bringing as much light as possible into this world these days.

words like tzedakah, which in hebrew means righteousness or justice, and in the common vernacular often means charity.  words like mitzvah, which in hebrew means commandment, and in common vernacular often means good deed.  words like chesed, which in hebrew means kindness, and which we don't much use in everyday english.

. . . . . . . .

my kids receive a small allowance each month.  it's not much, but we hope it will teach them something about handling money, saving and spending.  on (or around!) the first of each month, we give each of the kids dollar bills that they divide into three envelopes - spend, save, tzedakah.  "spend" for those immediate must-haves that i just won't buy any more of (read: magic cards and chapstick), "save" for the things they dream about, and "tzedakah" to help those in need.  i love this in theory, but it's not entirely well executed - the tzedakah envelope in particular, which tends to go one of two ways: in dribs and drabs to hebrew school on sunday mornings, or collected periodically as part of a family effort to support some cause close to our hearts.  it's less than ideal, and i regret that i don't do a better job of empowering them to identify needs or causes close to their own hearts, that i don't help them to chart their own course when it comes to tzedakah, mitzvah, and chesed.

on monday afternoon, i handed out november allowance.  the kids divided their dollars among their envelopes and we did a little counting, taking stock.  

i have been fairly well obsessed with the effects of hurricane sandy.  my twitter feed, the new york times, facebook, my google reader, my heart and my mind.  

i know that there's suffering all over the world and also much closer to home, but i can't shake this feeling that it could have been us.  or someone we love.  i have dear ones who are still without power and heat, and that's the least of it.  i had to explain to my kids why feminie hygiene products and pet food are on the list of needed supplies - so foreign is this kind of devastation to them.  and i am so thankful.

and yet.  here i sit, 200 miles to the south, in my warm home with light and food and my children tucked safely in their own beds with their own winter jackets hanging by the door.  feeling thankful, feeling helpless, feeling inspired by the action of so many.  wondering.  what would i be doing to help if i lived in new york?  or if this tragedy had struck baltimore?  and what will i do now, today, from here?

we did some shopping yesterday afternoon after the allowance counting.  each child took some dollars from their envelope labeled tzedakah and a list of supplies being collected by a local synagogue (not ours).  i matched the kids' money with the same amount of my own, and each child purchased supplies to be delivered to new york later this week.  she chose diapers and wipes, he chose pet food and peanut butter.  i felt humbled.  and proud.  and a little bit less helpless last night.

bennett made dinner.  the kids had no school and it was an absolute pleasure to have them at home today.  i miss that, the being here together and doing things like cooking with all of the time in the world, wandering through the market, going out for a special lunch.  i miss that.

i've adjusted my attitude about the bickering.  i've decided to say yes to everything.  whatever it is, the answer is yes somehow, even when it's no.  or stop.  or for the love of all that's holy.  the answer is still yes.  it turns out that my attitude makes a big difference.  ahem.

bennett decided he would make sesame noodles supreme for dinner, and of course when he searched for the recipe online, he found this post and started reading back through the blog.  which was hilarious.  all through the cooking this afternoon he kept saying "this is so easy to make."  of course it is, because he's 13 now and the chopping and measuring and stirring are all just so much easier than they were when he was 9.  of course.

and lucy made lollipop cookies.  i let her use food coloring.  (i can't stand food coloring.)  they were adorable, and so exciting.  and dave came home and did all of the dishes.  and i realize that all of this sounds dull as dull can be, my afternoon in the kitchen.  but truly, it was a few hours of such joy.  no clock ticking, no homework calling, nothing to be practiced or cleaned or written or done, really, except being there in that kitchen making food and saying yes and being there in that moment together.  

i'm holding onto that.

if i pay attention, watching my children is like looking in the mirror.  

i saw the suggestion on ashley's facebook page - that we light shabbat candles to bring light into the world after such a dark week.  i light shabbat candles every friday night, but usually - almost always - i light two.  last night, i lit 8.  and more importantly, i explained why.

today i am wearing my alabama chanin skirt and thinking about another.  today i have five children and two dogs playing in various parts of my house.  today i will take my camera outside into the blustery leaves.  today i willl tackle the pile of papers that i've been hiding in the kitchen cabinet.  today there will be popcorn and a movie.  today i will squeeze my people tight.  today i will use the tone of voice that i want to hear from others.  today i will say yes.   

this picture is from yesterday.  this apple was the most crisp, most tart, sweetest, most delicious apple i have eaten this season.  

what i really want to say this morning is that i made myself eggs and salad just now, my favorite breakfast.  but what i think instead is that i have electricity to power my cooktop, refrigeration for my food, heat in my home, hot water for my shower.  my laundry is in the washing machine and i am feeling acutely aware of these simple - and tremendous - luxuries today.  i am humbled - again - by the power of mother nature.  i am compelled to count my blessings, every single one - the clean dishes and the dirty dishes alike.  every bit of it feels so precious to me right now.

i find the news to be so grim these days - about the storm, but not just about the storm.  there is so much darkness and suffering around us, and the contrast between my gratitude for the laundry and my awareness of the suffering is stark.  which is why i feel compelled to say: may i never lose sight of the goodness in my life and in the world around me.  

i have to believe that it is our ability to see the goodness that brings light to the darkness.  i have to believe that.

once, years ago, i read a book about meditation in which the author suggested that if you couldn't make yourself sit quietly for ten minutes each day, you ought to at least ask yourself why.

last fall, i was introduced to a newish technique for making encaustic monotype, and i have fallen hard.

i paint sometimes in an open studio at a local community center.  it's good for me - to have a place to go, to have other people around, to be accountable, to have space to spread out.  most of the time i set up in the corner near a big window and work on my own (i've painted the field - the one you see in the print below - out that window over and over again these past few years).  but last fall, the teacher - an amazing encaustic painter and now a friend - taught a workshop in encaustic monotype and i was first in line.

i had made monoprints before.  but this.  oh my.

you can read more about the technique and equipment here.  or you can trust me when i tell you that the wax melts on the hot plate and it's luscious.  that the rice papers absorb or don't absorb the wax and deppending on the surface, the wax sways and swirls in all sorts of unexpected ways.  that sometimes i like the image on the reverse even better than the than the one on what's supposed to be the front.  and that's all part of the beauty of it.

i've been playing with papers.  playing with the paints.  playing.  

i'm reluctant to write more about the specifics because i'm afraid it might be boring.  and really, there's a lot of figuring it out as i go.  but i'm happy to share if anyone is interested.

i've sent eight tiny prints to the enormous tiny art show 11 at nahcotta gallery.  the show opens february 3, and it's full of all sorts of tiny goodness.  i hope you'll check it out.  

it's january.  i'm chronicling my month over here.  i'm making art.  and raising a puppy.  more soon.

the end and the beginning.