Easter Musical. Our "finale" is "Call on Jesus (Nicole ?), and I really love this piece. It just fits what I feel so well. I am having trouble with some of the words--instead of singing, ..."when I call on Jesus," I am singing "when I fall on Jesus." I was berating myself on my faulty memory, when I suddenly realize that I probably do FALL on Jesus more than I CALL on Jesus. Instead of asking for help daily and consistantly, and building up a relationship with him, I end up aimlessly struggling through the day, without focus, until I am physically, emotionally and mentally FALLING on Jesus, asking Him to resue me from myself!

May 2006--Now that the musical is over, I have to say that it was one of our best--maybe the best. I find myself thinking about it even though it's been over a month since we performed it. I have to say, I was really into it. I'm disappointed that neither of my kids came, but my daughter was too far away, and my son just didn't go. My son's girlfriend and her two kids nad neice went and really liked it a lot! Her kids were so exited to see Jim and I in it--not that we were major actors or singers, but that they could recognize us. The DVD is out, and a lady from choir told me that I just had the look of praising God on my face everytime she saw me. That made me feel really great-I did consciously try to let that go out of myself. I tried not to show off, but to stay humble--difficult for me because I just get the big head about every time I am complimented in any way! Anyway, I really loved the worshipful environment of this musical. God really knows what he's doing because I am really moved to praise and worship by music.

Stories I need to get out

The found bracelet--My brother and i frequently we into the woods by our property to play. When I was about 8 and he was about 6, we were digging under a large tree with sticks and found a bracelet. We were exited about our find and took it to the creek to clean it up, to see what it looks like. It was a beautiful green-stoned silver bracelet. We were thrilled and decided to bring it home and give it to our mom. She was so surprised and pleased that we would think to give it to her. Mom kept the "magic bracelet," which we called it, for many years until she gave it to me when I was a teen. We always wondered where it came from and if it was valuable, but never found out.

Creative Call--The past. I believe that I gradually stopped doing "my" art. I spent a lot of time drawing and coloring and painting when I was very young.

Forgiveness--For part of this process, I need to let go of discouraging things that others have said to me. The following letters are to those people. It has been hard to do this for some reason, especially the first one, my wonderful Dad.
No. 1
Dear Dad,

You are the person that I most admired and loved and respected in the world. I know that you encouraged me to do my art, because I loved to do it. But I loved to do it, at least in part, because you encouraged me. I remember you asking me to draw something or color or paint something for you sometimes, and I believe you really were happy with my "work." Once--it had to be before I was 12, you asked me to color the trucks you designed--I was so proud that you would ask me to do it. Another time, my first year of college, I decorated your light above your new pool table for either your birthday or Christmas, I forget which. I worked as a real artist would--drawing and designing, choosing colors, placement on the light fixture. You really seemed to love it. I knew you really never thought I would be an artist, and so, I didn't believe in myself either. It was just something I did for fun, or "crafts" like Mom was into. When I was in high school, thinking about what I wanted to do with my life, I brought up majoring in art. You shot that down, saying that there were a lot of "starving artists" in the world, and the world didn't need another one. I'm not saying that my life was full of art, because I really had no confidence after seeing other's art. I just wasn't good enough to make it, and you just reinforced that. That hurt me, even though I believe now that you were just trying to get me to make a decent living and not struggle so much. I majored in psychology, and went to school for my masters in library science and guess what??? I still don't make a decent living! I might as well majored in art! I wouldn't be any worse off.

I have forgiven you, but I can't put all the blame on you. I'm slightly more mature now, and know it is a character flaw in me, that didn't follow through with my dreams--any of them.

