As a child, I remember doing this arranging activity with rocks. marbles, crayons and spools from thread and buttons from Aunt Rose's sewing. Yes, I confess to a dead bug or two. I even dug tiny plots of land in our yard and infused them with bits of interesting things. Only ,of course ,to dig again and re do after reflection on potential..
Often that wondering eye was looking up...from underneath a church pew. I remember finding traveling under the pews way more adventurous than the assignment of sitting still on thewooden church pews. I saw each pew as a leg of the journey.
It was often a study in shoes and how to...you guessed it...rearrange them and work around them. My mother , who tried her best to ignore me, offered way more understanding than I actually deserved. I have come to believe an arranger cannot really be helped in the long run.. Mom must have reached that conclusion early on.
Although, I was not able to reach the church ceiling, in my mind I re did the small seemingly far away tiles in a multitude of new patterns. I painted them in my head and even made some three dimensional and off center. I guess all of this could account a bit for me not easily remembering a great deal of all the many spiritual lessons and learning's I was exposed to in church often daily.. Please... hold my mother blameless.
Photographer: John P. Ford