The Orchid Journal

(Photo by author) Red nail polish applied to quirky toes reddish lipstick on full, ready lips green eyes quietly observe red decorations; poinsettas, red candles lining a long aisle, red ribbons tied around green pine boughs. Reddest of all are cheeks aflame and the blood pumping softly through a ready red heart, as green eyes rest upon the warm red face of the handsomest man in the world.

My uncle let me borrow a book from my late grandmother's library called, "A Medieval Home Companion: Housekeeping in the Fourteenth Century" (translated and edited by Tania Baynard). The inside cover flap begins like this, "Around the year 1393 an elderly citizen of Paris married a girl of fifteen and presented her with a book of moral and domestic instruction that he had written to guide her." In the editor's Introduction, we learn that the author's name is unknown, but that he was most likely between 50 and 60 years old. In the author's prologue, he (the husband of the 15 year old) begins sweetly, "Dear sister, because you are fifteen years old, you beseeched me, the week we were married, to be tolerant of your youth and inexperience until you had seen and learned more, and you promised to apply yourself diligently to instruction and to devote all your attention and industry to keeping my peace and love." Throughout the book, ...

Orson, the polar bear, scampers happily in the snow on Monday morning. At noon, Orson visits Sunshine Ministries, the oldest homeless shelter/program in St. Louis. He watches the screen to be ready to buzz in visitors to the office. He tries to answer the phone, but it is slightly too heavy. Instead, Orson helps the receptionist by putting calls on hold. He is very proud of himself. What a busy day! Photos by Laelia Watt

from "What Did You Expect?? Redeeming the Realities of Marriage" by Paul Tripp "...true love grows out of the nutrient soil of gratitude." "The unity of marriage is not the result of absence of misunderstanding, but rather the unity of a marriage is formed as you work through inevitable misunderstandings with patience, kindness and grace." "...the character of a marriage is established through 10,000 little moments." "Trust is being so convinced that you can rely on the integrity, strength, character and faithfulness of another that you are willing to place yourself in his or her care." "...you will entrust yourself to the person who loves you enough to trouble his life with what troubles you." "Humble openness, coupled with the commitment to admit to and confess wrongs is an essential ingredient to the bond of trust." "Love is willing self-sacrifice for the good of another that does not require reciprocation or...

The clouds were spread like pulled cotton batting across the steady blue sky and the remaining yellow, orange and brown leaves rustled dryly in the meandering breeze. I stared wide-eyed at the scene as I walked along with Winston on the end of his leash. His nails click-clicked as he padded along the sidewalk and my footsteps syncopated rythmically to his. Frequently Winston would stop and sniff a row of dried grasses or a painted garbage can, but I didn't hurry him along. We both seemed to enjoy the peaceful day and pleasant walk. I felt so happy! Generally, I am a happy person, but the happiness that flooded over my heart was one that I hadn't felt in a while. It was a deep, contented happiness, that made me not only appreciate the scene before me, but look forward to the future. The scenery and my thoughts lead me to ponder *"happiness." The day before, I had heard a man on the radio tell a woman whose husband wanted to divorce her, "God did not create...

"By abandoning commitmet, our narcissistic culture has lost the one thing it desperately seeks: happiness. Without commitment, our individual lives will be barren and sterile. Without commitment, our lives will lack meaning and purpose. After all, if nothing is worth dying for (the anthem of the '60s anti-war protesters), then nothing is worth living for. But with commitment comes the flourishing of society- of calling, of marriage, of the church- and of our hearts. It is the paradox Jesus so often shared when he bid us to come and die that we might truly live." Exerpt from: " The Lost Art of Commitment: Why We're Afraid of it and Why We Shouldn't be" by Churck Colson with Katherine Larson (article in Christianity TOday magazine. More on this later....

