Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Euphonia


I heard her serenade as a young child, and I followed her into the land of Music.

"Euphonia" is a photo composite using my photos and some licensed images from Dreamstime.com See title link for credits.

By Karen Gladys Henry © 2009. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Emily's Mountain (a short story)


Emily woke up early as she usually did, before the sun had even considered rising. She swallowed the pills she kept by her bedside, the ones that helped her joints. She lay there in the dark, thinking of things she would like to do, mostly things she couldn’t do anymore. She thought of her grandchildren, all in highschool now, all beautiful and strong and talented. She missed them. She prayed for grace to make the best of her day.

Emily couldn’t lay there very long without having to get up and do something. She got up slowly, enjoying the few moments of relative comfort before she had to deal with the pain of moving around. She put on the bunny slippers she had bought when the youngest grandkids were still toddlers. The slippers made her smile. They were showing the signs of age, just as she was, only they didn’t care. Their ears flopped down crazily instead of standing straight up as they once did.

Emily couldn’t help chuckling to herself as she got up and began to shuffle to the kitchen. "Do your ears hang low" was running through her head. It had been a long time since she’d thought of it. She put on a pot of coffee, not that she would drink more than a cup of it, but she enjoyed the aroma so much. It was part of her morning ritual, along with feeding the cat– who was making figure eights around her feet already– and turning on the computer.

As her coffee gurgled and sputtered in the coffee maker, Emily brushed her long silver hair. It went down to the middle of her back and was still thick and wavy. She had never missed a day of brushing it since her mother started her doing it when she was five. She was glad she could still manage it, though she wished it didn’t take her so long now. She hoped she never had to get it cut. Her long hair was the only thing that made her feel still beautiful.

Emily got up and poured herself a cup of coffee, adding extra cream to her cup, as she was feeling positive that the day would bring her something special. She smiled as she read a few verses from her worn Bible. Then she started a grocery list for her oldest son to refer to when he did her weekly shopping. She fixed some toast and carefully carried the toast and coffee over to the computer that her youngest son had set up for her. She was grateful that she had it, as it was her main connection to the world.

The sun was just beginning to peek through the trees as the computer whirred to a start. The coffee tasted especially good, and Emily’s feeling of anticipation grew. She opened her email, as she did every morning, and wrote a short message to each of her ten grandchildren. It felt good to have such a special relationship with each of them. She didn’t want to miss any opportunity of staying connected with them. There was something so gratifying to think she could impart some of her hard-earned wisdom to a younger generation, wisdom she felt she had been lacking when she was a young mother.

Emily chatted with a few online friends as she always did, doing her best to be an encouragement to those she had some contact with. She spent some time praying for them, and about some troubling items in the news too, and of course, for her family. It helped her not to fret about things, and she knew she had some impact in the world this way, even though no one else would know about it. She had never been an ambitious person, but now that her husband was gone, she needed to have a purpose for living.

Having accomplished these things, Emily now felt she could take a bit of time for herself. She went to her favorite place on the internet, an art gallery. Emily’s youngest son, the computer tech, had showed her how to set up her own radio program, and she turned on some classical music to accompany her browsing.

Emily loved to look at the different kinds of paintings– some were reproductions of classics and some were contemporary originals. She liked so many different styles! She wished she had learned to paint, but she hadn’t. Even though her children often encouraged her to try, she felt that with the arthritis, it just wasn’t worth the struggle. So she soaked in the artworks others had made, and she knew that being an art appreciator was just as important as being an artist.

Emily was studying her favorite painting when she heard a rumble outside. At first she didn’t notice it, but then she heard truck doors slamming. Soon there was a knock on her back door. Emily was startled, but gathering her courage, she went to see who it was. Opening the door, she saw the bright sun outlining the figures of two delivery men holding a very large cardboard package. It was taller than they were.

"Please sign here, ma’am," one of the men said as he held out a pen to her. She signed, shaking with excitement. Watching her slowly write, one of the men decided she needed help, so they offered to bring the package into the house. Emily nodded, showed them where to put it, and then closed the door behind them. Slightly bewildered, Emily sat down on the recliner to think about this new development. She remembered the feeling of expectation she’d had earlier that morning, and smiled to herself.

Opening the box was quite a challenge for Emily. She found a utility knife and put on some gloves to protect her delicate hands. Then she began hacking away at the cardboard and strapping tape. In her excitement, she hadn’t thought to look at the mailing label. It didn’t matter much to her where it had come from, as to Emily, it was a gift from God.

After some strenuous effort, Emily had the contents of the box out where she could see it. She could hardly believe her eyes! Before her, larger than she had imagined it, was the very painting she had just been admiring in the online gallery. It was her very favorite, and it was the original!

The painting was as tall as she was, and Emily just stood there, breathless, staring at it. She still couldn’t take in the reality that this was the painting she had been visiting over and over for months, and here it was in her living room. It was hers! Suddenly, she sank into the chair and burst into tears. Emily sobbed and sobbed until all the tears in her were cried out. Then, blowing her nose, she got up and went into the kitchen. All the excitement and crying had made her hungry.