No.2
Dear Sister Agnes,

You were my first teacher and you encouraged me and made me feel like I was your favorite (although I found out later you had other favorites). You taught me a lot, and tried to get me to be more outgoing by giving me the lead in the Christmas play (in which I was terrified). The greatest hurtful thing you did, and I'm not really sure it was you, but it was a nun, was "helping" me draw my picture with pastels. In either first or third grade art class, I made a floral arrangement, but it was too small to suit you (and you were probably right), but you took the chalk out of my hands, and quickly made my flowers bigger. I was always slow and meticulous, the last one finished at lunch, so maybe you were trying to speed me up. We had open house soon after, with an art contest, and I won 3rd place for that drawing that you did. My mom and dad were so happy, and everyone congratulated me, but I didn't feel good about that. I don't remember if I tried to tell someone that I didn't do it, but if I did, I was told that she just helped me. I kind of felt robbed of my own art, but I just let it go because it was nice to win at something.

No.3
Dear Mrs. Campbell,

You were my first real art teacher. I know you were friends with my Aunt Nancy, but you weren't really friends with me. You were always trying to get me to hurry up. I think you did praise me for my skill, I think, but I don't really remember specific instances. I did not look forward to your class, but dreaded it because it put a lot of pressure on me. I think you could have done more to draw me out, but instead you alienated me. I think this was a cross roads. Even though Mom and Dad asked me if I wanted art lessons, and I said no, I still think I thought all art teachers would be like you and I didn't want the pressure.

No.4
Dear Mom,

You encouraged me somewhat with my art, music, whatever, but you never helped me with a direction. I guess you left that up to Dad. Maybe I just quit listening to you--I thought that I was smarter than you very early on--oh, believe me, I don't think so now! You wanted me to be the outgoing cheerleader type like you were--that was definitely not me.

No.5
Dear Jim,

You know, I think you liked those little pictures I made you when we were first going out. I enjoyed making them for you. I don't think that you ever took my art seriously, I don't think you thought I was all that good at it. But then again, I majored in Psychology, and you knew this, and 15 years later told me that Psychologists were scammers, I realized that you didn't believe in me about that either. I'm afraid that I don't know what you think of me when you say you love me. I feel like you think it's just easier to humor me than to talk to me.

Bus Culture

When I was going to grad school, trying to be a wife and mom, and working, I was employed at UC. I thought I'd take the bus to save on parking fees--plus I thought I'd be able to read and study.

Since I hadn't been on a bus since I was a small child, I was a little nervous about all those practical things like finding the right bus, bus stop, correct change, transfers, etc. I got through those beginnings and began to notice some behaviors that seemed to be unique to bus travelers.

The TANK bus was my longest ride, and by the time the bus got to my stop (last one before the interstate), it was usually crowded. These people were usually just trying to get downtown to work. Most of the regulars knew each other and conversed the entire way. They discussed their families, work, the bus, their vacations, all very friendly. There were also those who just wanted to zone out into their own little world, either by taking a nap, reading or doing some other activity. My intention was to be one of the latter, but I found I was listening to all the conversation of these suburban people (mostly women), and finally engaged in conversation myself.

Sometimes, the regulars acted as a unit--Once on the trip home, a young Mexican man, not more than 19, got on the bus and sat down. We crossed the river from Cincinnati, and stopped in Covington and the bus driver told the young man to get off the bus. Instantly we all were interested and tuned in. Obviously the young man knew very little English, and could not tell the driver where he needed to go. It seemed obvious to me and I think the other bus riders, that he was lost, and he couldn't communicate. The driver told us the young man was on his bus route earlier and rode it into Cincinnati, and he had to tell him to get off then. At this time it was starting to get dark, and one of the women on the bus said, "you are not kicking that young man off the bus in Covington at night! He is lost! We need to help him out, not throw him out!" The driver continued his route.

At this point, several people wracked their brains to remember their high school Spanish! I tried to draw a picture of the Ohio River and landmarks that could help him tell us where he wanted to go. We had no luck, until the driver exited the interstate and the young man became animated when he recognized something! When the driver stopped, we were across from the police department. Three of the women tried to tell the young man that they would help him find his way home. One of them knew a local police officer who spoke Spanish, but we were worried he would be frightened of the police. He wasn't. He just seemed to instinctively trust the women, and knew they were going to help him.

The next evening, we talked about what happened, found out the police did indeed have an interpreter, and were able to get him home safely.