Orson likes the piano... This piano is closed. "Is it ever used?", he wonders to no one in particular. After all the playing, Orson is thirsty. He is frustrated. How to turn the handle and drink at the same time? He loves the beautiful windows And especially loves the bowls arranged with different flowers every week- amazing that someone found green hydrandreas in the middle of November.... Alexis' bandaid is an exciting shade of green- She cut her finger on a broken bowl. Orson balances precariously on her thumb Living dangerously is what polar bears do best- Orson runs madly along the back of a church pew... Whew! What an exciting time at church! What will Orson do next? Oh, wait and see, wait and see...

Recently, I bought a teeny polar bear from the St. Louis zoo. I love tiny things so I couldn't resist the display of miniature lions, polar bears, elephants etc, all for a mere 75 cents each. (I must go back and get a lion and elephant next- wish they had a grizzly bear) Anyway, I carry the polar bear around in my purse and show it to people that I don't think will roll their eyes at me for being a 26 year old with a toy in her purse. So far he has been passed around at Bible Study amid "oohs and ahhs" and made to break dance by my Associate Pastor on the back of a pew during a wedding. That alone was adorable, and the polar bear proved to be a limber dancer. Last week, my friend Alexis had this genius idea: "You should take pictures of the polar bear in random places!" I was immensely inspired and tickled at that idea, so I have commenced my chronicling of mini-polar bear's adventures. Here are the first few. Next I will post a series of photos...

Love without return is like a question without answer. ~Unknown

'At this, she bowed down with her face to the ground. She exclaimed, "Why have I found such favor in your eyes that you notice me—a foreigner?.... May I continue to find favor in your eyes, my lord," she said. "You have given me comfort and have spoken kindly to your servant—though I do not have the standing of one of your servant girls."' Ruth 2:10,13

This song is from the movie, "Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron." Don't laugh- I LOVE this movie and this song makes me cry every time- so encouraging for me. Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams

1. This day is absolutely beautiful! Beautiful, beautiful.... 2. I played "my" new cello yesterday. I felt extremely rusty as I have technically not really played much at all since the end of May. In June I went on a road trip, July I was packing and moving and then I sold my cello. A guy in my church who plays for the worship team let me play his cello after church one Sunday, and when I went to dinner at a friend's house two weeks ago, she let me play her cello, but that is the extent of how much I have played since August. My uncle and my cousins really enjoyed hearing me play yesterday. I enjoyed playing it even more! I am so relieved to have access to a cello. Good timing too- I need to start practicing for my Tucson best friend's wedding and my mind is so befuddled this week. Playing my cello has always helped me "re-center" myself, after praying of course. Praise God!!! 3. I am nervous about tomorrow night. Why is not knowing HOW things will ch...

These are five random things on my mind today: 1. I am thinking of my family. My little nephew Zacharias (Bess and Aaron's baby) had a fall photo shoot- so cute!! Also, my older bro and his wife are expecting #4. This is my family thus far: Esteemed parental units, Jonathan and Jennifer. Siblings and their chillins: Mike and Daniele- Anna, Cate (catherine), Noah and (#4). Erica and Charlie- Henry and William. Bess and Aaron- Zach (zacharias). And my youngest brother, Brendan, who thankfully is not married as he is only 14 and better NOT beat me to the alter! 2. I am thankful for an older brother with good taste in friends. Strangely enough since I have been back I have crossed paths with two of his past friends- Greg Johnson who is now the Associate Pastor of our church and Bob Stulac, son of Sr pastor of our church. Greg, besides being a familiar face to ease the adjustment process has been super nice and welcoming and is my small group leader, and Bob, who I just saw tod...

Ruth loved well. I wonder now if that is why I have been drawn to her all these years. If you pare down the story to the basic motives of Ruth, then she followed Naomi to Bethlehem because she loved her mother-in-law, for love, she chose to forsake her people's gods and follow YAHWEH, for love she worked hard in the fields to provide for herself and Naomi, she loved Boaz and married him. It could be argued that she did all of this and married Boaz for duty alone. There is a large amount of duty and service in this story, but I find it hard to ignore the fact that Ruth's duty to her mother-in-law was fulfilled and she could have left her side along with Orpah at the beginning. Ruth could have followed Naomi to Bethlehem without taking YHWH as her God, so she must have grown to love God too. And when Boaz says to Ruth, "You have not run after the younger men, whether rich or poor." to me, this indicates that she had the option to NOT choose Boaz which says to me, ...

