Sometimes we leave the best for last.

I'm always posting about my art collection. I resumed the insane pace of acquiring when I realized I was still alive way past the given deadline. I have no idea why I'm still here, but for all the artists out there within my budgetary reach, it's your good fortune. I hope a few of you might agree. You might recall (I'll never forget) that back in November 2014 I'd been given a very short leash - my hours were numbered. Yet here I am!

Yesterday I attended service at Morton Memorial. When I saw Amanda, our pastor, I blurted (I'm a blurter), "I have risen!"

Gulp.

I immediately felt like my lips had tossed blasphemous words into the sanctuary. Amanda assured me I hadn't.

This is the dealio... I've recently felt a surge of resurrection in my life. For months I've been lying around my home waiting to die. Um, trust me, I'm really very ill and my lungs could shut down any moment, but until then, why sit and wait? I rose, pushed the stone of fear from my path and entered a world I love so much - Morton Memorial.

If I go to hell for those metaphors... well, we all know I won't. I'm too ornery. Hell would spit me out.

Many people think the onset of spring has inspired me. Perhaps.

But I think the stream of love that flows into my life every single moment of every single day is the reason I still breathe. This includes friends and family, but especially includes the life-changing presence of Linda Jones in my life.

Though all the love given does indeed powerfully and humbly sustain me, Linda has breathed something indefinably magical into my days.


*****


For the millionth time I'm reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. I like this book so much, I want to slather it with butter and jam and eat it. I want to marry it. I like this book that much.

It's the writer's bible. (Oh, good heavens, I continue to pave my way to hell.) She's a master at convincing her readers to write. She's brilliant. It's a small book. I beg all of you to read it. Everyone is a writer. Everyone has a story. She makes that perfectly, delightfully clear. Write!



*****



Now, I'm finally at the heart of this post. Leaving the best for last. I'm lucky to have lots of bests, but today I write about one of them. Oops, already wrote about Linda. Well, this is about another *best* in my life.

I know that whenever a work of art enters my home, it's more than paper or canvas or wood with paint or pastel or glued found objects. I know that every work that enters my home also enters my heart because every work that arrives, comes with the artist's very essence... a mystical vapor of heart and soul and laughter and tears - a spectrum of the artist's core.

This is especially true of Anna.

She recently sent a plump envelope weighted with treasures. Below are photos of some of the contents. The beach huts are especially special - iconic. So Anna.

I can't write more about Anna (Lamott would tsk me), but she really is indefinable. She's a one-of-kind type of person. She's tender and sweet and kind and generous. She also uses language that sets my ears on fire. She's about as real as people get. Real! She's a powerful potion of good medicine for me. I adore her.





Anna












Watercolor







Beach Huts - Brighton


As always, thanks for stopping by. Love!