walking
makes me smile
even without the moon
coaxed
into singing
aloud in the dark
Politicas de privacidade
6 years ago
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Assignment One: As Far Back as I Can Remember
Ketchup
Mrs. Barry has long slender legs and jet black hair. She is married to Captain Jack Barry who is an Air Force pilot. Mrs. Barry brought her soft southern accent all the way from Tallahassee to Ohio where the Captain is stationed. Suzie her youngest daughter is my best friend. Suzie inherited a full head of jet black curls from her mother along with her confidence. By four years old it is plain that I am inconquerorably shy and awkward. Mrs. Barry, Jackie, to her peers always frightens me a little with her directness, saying exactly what is on her mind.
My mother leads my sisters and I down the front porch stairs. The four of us are wrapped in our matching bathrobes and slippers. The four of us shuffle across the asphalt drive way across the grass, on to the Barry’s driveway, up to the front porch. Mrs. Barry is on the porch holding the screen door open. It is June and the air smells like roses. I enter the door, slip my slippers off and walk across the cool wooden floor planting myself on the couch next to Suzie. She leans close to me. Suzie’s older sister Lynn soon joins us. She is my oldest sister’s best friends. We are families of girls and very close. I am used to both my mother and Mrs. Barry watching us as we play outside or as we go house to house looking for something new and interesting to do. Cartoons are on and I don’t hear what my mother and Mrs. Barry are discussing. Instead I am mesmerized by the black and white images on the screen whose familiarity help me settle into what we know so far of moving day.
My mother leaves as the moving van pulls up to the front of our simple cracker box house tucked away in a cul-de-sac near the runway of the airbase. We have all grown accustomed to the sound of the planes taking off. We are even familiar with the crack above us as aircraft break the sound barrier. The cul-de-sac is our little world and the huge truck is rattling it by the front curve. At Mrs. Barry’s instructions I get up and come over to the door and peer out at the behemoth of a truck. With a clear strictness Mrs. Barry instructs us. “Girls you are not to go outside. The moving van is here. You may watch it from the door or at the kitchen window.”
I do not have an ounce of desire to move out from behind the screen door to encounter this truck that I see is being opened and readied to carry off all my things and take them to the new house. We only visit our mysterious new house in the dark by the light of my father’s flashlight. Every so often as it is being built we bundle up and are taken by car to this new destination after my father gets off work at the men’s clothing store he manages. It is always late night and pitch black. Our street begins where the farm land ends where cows graze in the fields by the dairy farm. My father lifts me up to the side door because the side steps are not yet in place. The new world of this house smells like fresh cut board. We walk through the skeleton of a room, the sky still in view through the rafters as we try to imagine our new rooms.
Mrs. Barry has been at work in her kitchen for about a half an hour when she calls us for breakfast. As I enter the sunny kitchen decorated with strawberry trimmings I see Mrs. Barry sticking toast into the shiny silver toaster. “Do you want blackberry jam with your toast,” she asks us.
“Yes, mame.” Suzie says. I imitate her reply. I do not have such formality with my mother, whose sweet disposition contrasts with Mrs. Barry’s directness. My mother accepts, “yes.” But I am afraid of being rude in Mrs. Barry’s house. I never want to be rude. So I follow Suzie’s cues in how to navigate politeness.
Mrs. Barry sets a plate of scrambled eggs, toast and jam and hash browns down in front of me. She asks concerning orange juice and I manage a “yes mame,” as she places a small strawberry decorated glass in front of my plate. I look up at Mrs. Barry’s lovely southern face and ask. “May I have some ketchup for my potatoes, mame?”
Mrs. Barry’s face lights up and with more passion than I think she means and asks, “Why child would use ruin my beautiful hash browns with ketchup?” With those words hot tears stream down my face, I cannot hold them in.
Mrs. Barry places a bottle of ketchup on the table, lifts me in her arms and holds me close as she walks over to the kitchen window. “Look Ruthie, there’s your mother. She’s been there all morning instructing the men on what to do.” Then she leans her face into my hair and whispers as she kisses my head, “I’m sure going to miss all my little girls.”
Mrs. Barry has long slender legs and jet black hair. She is married to Captain Jack Barry who is an Air Force pilot. Mrs. Barry brought her soft southern accent all the way from Tallahassee to Ohio where the Captain is stationed. Suzie her youngest daughter is my best friend. Suzie inherited a full head of jet black curls from her mother along with her confidence. By four years old it is plain that I am inconquerorably shy and awkward. Mrs. Barry, Jackie, to her peers always frightens me a little with her directness, saying exactly what is on her mind.
My mother leads my sisters and I down the front porch stairs. The four of us are wrapped in our matching bathrobes and slippers. The four of us shuffle across the asphalt drive way across the grass, on to the Barry’s driveway, up to the front porch. Mrs. Barry is on the porch holding the screen door open. It is June and the air smells like roses. I enter the door, slip my slippers off and walk across the cool wooden floor planting myself on the couch next to Suzie. She leans close to me. Suzie’s older sister Lynn soon joins us. She is my oldest sister’s best friends. We are families of girls and very close. I am used to both my mother and Mrs. Barry watching us as we play outside or as we go house to house looking for something new and interesting to do. Cartoons are on and I don’t hear what my mother and Mrs. Barry are discussing. Instead I am mesmerized by the black and white images on the screen whose familiarity help me settle into what we know so far of moving day.
My mother leaves as the moving van pulls up to the front of our simple cracker box house tucked away in a cul-de-sac near the runway of the airbase. We have all grown accustomed to the sound of the planes taking off. We are even familiar with the crack above us as aircraft break the sound barrier. The cul-de-sac is our little world and the huge truck is rattling it by the front curve. At Mrs. Barry’s instructions I get up and come over to the door and peer out at the behemoth of a truck. With a clear strictness Mrs. Barry instructs us. “Girls you are not to go outside. The moving van is here. You may watch it from the door or at the kitchen window.”
I do not have an ounce of desire to move out from behind the screen door to encounter this truck that I see is being opened and readied to carry off all my things and take them to the new house. We only visit our mysterious new house in the dark by the light of my father’s flashlight. Every so often as it is being built we bundle up and are taken by car to this new destination after my father gets off work at the men’s clothing store he manages. It is always late night and pitch black. Our street begins where the farm land ends where cows graze in the fields by the dairy farm. My father lifts me up to the side door because the side steps are not yet in place. The new world of this house smells like fresh cut board. We walk through the skeleton of a room, the sky still in view through the rafters as we try to imagine our new rooms.
Mrs. Barry has been at work in her kitchen for about a half an hour when she calls us for breakfast. As I enter the sunny kitchen decorated with strawberry trimmings I see Mrs. Barry sticking toast into the shiny silver toaster. “Do you want blackberry jam with your toast,” she asks us.
“Yes, mame.” Suzie says. I imitate her reply. I do not have such formality with my mother, whose sweet disposition contrasts with Mrs. Barry’s directness. My mother accepts, “yes.” But I am afraid of being rude in Mrs. Barry’s house. I never want to be rude. So I follow Suzie’s cues in how to navigate politeness.
Mrs. Barry sets a plate of scrambled eggs, toast and jam and hash browns down in front of me. She asks concerning orange juice and I manage a “yes mame,” as she places a small strawberry decorated glass in front of my plate. I look up at Mrs. Barry’s lovely southern face and ask. “May I have some ketchup for my potatoes, mame?”
Mrs. Barry’s face lights up and with more passion than I think she means and asks, “Why child would use ruin my beautiful hash browns with ketchup?” With those words hot tears stream down my face, I cannot hold them in.
Mrs. Barry places a bottle of ketchup on the table, lifts me in her arms and holds me close as she walks over to the kitchen window. “Look Ruthie, there’s your mother. She’s been there all morning instructing the men on what to do.” Then she leans her face into my hair and whispers as she kisses my head, “I’m sure going to miss all my little girls.”
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Sunday
I went to church today and was supposed to help in the kid's Sunday school. Scott came up to me and asked me if I was going to big church as we call it. I said no, I was helping in my class. He told me he was speaking. I thought in big church for a "few" minutes. I said I would try to pop in.
Ran into him again. Found out he was taking Steven's place preaching in the youth service.
We were well staffed so I played hookie from Sunday school and went to hear Scott teach.
It was really very good and OF COURSE I was very excited about it. He was passionate as he talked about being complacent.
Preach on!
Ran into him again. Found out he was taking Steven's place preaching in the youth service.
We were well staffed so I played hookie from Sunday school and went to hear Scott teach.
It was really very good and OF COURSE I was very excited about it. He was passionate as he talked about being complacent.
Preach on!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
perplexed
I am tired, near exhaustion. It is physical, mental and emotional.
verb
1. to cause to be puzzled or bewildered over what is not understood or certain; confuse mentally
2. to make complicated or confused, as a matter or question.
3. to hamper with complications, confusion, or uncertainty.
Synonyms:
1. mystify, confound. 2. tangle, snarl. 3. vex, annoy, bother.
John 14:1
Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.
Rest.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
The wisdom of forgiveness
You can’t really understand forgiveness and what it cost until you have been given a very good reason not to forgive. People can do things that really shouldn’t be forgiven. They can do it in a way that shows they don’t have a clue as to why they need forgiveness. Most of the time they go merrily on their way seemingly unaffected and you are left holding the emotional baggage. Thinking… “what the heck was that all about… why did this person feel the need to ------- fill in the blank.”
We are in need of extending forgiveness because we shouldn’t be left holding the bag. Let it go. Easier said than done, believe me I know, but oh so worth it.
Forgiveness costs us. It cost us our comfort zone. I am comfortable living in the past remembering the bad things people have done. Maybe it makes us feel superior to people. See how rotten they are. Maybe it makes us feel important. Maybe we just can’t ignore the hurt that is caused as we remember a hurt. I have a friend whose husband asked for a divorce on Christmas day. That is what he wanted for Christmas. She has never told me, but I can imagine there is never a Christmas where there is at least the potential for reliving the pain of that day. All you need for that trigger is Christmas day.
Forgiveness costs us facing the pain, but doing it in a new way. Seeing it for what it is and choosing to let it go. There is a need for the supernatural element of prayer here. I do not believe we forgive naturally. It is against our nature. We forgive supernaturally, trusting that God will continue to do the good work in us.
Forgiveness costs us our comfort zone because it demands that we look at ourselves and see our part in the situation. It may mean admitting we are wrong too and in need of forgiveness ourselves. It costs us the discomfort of seeking reconciliation where possible. Reconciliation isn’t always possible, but one should be willing to allow God to work. If we are willing God will work.
