Homeschooled, hypothetically

“Mom,  what does it mean-

hypothetical?”

“Well,

it’s just an educated guess.”

UGH-distraction-

here’s jelly on the couch,

what a mess!

one learns his math,

the other jumps, spins & crashes

i wipe nose, tears and jelly

and sneak me time in the dashes

Oh, I pray to see the day when

sticky jelly on the couch

will cause me to jump and spin

instead of making me a grouch…

let me hold a few more sips- and moments

with strong caffeine and pen

just for me

back to true blessings and a hypothetical reality-

“MOMMMMM– will you come help me with this problem, please!!!!”

It’s in the Bag..

 

Friends are always asking me for the best photography advice from what camera and lens to buy to what kind of camera bag to use. After our disastrous mishap of $5000 + in stolen and uninsured camera gear in Europe- I ALWAYS advise against a camera bag with a label.

My favorite bag until this recent discovery  has been my repurposed Fleurville diaper bag. Or I recommend a padded cooler bag.

On my next must have list though is a muted teal JuJu Kelly Moore bag!

If you’re a photographer or just love looking good with your camera- check them out!

Cheers!

Jen

 

My first “real” Book…the game of life- a poem to live by

I have known as long as I can remember I am supposed to write- and connect the dots to the images I shoot.  It just took a weekend of looking at my life in a mirror, realizing the importance of a deadline, tons of prayer, and the encouragement and help of a dear friend to finally get me sitting still long enough to get it finished. I missed the contest deadline I was aiming for, but I’ve finished a book. I have a favorite saying- “Reach for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll be among the stars.”

The poem was written in such a space with God’s spirit that I felt as if I was simply the scribe.  I pray for more writing times like that. And, I’ll be dusting off my journals and sharing from the times where it has been already.

As I was writing, I could see images I’ve shot over the last few years fitting with the words I was writing. We pulled this together in 72 hours- but it’s the puzzle pieces of my journey called life connecting through the images that have given breath to its birth.

I pray that you read it, enjoy it, share it, and are inspired by the simplicity of the truth. Oh, yeah- click here to buy it  Let me know if you know a publisher.

Stay tuned, there’s more on the way… this life is full of things to say!

Cheers!

The Game of Life

What is this game of life that we play-

Does it really matter each and every day?

Who does it burn along the way?

Will someone be hurt when we fight with our brother

Or roll our eyes at the request of our mother?

What will grow from a garden but weeds

From broken promises thick from their seeds ?

How many words are left unspoken-

Leaving a trail of pieces from hearts we have broken?

Perhaps unsung words compose a song

Inspiring children who sing along?

Or water a dream in a wounded heart

Needing encouragement to get the right start?

So why then,

Oh Why?

Through dreams screaming inside our head

Do we close our eyes, tune out or change channels instead?

Perchance we truly don’t know

And turn up our noses

Or shrug shoulders and laugh

Without asking for help

And smelling the roses.

Where is the table with a place for us

Where the feast’s prepared but we’re late-

missed the bus?

Which day is today?

Again? Here we go….

What’s the first thought in your heart that you know that you know?

If  it’s truly a gift – the now- the present?

In the scope of this game

Why waste time? Hold resentment?

Forgive, start anew

Have your cake and eat it too!

Just remember it’s better when shared with a few.

So I shout from my lungs-

These Words must come out

Even though I may have a fear and a doubt

Arise! Wake UP!

Plant gardens blooming with seeds of love

Give birth to your dreams

It is certainly so

That there’s more- much, much more to this game than we know

And what if we do?

What then? Oh, My!

Someone might see

And perhaps they’ll like me-

Or maybe they won’t

At least the fruit will be growing

And soon the harvest feeds more than we’re knowing

Be bold and courageous,

stand true to your word.

When you know what to say-

GET UP AND BE HEARD!

Step out- leave footprints

Be set free to soar

We were created for so much more!

Today’s your genesis -Fresh start

And it’s mine and yours and yours and yours too

Take your place- leave your mark!

Shine your light east to west, far and wide

Guide the way in the storm

share your gifts spread your love

Don’t conform, be transformed!

Sure, you will be scared, nervous, dizzy and queasy

Remember, real dreams are never real easy

Perhaps my style of childlike prose

Offends your ears, sounds strange to most.

But, Lord help me, oh please!

Until my very last breath

With childlike eyes I pray to see

The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.

So Game on!

Play big at our best ’til the end-

And Trust me please, it is so…

We will only win when we’re all winners,

This I know.

The Whisper in My Head

From the whisper in my head

Thoughts align into verse.

From the whisper in my spirit

Musings beckon to be penned.

From the whisper in my heart

Breaking slowly if words fill without escape.

yet…

From the actions of my hand

Verse soars as an eagle

And takes perch upon

 the whisper in your head

 the whisper in your spirit

 the whisper in your heart

the actions of your hand.

