Crystal: Clear and Sparkling

This is my mom. I love this picture of her. She's a real beauty. It was taken when she was around twenty five years old. The baby in her arms is my sister Jo and the cute little girl standing next to her is yours truly.  She is the first of the Renaissance Women I have been graced to have in my life and she is the primary. I am who I am today because of her (and of course my dad) and I have dedicated this blog/journal to her.

My mom’s name is Crystal which means, clear and sparkling. As I think about it, I think it does describe her. When she is in the midst of her family with her kids around her, she sparkles. She loves having ‘her babies’ around her. Actually she loves having babies around her period. Her babies, her grandbabies, the babies at church, the babies in the neighborhood - anybody’s babies and they all love being around “Miss Chris”. I was amused the other day when I called home (she lives in Michigan and I live in Texas) and heard all of this screeching and yelling in the background. When I asked who it was she told me it was the kids from across the street playing kickball in the side yard. Our house (the one I grew up in) is the biggest on the block and also has this wonderful side yard (as opposed to a back one) which is big enough to play a rousing game of kickball in it. My parents never fenced it, allowing instead for it to be open for us to play on.  It not only drew every kid on the block, but kept us under their watchful eyes. Even now, with all of us out of the house, the yard is never empty and both she and my dad like it that way.

I’ll be blogging from time to time about my mom and the other Renaissance Women (and men ) in my life and how their love,  affection and support has woven into the tapestry of my life, but I wanted to start with my mom because she is the foundation. She is the one I have patterned myself after on both an consciously and unconsciously level. Perfect? No, but who is? But I know she loves me dearly as I love her. She’s been a good example to follow. I am blessed to have her in my life.

I’d love to hear about the primary Renaissance Women in your life. Tell me about her.

Hello, it’s me.

My name is Cassandra which means prophetess and friend of mankind. In some historical references it says the name means 'betrayer of mankind' but I reject that one as being born of Trojan sour grapes. This is a more formal portrait than I wanted to post but I’m still looking for a more casual one which will be the ‘face’ of my blog. I know when I go to a blog for the first time I like to read the profile and see a face so I can see who’s talking to me so…I decided to bite the bullet early and post a picture of myself. 

If you’ve studied the history of Western Civilization in school you probably would have heard my name in the story of the Trojan Horse. Cassandra was a Trojan woman who (legend has it) was beloved by the Greek god Apollo who gave her the irrevocable gift of prophesy to win her love.  To my mind, that never seemed a particularly smart thing for him to do because – duh, Apollo -  she would know what her future would hold if she accepted him. Faithful was not a word you would use to describe those Greek gods. Needless to say, Cassandra  rejected Apollo and in his anger he placed a curse on her gift which cause those around her to reject whatever she would say, especially when she was telling them the truth.  You have of course heard the saying ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts’. Well, Cassandra was the one who said it.  When the Greeks rolled up this humongous wooden horse supposedly as an offering of peace Cassandra tried to warn the people to leave it outside of the city gates but they didn’t listen. As you know it was hollow, filled with Greek soldiers who once inside the gate, jumped out and sacked the city.  When we studied this in high school, for about a month I was referred to by my classmates as “The Prophetess of DOOOOOM!” Funny people in my high school. Yeah. Right. Not Cassandra’s fault.  Betrayer of mankind? Not hardly.  Stupid Trojans…they should have figured it out on their own.  

At the glorious age of fifty-mumblemumble years old, the call of my heart is ministering to women and girls, walking along side them as we seek to become the Women that God has created us to be. I am an ordained minister, a mother of three, a grandmother of five, a sister to four, and an aunt to six. Spending time with family and friends is the joy of my life and I love books and music, the theater and museums. I also love everything to do with decorating and homemaking - except of course, the cleaning.  As time goes on, you’ll learn more about me, probably more than you ever would want to know. *smile* (Don’t say you weren't warned.) But now, you know who you’re talking to.

So…hello, it’s me. So glad to meet you. Stay awhile and tell me about yourself.

Come September

September has always been the beginning of my own personal New Year. I've felt that way since I was a child. School always started in September, the first Thursday after Labor Day. With the new school year came new school clothes, new books, new teachers and new friends. Everything was always new for me in September.

September is the beginning of autumn in Michigan where I grew up.  The leaves began to turn from spring green in the deep rich colors of fall and the temperatures grew a little cooler. Summer vacation ended with the last picnic on Labor Day and it was time to settle back down to the 'regular' living. For most people, the blaze of fall colors signaled the beginning of the end of the year. In the logic my young mind that never made sense.  To me it seemed the trees were dressing up in celebration. You always celebrate the beginning of things not the endings, right? With the trees putting on their best show, the bounty of the harvest and the start of the fall cycle of holidays, the cycle of my life would begin again.

The interesting thing about beginning again is it can also be very hard time especially when you become older. It can be a time of restlessness, looking backwards and longing for what was.  This year it has been that way for me. It wasn’t the fear of getting older, it was the fear of losing that which had come before and been precious to me. A few days ago a dear friend reminded me that if my heart is full of what was, there would no room for what would be. I realized I had been struggling to hold onto some comfortable, familiar old things that God had been gently trying to get me to release. Instead of concentrating on what I had to lose He was trying to make room for the shiny new things He knew were coming for me.  I had to have faith in His promise that what I would release could not compare to what I would receive.  I could stay where I was or move forward into my new year.  It was my choice. 

After prayerfully thinking it over for a few days, I chose to believe God and let the child in me become excited about the coming of September and rejoice in the glory of a new beginning. So from me to you on this first day of September, Happy New Year!  Plan to take some time during September to look around and see what you need to clear out of your life in this season to make room for the shiny new things coming to you.   I’d love to hear about them. Drop me a note in the comments and let’s talk about it.