Emily ate a salad and drank a big glass of water. She felt she had regained some of her strength and composure, although she had to take an extra pill to ease the strain on her joints. She knew she would have to wait for someone to come hang the painting for her, but in the meantime, she wanted to put it where she could sit and enjoy it comfortably. How happy she was! She scooted the big canvas across the carpet and with a little difficulty, got it up on the couch. Then she sat down to contemplate the beauty in all of its big, bright, overwhelming reality.

The painting was done with acrylics in a surreal style. It was picture of a mountaintop in bright, early morning sunshine. Growing on top of the mountain was a tree– a pear tree, which was blossoming and fruiting at the same time. It was very magical looking, as you wouldn’t find a pear tree on top of a mountain, and anyway, it wasn’t your usual kind of pear tree. In another part of the picture, there was a waterfall. This also was unexpected, of course, especially since the waterfall seemed to come out of the sky! On the left side of the painting was a little white lamb. He seemed to be looking out at the viewer, beckoning.

The painting had always grabbed Emily, and even though she knew the artist had other works in the gallery, this was the one that had always called to her. She loved the title too, as it had meaning plus a little humor: "The Prayer Tree" it was named. Now "The Prayer Tree" was hers and Emily was beside herself with joy! Tears sprang to her eyes again, and she lifted up a prayer of thanks. Propping up her feet in the comfy recliner, she cupped her hands around the mug of tea she’d brought in from the kitchen. Contentedly she gazed at the painting, feeling her life would always be better now she had it as her own.

As she relaxed, Emily began to hear the birds chirping outside. They sounded so close! She could hear the fountain in the next room, and the trickling sounded as good to her as a mountain stream. Emily felt a cool breeze blow across her face. There was a sweet scent in the breeze. She recognized that scent– what was it? Suddenly she realized she was on the mountaintop. She was in the painting! Or else she was in the same scene as the painting. . . but wherever she was, she was no longer at home.

At first Emily thought she was dreaming, but then she realized that her joints were still stiff and achy, and she knew if she were having a dream that she would have made certain she felt perfectly fine in it. Then she realized she was also still holding her mug of tea! She decided to drink it while it was still hot, so she sat down on a rock and looked around her. The rock was rather cold, but she was so astounded to be in that place that it didn’t matter at all.

Emily had sat down near the Pear Tree, which was even more wonderful when experienced in real life. It was very tall and leafy, with new spring-green leaves popping out all over it. It was also covered in pretty white blossoms that were impossibly large. The fragrance they were exuding into the early morning mountain air was sweet, fresh, and invigorating. She took a deep breath. How glorious this place was! Emily had always loved the painting, but this was real and clear and vibrantly alive. The colors were brilliant and everything was perfect. She was totally enraptured.

As she finished her tea, which seemed dull by comparison, a flapping of wings and a cooing sound next to her made her start, and then she saw the pure white dove. It was perched beside her with a very large ripe pear in its beak! Very carefully, the dove placed the pear on the rock and flew up into the tree. She waved in thanks and bit into the pear– it was as luscious as the scent it gave off, and extremely juicy. The pear was obviously very nourishing, for she felt better than she had in some time.

The fragrance of the pears and the blooms together seemed to be a sort of music in this place, and the song of it got into her molecules and made them vibrate with joy. Emily realized that she had been so caught up in the wonder of being on the top of this mountain that she hadn’t really noticed the water falling all around. It seemed to fall from the Pear Tree itself, rushing into a chasm nearby. It seemed to fall from the clouds, from the sky and from some high, distant rocks that were almost invisible to her. The sound of the waterfalls was like a great music that mingled with the fragrant music coming from the pears and flowers. Even though there was water cascading all around, it didn’t get her wet; she could however feel a light mist in the air, a mist that shimmered with light.

Light shone from the rising sun that was lighting up the fluffy clouds in the morning sky, tinting them with opalescent pinks, corals and greens. Light emanated from the Pear Tree too. It seemed more alive to her than an ordinary tree. She wanted to touch it, but hesitated, not knowing what would happen if she did. As she thought about this she began to hear a voice in the fragrant music, a voice that said "Touch me, taste me, know me. . . I am for you." It became a song in Emily’s mind, that wound in upon itself, creating harmonies and counter-melodies that were ingenious and exquisitely lovely. She was enthralled.

Emily decided at last to get up and walk around. There was much more to this scenery than what was captured in the painting. She walked slowly around the tree, taking in its glory. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that there were other people there on the mountain top. They paid her no attention, so she left them alone to enjoy the morning.

She walked towards an outcropping of rock and sat down on a large boulder, not too close to the edge. Looking out over the valley, Emily could see a town in the distance, and she thought how lovely it must be to live there. Then she realized that she could see her own town, and even her own house, even though she lived nowhere near the mountains. Her eyes adjusted to focusing on the distances, and she realized she could see many different places she knew, even foreign places.

Emily meditated on this for a while, completely unaware of any time passing. It was dawning on her where she was, and that she had been here before. She simply hadn’t been able to see it until now. She was getting a little warm in the sunshine, and not wanting to get a sunburn, Emily got up and started to wander back to the Pear Tree. If she’d had any thought of how she would get home, it had not disturbed her. She was at perfect peace.

