The computer screen obsession, by an expat

I sit, hanging out by this black box of a machine. 

Not the kind of person who likes killing time, yet somehow glued to this screen. 

I hang out on Facebook, and my Skype window is open. I linger on these sites, while browsing and doing other "work" I need to get done online. 

Bedtime comes, my local husband is away for the evening- and I feel alone. 

I sit here; gazing, hoping, wondering. . . . dreaming. . . 

I suddenly see this screen as a window and see myself poking my head through it - searching for someone I know and love an ocean away. 

No one is online this evening, they are all busy living their lives and doing their things and I find myself longing to be overthere- with them. 

My eyes grow heavy and my bed calls me, and I reluntctly give my channels of communication one last peek- still hoping to see that lone figure waving at me across the space and lines of Internet and catching a glimpse of their far away face through the dark pane of my computer screen window. 

Nothing. . . time to go to bed.

The Power of Handmade

Yesterday I pulled out the tin of quilt blocks I cut years ago- blocks for the quilt "Double Wedding Ring" quilt. I love that pattern and it has so many memories attached to it.

It has been probably 15 years since I cut those blocks- and life has changed so much. I left my homeland; my country, married and become a Mom. Yet with those quilt blocks nothing has changed- it is as if time stopped when I laid those hand pieced rows together on the top of neatly stacked piles of still to be sewn blocks.

There are so many memories stored in that box of blocks, so many careful stitches placed years ago when I was still and unmarried maiden. There are so many pieces of fabric in prints that remind me of "home" and my Mom and our quilting days together.

There is such a power in hand work- so many thoughts, dreams, desires are sewn into the seams of quilts and other hand created items.

When I sew by hand I have time to think, to remember, to value those women who taught me to sew and the chain of seamstresses I come from.

Then too there is time for dreaming- about the ones I am sewing this little quilt for and for those so far away.

Each stitch is sewn with love- each piece planned out and carefully cut and placed.

My life of late has been full of paintings on silk, and those too are created with such care and thought. Each brush stroke containing thoughts and dreams of beauty and delight.

There are faster ways of creating these days- and prints can be bought at half the price of originals. But there is nothing that can replace the joy of creating and gifting something you poured your love and dreams into whether sewn, painted, or otherwise created.

Thank you for caring

Just a little phrase, but with power to make tears jump into my eyes.

"Thank you for caring." my Mom said as we hung up the phone on a 1 minute Skype call.

My parents are moving today- and I wanted to know how its going and where they will sleep tonight.

Mom didn't have time to talk long with the moving truck coming- but said those 4 little words, "Thank  you for caring."

As I hung up the phone tears started rolling down my cheeks. "Oh how I wish I could do more than CARE." But living an ocean away makes that impossible. . . if I were a millionaire I'd own the fastest jet around and be there for all those moments and birthdays and special occasions that happen without my presence.

Yet here I am- in this blessed life an ocean away- but with the power to show I DO care with a simple phone call.