Bits and pieces

I did it, I survived the holidays. They weren't huge events, thank God. The first holidays after a death in the family are the most bleak. We collectively decided to keep them low-key, and not try to force the family dinner, thank God. We stayed in our own ho,es, (I went to my daughter's), and had Christmas. But we don't mourn like those who have no hope, thank God. I mean all three of those.

It's the first part of January, a month most people frown upon, but I'm glad it's here for several reasons. I pick January to be my organization month, I go through my art supplies and pass some on, and label, and sort... Call me OCD, I don't care. It makes life simpler to not have to look in every box to find what I want! :D

I'm finding great pleasure in a simple art project. Each day I make a 'ticket'- a small bit of art with a few inspirational words from a verse of scripture on it. I punch a hole in the end and keep it on a ring. I'll supposedly do this for a year...I hope. It inspires me (so far) to do other things in a day. 

It's almost moving day.

It's easy to forget from one move to the next, just how much 'stuff' a person can accumulate. With each move I've made, I've tried to cast off some baggage. This time, the baggage is more emotional than physical. Not just mom dying, but the 'aftermath' of it-eating meals alone must be the worst...no wait, it's sitting alone watching evening tv, or going to bed in the silence-leaving the tv on for background noise. You know, to cover all those suspicious house noises. 

I've never been a scaredy cat, and I don't think I'm one now, I just hate the silence of a too big, too empty house. I'll get over it. There's a new start just around the corner, and it's up to me how it goes. I choose. I'm the writer of the story.

I'm a disgrace. My fingers are always shades of blue, black, or green. My shirts have glue spots that won't wash out, and my jeans have bits of glitter imbedded in them.
I'm a paper crafter.
I try. I have scrubbies and soaps and brushes. I achieve a minimum of success in fading my stains.
My friends all know and accept this. My social circle is small, thank goodness. My church forgives my state of disarray. I have great family.
All that being said, I love the people in my life. Recently I lost one of the most important ones-my mom. She lives in heaven now. I miss her, but her death has put me on an art journaling path I might never have started otherwise. God is funny like that, using a tragedy to begin something new.
I think it's saved my sanity.
I'm in the midst of making a life changing move to a new residence, the house I've shared with mom for 7 years looks like a flea market as we sort and ready things for an estate sale. It's weird living in a space that once was serene and neat, and now is full of the contents of an 80 year life- everywhere. So, I will now be relieved to move. God is funny like that, keeping us from drowning in reluctance and sentiment.
My art room will be last to be packed. In its messiness, it's the only room that feels normal. It's always been a mess! So I sit in the mornings and reflect, read, and create. Life goes on, and life is good, because He is good.