Living Outside the Lines of Love

Sparkling eyes behind a hand scribbled picture

Living Outside the Lines of Love

It started out like any other Thursday morning.  I drove up the hill toward the house of Derek and Angie Terry to meet with Reed Orcutt, our contractor, and to deliver a check.  What I didn’t expect was to have a little girl, Derek and Angie’s granddaughter, draw a picture of what love looks like, outside the lines.

We were standing in a sort of a line, a circle, inside the family room, right next to an antique wood burning stove, talking about how to improve the room.  The conversation was relaxed and winding down when the Terry’s Granddaughter bounced into the room, right up to Angie and reached out to her with a large piece of her just-completed-art-work.

Some might call this small girl’s art an abstract style.  After all, as I looked at the paper in hand, there was a preprinted outline of a picture, designed to encourage the artist to color inside the lines.  Yet, this young artist didn’t see those prepopulated lines as necessary.  She simply saw them as a suggestion.  This chosen point of view allowed her to color freely, anywhere, anyhow, she desired on the paper.  She was living artistically, abstractly, outside the lines!

Her abstract style was colorful and free flowing.  It came from her heart!  How do I know this?  I watched as she bounced up to deliver her piece to her Grandmother.  I could feel the excitement, the hope oozing from her body.  It shined bright in her eyes.

As she stopped in front of Angie, she reached out and looked up, hopefully and expectantly, at the same time.  My heart stopped, paused, along with the small girl as we both waited for a response.

“Oh!  This is beautiful!”  Angie exclaimed as she held the hand-crafted piece in her hands.  Then, she reached down and delivered a warm embrace & kiss, to emphasize to her fusion-type reaction.

I’ve seen many sunrises in my lifetime!  But, I’ve never seen one brighter than the beam of light engulfing the room, from the eyes of this tiny artist.  My heart started to do its job again at the sight.  Well, perhaps it was doing its job a little too well, as it felt as if it were about to burst!

“This is what it’s like to live outside the lines of love!” I thought as I gazed upon the sight on an otherwise regular kind of a Thursday morning.

It started out like any other Thursday morning.  I drove up the hill toward the house of Derek and Angie Terry to meet with Reed Orcutt, our contractor, and to deliver a check.  What I didn’t expect was to have a little girl, Derek and Angie’s granddaughter, draw a picture of what love looks like, outside the lines.  It caused me to ask myself some questions!

Have I been limiting the way I love other people based on a preprinted outline of a picture designed by others?  Have such preconceived notions encouraged me to limit my giving of love to fit within lines dictated by someone else?  Or, am I simply seeing such preconceived notions as a suggestion? 

Perhaps it’s time for you and me to follow our hearts, guided by the example of a small girl and her grandmother.  You and I can choose a point of view that will allow us to color our love freely, anyway we desire.  We can love artistically, abstractly.  We can love everyone, no matter their age, familial relationships, their dress, their financial status, their beliefs or the color of their hair. 

We can choose to love outside the lines!

Living in the Sun

“I like to spend time meditating on living like the sun every day.” – Jessi Butterfield

Living in the Sun

It was early in the morning and I was lying in my bed, with the blankets pulled up right to my ears.  The blankets were shielding me from the cool air that had crept into our house during the absence of the sun.  It was almost still.

Pitter, patter. . . pitter, patter.

“I love listening to the rain!” I inaudibly said, as I pulled the blankets, just that much tighter around my neck.

I lay there savoring the moment, drifting between sleep, memory, and awareness.

“When the rain falls, it falls on the whole field!”  YaYa Al-Digs’ voice echoed in my memory.

YaYa was the principal of International Corporation for Development and Construction in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia in the early 1990s.  I worked for him there, in what I still refer to as the “world’s great desert” to this very day.  We hardly ever saw rain on the Arabian Peninsula!  And, when we did, it was a wonderful event.  It was the same as a “pay day.”  It was always very rewarding when it came.

