A Peek At The Work Table.....

"Never before have I just stuffed something away in the back cupboard of my brain because it was just a crazy concept."

~Greg Kinnear~

I have dearly missed being cloistered in my creative space and it looks like I will be in here for at least a week. (Insert fist pumping "YES!" here) Besides finishing up my current project, I have a wedding gift, two graduation gifts, three give away prizes, and a scrapbook to pump out in the next week, YIKES! Being gone most of the week last week has put me a little behind but I feel up to the challenge.

I have been steadily working on reorganizing, culling, and labeling (the DYMO people are lovin' me right now!) all my creative supplies for four long months now. I am hoping in the near future to have a big reveal of my artful space. Until then, I will share with you my current work~in~progress project on the work table, a little jewel being turned into a mini storage cupboard. I pickup up this wooden jewelry box at a tag sale for $5.00. When I saw it I had this crazy concept that it could become an ink cupboard. It was in excellent shape but I did not dig the design on the drawers. The paint was in great shape so I left the cream base and gold details as they were. I cleaned and disassembled the piece, covering the sides and back with ledger paper and a torn dictionary page using matte gel medium. The drawer fronts were given the same treatment. I planned the torn pages in such a way as to have a little botanical graphic on each section for added detail. I am still playing with some design elements to collage on the sides and back as well as thinking of adding some heavy metal elements for added charm and character. I am not sure these knobs will stay, they to may be replaced. I want a special art piece for the glass covered door so I am still experimenting with that too.
My newly labeled ink pads will stack perfectly in the door section for easy access and identification. My favorite brands being Stampabilities and Distress Ink, both of which you can find at Hobby Lobby.
Would you like a peek in the drawers? Drawer #1 holds a few mini ink pads and my two favorite colors of embossing powder, gold and copper by Ranger, also found at Hobby Lobby.Drawers #2, 3, & 4 hold various sets of alphabet stamps as well as my "to & from" and "Handmade By" stamps.
I wanted some stylish storage with handy access for these frequently used supplies without the hassle of digging for them and this little jewelery cupboard fits the bill perfectly! I'll share the finished project soon. I hope you all have a delightful day.

Blessings,
Miss Sandy

I'm Back.....

"You can't stick it on with soap, Peter. It needs sewing. That's the proper way to do it. Although come to think of it, I've never thought about it before...um...sewing shadows, I mean."

~Wendy in Peter Pan~

Hello dear friends, I am back from my break and I am so excited this morning! What is the reason for my excitement you might ask? Is it:

A.) Because yesterday marked my 300th post and that means an upcoming give away? (Details coming soon!)
B.) Because I had such a fun and fab week last week that I now have some blog inspiration?
C.) Because I am fired up about new writing and art projects?
D.) Because I updated my tutorial blog and now have eight wonderful sites added to my lower side bar that share awesome vintage graphics free for use in art projects?
E.) Because I survived the frenzy of American Idol fans, all 20,000 of them, that descended upon our town, making a simple but necessary 15 minute errand a three hour ordeal?
F.) Because I am simply back in the land of blog where some of the best neighbors and friends reside?
G.) All of the above.
H.) Some of the above.
I.) None of the above.

OK, here is why I am super duper, beside myself, over the moon, giddy with delight, and delirious with excitement.....this morning, I SAW MY SHADOW!!!

At first it was faint, like a timid little bunny rabbit...Then it quacked, happy as a duck in water...Then it let out a dinosaur roar quoting, "Some things start out big, and some things start out small, very small. But sometimes the smallest thing can make the biggest changes of all."A small change appeared as a smile tipped the corners of my lips.

A joy bubble released in my heart at such a simple blessing as a brief beam of sun allowing a moment of childlike play.
As quickly as it came it began to fade, waving goodbye... leaving behind a brightened heart.

This might not be a big thing to many of you but we are experiencing a serious season of rain in our region which is causing damaging floods and we have not seen hide nor hair of sun nor shadow. Our rains are not over, with more in the forecast for this week.