When I was younger I was in a recovery group and we were studying the steps on making amends, just being willing to do what is needed on our part to make things right. Someone told how they owed someone money and had never intended to pay the person back. In their step study they became willing to pay back the money. They had not seen the person in years and didn’t know where the person lived. That week they stopped at a rest stop on I-95 and ran into the other man. My friend told the man he was in recovery and needed to make amends. He gave the money to the man he owed and asked for forgiveness.
That is being willing to make things right and God working. We all need that.
What forgiveness gives in return is a closer relationship to God and perhaps the other person. We are free from the burden that was not ours to carry. It allows God, not us, to discipline the person if they continue to sin. If in being forgiven the person changes his ways than we have been a witness for the Lord or have turned another brother from his sin. All reasons to rejoice. Nothing good comes from us setting ourselves up as judge. We stop the work of God in our lives and do not allow the Holy Spirit to work in the situation. We give non-believers an inaccurate picture of God.
But if we forgive… we set in motivation the Spirit of God to work.
In that God will bless.
We are in need of extending forgiveness because we shouldn’t be left holding the bag. Let it go. Easier said than done, believe me I know, but oh so worth it.
Forgiveness costs us. It cost us our comfort zone. I am comfortable living in the past remembering the bad things people have done. Maybe it makes us feel superior to people. See how rotten they are. Maybe it makes us feel important. Maybe we just can’t ignore the hurt that is caused as we remember a hurt. I have a friend whose husband asked for a divorce on Christmas day. That is what he wanted for Christmas. She has never told me, but I can imagine there is never a Christmas where there is at least the potential for reliving the pain of that day. All you need for that trigger is Christmas day.
Forgiveness costs us facing the pain, but doing it in a new way. Seeing it for what it is and choosing to let it go. There is a need for the supernatural element of prayer here. I do not believe we forgive naturally. It is against our nature. We forgive supernaturally, trusting that God will continue to do the good work in us.
Forgiveness costs us our comfort zone because it demands that we look at ourselves and see our part in the situation. It may mean admitting we are wrong too and in need of forgiveness ourselves. It costs us the discomfort of seeking reconciliation where possible. Reconciliation isn’t always possible, but one should be willing to allow God to work. If we are willing God will work.
When I was younger I was in a recovery group and we were studying the steps on making amends, just being willing to do what is needed on our part to make things right. Someone told how they owed someone money and had never intended to pay the person back. In their step study they became willing to pay back the money. They had not seen the person in years and didn’t know where the person lived. That week they stopped at a rest stop on I-95 and ran into the other man. My friend told the man he was in recovery and needed to make amends. He gave the money to the man he owed and asked for forgiveness.
That is being willing to make things right and God working. We all need that.
What forgiveness gives in return is a closer relationship to God and perhaps the other person. We are free from the burden that was not ours to carry. It allows God, not us, to discipline the person if they continue to sin. If in being forgiven the person changes his ways than we have been a witness for the Lord or have turned another brother from his sin. All reasons to rejoice. Nothing good comes from us setting ourselves up as judge. We stop the work of God in our lives and do not allow the Holy Spirit to work in the situation. We give non-believers an inaccurate picture of God.
But if we forgive… we set in motivation the Spirit of God to work.
In that God will bless.
Friday, July 24, 2009
From My Sister's Kitchen Window You Can See the Foot Hills
Psalm 121
A song of ascents.
I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
From my sister's kitchen window you can see the foothills of northern Alabama. When it rains the mist and clouds float over them in the most beautiful mysterious way. It is easy to imagine God is there breathing LIFE into life.
This Psalm became her Psalm when she was diagnoised with cancer. It will always be her Psalm in my mind. I have learned a lot about living with cancer from her.
I have learned a lot about living with cancer from my friend TJ who helps me understand my sister better. TJ wrote me last month to tell me he hasn't forgotten me. That is good to know.
Live life now the best you can. Breathe. Love. Learn.
forgiven...
A song of ascents.
I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
From my sister's kitchen window you can see the foothills of northern Alabama. When it rains the mist and clouds float over them in the most beautiful mysterious way. It is easy to imagine God is there breathing LIFE into life.
This Psalm became her Psalm when she was diagnoised with cancer. It will always be her Psalm in my mind. I have learned a lot about living with cancer from her.
I have learned a lot about living with cancer from my friend TJ who helps me understand my sister better. TJ wrote me last month to tell me he hasn't forgotten me. That is good to know.
Live life now the best you can. Breathe. Love. Learn.
forgiven...
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Algebra Class Haiku
pink petals
a top
the puddle
rap
drowning out
the rain
the growing distance
between us
is all I have left
a top
the puddle
rap
drowning out
the rain
the growing distance
between us
is all I have left
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
When Sunflower Bloom
that
yellow leaf
falls in my path
if I could
walk on
the golden water
fishing
up to
their knees
locust
shaken
in the tree line
I don't know if this is good haiku, maybe it resonates with you. It is the bike ride I took midsummer.
yellow leaf
falls in my path
if I could
walk on
the golden water
fishing
up to
their knees
locust
shaken
in the tree line
I don't know if this is good haiku, maybe it resonates with you. It is the bike ride I took midsummer.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Out of Breath Under the Stars
Out of breath under the Stars are many thoughts and those that rise to the top of this stream of consciousness get out and we walk around it, observing the nuances… the stars twinkle and I think I see a satellite move across the sky. I ask why. I ask but first I confess to just not wanting to. I hurt. And I don’t want to hurt. But I see in me something raw and misplaced and I know it won’t make things easier for anyone. You… me… So I say I am sorry for saying no I won’t, I can’t. That is when the softness of the night floods through to the back of my mind to the top of my head to my toes. We touch me and you. You speak. You guide. You say it is easy; speak kind words, do good. I forget I struggle with trust and am drawn in to this plan spoken softly beneath the stars to me. I feel loved. Not hard. But gentle. I want to be like him. More. I want to let him fill me up instead of my plans and hopes. Let go of the harsh night with the fear of more than I can handle or want. It scares me to want anything.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
The Cost
Jesus told a parable about building a tower and then continued his exposition with an example based on war.
The Cost of Being a Disciple
Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.
Luke 14:31-33
Last weekend we celebrated the Fourth of July and in doing so honored the brave men who have fought and died to establish and preserve our freedom. Last week my father attended a gathering of ex POW’s from WWII and the meeting was covered by my friend from high school Mary McCarty. She is a columnist at the Dayton Daily News my hometown newspaper. Mary wrote briefly about my father’s war experience. I have heard his story before. I have read his memoirs where he told more than he ever said, but it was through Mary’s eyes I saw something I had never seen before. I saw a strong young man emaciated to the weight of an adolescence girl who I knew as one who witnessed the holocaust. Sunday morning as I read Mary’s piece I saw him as one who experienced the holocaust and survived. I never put flesh on the reality he escaped when the Allied troop came and liberated him from death.
The cost of war…
A friend of mine recently posted a video by David Wilkerson on the cost of revival; anguish. Both these stories have resonated through my heart and mind over the Fourth stirring my emotions. When we seek revival we surely opt for combat. We need to count the cost before we commit. Revival will cost us. The video talked about the anguish over the lost that motivates us to go, tell and make disciples. The anguish that I perceive is the cost that obedience demands. There is no revival without anguish over the lost or complete obedience to the king. We die to the personal preferences that keep us complacent and keep us from the commitment needed for revival.
My son recently returned from a trip to Asia. I found a card among his belongings, a thank you note from the church there. As I picked it up and read the names a current went through my body as I thought of them, then the persecuted church and then the millions and millions of those who have never heard and I wept.
The Cost of Being a Disciple
Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.
Luke 14:31-33
Last weekend we celebrated the Fourth of July and in doing so honored the brave men who have fought and died to establish and preserve our freedom. Last week my father attended a gathering of ex POW’s from WWII and the meeting was covered by my friend from high school Mary McCarty. She is a columnist at the Dayton Daily News my hometown newspaper. Mary wrote briefly about my father’s war experience. I have heard his story before. I have read his memoirs where he told more than he ever said, but it was through Mary’s eyes I saw something I had never seen before. I saw a strong young man emaciated to the weight of an adolescence girl who I knew as one who witnessed the holocaust. Sunday morning as I read Mary’s piece I saw him as one who experienced the holocaust and survived. I never put flesh on the reality he escaped when the Allied troop came and liberated him from death.
The cost of war…
A friend of mine recently posted a video by David Wilkerson on the cost of revival; anguish. Both these stories have resonated through my heart and mind over the Fourth stirring my emotions. When we seek revival we surely opt for combat. We need to count the cost before we commit. Revival will cost us. The video talked about the anguish over the lost that motivates us to go, tell and make disciples. The anguish that I perceive is the cost that obedience demands. There is no revival without anguish over the lost or complete obedience to the king. We die to the personal preferences that keep us complacent and keep us from the commitment needed for revival.
My son recently returned from a trip to Asia. I found a card among his belongings, a thank you note from the church there. As I picked it up and read the names a current went through my body as I thought of them, then the persecuted church and then the millions and millions of those who have never heard and I wept.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
Image in the Church
I am writing this as a graphic designer who has worked in a church and who currently works for a private company with a communications person to help the marketing people brand the company. I am an artist and I have come to understand my role in society is to help people with the esthetic element of any given situation. The value an artist has is that he or she understands what beauty is; knows what good design is and what makes those things happen. We are valued for our ability to observe and then articulate our esthetic observations both visually and verbally. (from a talk Joan Davidow director of the Contemporary Museum in Dallas had with my Art Professor Greg Metz, UTD.) We are here to help.
Image both verbal and nonverbal is the message we “put out there” when we communicate within the walls of the church and to those outside our church and more important how we communicate to the un-churched, non-believing world. We need to communicate to membership to be effective. We need to communicate well to avoid confusion and if we do it well to promote unity. It is helpful if we are all on the same page. It helps if we have a clear concise front. If we look stylish, up to date and even slick, well… it doesn’t hurt our cause anymore than dressing up a bit for Sunday worship.
I am not advocating “airs” or a false or misleading image, but just the best image that we can muster. I think I am covered by the scripture reference “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.” (Colossians 3:23) How much more should we do it with all our hearts when we do it for the Lord?
Nothing insults my esthetic sensibility more than when a church puts little effort into their communication pieces be it print or web if they have the means and the talent to “make much” of the Lord and His work in their local church. Why shouldn't we make Jesus look good, when we know how to make Him look good? Why should my church do something poorly when I have the talent and training to do it well? It should not be. If I am trained in marketing and understand how to target consumers why would I not help my church reach potential member and prospects? Why should the church ignore statistics that help them understand who their neighbor is and what they think?
