Plant Your Feet

I put up my hummingbird feeder and filled my other bird feeder this week, and visiting birds have given me many moments of joy and wonder. None cooperate when I try to take a photo, but I really don’t need a photo to remember the colors -blue, red,yellow. I’m kind of possessive: “These are my birds, they came to see me.” I’ve discovered I don’t need big splashy expensive experiences to feel joy and wonder. I’m not racing around looking for that “big”moment anymore. Doing less , slowing down and simplifying my life has meant more joy in my life, not less.  I see more because I am not looking forward all the time and  I try to stay where my feet are planted. Sometimes I end up taking a photo of my feet when I’m bumbling around trying to catch a photo of something else. I just realized that deliberately doing this would be a message to myself to stay rooted in time and place. This is also a good idea because I have an obscene number of shoes!

Where are my stocking  feet? I’m hanging out with my doggies. I love the way Molly rolls onto her back, begging me for belly rubs and her little paw reaches out to my hand. It’s so simple really, I want belly rubs and please give me more. She doesn’t use “reverse psychology” to get what she wants, and she doesn’t demand a belly rub. I do end up feeling guilty if I don’t rub her belly because I love her, and I want to give her what she wants. I’m not sure she understands me if I say “I cant do this now, I have to go.” But then again she never pouts either! Roscoe is a whole other story, but I love when his ears are perked up and his tail is going 90 miles an hour and his big brown eyes are looking at me. I love hanging out with my doggies, they are better company than some people I know.

When I have my “crummy”  sneakers on I’m usually  in my yard, mowing, weeding and planting. I get a great deal of satisfaction when I get my plants out of the cheap plastic pots they came in and get them in the ground and watered. I imagine how they will grow and fill in the areas I want filled in. There isn’t much joy in the act of weeding, but I love it when I see the pile of weeds I’ve pulled out and the now weed-free area. My me-powered mower whirls around and throws out cut grass. As I go around following my prior pass, I get to see and appreciate my progress. I haven’t climbed Mt. Everest (yet), but I finished mowing my yard.

If the photo of my feet shows a cast, a walking boot or some sort of a wrap or compression  bandage, then I am usually not too happy. I’m slowed down and staying where my feet are planted, but I feel like I’m in jail!.  If I stop fighting the physical limitation I can get to acceptance and even learn something. I learned to crochet when I had my broken foot and I also made such a dip in the recliner that it never recovered. When I’m sitting in the right chair I can see the birds at the feeder.  I think about the saying  by Nietzsche “He who a why to  live for can bear almost any how.”   I do have lots of “whys” to live for!

Just for fun I’m going to take a photo of my feet wearing each pair of shoes and boots I own. Don’t hold your breath!  It could be awhile….

Mothering

It is  ironic that Mother’s Day comes  a week after a leak from the Supreme Court of a draft decision to overturn Roe V Wade. This year I don’t want cards, chocolates or flowers on Mother’s Day. I don’t want a white, evangelical, Christian man to tell me what the Bible says.  I know what Jesus says. I want a woman’s right to abortion to be upheld. I want a pregnant 12 year-old girl who was raped, to not be forced to give birth. I want women to have a choice about what happens to our bodies. Giving birth does not make me or any woman a Mother. Mothering my son makes me a Mother.

“Those who take seriously the call of Jesus to love our neighbors must ask the Christians whose unyielding abortion obsession imbues our society with such division and rancor: How can you care so deeply about the unborn, yet show so little compassion and concern for the children of God who are already here?”

Excerpt From: Christians Against Christianity by Obery Hendricks Jr.