+ Her Barefoot Heart
and then the day came
when she opened her fingers,
relaxing the chokehold she had
on things that no longer seemed
so important.
and in that releasing,
the fronds of her heart unfurled,
the leaves becoming steps
allowing entry to
more goodness
than she’d dared
dream possible.
~~ :: ~~
today’s altar: release
and then the day came
when she opened her fingers,
relaxing the chokehold she had
on things that no longer seemed
so important.
and in that releasing,
the fronds of her heart unfurled,
the leaves becoming steps
allowing entry to
more goodness
than she’d dared
dream possible.
~~ :: ~~
today’s altar: release
for my friend
karen sharp
and other women
who find themselves in need
of gentle hugs
and heart balm:
an altar.
pansies
for thought,
blue bird
for happiness,
a clock to say
“all in good time,”
and a sparkly, boro’ed bird
to remind us that
there’s art in mending.
~~ :: ~~
today’s altar: mending
yesterday
Mother Nature and I
pitched a hissy fit.
in perfect harmony.
today we are
cleansed.
refreshed.
hoarse.
~~ :: ~~
today’s altar: weathering
I’d like to add his initial to my monogram
Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?
There’s a somebody I’m longin’ to see
I hope that he, turns out to be
Someone who’ll watch over me.
i’ve been a feminist all my life, and yet . . . these lyrics to the george gershwin song always bring tears to my eyes.
always.
do i strive for self-reliance because of feminism or is it borne of disappointment and enough experience to know the truth behind the old saying “if you want something done right, do it yourself”? does it matter? and even though most days i want to be a self-reliant woman, i am not ashamed to tell you that way down deep, i want to be taken care of.
at least sometimes.
“can a woman be self-reliant and still feel betrayal and abandonment at the hands of another?” i recently asked a friend of mine who enjoys these chewy conversations as much as i do. of course one question begets another then another, such as: is self-reliance really the goal, and if so, what does desirable/healthy self-reliance look like? and: how has the journey to self-reliance hurt women? helped women? and last (for now) but definitely not least: say we want to be held, to be seen, to be taken care of (at least on occasion). is that possible to go hand-in-hand with being self-reliant? which, of course, leads us to still more questions about asking for help, vulnerability, worthiness . . .
you get the gist.
join in if you want. share your thoughts, your questions, your stories. the more the merrier . . .
~~ ::: ~~
today’s altar is dedicated to cutting through it – whatever “it” is, staying with “it” as long as it takes.
“where were you and what were you doing when you heard about world war 2?” i ask my mother. i’d never thought to ask her that before, and i can’t tell you why not, but at least i ask her now.
she tells me that she was at school, so she didn’t hear about it till the day after. says she was 13 years old, so most of her reaction came from watching her parents. she can still remember the look on her daddy’s face, she says, then she goes on to tell me about how her mother preserved food – a lot of food, even canning biscuits and water. “if she’d thought about it and we had a place, i’m sure she would’ve built a bomb shelter,” mother says, and though she was remembering down one road, i remembered how i set about building a bomb shelter in 4th grade, complete with food and pillows and books and board games and safety/preparedness drills.
i knew my grandmother canned food – her pantry was always filled from her larger than large summer garden – but i never knew till that day last week that grandmother and i had preservation and planning for the future – our future and our loved ones’ futures – in common.
[insert face-size smile]
don’t you love stories that connect you with your ancestors? that help explain quirky characteristics about yourself? what questions would you ask one of your ancestors? you can do it without sitting next to them in the car, you know. just get our your pen and paper, write the question, then be quiet and see what appears.
one of the best questions i asked my now-deceased daddy is “what would the 40-year old you like like the 40 year old me to know about being 50?” (hint: you don’t have to ask living people face-to-face, and you don’t have to ask only deceased people these questions that your inquiring mind wants to know.)
:: – ::
p.s. my mother also told me that because of world war 2, there weren’t many school teachers to be found, so they had to take the fella who got lost walking the 3 blocks from boardinghouse to school. she also told me about one c harkness, a young woman who daddy asked out once. but, mother hastened to add, they never actually went out. i’m thinking there’s more to this story. stay tuned . . .
