Anyone Home?

Since our last presidential election, I've been keeping a journal of all for which I am thankful; it's soul-medicine to keep this native-born cynic spiritually alive. I had been commenting on political events, passing along Facebook posts, until it slowly began to occur to me that all the negativity was poisoning my soul. I wasn't any happier, and wasn't convinced anyone was being blessed by it all. So I quit, cold turkey. As a result, a most amazing thing happened; I, a lifelong melancholic, found that I was happier than I had ever been in my life. Gratitude makes one happy; who'd have guessed?

It's been an odd exercise; I liken it to looking at life through a microscope instead of a telescope. I had been looking only at the big political, social, economic issues, while ignoring the seemingly insignificant matters of family, flowers, faith. It felt as if by refusing to comment on all the stuff out there, I were somehow negligent in my duty of being concerned with major matters. Looking back from the perspective of a year and a half, I can't imagine how I thought adding my negativity to all that's out there was going to help any.

In the natural world of God's creation, which is more important, galaxies and stars, or microbes and atoms? In our post-Renaissance world, it is almost impossible to be both an astronomer and a microbiologist. We must choose between Macro and Micro. I have made my choice; for me, it's Micro. Others more competent and informed than I will have to handle the Macro side of life. I'll listen, but have precious little to add to that side of the conversation. I can however, speak of what I observe in daily life, which is where most of us spend the bulk of our time.

So why a blog? To put it bluntly, my daughter and a couple of her more literary friends have pushed/dragged me into it, figuratively kicking and screaming. I was content posting my thoughts on Facebook; couldn't see how a blog would be any great advantage. I'm still not convinced, but you know how persuasive a daughter can be. If you don't, I'll lend you mine for a day or two. You'll understand. I've titled these musings "refrigerator Word Art. Our refrigerator is covered with photographs and drawings of and by our grandchildren. They are of little interest to anyone else, but to us...well, let's just say that our refrigerator is the Louvre of Meema and Beepa's house (Maybe I'll explain that in another blog. Maybe not). No one else has any stake in it, no one else thinks the drawings are museum quality. Except us. Because we know and love the artists.

That's what I'm doing here. I don't expect anyone else to be particularly interested in what I have to say. I have to say it, but as I've often said, "There is a big difference between having to say something and having something to say." I'm not sure which this will be, but I've jumped into the water, so I guess it's time to swim. Refrigerator art is about family. Refrigerator Word Art is, too. If you want to be part of my often goofy family, welcome home. If not, I can't say as I blame you. Beauty is after all, in the eye of the beholder.