my view – a daughter’s bedside
This past week, my eldest daughter and I checked into Glasgow’s Yorkhill children’s hospital for 5 days of pain treatment.
I brought a little sketchbook and my Sharpie markers to help pass the time, but the process helped me do much more than that.
I found myself looking for better views of our present circumstance. And eventually I saw beauty even in that grey place – not just out the windows, but through the people we were with.
When you choose to see differently, there really are better things to see. I couldn’t draw the efficient staff running around or the little heroes in pink casts and wheelchairs, but I could shift my position (and my attitude) to sketch the views from our ward.
view straight out our windows – The Queen Mother’s Maternity Hospital, built in 1964 – now closed
- same windows, different viewpoint
Riverside Museum of Transport on the River Clyde
the Tall Ship at Riverside
If you are in a hard place, my wish is that these little windows give you some HOPE for a better view.
I encourage you to see differently today.
The sky is a deep, black ocean out here on the moors.
When the weather closes in, there is nothing but dark forms rolling over each other, shifting shape as the winds run round the hills and grasses. But if the heavens clear then stars drop low to greet me, and I am overwhelmed by the vastness of the universe opening before my eyes. I wish for wings to soar into this sea.
My paint cannot express these depths , but still I attempt flight – brush in hand.
The night sky is waiting. I encourage you to go out and see it for yourself. Walk or drive until there is no other light.
Even if it is only a blanket of stillness, stay and ponder this inky quiet awhile. And let your heart soar.
Here on the farm and moors, feathers are scattered around like confetti blown in the wind. Hidden in grasses along the stone walls, these small works of art and aviation wait for me to find them.
And I cannot help myself – I gather them all up and take my treasures home to display and to ponder.
Feathers speak to me of grace and flight, divine mysteries, ancient histories.
They are soft, sharp slivers of wonder I can hold in my hands.
There is nothing “ordinary” about these quills. Each one has a story to tell…or inspire…
if I will take the time to enjoy their simplicity, explore their complexity.
May you discover something of wonder today, and hold its story in your hand.