What’s your whisper?

Intended to soar…

To find rest on another whisper?

Slowly breaking your heart if it’s filled

Without liberty to fly?

The Air is Thick

The air is thick

Engulfed

Humidity
Activity
Aromas of latte,
Spending, and
Cologne
People.

But also
Him. Them.

In the chaos there is peace
Calm
Rest

The world is a blur.

Small conversations escalate around
Escalators move to the next entertainment destination

We sit at peace
In silence.
Creating
Thinking
Wondering

Occasionally a word is spoken
The noise around is silenced through the lens of Them.
Apologies are thrown for the silence…
“I can’t talk (and do art at the same time.)”

The words are already penned.
I smile and laugh.
“you don’t have to.”

Silence in the chaos
Within The chase
Within the world …
It’s the best gift.
It’s peace beyond comprehension.

May it fall upon you
as leaves in autumn.

And may you jump in and find Joy.

The Last Supper- Raise a Glass, Together.

Pages from my journal- 3.30.11 3:30 pm- appropriately published today, Maunday Thursday- the day of my Lord’s Last Supper… right in line with my mediations on seeds of life and death.

This post is dedicated to the memory and legacy of a true visionary- a master in the world of wine, beloved name in our family, employer, friend and mentor to my husband- Jess Stonestreet Jackson. May vérité be known throughout the land. Please raise a glass, together, in his memory this week. Note- this post is longer than usual. It’s full of details. I believe God once shared with me this: “I am in the details. All the rest is trivial.” 

I’m sitting on the ground with my back against the wall at the end of a corridor at the National Gallery of Art, East Building, in Washington, DC. I’m next to the elevators with a pink pen and tiny journal of graph paper in hand- in awe. I imagine most visitors don’t even make it here it’s such a hidden place. I’m literally sitting because the oil painting over eight feet high and at least twelve feet wide on the wall to my left, hidden from plain view, is a masterpiece that’s moved me like none ever before. And, I’ve seen masterpieces- in the Louvre, the Guggenheim in Bilbao, El Prado in Madrid, museums in New York, Washington DC, San Francisco, Paris, Milan, Rome and Miami. Even the Mona Lisa, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel or Il Cianacolo (Davinci’s Last Supper in Milan) didn’t move me like this. Painted by Salvador Dali in 1955, his rendition of the Last Supper has moved me to a humble pose on the ground with indwelling tears beginning to rain down my cheeks.
Donated to the museum immediately after collector Chester Dale acquired it in 1955, it attracted over 7000 visitors its first night on display. Here, now, today- very few even stop to look for more than a moment. Most because they are waiting for the elevator. Me- I’m choosing to live under its shadow for a while. I’ve been a Dalí fan since high school. Its a place my brother and I have some common ground.  In 2004, my husband, baby and I were fortunate to visit Dalí’s home in Figueres, Spain. (all of my images were lost years later in a hard drive crash- UGH)
After sitting here today, even though I’ve been a fan, I have an entirely new appreciation for the late surrealist. I don’t know Dalí’s faith- or the “proper” analysis of this piece- but I do know that the Lord is large enough to always enlist a man’s giftedness for Glory on High. I get up, stand back- take it all in. Snap a shot. I move in closer and breathe in the brushstrokes. I begin to lay my life- thought by thought- at the banquet table in between the glistening reflection of the cup and the broken bread. I begin with my thanks- for this day meandering museums and creation- for you, O Lord and being my best friend, for Your Glory, Abba (Daddy), for brushstrokes. His presence falls. I begin to see the painting.