:: – ::
i spent this afternoon cooking and filling the freezer of my son who lives in denver (note: far too far away, if you ask me) with vegetable soup, lasagne, and spaghetti sauce. (that’s when i remembered the story my mother told me about grandmother preserving food in anticipation of possible ripple effects of world war 2.) today’s altar is about nourishment . . . from stories and food and love.
a petrified pinecone.
yes, really.
to see this pinecone
is to see an altar.
a special space
that’s nestled inside layers
of fierce protection
from the outside world.
a space filled
with layers
and lightning
and shifts
and color
and sparkle
and spaciousness
and i think yes,
that’s what an altar is.
a place –
even a place
in the center
of the usual daily hubub –
where we can go
to mark a space for ourselves,
where we can define
(perhaps to ourselves)
what’s most important
right here, right now,
where we can lay claim to
our most sumptuous selves.
:: /// ::
– waking up with headache
+ husband going to home supply store – alone
+ wearing skirt that capers & earrings that dangle
– talking to insurance agent who called to say mortgage company hasn’t paid insurance
= speaking with toni at the mortgage company
+ remembering customer service training i offered in a former life
+ delivering really good and much-needed customer service training with brevity and humor
+ remembering how much i enjoy speaking, training, storytelling
+ husband coming home with bojangle’s biscuits
+ lunching with a friend on the phone
+ singing favorite songs all the way to asheville
+ singing loudly
+ hatching 4 epiphanies
– forgetting 2 of them
+ seeing quilts at folk arts center
+ seeing woodturning exhibit at folk arts center
+ hearing the mournful sound coming from handmade flutes
+ getting a call from my mother (yes, really)
+ visiting a favorite store where i saw: a yellow typewriter, old cameras in various hues, the behind of a pink elephant, a bowl full of the tiniest dried pumpkins ever, a basket full of women taken around the turn of the century, an altar
+ treating myself to: a gift for a friend, a battered book with no cover but great inscription, a church vestament to wear for inspired writing, a small dress with sash, tucks, embroidery, and lots of stains
– not purchasing the photos of women to bring them home and give them stories
+ texting with a friend
+ hatching 6 good ideas
+ attending a talk by authors of Mystery of the Trees
+ having the store owner tell me the bathroom was behind “the mineral poster” but hearing it as where “the men are all past ‘er”
+ riding home through a dramatic thunderstorm
+ receiving an amazing package from a friend (top photo. did i lie about it being amazing?)
+ having my daughter post “i love you” on my facebook wall. (okay, that was yesterday but hey, i’m still glowing.)
+ having my son call on his way home from work just to chat and ask about my day and tell me he loves me
+ seeing the dog
– having no internet
+ eating 2 bites of the annual chocolate easter bunny
+ hearing husband tell me he enjoyed the talk i dragged him to
any way you add it up, it comes out to be a positive day. a day that made me feel alive.
i should have days like this more often.
///
maybe you want to visit the women’s history month series my friend angela is hosting.
there’s a whole lotta’ women letting their colors seep out over there, and it is quite beautiful.
Today I’m honored to be a guest blogger over at Angela Kelsey’s place where she’s celebrating Women’s History Month by asking women to share stories about women who educated and empowered them. Though I count myself incredibly fortunate to have a long list of women who have supported me, nudged me, shored me, I chose to use this opportunity to tell you about Fran and Marcia and how they wore their cute shoes to step right into my life without waiting on an invitation. May we all have them, may we all be them.
~~ ::: ~~
And today’s altar is dedicated to storytelling from the inside out . . . to letting our loose threads, our frayed edges, our scratchiness show . . . to removing our masks and veils . . . to undoing the ties that bind and hide and silence . . . to stepping out of the darkness and into full bloom as we crack ourselves wide open and sparkle.
This work by Jeanne Hewell-Chambers is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at http://www.TheBarefootHeart.com.
© 2026 Jeanne Hewell-Chambers
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