The tree still seemed to be singing, and now she could hear it calling her name, and her name mingled into the song and became part of it. She went down to the tree, having to climb some rocks in order to get to it. That took her a while, and she was careful not to fall. When at last she was near the tree, she felt a strange warmth and vibration, almost like an electrical charge or magnetic field, but with none of the unpleasant characteristics of those. It was power, though, and it occurred to her that it was love.

Feeling braver now, Emily leaned against the tree, placing her palms against its rough bark. She was sure now that the tree had personality, and she heard not only one voice, but a mingling of a multitude of voices all singing the same intricately woven melodies. It was breathtaking and compelling, but she felt she could not take much more of it without weeping again. She felt such a part of the song that she thought she might join in, but she didn’t understand the words.

Emily wasn’t used to standing for long at a time. She was glad she hadn’t had to hike up this mountain. Sitting down on the rock she had first chosen, she rested and began then to wonder how she had been so lucky to come to this place, and how she would get home. "Don’t worry about that," a kind voice said. It was very close to her right ear. She turned towards it and saw the lamb. It looked much larger to her than it did in the painting, but she barely noticed that as she was caught up into a conversation with her new acquaintance.

"Is this your mountain?" Emily asked.

"It is as much mine as it is yours," the lamb replied.

The lamb led Emily over to a soft patch of grass, and they made themselves comfortable on the warming earth. Emily and the lamb talked and talked, discussing many personal things. She was not surprised at all that the lamb seemed to know her intimately. He was full of wisdom and was glad to share it with her. The sun was high in the sky before the lamb rose and stretched its legs, looking at Emily in a way that made her realize she would soon be going back.

"Come, listen to the tree again," called the lamb to her in its friendly way. Emily did so, and to her delight, she could now understand more of the words that the voices were singing. She began to sing with them, thrilled with the way the song carried her along in an ecstasy of oneness. Then she stopped. She heard something else far away and she wanted to listen. What was it?

Suddenly, Emily realized it was the phone ringing and that she was back in her recliner in her living room. The painting was still there, looking even more vibrant and delightful than before. She reached over and picked up the receiver:

"Mom, hi!" she heard on the other side. "Did you get a big package delivery yet? I just wanted to check."

"Hi, Gracie!" Emily answered enthusiastically. "I sure did! Did you send that?"

"Yes, we all pitched in together to get the painting for you. Happy Mother’s Day!"

"Mother’s Day? Oh, my! I didn’t realize that was today! You snuck up on me!"

"It’s not today, Mom, it’s Sunday, but this is as close as we could get with the delivery people. So, do you like it?"

"Like it! It. . . it’s astonishing! How on Earth did you know to get that one? It’s my very favorite one in that art gallery I love to peruse. Well, now I guess it’s not there any more, is it? It’s right here!" Emily was so excited again that she jumped up out of her chair and hopped over to the painting so she could look at it closely again and describe it to Gracie.

"It’s more than amazing, Gracie! It’s. . . it’s. . ."and then she began to wonder if she wanted to tell her daughter about actually being in the painting. What if it had only been a dream? She really couldn’t tell. . . but, it had been so real. . .

"Mom, are you OK?" asked a concerned voice on the other end.

"Oh, yes, Gracie, I’m fine, I’m just. . . how did you know?"

"A little birdie told us, Mom, a little birdie! But you do like it– I’m so glad! Hey, Mom, I was wondering if we could take you out for Mother’s Day. Do you want to?"

Emily had realized, while she had been talking to Gracie, that she was thirsty, very thirsty. She had gone into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, guzzling it down. Then she had gone into the hall and looked into the mirror. Her face was quite a bit sunburned! Then, with a gasp, she realized she had been walking and moving about with ease, quickly, and without a bit of stiffness.

Emily dropped the phone and began to run up and down the hallway. Gracie could hear whooping noises through the receiver, and was about to call 911 when Emily remembered her and picked up the phone again. "I’m healed, I’m healed, Gracie! I went into the painting and I’m healed!"

Gracie began to wonder if her mother was delirious or had overdosed on her pills. "Mom, what did you say? Are you alright?"

"Gracie, I’m healed! I’ve had a spiritual experience, or something, with that painting. I met Jesus I think, as the Lamb. The arthritis is gone. . . completely, praise the good Lord!" Emily wanted to sing and dance– she couldn’t contain her joy.

"I’m coming right over! Mom. . . I love you! And, well. . . Happy Mother’s Day!"

The End

"Emily’s Mountain" is a work of fiction by Karen Gladys Henry ©2009.
"The Prayer Tree" is a composite artwork by Karen Gladys Henry ©2008. See title link. All Rights Reserved.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Friendship


"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives." C.S. Lewis

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Spirea Falls


Irish Blessing:

May the blessing of the rain be on you—

the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.

Friday, May 1, 2009

The Sands of Time


Art frees us from the confines of dimensional space. We can look up and down at the same time, or in and out. In that way, it helps us see that there is more to existence than meets the physical eye.