The local church needs to communicate. We can do it poorly and without purpose or focus, or we can do it well and help reach people and help the people outside the body of Christ understand what one local body of Christ is about. To do it well we need to do it accurately and professionally. We need to be timely in our postings and mailings. We need to check and make sure our links aren’t broken, our information outdated so when people check us out we will look like we are home. We need to communicate like we know what we are talking about. We can sing the praise of the Lord with a well written blog entry, news article or event posting. Whatever we do even if we aren’t doing something, says something. We just need to be doing it well.
But a more important question is when we communicate is what they see what they get? Do we present Jesus correctly in our communications? When people do come to our worship, Bible studies or events, when they participate in community with us do they find Christ in us individually and corporately? Chances are we miss the mark more often then we want to admit. All the more reason why the message, the image we want to present to our membership and those outside the church needs to be communicated often, accurately, articulately and in a pleasing manner.
Keep on keeping on.
Image both verbal and nonverbal is the message we “put out there” when we communicate within the walls of the church and to those outside our church and more important how we communicate to the un-churched, non-believing world. We need to communicate to membership to be effective. We need to communicate well to avoid confusion and if we do it well to promote unity. It is helpful if we are all on the same page. It helps if we have a clear concise front. If we look stylish, up to date and even slick, well… it doesn’t hurt our cause anymore than dressing up a bit for Sunday worship.
I am not advocating “airs” or a false or misleading image, but just the best image that we can muster. I think I am covered by the scripture reference “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.” (Colossians 3:23) How much more should we do it with all our hearts when we do it for the Lord?
Nothing insults my esthetic sensibility more than when a church puts little effort into their communication pieces be it print or web if they have the means and the talent to “make much” of the Lord and His work in their local church. Why shouldn't we make Jesus look good, when we know how to make Him look good? Why should my church do something poorly when I have the talent and training to do it well? It should not be. If I am trained in marketing and understand how to target consumers why would I not help my church reach potential member and prospects? Why should the church ignore statistics that help them understand who their neighbor is and what they think?
The local church needs to communicate. We can do it poorly and without purpose or focus, or we can do it well and help reach people and help the people outside the body of Christ understand what one local body of Christ is about. To do it well we need to do it accurately and professionally. We need to be timely in our postings and mailings. We need to check and make sure our links aren’t broken, our information outdated so when people check us out we will look like we are home. We need to communicate like we know what we are talking about. We can sing the praise of the Lord with a well written blog entry, news article or event posting. Whatever we do even if we aren’t doing something, says something. We just need to be doing it well.
But a more important question is when we communicate is what they see what they get? Do we present Jesus correctly in our communications? When people do come to our worship, Bible studies or events, when they participate in community with us do they find Christ in us individually and corporately? Chances are we miss the mark more often then we want to admit. All the more reason why the message, the image we want to present to our membership and those outside the church needs to be communicated often, accurately, articulately and in a pleasing manner.
Keep on keeping on.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Transparency and Comfort
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.
2 Corinthians 1:3-7
I recently meet a woman who shared a prayer request that so pricked my heart I know it bled. As I listened to her very transparent confession and request for a miracle in her marriage I was immediately bonded with her. I have been where she has been and I have walked in her shoes and I cannot get her out of my heart or my mind. And the one thing that I have grieved and have so often thought could never be redeemed is in the sovereignty of God being redeemed… or has the potential to be redeemed.
Whether God can use me in the situation depends on several things. The first already being satisfied and that is a hurting person sharing openly and honestly their burden. Next in the Spirit I received this confession and shared in her suffering. I couldn’t deny that her words left their mark on my soul.
I could amazingly enough, ignore this encounter and walk away not unmoved but unwilling to revisit my past for the sake of another. To tell truth it was incredibly painful for me to even think about where she is right now. The truth of the situation is, I am no longer there. I have walked with God in the midst of anguish and I have survived, I have begun to heal and God is restoring me beyond what I could have ever asked or hoped for.
Why wouldn’t I share the comfort I have received? The only reason I know is that it is costly. It will cost me. It will cost me the pain of remembering. I will have to make myself vulnerable. She may even reject my help, but even in that I know having been there it is because she is unable to receive it at the moment but still very much needs me, needs someone like me to reach out anyway.
We are to be the comfort that God has given us through the sufferings we have walked through with Him. I think it is the highest privilege we have as believers, this bond of suffering.
Will we allow ourselves to be broken again by the lives of people God puts in our paths and will we humbly say, “I have walked were you walked and I can say to you God is good, He never left me. He will never leave you. If you need someone to walk with you, I am here.”
For me this week as my heart bled I knew how far I have come with the Lord in this struggle and how much strength I have gained in relying on Him. Father use me to comfort others.
My Vision
2 Corinthians 1:3-7
I recently meet a woman who shared a prayer request that so pricked my heart I know it bled. As I listened to her very transparent confession and request for a miracle in her marriage I was immediately bonded with her. I have been where she has been and I have walked in her shoes and I cannot get her out of my heart or my mind. And the one thing that I have grieved and have so often thought could never be redeemed is in the sovereignty of God being redeemed… or has the potential to be redeemed.
Whether God can use me in the situation depends on several things. The first already being satisfied and that is a hurting person sharing openly and honestly their burden. Next in the Spirit I received this confession and shared in her suffering. I couldn’t deny that her words left their mark on my soul.
I could amazingly enough, ignore this encounter and walk away not unmoved but unwilling to revisit my past for the sake of another. To tell truth it was incredibly painful for me to even think about where she is right now. The truth of the situation is, I am no longer there. I have walked with God in the midst of anguish and I have survived, I have begun to heal and God is restoring me beyond what I could have ever asked or hoped for.
Why wouldn’t I share the comfort I have received? The only reason I know is that it is costly. It will cost me. It will cost me the pain of remembering. I will have to make myself vulnerable. She may even reject my help, but even in that I know having been there it is because she is unable to receive it at the moment but still very much needs me, needs someone like me to reach out anyway.
We are to be the comfort that God has given us through the sufferings we have walked through with Him. I think it is the highest privilege we have as believers, this bond of suffering.
Will we allow ourselves to be broken again by the lives of people God puts in our paths and will we humbly say, “I have walked were you walked and I can say to you God is good, He never left me. He will never leave you. If you need someone to walk with you, I am here.”
For me this week as my heart bled I knew how far I have come with the Lord in this struggle and how much strength I have gained in relying on Him. Father use me to comfort others.
My Vision
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Father's Day Weekend
I need to study Algebra. That is why I am doing laundry and writing a blog. I am doing laundry before Scott gets back from Asia with a whole suitcase of dirty stuff. I missed him all week and thought about how soon he will be in Austin. So I must go to Austin this fall. But first I need to go to Ohio for my parents 60th Wedding Anniversary. Quite a feat, not really they are two of the sweetest people and love birds. My sister and husband have a “Bob and Freda scale of couple cuteness.”For real. Not that they haven’t had their challenges, me included. My dad had a lot to overcome which he did. In the power of Christ, he is one of the sweetest men I know. I have a weakness for sweet men now. They make me weak at the knees. I guess after the antitheists I am only interested in men who could compete in the “Bob and Freda scale of couple cuteness” and score well.
Which brings me to the email my dad sent this week…Wow! I guess I am just really blessed.
I have thoughts on my tired old mind. Some of which i will try to express to you in the evening hours of this good day. I suppose you all know I would not be a father if you my children did not make it into this good place. But you all made it. So here we are ---a family. I’m supposing that your earthly journey has been pleasant at least part of the Time. So here we are getting ready to celebrate the sixtieth year of the union which produced you all---my children I want to do something I have not done before. I want to thank you for the privilege I have had to be your father. The years have galloped by, and here we are at this point in time. This will be a time to be glad together, and reminisce together in love and understanding. I trust you are looking forward to our meeting with much anticipation. I am! but my thoughts are about you all tonight, and I just want to tell you all---you are loved---and thank you for allowing me to be your DAD. I’ll talk to you later.
Much love,
Your father
He sent this Monday. I guess he couldn’t wait until Sunday.
Which brings me to the email my dad sent this week…Wow! I guess I am just really blessed.
I have thoughts on my tired old mind. Some of which i will try to express to you in the evening hours of this good day. I suppose you all know I would not be a father if you my children did not make it into this good place. But you all made it. So here we are ---a family. I’m supposing that your earthly journey has been pleasant at least part of the Time. So here we are getting ready to celebrate the sixtieth year of the union which produced you all---my children I want to do something I have not done before. I want to thank you for the privilege I have had to be your father. The years have galloped by, and here we are at this point in time. This will be a time to be glad together, and reminisce together in love and understanding. I trust you are looking forward to our meeting with much anticipation. I am! but my thoughts are about you all tonight, and I just want to tell you all---you are loved---and thank you for allowing me to be your DAD. I’ll talk to you later.
Much love,
Your father
He sent this Monday. I guess he couldn’t wait until Sunday.
Monday, June 1, 2009
maybe a bit cryptic…
I have been tired all day, most of it emotional. I ended up where I needed to be and heard some things I needed to hear, how’s that for anonymity?
I am grateful for my counselor and amazed at how awful I feel, but also know how far I have come and if I ever had any doubts about decisions I made I should just drop them.
Sometimes you do things and you are not sure if they are a good choice and you just take a leap. I am not sure it is a leap of faith, or just a leap but I am glad I tried to be honest about my feelings. It is a scary thing for me.
This may be a bit cryptic… but then there is the anonymity thing and there is all that has hit me. Like I have these struggles surface big time and I am reeling and I tell someone, so far so good. There are other steps, so to speak, like asking God to remove the struggles I have inside. It was big for me to be able to identify the struggle, separate it out and not let it color everything else, although I am exhausted from trying, I have been able to. I have been able to confess it to someone, able to get it out, able to not make decisions based on it. Whew!
I am looking forward to praying for God to help remove the things I struggle with, I am excited because I think He will. I am excited about what He is going to do inside me. I am thankful for those around me that love me in my struggle, because part of it is not believing I am loved and they love anyway even though I can only grasp it for short periods of time. And After the struggle resurfaced I am amazed I can feel love at all.
Something that goes along with this, because it is a trust thing, I have decided that I am in good enough a place to start allowing friendships at work and at church. I have decided although I have lots of disappointments in the area of friendship, I have granted forgiveness and feel I can embrace people again. At work I have an opportunity to do that, I work with a great group of people. Same is true of my church. And I am acting on it too. I have decided that I have been a good friend in the past and I can continue that despite the loss I have suffered. This is huge for me. I am not basing my future on what people decided. I was a good friend, I loved people and that is what I am determined to do again. I have spent enough time isolating myself. An old friend who has recently renewed a friendship with me told me today…
And like I tell my kids -- you can't control someone else’s reactions - you can only control your actions.
So even though I hurt, I am not making decisions based on that hurt, I am choosing to love. And it isn’t just talk, its tested.
