Debbie keeps it in a frame – a card her longtime friend sent to her years back. If you knew Debbie, you’d know this card is so much like her – an equestrian, a good woman, and just enough of a renegade to keep life interesting. That’s the specifics of why this card is so great.

In a general sense, it’s also amazing – a great message to all the girls who will grow up to be women, and all the women who grew from the girls they once were…

Life is an adventure. Be a good companion to those who join you in all the ups and downs – kind, considerate, and prayerful.

Just as important: dare to break the rules that need breaking, don’t be afraid to show strength and courage, and have a hell of a lot of fun.

You are a delight to God. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise – even your own inner critic.

You go, girl!

The note came from a friend, with only one sentence inside: This picture has me thinking of you, literally. She’d seen my teapot of blooming nasturtiums; it might have made a leaky mess as a teapot due to a small crack, but it made a wonderful plant pot.

I firmly believe that we aren’t put on this earth for a single purpose, and that our beautiful souls and our God given gifts may find surprising ways to shower love on our neighbors. But even more, I believe that our flaws, our cracks, will point us toward something beautiful that we may never have found without them.

[Happy Spirit, Tazouz]

She was in residence when I visited Gallery in the Sun nine years ago, living and working in one of the buildings DeGrazia made for just such a person and purpose. She said she wasn’t going to be there long, but loved being there at the moment.

I love the sheer joy she captured in this charcoal drawing. It isn’t just the smile; it’s the light in the little boy’s eyes, and the dance in his body. He is the embodiment of finding happiness in the moment – and offering that happiness back to the world.

None of us are going to be here long. That’s just reality. So why not love being here at the moment? Find the joy and you just may find yourself dancing, too.

La Paloma, by Ettore DeGrazia

[To see more of DeGrazia’s work, go to the Gallery In The Sun, www.degrazia.org]

Everything is thoughtfully artful there – even the floors, made with natural stone and cholla cactus slices. DeGrazia sculpted, painted, and constructed this space for the creation of art and the fostering of the human spirit. It is a sanctuary in the Tucson desert, offering quiet and shade. It is an art museum, a studio with artists-in-residence, and a gift shop.

I’d never heard of Ettore DeGrazia until I visited his gallery with my two sons in 2012, but I’d seen many of his images – on Christmas cards, prints, and in a few magazines. I had no clue of the breadth of his work, of his concern that art education be made available to everyone, or his biography. Nameless until that point, true, but still a quiet presence in my life.

I could say the same for the Holy Spirit on most days. Not named or recognized in more than a sense of beauty, peace, and purpose, but patiently and dependably present. On the days that I recognize and name the Spirit, I catch a glimpse of the breadth of grace and holiness that I so often overlook. La Paloma.

It seems fitting that I chose DeGrazia’s La Paloma the day I could put a name and a history to the paintings; it reminds me of my limited awareness and the unlimited graciousness that alights just within its bounds.

Hester van Huyssteen.

Hester moved from South Africa to Princeton when her husband became a seminary professor. As one of the student managers for dining events on campus (and the only seminary bartender), I’d see her at the occasional faculty function. No matter the occasion, the air felt a little bit lighter whenever she was there.

Dinner at her home was no different. Whether I was there as a guest or there to serve guests, Hester had a way of bringing life and light to all who came through the door.

Some people just have a way of restoring the sparkle in life. Not optimism or humor, really – just a twinkle in the eye and a brilliance to the soul. They come in all shapes, sizes, and ages – and they make the world so much better for being in it.

To hold this world lightly but not take it lightly is a rare and beautiful thing. Sunshine incarnate. When you see such a one, you’ll know it. And your life is the better for it.

Is it your birthday? Or do you just like setting cakes on fire?

A levitating kitten, the mystical alignment of moons, stars, and planets above a desert, and a girly cake decorated with glittery frosting and candies; pink candles set ablaze by the feline ninja mind-and-laser-paws method: It’s my son Jared’s latest birthday card selection, given on my fifty-seventh just last month. It’s a new one, but in keeping with the others he’s given me over the past decade. I never know what’s waiting in those innocuous envelopes on top of my presents, but I am certain that it will be visually interesting. Quirky messages are always on the inside – one that comes with the card (written above), and his own: This is the real image of what Magic does at 3am if we forget to close the doors…

I like the idea that the noises our cat Magic makes at night are more than him batting pens across the floor. The heavy thumps might be the sounds of an epic battle against the forces of evil, not just our cat Taylor jumping off the rocker. Sleep, darkness, and walls keep 3am happenings out of sight; could there be more going on I imagine?

In the most literal sense, those 3am noises come from cats doing cat things – no lasers or levitation. But in the truer sense, I really don’t know what’s going on; I can’t read feline minds, and I don’t see what they do. In the yard outside my window, the wind moves branches. Animals fly through trees and pad softly under shrubs. Plants keep to their own lives, growing below and above ground. All this while I sleep, a negligible part of this nighttime reality. I am part of something so much bigger, even when I’m unaware of it.

I think that’s marvelous, and definitely worth setting a cake on fire.