Wow...WOW! Do I feel loved today? Um, yes...YES, I do! First of all, this week, God has really been showing me his love in little ways every day that have been wonderful. Last night, I felt quite loved by my small group and woke up this morning feeling encouraged. THEN, I went upstairs and there on the dining room chair I usually sit on, was a large box addressed to ME!! There was no return address except for the name and address of "The Fruit Company." Of course I opened it right away and then just stood there staring into the box. There was a a beautiful gift basket inside- one of those fancy ones all wrapped up like a still life- with nuts, FRUIT, candy, dried fruit- all displayed with a green ribbon tied around it! My first reaction was that I wanted to cry, but I was still too surprised to cry. I searched around the bottom of the box for the card. I opened it and was shocked again. The only words on the card were, "You are loved." No name, no explan...

My friend from small group is hosting a Halloween party soon and as I LOVE getting dressed up, I am so going. Unfortunately, I have no idea what to BE and I have limited resources. First I wanted to be a Bollywood movie star because I love Indian culture and I have always wanted to wear a saree/sari, but 7 yards of fabric is kind of pricey! Then I thought I could just paint my face so I looked online for ideas and saw one of a simple lotus flower design that struck me. I have a small lotus flower hair comb that I have been wearing often lately so I thought, "Hmmm...why I am being drawn to lotus flowers lately? I wonder what they symbolize?" Soooo....I looked it up and was speechless when I read this: "Lotus flowers...represent having gone through a hard time and the person is now coming out of it. Like the flower they have been at the bottom in the muddy, yucky dirty bottom of the pond but have risen above this to display an object of beauty or a life of beauty as t...

When I discovered I had a milk intolerence, I dealt pretty well with the change. Cheese was probably the hardest to avoid since it is quite prevalent in American food, but ice cream wasn't my favorite desert anyway. I prefer fruit ice pops or italian ices. (Although, I do love mint chocolate chip ice cream.) Milk in my cereal or in a glass was suddenly out of the question, but I discovered that rice milk tastes way better to me than normal milk, so the change was welcome. Thankfully, after my high school years, I grew out of my milk intolerance to the extent that I can eat cheese in SMALL quantities and for some reason, I can eat tons of yogurt! (I love yogurt!) But I still drink rice milk and have to avoid ice-cream. Eggs are an allergy that I have not grown out of in the least. I should probably say I have an egg intolerance because I can eat eggs that are baked into cakes and it doesn't bother me at all. However, if I eat a plain egg, a quiche, a custard (think mer...

Often, I get an urge to write when I am not sure what I am going to say. Postings like "Pardon My French," "On Being Alone," "Now Hear This" and "Overcome" started that way. I feel this rising within my spirit like some voice is coming up within me needing to declare itself...always my own voice, not some freaky "other" or anything, just a part of me that doesn't otherwise get expressed if I don't give myself the space and freedom to allow it to come out. When I am able to put words to these rising inklings, the experience usually results in more freedom and confidence. The feeling is as if what I said or wrote had some grander purpose to being expressed than only putting words on a page. This moment, I sat down to write about another intangeable "something." Throughout my life, I have gotten these feelings/senses that I can't quite describe without sounding too mystical and odd. I can compare it to the same q...

I feel blah today. I am not looking forward to giving my student her cello lesson because I feel stuck, like I am not really doing a good job as her teacher. I am feeling really discouraged about the fact that God is not bringing me a full-time job. Most days I can remain hopeful and continue searching/applying, but some days I can't even think about jobs. What REALLY has been annoying me lately is TALKING about jobs with people. I appreciate everyone's desire to help me think of options, but after ten months of applying in two different states and having conversations with 100 different people about how horrible the "job market" is, how "this economy" is effecting everyone, how "there are more qualified people than you who have been having a harder time," I just can't take it anymore! UUUGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Can someone just discuss MUSIC or ART, HORSES, or even the reasons why you love yellow gumballs over green ones with me??? I DON'T ...