I am grateful for my counselor and amazed at how awful I feel, but also know how far I have come and if I ever had any doubts about decisions I made I should just drop them.
Sometimes you do things and you are not sure if they are a good choice and you just take a leap. I am not sure it is a leap of faith, or just a leap but I am glad I tried to be honest about my feelings. It is a scary thing for me.
This may be a bit cryptic… but then there is the anonymity thing and there is all that has hit me. Like I have these struggles surface big time and I am reeling and I tell someone, so far so good. There are other steps, so to speak, like asking God to remove the struggles I have inside. It was big for me to be able to identify the struggle, separate it out and not let it color everything else, although I am exhausted from trying, I have been able to. I have been able to confess it to someone, able to get it out, able to not make decisions based on it. Whew!
I am looking forward to praying for God to help remove the things I struggle with, I am excited because I think He will. I am excited about what He is going to do inside me. I am thankful for those around me that love me in my struggle, because part of it is not believing I am loved and they love anyway even though I can only grasp it for short periods of time. And After the struggle resurfaced I am amazed I can feel love at all.
Something that goes along with this, because it is a trust thing, I have decided that I am in good enough a place to start allowing friendships at work and at church. I have decided although I have lots of disappointments in the area of friendship, I have granted forgiveness and feel I can embrace people again. At work I have an opportunity to do that, I work with a great group of people. Same is true of my church. And I am acting on it too. I have decided that I have been a good friend in the past and I can continue that despite the loss I have suffered. This is huge for me. I am not basing my future on what people decided. I was a good friend, I loved people and that is what I am determined to do again. I have spent enough time isolating myself. An old friend who has recently renewed a friendship with me told me today…
And like I tell my kids -- you can't control someone else’s reactions - you can only control your actions.
So even though I hurt, I am not making decisions based on that hurt, I am choosing to love. And it isn’t just talk, its tested.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thoughts on Ezra
I am reading the book of Ezra. Although I have read it before, I don’t remember every really looking closely at the book. While working my way through the first few chapters this week several things stood out to me.
God speaks to me, a piece here and a piece there. If I am faithful to spend time alone so I can reflect on what He is speaking to me through various mediums and people, through the circumstances of my life, there is a message or better yet a new chapter of my life to write. A narrative is created with theme, character, setting and all the things that make up good literature, all waiting for someone, me, to write them down.
On Monday I read that the people are given permission to return to Jerusalem to rebuild the Temple. They were in captivity in Babylon making the theme of Ezra the fulfillment of God’s promise for the restoration of Israel after 70 years. Chapter one begins with Cyrus the king of Persia having a change of heart as prophesied by Jeremiah. A decree is written and the people are given permission to return to rebuild the temple. Again God moves hearts, this time the hearts of the people to return to do the work. Then the hearts of their neighbors are moved to give to this endeavor with articles of gold, silver, goods and livestock, valuable gifts and freewill offerings. (Ezra 1:5-6)
My reaction to chapter one was WOW! That is so exciting. How easily I can relate to their joy. In the circumstances of my life I am in a period of restoration; a new job, with new friends and opportunities. I was recently honored when I won an art show. I have support of those around me. I am on the mend and my life has opened up in some exciting ways.
Where are you in your life; a time of exile or restoration? Can you remember a time like the Israelites experienced in Ezra?
In chapter two of Ezra on Tuesday I encountered a genealogy. In the early hours of the morning a genealogy can be mind numbing. I have learned to look for truth within them. What I found (with the help of a study Bible) was that 4,289 priest’s hearts were moved to return while only 74 Levites made that decision. The comment in the Ryrie Study Bible was that this was due to their inferior status because they were not ministering priests.
I pondered this. Do we do that? Say I am not a minister, on staff, part of a deacon body or head of a ministry, so I am not moved to go where the Spirit of God is leading? Maybe I am not upfront and center, acknowledge for what I do, so I decide to sit in the pew and sulk or worse, make a decision for comfort and a life of little risk. Do I stay at home in Babylon or return to Jerusalem where restoration and joy waits?
I pray my heart will be moved by God towards restoration.
Chapter three, day three was even more interesting. The Israelites settled in and began the work. First they rebuilt the foundation for the altar so that a sacrifice could be given. They celebrated the Feast of the Tabernacles then laid the foundation of the Lord’s temple. They did this with shouts of praise:
“He is good;
His love to Israel endures
Forever.” Ezra 2:11b
The day I received the offer for my new job I was able to go to a concert of prayer in an outdoor venue with thousands of people and shouts aloud to the Lord that He is good! This is the absolute best way to celebrate restoration. I am in awed of God’s timing of the events in my life.
In Ezra’s account, however, he noted:
But many of the older priests and Levites and family heads, who had seen the former temple, wept aloud when they saw the foundation of this temple being laid, while many others shouted for joy. No one could distinguish the sound of the shouts of joy from the sound of weeping, because the people made so much noise. And the sound was heard far away. (Ezra 3:12-13)
This was of interest to me because it so illustrated the emotions of my personal restoration which consist of both joy in the restoration and grief over the memories of the destruction of what is being restored. The sounds of my restoration are not subdued, the emotion is raw and loud and powerful. Seeing this passage helped me in that I know the grief of the older priests is over the fact that the new temple did not have the magnificence of the former grandeur of Solomon’s temple. This is a warning to me. Because I am sure that those who pleased God that day were those voices that lifted up shouts of joy. I am reminded of Isaiah 43:18-19:
Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.
My prayer is to rejoice, rejoice, rejoice.
The first chapters of Ezra invite us to consider our lives as we walk in God’s restoration. First will our hearts be moved? As leadership will our hearts be moved? As the people will we be ready to walk in restoration? As those around people in need of restoration are we moved to support them? Will the foundation of our restoration be worship? Will we sit in the pews or join the task at hand? Can we say God is good? How will we react; with grief over the former things or joy and certainty that God is doing a new thing?
God speaks to me, a piece here and a piece there. If I am faithful to spend time alone so I can reflect on what He is speaking to me through various mediums and people, through the circumstances of my life, there is a message or better yet a new chapter of my life to write. A narrative is created with theme, character, setting and all the things that make up good literature, all waiting for someone, me, to write them down.
On Monday I read that the people are given permission to return to Jerusalem to rebuild the Temple. They were in captivity in Babylon making the theme of Ezra the fulfillment of God’s promise for the restoration of Israel after 70 years. Chapter one begins with Cyrus the king of Persia having a change of heart as prophesied by Jeremiah. A decree is written and the people are given permission to return to rebuild the temple. Again God moves hearts, this time the hearts of the people to return to do the work. Then the hearts of their neighbors are moved to give to this endeavor with articles of gold, silver, goods and livestock, valuable gifts and freewill offerings. (Ezra 1:5-6)
My reaction to chapter one was WOW! That is so exciting. How easily I can relate to their joy. In the circumstances of my life I am in a period of restoration; a new job, with new friends and opportunities. I was recently honored when I won an art show. I have support of those around me. I am on the mend and my life has opened up in some exciting ways.
Where are you in your life; a time of exile or restoration? Can you remember a time like the Israelites experienced in Ezra?
In chapter two of Ezra on Tuesday I encountered a genealogy. In the early hours of the morning a genealogy can be mind numbing. I have learned to look for truth within them. What I found (with the help of a study Bible) was that 4,289 priest’s hearts were moved to return while only 74 Levites made that decision. The comment in the Ryrie Study Bible was that this was due to their inferior status because they were not ministering priests.
I pondered this. Do we do that? Say I am not a minister, on staff, part of a deacon body or head of a ministry, so I am not moved to go where the Spirit of God is leading? Maybe I am not upfront and center, acknowledge for what I do, so I decide to sit in the pew and sulk or worse, make a decision for comfort and a life of little risk. Do I stay at home in Babylon or return to Jerusalem where restoration and joy waits?
I pray my heart will be moved by God towards restoration.
Chapter three, day three was even more interesting. The Israelites settled in and began the work. First they rebuilt the foundation for the altar so that a sacrifice could be given. They celebrated the Feast of the Tabernacles then laid the foundation of the Lord’s temple. They did this with shouts of praise:
“He is good;
His love to Israel endures
Forever.” Ezra 2:11b
The day I received the offer for my new job I was able to go to a concert of prayer in an outdoor venue with thousands of people and shouts aloud to the Lord that He is good! This is the absolute best way to celebrate restoration. I am in awed of God’s timing of the events in my life.
In Ezra’s account, however, he noted:
But many of the older priests and Levites and family heads, who had seen the former temple, wept aloud when they saw the foundation of this temple being laid, while many others shouted for joy. No one could distinguish the sound of the shouts of joy from the sound of weeping, because the people made so much noise. And the sound was heard far away. (Ezra 3:12-13)
This was of interest to me because it so illustrated the emotions of my personal restoration which consist of both joy in the restoration and grief over the memories of the destruction of what is being restored. The sounds of my restoration are not subdued, the emotion is raw and loud and powerful. Seeing this passage helped me in that I know the grief of the older priests is over the fact that the new temple did not have the magnificence of the former grandeur of Solomon’s temple. This is a warning to me. Because I am sure that those who pleased God that day were those voices that lifted up shouts of joy. I am reminded of Isaiah 43:18-19:
Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.
My prayer is to rejoice, rejoice, rejoice.
The first chapters of Ezra invite us to consider our lives as we walk in God’s restoration. First will our hearts be moved? As leadership will our hearts be moved? As the people will we be ready to walk in restoration? As those around people in need of restoration are we moved to support them? Will the foundation of our restoration be worship? Will we sit in the pews or join the task at hand? Can we say God is good? How will we react; with grief over the former things or joy and certainty that God is doing a new thing?
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Don't Forget to Take Time for Yourself
That is what my art instructor told me when I ran into him outside his office picking up my notebook for gallery management class. It wasn't a call be to selfish, but a call to take time to be creative. It takes focus and commitment. Sometimes I see someone's work and it says the same thing to me, take time to be creative, develop your art, your writing, your creative voice. Dance with Life and sing, whatever it is you do, live it, celebrate it, just make sure you do it. I like when I hear a song, see a painting, a movie and it makes me long for more. I makes me want to pick up a pen and write. Makes me glad I am alive and connected.
Four of twelve, that I have not finished, but should. Prismacolor is divine and this were part of a dream. 6 x 4 inches
My stationery, but I can't use these they aren't my photos, but I am working on the source files, for the watercolors and pencil drawings. The dream is they are for missions and the message is be beautiful.
Four of twelve, that I have not finished, but should. Prismacolor is divine and this were part of a dream. 6 x 4 inches
My stationery, but I can't use these they aren't my photos, but I am working on the source files, for the watercolors and pencil drawings. The dream is they are for missions and the message is be beautiful.