Jesus is praying and His eyes are fixed above- twelve heads are bowed around him. (I will read later- twelve pentagons and twelve apostles, as Dalí said: “…communion must be symmetric.”) Jesus holds one hand to himself as if pointing “I” with three fingers raised saying “I am three- Father, Son, Holy Spirit.” Encompassing the table is a 3-D outline, almost a jewel of protection, around the twelve and my Lord. A bare chest of a man of great strength, filled with clouds and arms outstretched forms another layer around the jewel. A faceless man- just shoulders and arms- but larger than the pentagonal crystal. Abba- what are you saying here?
The peace of Jesus depicted in the work is transparent; and so is He. The water and fishing boats can be seen behind Him, through Him. The mountains, horizon and sunlight shine from behind as if looking through glass.
The folds of the white table cloth are so crisp it seems just laid out to dine along with the world changers. All the twelve are shrouded in cool linens, heads bowed, eyes invisible. Hands folded. Peace. Sunsets colors radiate around Him and even the reflection in the cup of wine (not grape juice) starts as one ray of red but forms three circles of light. Three boats are on the shore. The sides of the 3-D jewel- are window frames reflecting beams onto the table.
A dear friend texts and I answer to tell her where I am. Communion cannot be had without Community. Breaking the bread- the cup- together, remembering. This is where the jewel of protection and peace comes from above.
My emotions are so rocked I begin to pray for humanity and the tears fall. I’ve felt this before. It’s my Abba’s heart. His heart that others- maybe you- discover this hidden jewel. Not to be veiled in a corner hallway only to be quickly admired on our comings and goings. Our ups and downs. But for us to PLOP our butts down. Get low. Even in uncomfortable cold, hard marble floors (or meeting rooms) and SIT together. In his presence. And remember Him. What He did.
I overhear a woman who has stopped to look while waiting for the elevator, “Now, that’s an odd placement for it…” She points out- “There’s not even a guard.” (In case you haven’t been to a big museum- armed security guards are always on duty.) I begin to verbally share the enlightenments I am receiving and thoughts on significance when a crowd begins to gather- to wait for the elevator.
No one says don’t touch. No one standing guard. Next to the up and down and the water fountain. Isn’t this just like Jesus?
He just waits patiently for us until we see there is plenty of room for us at His table. His waters quench. I pray the whole world hears this message. He indeed has prepared a table for you- for us. Sit. Break bread. Sip wine. Enjoy His peace. The view is best from a humbled position. Go ahead- sit at his feet.
I ask a man about to shoot a photo, “Am I in your picture, sir?” “No,” he says, “you’re too dark.” “Aaahh,” I reply. “But I’m drenched in light.”
All of a sudden, people are gathering to see what I’m sitting under. It must be good. I get up to walk away- wondering why I haven’t seen the hidden image of the dove of the Holy Spirit. Something just told me it must be there, but I didn’t see it. My backside was numb for sitting an hour or more on the marble, so I got up to explore the Gaugin exhibit and a crazy video instillation. It was closing time before I knew it and I was on my way down the elevator. I stopped to get one more quick glance and say goodbye to the Masterpiece. This time, there was a guard. His name was “Chicago.” “Come here,” he said, “check this out.” He brought me twelve feet away from the painting to the right side and said- look on Jesus’ hand. There was the dove. “Thank you, Daddy,” I said with a smile the size of Chicago.

Fast forward to today, April 21, 2011. My beloved-gone-to-heaven Grandpa’s birthday. In response to the passing of Jess Jackson, a friend posted on his Facebook status “amazing stuff – whatever your opinion you can not deny your legacy.” What is your legacy? Most importantly- set aside your opinion and consider the legacy of One man whose life and death over 2000 years ago has changed the world- with the help of his small community.

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Step right up!

Tokens, please…

What are you waiting for?

Enjoy the Breeze!

It’s carvings so intricate-

Paintings- just perfect.

Fairy tale horses waiting

Just to be pet.

Touch  your hand to her reign,

One foot in a stirrup,

Whoosh, up you swing-

Brings her (and you) to life with

A skip and a gallop!

The music serenades-

Lights flash and dance.

The waiting is over-

Now’s your chance!

Grab hold of the brass,

Go with the ups and downs-

See what you miss if

You sit and watch from the ground?

Sure, it can be admired,

And doesn’t cost a thing-

To sit beyond the gates and watch

The lights and horses dance and sing.

But, trust me as one

Who knows from the inside-

Through all the spinning and turning-

It’s much more fun on the ride!

So, jump on-

Take a risk-

Jump back to childlikeness!

Life’s too short,

Grab the reigns

Let the conductor do the rest!

Feel the wind in your hair-

Throw your head back and SPIN!

Jumping onto the carousel is

The Only way you will win!

 

inspired by my boys and a trip here…

 

 

 

We are studying poetry in our homeschool…

We are studying poetry in our homeschool right now, so I felt it appropriate to write a little haiku for each of the men I love in my life- on handmade marbled paper cards. We made the paper at Christmas time- it was supposed to be red, but turned out more pink and purple so we pulled it back out for Valentine’s Day. We all made our own cards.
Remember the beauty of haiku? 5,7 and 5 simple syllables describing something beautiful in nature? What is more beautiful than love expressed in it’s simplest form?

For whom have you written a heartfelt expression of words these days?

For Daddy…

Visionary man

loved King’s son,Husband, Father-

year of redemption

For my firstborn…

My Makani Kai

tender loving dragonfly-

God made wind, ocean

For my “baby”- now three…

Brave hearted fire-

generous loving brother

cherished son, God’s prince

Mama Cinderella

a page from my journal almost a year ago to the date…

I’m just a mama Cinderella

Waiting for the ball

Thinking of the days

I don’t have to do it all

Working for everyone else

serving with a leader’s heart

wondering when the day will come

and I will get my start?

Until my Prince of Peace will come,

I will sing and work and dream

Knowing someday-not everything is as it seems

Staying content, and madly in love

Serving my boys- as you, Lord-

With joy from above.