Since this beam of light was right over my sewing table I gave some serious thought to grabbing a needle and thread and sewing my shadow back on Wendy style because like Peter Pan's, mine keeps hiding. The sunbeam was extremely brief but like a beacon of promise of brighter days to come.
Today, sweet friends, I offer you an Irish Blessing:

May the raindrops fall lightly on your brow.
May the soft winds freshen you spirit.
May the sunshine brighten you heart.
May the burdens of the day rest lightly upon you,
And may God enfold you in the mantle of His love.

And if that doesn't work to brighten your day, get out your flash light and make some shadow puppets because it really is the smallest thing that can make the biggest change in your attitude or your day.

Blessings,
Miss Sandy

Serendipity Sunday: A Mother's Day Prayer.....

Serendipity: Making a delightful or unexpected discovery

(graphics from Karen's Whimsy)
Finding out one is going to become a mother is indeed a delightful discovery. This week I discovered a beautiful prayer for all kinds of mothers, which you will find at the end of this post. A special prayer and blessing goes out to my beloved son and daughter, without whom I would not have experienced the joys and blessings of motherhood. I love you both so very much!May the blessings of the Divine
Be an especially bright benediction
Upon mothers everywhere
On your blessed day ~
On Mother's Day!

"Mother's are the gardeners of special flowers ~ their children."

~Tess Grant~

"Hundreds of dew drops to greet the dawn,
Hundreds of bees in purple clover,
Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn,
But only one mother the wide world over."
~George Cooper~
A Mother's Day Prayer

God our Creator, I pray:
For new mothers, coming to terms with new responsibility;
for expectant mothers, wondering and waiting;
for those who are tired, stressed, or depressed;
for those who struggle to balance the tasks of work and family;
for those who are unable to feed their children due to poverty;
for those whose children have physical, mental, or emotional disabilities;
for those who have children that they do not want;
for those who raise children on their own;
for those who have lost a child;
for those who care for the children of others;
for those whose children have left home;
and for those whose desire to be a mother has not been fulfilled.

Bless all mothers, that their love may be deep and tender,
and that they may lead their children to know and to do what is good,
living not for themselves alone, but for God and for others.
Amen
(prayer source)

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Blessings,
Miss Sandy

Serendipity Sunday: Under His Wings.....

Serendipity: Making an unexpected or delightful discovery

"He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings shall you trust."

~Psalm 91:4 a~

This weeks discovery was nothing new, just a needful reminder of where to seek shelter during a storm.

The clock read 3:42 AM. Outside my window raged a storm that rivaled that which brewed in my heart and played out in my emotions. I felt so alone. I shivered at the blinding flashes of light, the sudden crack of sky and earth being united by a thin line of electrical current, and the deep unending rolling booms of thunder. Torrents of rain poured from the sky like unending tears. I didn't feel safe from either storm, the physical or the emotional. The enemy had singled me out striking fear in my heart, stirring up my emotions, disrupting my sleep, and distracting my mind.

Roused from his sleep my husband sensed my fear and drew me near, tucking the covers around me, and sheltered me in his arms. Strong winds began to buffet the house causing the trees to wildly sway, casting frenzied shadows through the blinds. As I watched the shadows and flashes, listened to the lightening cracks and thunder claps, I rested warmly under the shelter of someone dear.

As quick as the lightening flashed, my mind dug into its stash of comfort in fear, reciting each one quietly followed by a praise. I ran under His wings.

"How excellent is Your loving kindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of your wings."

~Psalm 36:7~

How priceless and precious is Your unfailing love for me, thank You, dear Jesus that I can put my trust in you. Thank You for the protective covering of Your wings.

"Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful unto me: for my soul trusts in You: yes, in the shadow of Your wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast."
~Psalm 57:1~

I am looking to You for protection from the physical and emotional storm that has assailed me. Thank You that I can hide beneath Your wings until the danger passes.