Unfinished
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Capturing the Unseen
There is a group of photographers I have collected as friends online from all over the world. We connect through our photos and some of us through our faith. I purposely seek out people of faith who use their talent to tell people about God.
There is someone who in particular always touches me with her work. She works with homeless teen who are runaways. Takes their portraits and loves them, tries to let them know there is Hope. Her motto is Capturing the Unseen. I wrote her tonight and she wrote back and asked for prayer. It was one of those God moments. I saw one of her pieces; it is called A message of love sealed with a single tear. It hit me deep inside so I wrote. It is so “weird” how God works. How I am connected to a young girl I have never met, may never meet until heaven and she loves photography, is drawn to the homeless like I am and loves God, walks with Him and struggles.
I planned to write about loving people and taking risks, because love is about taking risks. It feels like speaking in the dark, not knowing if you are heard, understood or loved back sometimes. We shouldn’t wait and expect another to make us feel loved if we aren’t willing to move in their direction. Moving towards another can even feel like being foolish. My Friend reminded me tonight to speak in the dark when prompted by love. She reminded me of the risks we take when we love and walk with someone who struggles, there is no guarantee they won’t disappoint us, but we risk and we walk.
I am so in awe of the God who connects us all.
Live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Ephesians 4:1b -2
There is someone who in particular always touches me with her work. She works with homeless teen who are runaways. Takes their portraits and loves them, tries to let them know there is Hope. Her motto is Capturing the Unseen. I wrote her tonight and she wrote back and asked for prayer. It was one of those God moments. I saw one of her pieces; it is called A message of love sealed with a single tear. It hit me deep inside so I wrote. It is so “weird” how God works. How I am connected to a young girl I have never met, may never meet until heaven and she loves photography, is drawn to the homeless like I am and loves God, walks with Him and struggles.
I planned to write about loving people and taking risks, because love is about taking risks. It feels like speaking in the dark, not knowing if you are heard, understood or loved back sometimes. We shouldn’t wait and expect another to make us feel loved if we aren’t willing to move in their direction. Moving towards another can even feel like being foolish. My Friend reminded me tonight to speak in the dark when prompted by love. She reminded me of the risks we take when we love and walk with someone who struggles, there is no guarantee they won’t disappoint us, but we risk and we walk.
I am so in awe of the God who connects us all.
Live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Ephesians 4:1b -2
Sunday, May 24, 2009
The art of relationship
I have been painting the last few days in oils. I have also begun the process of doing a series of watercolors. I have the beginnings of a mixed media piece on the way. I am up to my eye balls in art and I am loving it. But it is a love/hate relationship sometimes, well maybe not hate, but I do this highly dissatisfied thing. The artist is intense and she knows what she wants and she is dedicated to doing it. Some times at a great sacrifice of time and energy. But it is love and it is good and it is what she does. It is passion.
Let me back peddle. I am finishing up oils I started two years ago. I have six in the works and they are large. That means time, lots of paint time. The watercolors will go faster. Watercolor in my primary art language. I have been doing them since I was a little girl. I absolutely love to watercolor, not so much drama in them. We get along well. I have the reference photos printed out and the paper sized. The next step which I thought I would do tonight but ran out of time, is put down a simple outline. My outlines help me not get lost on the paper. They give me a feel for the space I am working in.
The mixed media piece is a concept piece and I am still working out the reference work and concept pieces are usually very emotional or trippy. I wanted to do this to enter a show, but I can tell there is going to be a good deal of work in this to do it right. So I will allow it to work itself out from a concept to art. (Like giving birth, real drama)
For the show I now want to submit the portrait of Me, Elysa and Judy; Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil. People who have seen it seem to like it. But I have some serious problems with it and lots of work. I need to submit a photo next Friday. If accepted I have six weeks to finish the piece, plenty of time. I am just going for it.
All this said to orient you to what I wanted to say. When I work on a piece I have lots of time to think. All kinds of things come up. It can be wild. Not that tonight was so wild. But I have been praying about something in particular that I have been having trouble feeling and accepting. And it is out there now. I don’t know how this works. I guess I just am in better tune with myself and my emotions and I have lots of time to listen to God.
I was thinking how relationships are like paintings. How as they are in progress they aren’t always much to look at. Sometimes I don’t even like to show the paintings because the colors aren’t right. There are usually three layers of paint to be put down, until I feel the piece is finished. I am referring to the oils. Each layer of color I get closer to the shade I really want. It takes time, it takes patience, it takes skill and I have an idea of where I am going and I have done this before so I have some confidence that it works. The finished product is beautiful. You can get close up and look and it is beautiful. But that isn’t true in the process.
It looks bad sometimes, the colors are off, the canvas shows through, the edges are rough, the constrast bad and I see after each session what needs to happen next. Sometimes there is too much to do and there is wet paint and unless you want a mess, you just have to stop for a few days. You have to step back and look at it. I go back and look several times a day. I get other people to look too and tell me what they see. I am a lot more patient with painting sometimes than relationships. But I got to think about it tonight and I am ok with this process in real life. I think it will be beautiful.
Let me back peddle. I am finishing up oils I started two years ago. I have six in the works and they are large. That means time, lots of paint time. The watercolors will go faster. Watercolor in my primary art language. I have been doing them since I was a little girl. I absolutely love to watercolor, not so much drama in them. We get along well. I have the reference photos printed out and the paper sized. The next step which I thought I would do tonight but ran out of time, is put down a simple outline. My outlines help me not get lost on the paper. They give me a feel for the space I am working in.
The mixed media piece is a concept piece and I am still working out the reference work and concept pieces are usually very emotional or trippy. I wanted to do this to enter a show, but I can tell there is going to be a good deal of work in this to do it right. So I will allow it to work itself out from a concept to art. (Like giving birth, real drama)
For the show I now want to submit the portrait of Me, Elysa and Judy; Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil. People who have seen it seem to like it. But I have some serious problems with it and lots of work. I need to submit a photo next Friday. If accepted I have six weeks to finish the piece, plenty of time. I am just going for it.
All this said to orient you to what I wanted to say. When I work on a piece I have lots of time to think. All kinds of things come up. It can be wild. Not that tonight was so wild. But I have been praying about something in particular that I have been having trouble feeling and accepting. And it is out there now. I don’t know how this works. I guess I just am in better tune with myself and my emotions and I have lots of time to listen to God.
I was thinking how relationships are like paintings. How as they are in progress they aren’t always much to look at. Sometimes I don’t even like to show the paintings because the colors aren’t right. There are usually three layers of paint to be put down, until I feel the piece is finished. I am referring to the oils. Each layer of color I get closer to the shade I really want. It takes time, it takes patience, it takes skill and I have an idea of where I am going and I have done this before so I have some confidence that it works. The finished product is beautiful. You can get close up and look and it is beautiful. But that isn’t true in the process.
It looks bad sometimes, the colors are off, the canvas shows through, the edges are rough, the constrast bad and I see after each session what needs to happen next. Sometimes there is too much to do and there is wet paint and unless you want a mess, you just have to stop for a few days. You have to step back and look at it. I go back and look several times a day. I get other people to look too and tell me what they see. I am a lot more patient with painting sometimes than relationships. But I got to think about it tonight and I am ok with this process in real life. I think it will be beautiful.Saturday, May 23, 2009
Integrity
Peter replied, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. Acts 2:38 NIV
My Sunday school class of second, third and fourth graders was 100% sure it was stealing. The beauty of this age is how they see things in black and white. I think God lets us see the world more clearly through their eyes. What a mistake to assume you cannot learn from a child, after all the kingdom of God is entered like a child. I see why.
We were talking about how God wants us to confess our sins and when we don’t we are guilty and we feel guilty. We talked about how it was one thing to confess to God and another to confess to another person. We were emphasising the word repentance which mean agreeing with God and then doing the right thing. One of the discussion questions was, “what if you went to a store and bought some toys and when you got home and realized the cashier didn’t charge you enough for them, what should you do and why?” They were sure you should pay. You should go to the store and tell the cashier that you weren’t charged enough and you wanted to pay for the toy.
“What if they said, don’t bother?” No they insisted you still need to pay. If you don’t, the class all agreed it was just like stealing even if it wasn’t your mistake, even if it was inconvenient to return to the store and pay.
“What does it feel like when you do the right thing?”
“Great!”
This week I went to the store and bought picture frames for a fund raiser for a church mission trip. We are auctioning off photos the teens took during their last trip. When I got home after a long day at work, I discovered the cashier hadn’t charge me enough. “How inconvenient!” I thought. “What if I take the time to go back and they say, don’t worry about it?” Then I heard one of the little boys in my class say with certainty. “It’s stealing!”
“Yes, he is right, it is stealing.” I decided to go back the next day. If I am a God follower I need to have integrity and integrity starts with the little things. It is simple enough for a child to understand. Funny how with adults the lines sometimes gets blurred? Thank God for the little children. Integrity is doing the right thing even when no one is looking.
I took my receipt in and told the cashier I was undercharged and I wanted to pay for another frame. I had a reply ready if she said, “don’t bother.” I planned to tell her my grade school kids that I help teach Sunday school are sure it is stealing and I need to have integrity if I want to faithfully teach them.
But she didn’t. She took my money and smiled and said, “thank you very much for doing this.”
How did it feel?
Great!
My Sunday school class of second, third and fourth graders was 100% sure it was stealing. The beauty of this age is how they see things in black and white. I think God lets us see the world more clearly through their eyes. What a mistake to assume you cannot learn from a child, after all the kingdom of God is entered like a child. I see why.
We were talking about how God wants us to confess our sins and when we don’t we are guilty and we feel guilty. We talked about how it was one thing to confess to God and another to confess to another person. We were emphasising the word repentance which mean agreeing with God and then doing the right thing. One of the discussion questions was, “what if you went to a store and bought some toys and when you got home and realized the cashier didn’t charge you enough for them, what should you do and why?” They were sure you should pay. You should go to the store and tell the cashier that you weren’t charged enough and you wanted to pay for the toy.
“What if they said, don’t bother?” No they insisted you still need to pay. If you don’t, the class all agreed it was just like stealing even if it wasn’t your mistake, even if it was inconvenient to return to the store and pay.
“What does it feel like when you do the right thing?”
“Great!”
This week I went to the store and bought picture frames for a fund raiser for a church mission trip. We are auctioning off photos the teens took during their last trip. When I got home after a long day at work, I discovered the cashier hadn’t charge me enough. “How inconvenient!” I thought. “What if I take the time to go back and they say, don’t worry about it?” Then I heard one of the little boys in my class say with certainty. “It’s stealing!”
“Yes, he is right, it is stealing.” I decided to go back the next day. If I am a God follower I need to have integrity and integrity starts with the little things. It is simple enough for a child to understand. Funny how with adults the lines sometimes gets blurred? Thank God for the little children. Integrity is doing the right thing even when no one is looking.
