Dreaming Faith Into Being

Here it is, already twelve-thirty on a Sunday and I've posted nothing and really done nothing but a few loads of laundry and made the bed and washed the dishes and fed the chickens and talked to about fifteen people on the phone.
Okay. I guess I've been a little busy.
One of the people I've talked to is Ms. Jessie Moon who is on her way back from Asheville, NC where she may have just had the most amazing week of her life playing music and meeting people, including one of her major idols, the musician Ben Sollee whom she now knows in a friendly way and has played music with him and baby-games with his two-year old son. She has also met a boy. Well, a man. Throw in all that fantastic music and the beauty of Asheville and it was some week. She was getting teary on the phone, talking about leaving and oh, the man, and it was all like a dream, only one she had never imagined even having but let me tell you something- she made that week happen and Lis helped her and I truly believe it was a week that will have changed her forever.

"It's like the world is getting smaller all the time," she told me when we were discussing the far-less-than-six-degrees of separation she's been experiencing.

"I think that's because you're exactly where you're supposed to be and doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing," I said. "It's like everything is very clearly in focus."

And I thought about that and I am amazed that she is achieving this place in her life at such a young age. Some of us never quite get there.

And I don't really have a point here. I just want to say that my daughter took a great leap of faith when she applied for a scholarship to go to that week for the Swannanoa Gathering and she asked for what she wanted and she asked for help in getting there and she got it and it was so much more than she even hoped or dreamed it would be and there's a lesson there.
One that her mama needs to learn.

My children have always been my most profound teachers. I've always said this. It remains true.

And that lizard? Ah, he's just a tiny holy icon of The Church of the Batshit Crazy, aka The Church of the Chickenshit Crazy on a Sunday morning where I guess I'm talking to you about faith which is another holy mystery not unlike the lizard, not unlike the hot, wet breath of this holy day.