is trying to teach me through all my years of just waiting, waiting to be published, waiting to find my soul mate, waiting for something to happen. I try, I really do. I pray and then I act and then nothing happens. I know they say that when God closes a door , He opens a window, but it seems like right now, all I have is an endless hallway of closed and bolted exits. What's up with that?!
I know God has a plan, and I know it's good, but right now the waiting and the failing is killing me.

Monday, January 2, 2012

New Year

A new year has begun and I am not wasting it. I am not hanging back simply waiting for things I want. No, I do believe the time has come for me to go out and at least try to get what I want. It's not being selfish; it's just being assertive. I'm too young to feel like my life is going no where; time to go somewhere.