I took my receipt in and told the cashier I was undercharged and I wanted to pay for another frame. I had a reply ready if she said, “don’t bother.” I planned to tell her my grade school kids that I help teach Sunday school are sure it is stealing and I need to have integrity if I want to faithfully teach them.
But she didn’t. She took my money and smiled and said, “thank you very much for doing this.”
How did it feel?
Great!
Friday, May 22, 2009
First Thing, Seek God with all Your Heart
Often as a seeker after God scriptures verses intersect my life. It is at that point of intersection that I find myself pulled in for further meditation. Recently several verses intersected along with an email from a new friend.
O God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you,
my body longs for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.
Psalm 63:1
And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.
Hebrews 11:6
These two verse intersected with the word earnestly seek, which although is two words in English, in both Hebrew and Greek, one word. The Hebrew word implies not just earnest seeking as in effort, but first effort, to seek early. As always seeking after God implies prayer and quiet devotion alone with God and as most people who practice daily prayer insist to not let your feet hit the ground until your heart has been lifted in prayer. There is something about that priority that pleases God and will bring a harvest of rewards if diligently practiced.
To diligently seek God most certainly means daily in our life, but I want to expand that to include early in the events of our life. Early in our relationships we should seek God, early in our new businesses, job starts, early in our investments of time and certainly in a ministry start prayer should come first. As our new Children’s Director has come on board, even before her office hours have begun, she has initiated a time of prayer with her workers. Because we have one service when we serve we miss worship. We are able to listen to the sermon online during the week, but we still miss the praise time. So starting this week she is meeting with those who earnestly desire to meet with God in this effort to come and listen to the praise band practice and then go off for a time of corporate prayer for the church and the children’s ministry in particular. How excited I am to see her first steps in ministry to be so God honoring and to be invited to join her in this.
Lord, help us to see the value of our earnest prayer to you. We know like the heroes of the faith in Hebrews we may never see the outcome of our efforts in full on this earth, but let the knowledge that our earnest seeking pleases you is our reward.
O God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you,
my body longs for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.
Psalm 63:1
And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.
Hebrews 11:6
These two verse intersected with the word earnestly seek, which although is two words in English, in both Hebrew and Greek, one word. The Hebrew word implies not just earnest seeking as in effort, but first effort, to seek early. As always seeking after God implies prayer and quiet devotion alone with God and as most people who practice daily prayer insist to not let your feet hit the ground until your heart has been lifted in prayer. There is something about that priority that pleases God and will bring a harvest of rewards if diligently practiced.
To diligently seek God most certainly means daily in our life, but I want to expand that to include early in the events of our life. Early in our relationships we should seek God, early in our new businesses, job starts, early in our investments of time and certainly in a ministry start prayer should come first. As our new Children’s Director has come on board, even before her office hours have begun, she has initiated a time of prayer with her workers. Because we have one service when we serve we miss worship. We are able to listen to the sermon online during the week, but we still miss the praise time. So starting this week she is meeting with those who earnestly desire to meet with God in this effort to come and listen to the praise band practice and then go off for a time of corporate prayer for the church and the children’s ministry in particular. How excited I am to see her first steps in ministry to be so God honoring and to be invited to join her in this.
Lord, help us to see the value of our earnest prayer to you. We know like the heroes of the faith in Hebrews we may never see the outcome of our efforts in full on this earth, but let the knowledge that our earnest seeking pleases you is our reward.
Monday, May 18, 2009
True Devotion
I decided to devote myself to writing devotionals this summer. After a discussion in my small group I decided my first devotional should be about what true devotion is. Since we are drawing our discussions from a book of devotionals centered on the spiritual disciplines, it is from that context that I write. Meanwhile as part of the Creative Arts Ministry at my church I receive emails from our worship leader. To encourage us to think deeper he sent us three quotes asking us to put them all together.
The first one is a quote by Oswald Chambers:
Faith never knows where it is being led, but it knows and loves the One who is leading.
The second quote is from Paul in a letter to the church at Corinth:
Don't you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit,
who lives in you and was given to you by God?
You do not belong to yourself,
for God bought you with a high price.
So you must honor God with your body.
1 Corinthians 6.18-20
The third quote is from a sermon our worship leader heard somewhere, sometime ago:
We are not physical beings having a spiritual experience;
we are spiritual beings having a physical experience.
~ unknown
I thought that the quotes fit within the idea of true devotion. As I meditated over these and considered the small group discussion I formed a question that I wanted some direction on and that is if the desire of my heart is to be truly devoted to God, how do I do that?
First I needed to define true devotion. The dictionary defines devotion as “profound dedication; consecration, earnest attachment to a cause, person, etc” (Random House). The acts of devotion consist of the spiritual disciplines; praying, fasting, studying the scriptures, giving, giving of oneself. These spiritual disciplines are the how of devotion but also are the how to honor God with your body. Often when I think of 1 Corinthians 6.18-20, I think of the not what to do’s. Yes, we are to rid ourselves of the things that hold us back from devotion to God, but that alone is not enough, we need to do, to exercise our spiritual muscle in order to be established in the faith.
We can fall short of devotion in the practice of the spiritual disciplines if they are not practice with the disposition of love. We can seek to improve our disposition but if we do not have in mind the interests of others, we fall short. Spiritual discipline is not self improvement, it is devotion to God. I think Oswald Chambers describes in the quote that devotion to God is loving, listening and abiding or making our home with the One who leads us.
How can we say we have moved further in a life of devotion to God if we cannot tolerate the short falls of others, nor lend a hand to the suffering? Even beyond that if we do not make the things of God our focus striving to understand and live out God’s higher purpose in our lives, then we very well may be devoted, but to what, only our own concerns. I think this is where the third quote comes in. We desperately need to see things differently, really inversely from the world. I have to admit I never thought of my time here on the earth as a spiritual being having a physical experience, but it works. And I think it helps put self concern, worries about what we will eat or drink or what we will wear into perspective. All these things will fade away when we pass from this life and enter fully into a relationship with the Father.
How then do we start? How do we start to a life of devotion to God? Change your thinking, do something that builds spiritual muscle and do it all in love, so as to not do it in vain.
The first one is a quote by Oswald Chambers:
Faith never knows where it is being led, but it knows and loves the One who is leading.
The second quote is from Paul in a letter to the church at Corinth:
Don't you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit,
who lives in you and was given to you by God?
You do not belong to yourself,
for God bought you with a high price.
So you must honor God with your body.
1 Corinthians 6.18-20
The third quote is from a sermon our worship leader heard somewhere, sometime ago:
We are not physical beings having a spiritual experience;
we are spiritual beings having a physical experience.
~ unknown
I thought that the quotes fit within the idea of true devotion. As I meditated over these and considered the small group discussion I formed a question that I wanted some direction on and that is if the desire of my heart is to be truly devoted to God, how do I do that?
First I needed to define true devotion. The dictionary defines devotion as “profound dedication; consecration, earnest attachment to a cause, person, etc” (Random House). The acts of devotion consist of the spiritual disciplines; praying, fasting, studying the scriptures, giving, giving of oneself. These spiritual disciplines are the how of devotion but also are the how to honor God with your body. Often when I think of 1 Corinthians 6.18-20, I think of the not what to do’s. Yes, we are to rid ourselves of the things that hold us back from devotion to God, but that alone is not enough, we need to do, to exercise our spiritual muscle in order to be established in the faith.
We can fall short of devotion in the practice of the spiritual disciplines if they are not practice with the disposition of love. We can seek to improve our disposition but if we do not have in mind the interests of others, we fall short. Spiritual discipline is not self improvement, it is devotion to God. I think Oswald Chambers describes in the quote that devotion to God is loving, listening and abiding or making our home with the One who leads us.
How can we say we have moved further in a life of devotion to God if we cannot tolerate the short falls of others, nor lend a hand to the suffering? Even beyond that if we do not make the things of God our focus striving to understand and live out God’s higher purpose in our lives, then we very well may be devoted, but to what, only our own concerns. I think this is where the third quote comes in. We desperately need to see things differently, really inversely from the world. I have to admit I never thought of my time here on the earth as a spiritual being having a physical experience, but it works. And I think it helps put self concern, worries about what we will eat or drink or what we will wear into perspective. All these things will fade away when we pass from this life and enter fully into a relationship with the Father.
How then do we start? How do we start to a life of devotion to God? Change your thinking, do something that builds spiritual muscle and do it all in love, so as to not do it in vain.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Chill
I do push myself. And today well, I went over a line that I won’t do again ever. There were many contributions to this; finals, new job, allergies, Carolen put something in my hair that smelled (it smelled good but being allergic to most perfumes I suspect it was too much) I was fasting, maybe my contacts were in the wrong eye, but I got a headache which I IGNORED, until it got me. I tried to eat, took some Tylenol, couldn’t eat, laid down, thought of taking my life because I was is so much pain, I couldn’t believe, tired to cry, (bad idea) threw up, slept for 2 hours and was glad I didn’t have the flu. I am fine. Just feel worn out after cleaning my closet, color organizing the clothes.
I stayed up til three thirty last night watching the Kite Runner which left me disturbed and also asking, was this and that plausible? (creative writing class does that to you) I woke up and laid there thinking it was 9ish. Found out it was almost time to leave for my haircut. No quiet time. I never miss that and I hate it. I wanted to write all morning. I have a meeting tomorrow which is technically today, Sunday. Still hope to find time to write, but I am skeptical. I want to ride my bike and I am not supposed to push myself. So, there ya go, my always dilemma, there is more to do that I want or need to do than I have time or energy for.
I was writing about devotion, what true devotion means. And I am too tired to write now, but I will. When you wait four months, a semester, to do what you want or need, then it piles up and I can get overwhelmed, so today I picked a few things and because I pushed, I got sick and I didn’t get to write. I know, I know Jesus is telling me to chill and He is serious here.
I stayed up til three thirty last night watching the Kite Runner which left me disturbed and also asking, was this and that plausible? (creative writing class does that to you) I woke up and laid there thinking it was 9ish. Found out it was almost time to leave for my haircut. No quiet time. I never miss that and I hate it. I wanted to write all morning. I have a meeting tomorrow which is technically today, Sunday. Still hope to find time to write, but I am skeptical. I want to ride my bike and I am not supposed to push myself. So, there ya go, my always dilemma, there is more to do that I want or need to do than I have time or energy for.
I was writing about devotion, what true devotion means. And I am too tired to write now, but I will. When you wait four months, a semester, to do what you want or need, then it piles up and I can get overwhelmed, so today I picked a few things and because I pushed, I got sick and I didn’t get to write. I know, I know Jesus is telling me to chill and He is serious here.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Movement
It has been interesting to watch the dynamics of my world change over the last few weeks, or maybe it is more like the last few months corresponding with the seasons changing. Seems slow, there is a sense of change that comes first followed by evidence of the reality of change, or God moving.
