My heart is a well

Sometimes full and bubbling to the top.

The thoughts and feelings like clear water,

Near the surface, and drawn without effort.

Sometimes deep and nearly dry.

And it takes time,

And effort,

And patience,

To pull it out of me.

But all around me,

It’s hurry, hurry, hurry.

There’s no time to dig deep,

And no one quiet

And patient enough

To know there’s water to be drawn.

So, on my knees

I pour out my soul

To the One

With the time,

And the patience,

And the love,

To prime the pump.

Water flows freely

To soothe and heal.

Without judgment

For the silly, the petty, the selfish,

Or the insignificant.

Only love, without end.

“I used to have ambitions in my head, but they’ve been replaced by gardening.” The phrase tumbled out of my mouth in the recovery room after one of my many surgeries, while I was still too groggy to make sense, but it has proved to be an accurate, if unspoken mantra of my life. It is said that hobbies contribute greatly to happiness, and if that is true (and I testify that it is), I could be one of the happiest people on the planet.

At the time of this surgery, we lived in California, and you could find me working in my garden much of every day, and most days in a year. It was at least a passion–an obsession wouldn’t have been a stretch. But that wasn’t my first skill, turned hobby, turned passion.

As a young girl, my mom made sure I knew how to effectively weed a vegetable garden (you know what I mean if you know my mom). She also taught me how to sew and make my own patterns, and I made many of my own clothes as a teenager. In fact, I learned to copy the popular jeans so well that few people ever knew they were home made. At 14, floral design captured my interest, and I worked as a floral designer into my mid-20’s. I had learned to embroider and do needle work as a girl, and as an adult, out of sheer curiosity and stubbornness, I decided I should learn to tat–an all-but-forgotten art. No one I knew could teach me, so I turned to library books (this was years before our love/hate relationship with the internet blossomed). In the years that followed, I dove into woodworking, gardening (more than mere weeding), quilting, paper crafting, genealogy, and most recently, pottery has enslaved me.

All of these skills have turned into wonderful hobbies, and very often, overwhelming distractions. Thankfully, my children were pretty independent, but my family always knew that I was completely buried in a project when it was “brinner” (breakfast for dinner) or mac n cheese several times a week.

The list of things I want to learn how to do is longer than I have years in my life, so long before I had “mastered” one skill, I was already thinking of the next thing to try. As any creator knows, almost all hobbies require “equipment”. It’s no surprise, then, that as I picked up new interests, I needed more and more space for storing all the accompanying tools and supplies. I either needed a new house-or to get rid of something!

KonMari was the answer, I thought. After discarding more clothes that was wise (clothes on my post-menopausal, 54 year old body rarely bring me the joy that is the litmus test of this brand of organizing), I started examining my hobby collection. KonMari teaches us to touch everything, and everything I touched brought me joy! I couldn’t find hardly anything to get rid of! All these tools and materials deserved a place in my 3 bedroom home, but where?

That was when my passions/obsessions began to morph into ambition.

The more I considered the money, time and storage space I dedicated to hobbies, the more I realized that I wanted to do more with all these resources than gift giving and home making could accomplish-I felt a deep desire to make products that could be enjoyed by more than my family and friends. My hobbies were transforming into a “jobby”, and, before I knew it, my PASSION had morphed into serious AMBITION!!

But there is a down side–More things to store!

Several months before my dad died, I talked to him on the phone.  I felt that at that moment, I should tell him something great he’d contributed to our family.  What I said came as a shock to him.

I told him about my very favorite thing about myself—the confidence to try.  I explained the great power and freedom and sense of self worth me and my siblings have because he taught us never to be afraid to try anything and taught us to not be afraid to fail.  He called it the school of hard knocks, but not having dropped out, we all graduated with honors and are now passing it onto our own children.

I had always thought this trait came from my mother, but she explained to me one day that although the gift of being a finisher came from her, the ingenuity, creativity, and courage to try new things was taught, even to her, by my dad.  Coupled with my mother’s realism and the determination to finish what she started, we were taught not only to survive, but improve.

The featured photo is of my Mom and Dad, and the boat they built from scratch, with no previous training or experience.

We are taught about famous inventors and how often they failed—but they kept trying until they got it right.  My Dad taught us to educate ourselves, and even though he was largely uneducated, he never stopped exploring new ideas.  He would get books from the library and read and study and think about a thing until he understood it.

Although we lived in poverty, we never were without things to build, make, or create.  We were taught to make gifts for our friends and things we needed out of materials that were on hand.  I remember helping my mom decorate for my oldest brother’s wedding.  With no previous experience in floral arranging and no money to purchase anything, we gathered cattails and fall leaves and other fall dried plants, put them in arrangements, and these were the floral displays for the wedding reception.  It wasn’t like any of the neighbor’s weddings, but it was beautiful.  It taught me that we can do—if only we try.  This trait has given my family and the generations that follow the ability to explore the talents that lie within us.  The freedom, courage and excitement of “no fear” is the motivating power behind much of what brings me pleasure.

It can be a two edged sword, as I’ve gotten myself way in over my head very many times, and certainly had my share of failures, but I’d rather risk that than run around afraid I might not be able to succeed, so I never try.  It helps that I have developed a rather tough skin and am not embarrassed easily—one who takes the kind of risks I take can’t afford to get embarrassed about “doing it yourself” or “homemade”.  Being taught to be satisfied with my best is empowering, as well—I rarely get discouraged about not measuring up and while I expect a great deal from myself, I can usually see when I’ve done my best and leave it at that.

It was a wonderful thing to be able to tell my dad that the gift of “No Fear” was the greatest asset he has given to his descendants.  I can sincerely say “thank you” to my dad for the courage to try.