"I long to dwell in Your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of Your wings."
~Psalm 61:4~

Thank you for the sanctuary and safety beneath the shelter of Your wings.

"He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings shall you trust: His truth shall be your shield and buckler"
~Psalm 91:4~

Your faithful promises are my armor and protection.

The storm outside still raged but the one of my heart had calmed. As comforting as it was to be sheltered in the protection of my husbands arms, the feeling paled in comparison to being sheltered under the Lord's wings where perfect peace and security covered me from the inside out. My hubands arms bring physical comfort and a measure of security outwardly, but it is the shelter of the Lord that calms and secures the storms of the heart, mind, and emotions. As I settled in, before drifting off to sleep, a sweet song began to fill my mind and I realized the perfect illustration of its words through the scene that had just taken place.

Under His Wings

by The Ruppes

My way was filled with danger
And I felt so alone
The enemy had singled me
Out to do wrong

And when he drew near
My heart filled with fear
Then I heard someone dear
Calling me to His side

And I ran, under His wings
There He covered me and now I can see
The enemy still looks for me
But what he can't see
Is that I'm under my Lord's wings

Under His wings

The thunder rolled
Dark clouds hung low
I was out in a storm
I was shivering in the coldest night

No safe retreat from harm
And there blew strong winds
Would this be my end?
And then I heard my friend
Callin' me to His side

And I ran, under His wings
There He covered me
And now I can see
The storm still rages
Oh, but the Rock of Ages
we're resting warmly here
Under our Lord's wings

Are you under His wings?
And there He covers me and now I can see
Under His wings
Under His wings
Who from His love can sever?
Under His wings
My soul shall abide
Safely am I forever!

To listen to the video below, scroll to the bottom of my blog and turn off the player, then click on the video and be blessed.



Whatever your storm might be today, I am praying you too are resting under the shelter of His wings.

Blessings,
Miss Sandy

A Little Break.....

"I have to get inspired by something that touches my soul."

~Steven Tyler~

I have been sitting here looking for a little blogging inspiration and I have yet to find it. So, instead of trying to force a post to come forth, I will wait until something touches my soul. I will be taking a blogging break for the next week. I hope to come back with new and delightful things to share.

Blessings,

Miss Sandy

The Legend of Petit Jean.....

"Legends die hard. They survive as truth rarely does."
~Helen Hayes~

Over the weekend Handy Hubby decided he would whisk me away to somewhere I had never been. Well, I have still never been there because when we got to where we were going, the place was gated, locked up, and closed! Some people had parked along the roadside and climbed the gate and were enjoying a nice cold dip in the lake, picnicking, and hiking. We did not.

Since that trip was a bust and we were not far away from a state park, we went there instead. I have so many fond memories of visiting this park and it is my favorite in our whole state. I think it is because of the legend that is attached to it that endears it to me so. I grew up with my grandmother telling me the story. She actually recited it just as she had learned it in her history book in school. To me it was always a swashbuckling tale filled with danger, intrigue, romance, and adventure with a tragic ending.

This story of adventure began in the 1700's with a young French nobleman named Chavet, also refered to as Cheves or Jean-jacques Chavez, who lived in the period of French exploration of the New World, and who was said to be a kinsman of the King of France. He asked the King for permission to explore a part of the Louisiana Territory, and for a grant to whatever part of it he might find to his liking. The King agreed to his request.

Chavet was engaged to be married to a young girl, Adrienne Dumont, in Paris who, when told of this plan, asked that they be married before he left France so that she might accompany him. Thinking of the hardship and danger that would probably be encountered, Chavet refused the girls request and told her that on his return, if he found the good country, they would be married and go to the New World and spend their lives. The girl, however, refused to accept his denial. She cut off her hair and disguised herself as a boy and applied to the captain of Chavet's ship when it was being outfitted for the trip for a place as a cabin boy, calling herself Jean. The girl must have been incredibly clever in disguise, for it is said that not even Chavet recognized her or suspected that she was not a boy. The sailors called her Petit Jean, French for Little John.