So I am moving on to a new chapter of my life. I hope to find some remnants of myself carried forward, like the strength and faith that moved me through the hard times. I hope to reclaim some, like a sense of ease that allows me to notice the way the sky changes or how someone tells a story, the newest flower that has bloomed in my yard.
The first thing I did after receiving and accepting the job offer was to drive to Frisco and sit with my church family and shout songs aloud like “How Great is Our God,” while the sun set through wisps of clouds defying the chance of rain and giving us the best conditions for an evening of prayer and praise.
So I am moving on to a new chapter of my life. I hope to find some remnants of myself carried forward, like the strength and faith that moved me through the hard times. I hope to reclaim some, like a sense of ease that allows me to notice the way the sky changes or how someone tells a story, the newest flower that has bloomed in my yard.
The first thing I did after receiving and accepting the job offer was to drive to Frisco and sit with my church family and shout songs aloud like “How Great is Our God,” while the sun set through wisps of clouds defying the chance of rain and giving us the best conditions for an evening of prayer and praise.
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Tree and the Storm
This is just a little whisper from God. On Sunday we had Communion. We all went up front and took the elements that were "packaged" for us. A very different experience in that. Unfamiliar with the feel and taste of the wafer and the logistics of opening the sealed cup as to not spill its contents, I stood and said a silent prayer, then relatively quickly moved back to my seat. I didn't think I had made much of communion in that I do like to make it memorable. We were asked to think about how communion celebrates community. Since the front of the church was crowded, it did do just that. I just wanted something more is all I can explain. I went to the front with a prayer to enter more fully into community to not hold back from it out of fear of rejection or any other reason.
When I got back to my seat and sat down, I started to think of my short story, or I suspect it was brought to mind, because I "saw" the tree that Rachel huddled under and clung to was in fact the cross and in my story she is being wooed not only by David, but Jesus. It is a pretty strong image in my life, that storm and that Tree and how we all need to go there and meet Him.
Someone recently asked me why creativity is messy. I found some amazing photos that almost explain why, though words nor even images will ever be able to tell this story. Now that's art.
It is about taking risks and not being afraid to shine.
When I got back to my seat and sat down, I started to think of my short story, or I suspect it was brought to mind, because I "saw" the tree that Rachel huddled under and clung to was in fact the cross and in my story she is being wooed not only by David, but Jesus. It is a pretty strong image in my life, that storm and that Tree and how we all need to go there and meet Him.
Someone recently asked me why creativity is messy. I found some amazing photos that almost explain why, though words nor even images will ever be able to tell this story. Now that's art.
It is about taking risks and not being afraid to shine. Saturday, May 2, 2009
The Storm
From my prayer journal….
I need to write, help me make it great. Help me raise the question about change. Help me not pull back from feeling it as I write. This is power packed for me. I even thank you that they laughed in class, because it make me want to show them and helps me really go at it. Help me learn how to write, to learn all the technical stuff, to overcome my weaknesses, to overcome discouragement.
Then the answer to the prayer…
God must really have a sense of humor or He really likes to listen to my prayer and thrill me just for fun.
I have been rewriting my short story all morning. It includes a “tornado scene.” The idea for the scene germinated the night I slipped out of class and found myself in a torrential downpour only to later learn that the storm contained cloud rotations although a funnel cloud was never sighted.
I did some laundry and as I was hanging it out on the line, I notice some darkish clouds. Then I laid down for a nap. I was awakened by the sound of rain pounded on my roof. The bathroom in my bedroom has a skylight which magnifies the sound of the rain enough to wake me. I ran outside to get my laundry off the porch and was driven back by the wind and the rain and the lightening which lit up the darkened sky completely as I tried to step outside.
I ran and got my camera and tried again to go outside this time to capture the downpour. But the rain was coming down in sheets and coming in under my back porch. I did not want to get my new camera wet, so I went inside. Then I thought of Rachel in my short story and I decided to journal about the rain. I pulled a chair up got my notebook and started scribbling this mess of words while I sat in the half darkened room.
If Rachel was just under a tree she soon would be completely wet if not perhaps knocked off her feet. She needed to huddle under the tree. She would be completely wet and shaking from cold and fright. She couldn’t sit down on the ground because it would be a puddle of water. She would have to hunch over, head tucked, hands around her knees.
I notice the thunder come close and far away diminished in its effect at irregular intervals but almost continuously even after the rain subsided. The lightening came in flashes, it sliced across the sky lighting up the darkened sky that looked as dark as if the sun is about set. The thunder crashes and rolls and crashes. The rain picks up again as another band of storms moves in, lightening flickers across the sky, rain pounds, beats, pours sheets, whips, drips.
I realize I want vindication for this story I am writing. I realize David has made Rachel feel shabby. I want vindication for Rachel who didn’t do anything wrong, but feels betrayed. Rachel loves beauty and she doesn’t know why she was treated shabby. Like the art she loves she wants to rise above the situation. She wants to see it from a light that will bring restoration. She wants to understand. She is angry. It is her anger that motivates her to try and find answers. Anger doesn’t fit well into her world. She is uncomfortable in its skin. She is surprised by it and its power.
David was shabby, made shabby by his behavior, his treatment of women. He wants change; he is looking for a new life, building one by working on himself, looking outside himself to help others.
The storm is the agent of change thrusting Rachel into a situation she doesn’t understand, causing David to see himself still in need of change. Do they turn back or move ahead?
I need to write, help me make it great. Help me raise the question about change. Help me not pull back from feeling it as I write. This is power packed for me. I even thank you that they laughed in class, because it make me want to show them and helps me really go at it. Help me learn how to write, to learn all the technical stuff, to overcome my weaknesses, to overcome discouragement.
Then the answer to the prayer…
God must really have a sense of humor or He really likes to listen to my prayer and thrill me just for fun.
I have been rewriting my short story all morning. It includes a “tornado scene.” The idea for the scene germinated the night I slipped out of class and found myself in a torrential downpour only to later learn that the storm contained cloud rotations although a funnel cloud was never sighted.
I did some laundry and as I was hanging it out on the line, I notice some darkish clouds. Then I laid down for a nap. I was awakened by the sound of rain pounded on my roof. The bathroom in my bedroom has a skylight which magnifies the sound of the rain enough to wake me. I ran outside to get my laundry off the porch and was driven back by the wind and the rain and the lightening which lit up the darkened sky completely as I tried to step outside.
I ran and got my camera and tried again to go outside this time to capture the downpour. But the rain was coming down in sheets and coming in under my back porch. I did not want to get my new camera wet, so I went inside. Then I thought of Rachel in my short story and I decided to journal about the rain. I pulled a chair up got my notebook and started scribbling this mess of words while I sat in the half darkened room.
If Rachel was just under a tree she soon would be completely wet if not perhaps knocked off her feet. She needed to huddle under the tree. She would be completely wet and shaking from cold and fright. She couldn’t sit down on the ground because it would be a puddle of water. She would have to hunch over, head tucked, hands around her knees.
I notice the thunder come close and far away diminished in its effect at irregular intervals but almost continuously even after the rain subsided. The lightening came in flashes, it sliced across the sky lighting up the darkened sky that looked as dark as if the sun is about set. The thunder crashes and rolls and crashes. The rain picks up again as another band of storms moves in, lightening flickers across the sky, rain pounds, beats, pours sheets, whips, drips.
I realize I want vindication for this story I am writing. I realize David has made Rachel feel shabby. I want vindication for Rachel who didn’t do anything wrong, but feels betrayed. Rachel loves beauty and she doesn’t know why she was treated shabby. Like the art she loves she wants to rise above the situation. She wants to see it from a light that will bring restoration. She wants to understand. She is angry. It is her anger that motivates her to try and find answers. Anger doesn’t fit well into her world. She is uncomfortable in its skin. She is surprised by it and its power.
David was shabby, made shabby by his behavior, his treatment of women. He wants change; he is looking for a new life, building one by working on himself, looking outside himself to help others.
The storm is the agent of change thrusting Rachel into a situation she doesn’t understand, causing David to see himself still in need of change. Do they turn back or move ahead?
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
My Rant
Every morning God gives us a blank sheet to create a story of ourself and the people and situations that come by. Be an author that writes with love and hope.
Stolen from a friend on Flickr, Only By Grace
Stolen from a friend on Flickr, Only By Grace
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Houses and Homes
What I am doing... I have to read this "stuff" and review. What a challenge. I mostly want to scream and pull out my hair.
You also introduced the mother as the closest thing to an antagonist. You polished her off with a few well chosen words in an argument. He opposes her invitations to go to church. I think a more interesting story would have been for him to go to church. It would have at least created an inner conflict. He avoided this conflict by being cheeky with his mom and then self satisfied with putting her off. So again you have made shallow a relationship that could have depth and meaningful interaction. What if something his mom said did change his mind, he would have to integrate that into his life. It doesn’t seem that anyone affects him very deeply. How can one make serious film out of that? Give this artist some conflict and depth. Do not let him avoid relationship, but engage in it.
Houses and Homes
The story is about having closure in a series of unsatisfactory relationships and moving on. There is no real story in this in terms of action. The protagonist goes to work, says goodbye to friends and family and drives to New York. There is no crisis, no obstacles to him moving forward. He has some regret about Merrill, which he hopes to work out.
There needs to be more. It is interesting. I get the sense that the protagonist has changed. He wants to be serious about his work, in film. He also wants to avoid intimate relationships with too many women because most in the end bring him down. I think of the character in Chekov’s A Woman and a Dog. Merrill could be the woman who changes this philander’s mind. If you read the story there is more at stake. There is a great deal at stake in Chekov and in real life too as people live out the consequences of life choices.
In your story you have handled sex very causally, which perhaps fits the times. In doing so you have lost the real story, that sex is powerful and relationships are mysterious and unexplainable. The relationships the protagonist has with multiple women appear very shallow so you have lost the story. I suggest you go find it, the real story.
You also introduced the mother as the closest thing to an antagonist. You polished her off with a few well chosen words in an argument. He opposes her invitations to go to church. I think a more interesting story would have been for him to go to church. It would have at least created an inner conflict. He avoided this conflict by being cheeky with his mom and then self satisfied with putting her off. So again you have made shallow a relationship that could have depth and meaningful interaction. What if something his mom said did change his mind, he would have to integrate that into his life. It doesn’t seem that anyone affects him very deeply. How can one make serious film out of that? Give this artist some conflict and depth. Do not let him avoid relationship, but engage in it.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
hmmmm need to sleep...
last night I "fell" asleep at 3-ish, 2:30 -ish the night before. Not a good habit, no, no, no. So maybe along with the peanut butter crackers and cheese and crackers, and possible Tylenol I will just pass out and wake up not screaming, "I don't WANT to get up!"