One day, when speaking with me about writing a large contract with a big client, YaYa reminded me of how a such a pay day was just like receiving rain from the sky.  “When the rain falls, it falls on the whole field!”  He said, as a commentary to describe how when someone from our firm brought money into the company, everyone would benefit.  His simple analogy forever changed my understanding of the indiscriminate, natural philosophy of rain.

Now, on this morning, I could still hear the pitter, patter of the rain, past my memory, on my roof, as they sun began to enlighten the world.  I was still dozing, a little, and remembered a conversation with my daughter, Jessi, just a couple of days, bygone.

“I like to spend time meditating on living like the sun every day.”  Jessi said.

Then, she went on to describe her observation that when the sun shines, it shines on everyone.  It doesn’t matter if they’re rich or poor, single or espoused, short or tall, healthy or ill.  When the sun shines, it makes everyone the richer!  Her simple analogy, and chosen way-of-life, to offer goodness to all, seemed, on this particular morning, to be the perfect companion to the indiscriminate, natural philosophy of rain.

“Whether it’s raining or the sun is shining, nature demonstrates an exemplary, rewarding way to live!”  I whispered to myself, as my chest warmed with the memory of such cherished relationships.

It was early in the morning and I was lying in my bed, with the blankets pulled up right to my ears.  The blankets were shielding me from the cool air that had crept into our house during the absence of the sun.  It was almost still, as the sun edged in, to join the moment.

Pitter, patter. . . pitter, patter.

“I love listening to the rain and seeing the sun rise, streaking, in pink blushes through the clouds!” I inaudibly said as I pulled the blankets just that much tighter around my neck.

I lay there savoring the moment, drifting between sleep, memory, and a new-found awareness of the perfect, indiscriminate, natural philosophy of rain and sun.  Choosing to live by nature’s demonstrated example, is indeed, a most rewarding way to live!”

Our Mother's Hope

“Everyone wants to be loved and paid attention to.” – Marty Newey

Our Mother's Hope

“We are the people our mothers warned us about.”  I slowed and let the other car move past me a little bit, just so I could read it again.  This little saying, and warning, caused me to reflect.

“Am I a person my mother warned me about?”

Bob Conard’s voice echoed in my heart.  “My dear old mother.”  Then, after this introduction, he would go on to tell me some of the great advice his mother had given him.  His mother is a water-color artist and one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met.  She’s always been loving, caring and patient, as long as I’ve known her. 

I’ll never forget the day Bob showed me one of her emotionally-tugging water-color-paintings.  The beauty of her work is nearly a perfect reflection of her soul.  Both are master pieces as well as treasures.

I’ve known my friend, Marty Newey, for forty-two years now and treasure his friendship.  He sent me a message a couple of weeks ago and asked me to have lunch with him.  I leapt at the chance.  A few days later, we met at a comfortable restaurant, a place where we could talk.  After all, the real purpose of our meeting was to feed our souls, to re-connect.  The food, while delightful, was a simple metaphor of how a soul is fed.  Strong personal relationships, deep human connection, is what we all crave.

“My mother says, ‘Everyone wants to be loved and paid attention to.’” Marty rehearsed to me as we stood talking in the adjacent courtyard after lunch.

Then he went on to tell me how an employee of his mother’s assisted living home came to her apartment to meet with his mother.

“She walked into my mother’s place and my mother burst out with, ‘Oh my gosh, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen!’  They spent a few minutes together and when the case worker walked out and began to pass me she said, ‘If your mother ever needs a place to live please have her come and live with me!’  My mother pulled me aside and said, ‘Complement other people as much as possible!’  She does and the impact is amazing!”  Marty expressed in his quiet, thoughtful way.

I stood laughing, because his story was amazing!  In the end, Marty and I hugged each other as we parted.  Our stomachs and our souls were full, recharged, so we could go out and make a difference in the world again.

I felt at peace as I drove to my next meeting, right up until I read, “We are the people our mothers warned us about.”  I slowed and let the other car move past me a little bit, just so I could read it again.  This little saying and warning caused me to reflect.

“Think of the wonderful people we’d be if we simply followed the advice and lives of Bob’s and Marty’s mothers!” I said to myself.  If we did, the bumper sticker would say, “We are the people our mothers hoped we’d become!”