Blood drips from the end of my sword, down the blade onto my clenched fingers as I raise my arm and glare victoriously out across the silent valley. Finally, silence! Only Death weeps. It has lost the battle. I grin, throw my head back and laugh. I laugh long and hard until the Shadows slink shamefully away. After the retreating forms I shout, "Take that, bastards!" And I laugh some more, relieved. Relieved that I am stronger than I expected. Relieved that the Enemy is more of a coward than I, that the battle is over, for now, and I feel the sun breaking through the clouds 1 Jn 4:4 and Jn 16:33

(photo by Laelia Watt) On Sunday while laying on a blanket in the grass at the park, I thought a lot about the Lord's prayer. In my new church (Memorial Presbyterian) we pray the prayer as a congregation at some point every service. There are a million reasons I love my new church and reciting this prayer and doing communion every time we meet are two of those reasons. In the past, when I read the section of the Bible where the disciples ask Jesus how they should pray and Jesus responds with this prayer, I always wondered why He chose these particular phrases and themes. Knowing that everything Jesus said or did was purposeful and quite deep and beautiful, I figured it was not something he just threw together to give the disciples a mantra to recite. For the past ten months, my life has been turned and jostled in ways I never would have imagined- inability to procure a full-time job, no more school (thank GOD!), diagnosis of PCOS, move to St. Louis (PRAISE, PRAISE GOD!!),...

Wandering the quiet, low-lit halls, alone with my thoughts; I study the fascinating subjects, rich colors, brushstrokes, and read the sensuous descriptions of the paintings before me. The sculptures, with their smooth, marble surfaces cut expertly into folds of lace and seemingly rippling muscle or soft skin make it difficult to heed the warning signs, "DO NOT TOUCH!" THere are paintings of soft sunset light caressing contemplative faces and grand vistas of cool, breathtaking lands. I want to dance with the joyful dancing man on the ferry-boat in the American art section or bathe with the figures in the Impressionist's. The human body is probably one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen- a few of the paintings make me proud that I am a woman with the same womanly mystery and grace. In the Egyptian display, even death is made beautiful. I leave with an intense desire to roll down the luscious green grass on Art Hill and swim in the cool fountain. The sun feel...

In honor of my loving dad's special day, I wrote him a ridiculous poem. As usual, my dad and I were having a silly conversation a week ago, making each other laugh, discussing my not so nice past poetry teacher.... Somehow dad mentioned the phrase, "me and my mollusk" which the alliteration and absurdity of it made us both crack up. Then I said maybe I would use it as a title for a book or better yet a horrible poem, then get it published and make millions just to spite my mean poetry teacher. We chuckled some more and ran with the "Me and my Mollusk" idea. So, this poem is for you, dad. Thank you for the many years of hilarious conversations and tons of love. I am so glad you were born. "Snail Tales" Me and my mollusk stole a painting of Jackson Pollock's while perusing the Guggenheim last May. The painting on display had caused my mollusk much dismay and offended him to his mushy core. The brush strokes could have been made, he whined, with...

For someone who has many diverse talents, I am quite insecure. As a general rule, I can dance, sing, play the cello and recorder, sew, draw, make scultptures or a bowl out of clay, ride and train horses, babysit ten kids at a time and potty train a three year old like an experienced mother, write creatively, handle my finances (when I HAVE finances to handle, that is), clean houses 'til they shine, teach ESL and other subjects, read and analyze a piece of literature or discuss a concept and then write a twenty page analytical essay discussing my argument. Not only that, but I can memorize all of the muscles and bones in the body, research and discuss the hormone-mimic effects of pesticides and antibiotics on the endocrine system, work in a research lab as easily as I can work as a secretary in an office, haul bales of hay on a farm and muck stalls like a pro. I can row a canoe through mild rapids, swim, make people laugh or cry, speak with ease and alacrity before an audience ...

