A long time coming

Several weeks ago I mentioned the upcoming burial of my parents and grandfather's ashes after holding onto for many years. My Grandfather, my father and finally my mother who died in 1988 were all created and my brother had been in the possession of their remains. However he recently graciously handed them over to me as I felt it important to give them a proper resting place where everyone who chose to could go visit and pay respects. I also took comfort in knowing they were resting so close to Jake, my son who was killed last June.

This past Monday my two daughters Lori and Shari accompanied me to Mount Carmel Cemetery down out of Florien, Louisiana which is about 100 miles south of here. It was hot and dry and we were at the mercy of the man who had made the markers and the man who was in charge of the cemetery as to when we could accomplish this feat. So when they were ready, we had to jump and therefore not many were able to go with us. But it was the way it should have been actually because just about all in my family who knew and grew up with my parents are my children.

It was 94 degrees in the hot, bright sun and the ground was hard, dry and cement like as they had seen no rain in several months. We were there for hours waiting for the man to dig down enough to set the stones after which he would have to dig even deeper for the containers of ashes. We had planned to say a few words or offer a prayer after the ashes were buried. I stood out there so long that I became ill, my heart was working overtime and beating so fast you could see it through my throat, I perspired until there was no more sweat. I was lightheaded and just felt I could endure no more heat so I went back to the car and turned the AC on. The girls opened up my Mother's Bible and read scripture from it and both prayed throughout. The man who was digging nearby and in actuality was setting the foot stones for Lori's family stopped digging out of reverence and bowed his head while they continued

How proud and happy my parents would have been and I like to think they were aware of and perhaps smiling down as the two "little girls" they had loved and taken such delight in as youngsters honoring their memories in such a sweet and humble way.

This act of a burial a long time coming has impacted me greatly and is truly one thing I feel my life has been directed toward. What an honor and what a gift to be able to do this for my parents and my grandfather.

What are you afraid of?

Many of our fears are tissue paper thin, and a single courageous step would carry us clear through them.

-- Brendan Francis

What is stopping me from getting back into my art? What am I afraid of? Failure? Not being good at something...or feeling as if I've wasted money on the supplies...wasted my time? I don't know what it is.

Several months ago I wanted to get back into doll making and I thought it would be fun to try sculpting dolls; just simple primitive ones at first and then maybe learning to make the ball jointed dolls.

So I purchased lots of supplies and each time I'd want to get started I'd peruse the doll links and blogs looking and lurking. And then I'd put all the stuff away and forget about it.

Finally I decided to get busy and actually do something, so I signed up to make a little Prayerbox Doll by Nancye Williams. She is just as nice as can be and does amazing work. It was veeerrrry affordable and is very simple but maybe, just maybe it will give me the confidence to proceed with learning more and just maybe sculpting is my thing.

I love the quotation as I've found myself in this predicament before. Afraid to begin something and procrastinating and then giving away the supplies without giving my idea a fair chance. And who knows I may find the fear of beginning this project as thin as tissue paper.

Wish me luck and I'll share with you my completed project soon!