The ocean was crossed in early spring, the vessel ascended the Mississippi, and then the Arkansas River to the foot of a mountain, which must have looked to the voyagers, as they approached it, like the prow of a great ship. The Indians who lived on the mountain, seeing a ship for the first time, came down to the river and gave Chavet and his sailors a friendly and hospitable greeting. They invited the sailors to the top of the mountain. The invitation was accepted and Chavet and his men, including the cabin boy, found life with the Indians so pleasant that the entire summer was spent there.

Petit Jean fished the streams and hunted the forests of the region with Chavet, the sailors, and the Indians until fall approached, when Chavet began the preparations for the voyage back to France. When the ship was ready, supplied with food from the forest and water from the springs of the mountain, and everything needed for the trip, Chavet, his sailors, and Petit Jean went aboard on the evening before the day set for the start down the river. Chavet told the Indians that he would return the next year.
That night, Petit Jean became ill with a malady that was strange to Chavet and his sailors. It was marked with fever, convulsions, delirium, and finally coma. The condition of the patient was so grave at daylight that the departure was postponed. During her delirium and coma, Petit Jean's identity was of course discovered. After two days, during which her strength ebbed fast, there was a lucid interval. The girl confessed her deception to Chavet and begged his forgiveness. She told him that she knew that she could not live to reach France, and asked that she be carried back to the mountaintop to spend her last days.The Indians made a stretcher of deer skins and bore her up the trail near the point of the mountain to their camp on the brow overlooking the mountains and valley to the south. At sundown that day she died and was buried upon the mountain, not under her own name, but under the name she had been known by on the ship Petit Jean. Many years later, a low mound of earth was found in a cove on the East Point of the mountain, with rocks fitted so perfectly that they could not have been there by accident. It was agreed that the grave was very old. This is believed to be the grave of Petit Jean.

(This modern fence was added around the grave several years ago. The fitted rocks that used to be over the head of the grave when I was a girl have since tumbled over. There used to be two massive stones that formed an arch at the head of the grave.)

Now as is true with all legends, there are different interpretations of the tale. One version says that Chavet departure from France was not to explore but because he in self-defense killed another admirer of Adrienne's, Albert "Bertie" Marshand, a favorite nephew of King Louis XVI. In yet another he was a part of the DeSoto Expedition. While in most versions of the legend the reason Petit Jean follows him to America is her devotion, one variant has her following him for revenge after he deserted her.
The discovery of her identity is also a point of contention. One source has her voluntarily revealing her identity before her death; a second source says that it was discovered due to her illness as described above. A third source notes that it is her lover who became ill with swamp fever and as he leaned upon Petit Jean for support , he recognized her distinctive green eyes. She and the Indians nursed him back to health. Unfortunately, she fell ill and remained so for several months, nursed by the natives while her fiance traveled to an unnamed French settlement to build their home. Although one version gives the lovers a happy ending, in most cases she eventually died and was buried on top of the mountain that she grew to love. The mound of earth discovered many years after the fact is touted as being the grave of Petit Jean, after whom the mountain and park are named.

There is a considerably less romantic explanation of how the mountain got its name, a Frenchman nicknamed Little John was killed by the Osage in 1732. He either camped or lived in the vicinity of the mountain. Lastly, another source states that business is at the root of the entire legend. It says the the entire legend was invented by the Stout family in the early twentieth century who owned a hotel located on the mountain. Having advertised the hotel as the ideal place for newlyweds to spend their honeymoon, they devised the whole legend to bolster their claims. Rumor even has it that Stout paid three men to break up rocks and and create the "grave" of Petit Jean.

No matter the roots or the source, whether fact of fiction, the romantic tale of Petit Jean lives on. If you ever get a chance to visit you too will experience the lure of the legend. Legend has it that the spirit of Petit Jean hovers over the mountain in a mist giving it an air of strange enchantment.

I hope you enjoyed the story a small photo tour of Petit Jean.

Blessings,
Miss Sandy