The frog's buldging, liquid eyes stare at me from the surface of the shawdowy pond. Sitting on the roots of a willow tree, enveloped by its weeping branches, I stare back, glad for the creature's company. Since moving to St. Louis, I visit Forest Park at least four times a week, sometimes walking around the zoo, sometimes following the path along the ponds. Always alone, I walk on the enormous hill in front of the art museum or sit by the expansive fountain at its base and swing my feet over the water. I lay in the grass under a tree and stare at the cloud formations in the sky or the birds soaring silently overhead. I talk to God, my constant, invisible company, so evident in the beauty and life around me. In the evenings, I climb the fountain across from the boat house and stand on the edge of the pool watching the kids swim near a sign that says, "No swimming in the Fountain." When the sun goes down, I stand transfixed, staring into the water display that shoot...

Don't label me a dreamer Though my eyes peer above the clouds, My feet are buried in the ground. Don't mistake this reverie as the ravings of a raging fool- Simultaneously, I feel the earth shudder and the nearness of the sun. It's the middle I'm concerned about. You reprimand for lofty dreams and ridicule stability But somewhere in between my head and feet ...lies my heart. Don't label me emotional though I laugh and weep with ease and spread love eagerly as tossing scented petals in a passing breeze. I am reminded of a flower- roots sunk low, gripping dark earth, The bloom's beauty facing endless sky ...and in between, the stem and leaves Without which- the roots, pointless, the petals, impossible. No one begrudges a flower; And how much more intricate am I?

1 Caked with rancid butter, leftover beans from last night's dinner, or soaking in soapy water- Dishes beckon from the bottom of the musty sink Mostly, my mom beckons from the kitchen, or pokes her head in my bedroom doorway and invokes an incessant request, asked of me every night for fifteen years- more like a statement requiring obedience, "You're going to do the dishes tonight, right?" 2 No matter that I am almost quarter of a century in years- It has been my job to wash the dishes every night for as long as I have been able to reach the sink. No matter that I had rarely put up a fight or refused- No matter that I had six hours of homework due the next day- No matter that I prefer to wash dishes in the afternoon- They must be DONE! And done before bedtime! Why? "I don't want to see dirty dishes greeting me in the morning." A familiar, chafing, phrase. 3 Moving into my own house was a freedom I cherished. No one told me when to do the dishes...or h...

This month, one year ago, my brother-in-law Aaron's heart stopped while he was driving in Tucson. He died twice and was resucitated before reaching the hospital. The doctors weren't sure if he would make it and Aaron stayed in the ICU unconscious for a week with tubes and machines strapped all around and in him. There was viable fear of major brain damage or memory loss. We all prayed like crazy and had prayer chains going all over the country. My heart broke for my darling younger sister, Bess, who waited prayerfully by his side until Aaron pulled through. I was, and am still amazed at the strength and courage she displayed during that time. After weeks in the hospital and a couple months of recuperation and surgeries to implant/fix a defibrilator to his heart, Aaron was home free! We all praised God for allowing Aaron to stay with us and to remain the husband of my sister and the father of their little baby boy, Zach. We praise God this month for the fact that we can c...

I moved to Tucson in Fall 2005. I started calling my time in Tucson "my Job years" in 2006. The immense amount of stress, loss, spiritual and physical attack, change and depression I felt by the end of that year made me step back one day and think to myself, "I can now identify with Job. And through all this, I have seen God, like Job did." I even printed out a portion of verses from the book of Job that completely encapsulated my experience. I framed the paper and kept it hanging in my living places for the remaining of my years in Tucson- my bedroom in the house on Adams, bedroom in my parents' house while I was in school and in my kitchen in the Barrio. I packed it carefully into a box to bring with me when I moved to St. Louis and I plan to hang it in my new place here. This framed quote became a daily reminder, not only of what God had shown me through that horrible time in 2006, but what He would continue to show me through the horrible times that were...