I have a feeling this blog may cross over into the art blog. Just the way things are lately. Then maybe a poem. Or why don't a pull out CD and pick a pick. That is always fun. A guy in my class lost his hard drive last night, the new "my dog ate it!" But it was for real so I think I am burning the DVD's this weekend.
I am supposed to get a Nikon D60 soon. Am I excited, no just tired, see the above note. 3 a.m. I will have to figure out how to use the camera and I can take classes. Cool. Except I have no time. I am one of those people who have crossed this line, with the need to takes pictures, I need to and I guess that is OK. I am like that with the Internet. I need to be on-line. Better yet, I am on-line uploading photos. Gee. Is that normal?
I twittered before, this sounds confessional. I put so much stuff on-line, I update in Facebook, twitter is across my line. It would be stuff like
"Independence and Parker."
"feeling like I want to eat again!"
"Scott left a towel in in the livingroom again along with a sock."
Like who cares. See you are spared all this because I don't twitter. I had an account, it was a bad idea.
I don't have a phone I could do that with, but I do, every once in awhile I hit a button and it says web. I immediately turn it off. Because I would have to fugure it out. And frankly finding the font and can a paragraph actually be centered in Publisher without causing someone to lose their religion is enough figuring out for me in a day. How about why can't you do two colors in Publisher. Because you can't. Let's try. NO. We can't.
That is enough trouble shooting for me. The last time I used help was last week to re remember how to convert excel into Word to do a mail merge. Why would I then want to go home and read about my phone. No I want to upload photos. So here ya go.
Oh, I feel better and more colorful too. (summer 2005)
I have a feeling this blog may cross over into the art blog. Just the way things are lately. Then maybe a poem. Or why don't a pull out CD and pick a pick. That is always fun. A guy in my class lost his hard drive last night, the new "my dog ate it!" But it was for real so I think I am burning the DVD's this weekend.
I am supposed to get a Nikon D60 soon. Am I excited, no just tired, see the above note. 3 a.m. I will have to figure out how to use the camera and I can take classes. Cool. Except I have no time. I am one of those people who have crossed this line, with the need to takes pictures, I need to and I guess that is OK. I am like that with the Internet. I need to be on-line. Better yet, I am on-line uploading photos. Gee. Is that normal?
I twittered before, this sounds confessional. I put so much stuff on-line, I update in Facebook, twitter is across my line. It would be stuff like
"Independence and Parker."
"feeling like I want to eat again!"
"Scott left a towel in in the livingroom again along with a sock."
Like who cares. See you are spared all this because I don't twitter. I had an account, it was a bad idea.
I don't have a phone I could do that with, but I do, every once in awhile I hit a button and it says web. I immediately turn it off. Because I would have to fugure it out. And frankly finding the font and can a paragraph actually be centered in Publisher without causing someone to lose their religion is enough figuring out for me in a day. How about why can't you do two colors in Publisher. Because you can't. Let's try. NO. We can't.
That is enough trouble shooting for me. The last time I used help was last week to re remember how to convert excel into Word to do a mail merge. Why would I then want to go home and read about my phone. No I want to upload photos. So here ya go.
Oh, I feel better and more colorful too. (summer 2005)
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Worship Art
Face to the floor, arms stretched out as the worship team starts the third stanza.
See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
My left foot begins to shake, so I move it slightly to relieve the gitters so when I stand my knee won’t buckle because my leg is asleep.
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown.
I rise up and stand before the cross, remove a black draped cloth and ceremonily replace it with a white cloth symbolic of the resurrection. I take a few steps backwards and kneel hands raised facing the cross as the last chorus is sung.
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
Again I rise up, turn and walk off the stage.
My prayer that morning in preparation of worhip was heard.
My flesh is rebelling and wants to sit in the pew unmoved. I confess that. This is dying to self in that I worry about what I look like, I want to confess that too. I want the worship to be very beautiful. I ask that you do that and that you help me be graceful because I am very capable of being awkward. I pray people will be moved to a greater sense of submission to your will. For me Lord it is an acceptance of your will for my life.
During the second service after the pastor’s wife had told me the worship time was beautiful, she was very moved by my gesture of worship, as I laid there stretched out before the cross, the Spirit reminded me of my call, to be beautiful. It wasn’t lost on me the meaning of those words.
My preparation for the Easter service began Saturday morning with the scriptures surround the Easter story and after a conversation with Scott. I told him that I was comparing the worship to performance art even though performance art has negative connotations. It isn’t drama and it isn’t dance. So I decided to call it worship art. I reminded him of the night of Thanks where the CR team walked across the stage and held up signs naming their issue. That was very powerful, but it wasn’t drama. A performance artist always has a message they want to get across, usually to shock. I didn’t want to shock, but I thought a woman going forward and prostrating herself before the cross and lingering there might be on the border of uncomfortable for people, I hoped, because I would like the question to arise, could I do that? do I do that? Still that isn’t the point, but I thought that element might be there.
I told Scott that there were three gestures that represented ideas or truths that I wanted to get across. There is the prostrated figure along with the lyrics and the black cloth. The part of the resurrection story I have been reading that God had shown His spot light on is that of Mary Magdalene. She witnessed the crucifixion.
… See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown.
Then there is the undraping and draping of the cross. Mary went to prepare the body.
The next gesture is the praise posture with the white cloth and the lyrics. It is not a stretch that Mary knelt after realizing it was Jesus to whom she was speaking.
…Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were an offering far too small;
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
The meditation for me had deeply personal applications for my life. I cannot even begin to express how much this meant to me to enact this scene of worship during the service knowing that the purpose of being asked in part was healing, at least that is what I thought while I was in the midst of it and the Spirit reminded me of my call.
See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
My left foot begins to shake, so I move it slightly to relieve the gitters so when I stand my knee won’t buckle because my leg is asleep.
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown.
I rise up and stand before the cross, remove a black draped cloth and ceremonily replace it with a white cloth symbolic of the resurrection. I take a few steps backwards and kneel hands raised facing the cross as the last chorus is sung.
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
Again I rise up, turn and walk off the stage.
My prayer that morning in preparation of worhip was heard.
My flesh is rebelling and wants to sit in the pew unmoved. I confess that. This is dying to self in that I worry about what I look like, I want to confess that too. I want the worship to be very beautiful. I ask that you do that and that you help me be graceful because I am very capable of being awkward. I pray people will be moved to a greater sense of submission to your will. For me Lord it is an acceptance of your will for my life.
During the second service after the pastor’s wife had told me the worship time was beautiful, she was very moved by my gesture of worship, as I laid there stretched out before the cross, the Spirit reminded me of my call, to be beautiful. It wasn’t lost on me the meaning of those words.
My preparation for the Easter service began Saturday morning with the scriptures surround the Easter story and after a conversation with Scott. I told him that I was comparing the worship to performance art even though performance art has negative connotations. It isn’t drama and it isn’t dance. So I decided to call it worship art. I reminded him of the night of Thanks where the CR team walked across the stage and held up signs naming their issue. That was very powerful, but it wasn’t drama. A performance artist always has a message they want to get across, usually to shock. I didn’t want to shock, but I thought a woman going forward and prostrating herself before the cross and lingering there might be on the border of uncomfortable for people, I hoped, because I would like the question to arise, could I do that? do I do that? Still that isn’t the point, but I thought that element might be there.
I told Scott that there were three gestures that represented ideas or truths that I wanted to get across. There is the prostrated figure along with the lyrics and the black cloth. The part of the resurrection story I have been reading that God had shown His spot light on is that of Mary Magdalene. She witnessed the crucifixion.
… See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown.
Then there is the undraping and draping of the cross. Mary went to prepare the body.
The next gesture is the praise posture with the white cloth and the lyrics. It is not a stretch that Mary knelt after realizing it was Jesus to whom she was speaking.
…Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were an offering far too small;
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
The meditation for me had deeply personal applications for my life. I cannot even begin to express how much this meant to me to enact this scene of worship during the service knowing that the purpose of being asked in part was healing, at least that is what I thought while I was in the midst of it and the Spirit reminded me of my call.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Remembering My Aunt
I need to preface this blog with… the allergy thing I have going on. I have felt weird all week and it is just now evident that it is allergies, yuck. My mind is numb.
I took a nap when I got home from work… it has been a long week and when I am dragging like I am, longer. My mom woke me up. (flash back to childhood) She told me my Aunt Margaret passed away this afternoon about 1 p.m. ET. My aunt was the youngest of my father’s siblings and one of my favorite aunts because she was a fun person. A quality I love in people, maybe because of people in my family like my aunt. She lived into her 80’s. She had a long and fairly healthy life. The last few years she developed Alzheimer disease. This only became apparent to the family about a year ago. She has been in a nursing home and for the last 48 hours under hospice care. Not bad, I think. She lived on her own for years, I could call her independent. She laughed a lot, had a player piano and collected rug beaters. She was married 3 times; divorced once and widowed twice. She always had a least 3 poodles which were her babies. She lived in East Dayton and no one could get her to leave her house, even though the neighborhood became a less than desirable place to live. We worried about her a lot.
Things I loved about her. She was one of the people responsible for me being an artist. When I was in 4th grade I did a watercolor and I showed it to her. She made over it and told the family I was an artist. I mean the all my aunts and uncles. She never had children of her own so she often brought my grandmother over to our house. All four of us West girls would go with my aunt and grandma to Big Boy and eat and, you know, misbehave. My Aunt taught me to shoot my straw. We would laugh the whole time we were there. We had a three slurp rule. We were only allowed to slurp our drinks three times. Do the math, multiply that by 6 and you see why we giggled our way through lunch. Then there was playing spoons and the Elephant Club, whose secret I am sworn by fear of death to not reveal. But if you want to join the Elephant Club in honor my Aunt Margaret I just must let you in, special.
We used to have lots of family picnics where we spit watermelon seeds (contest) and made homemade ice cream.
When I was in Ohio my dad took us to the gravesite to show me where my grandmother is buried and my Uncle Gene. There will be a graveside service on Saturday, so I have it in my mind where the family will be gathered.
I took a nap when I got home from work… it has been a long week and when I am dragging like I am, longer. My mom woke me up. (flash back to childhood) She told me my Aunt Margaret passed away this afternoon about 1 p.m. ET. My aunt was the youngest of my father’s siblings and one of my favorite aunts because she was a fun person. A quality I love in people, maybe because of people in my family like my aunt. She lived into her 80’s. She had a long and fairly healthy life. The last few years she developed Alzheimer disease. This only became apparent to the family about a year ago. She has been in a nursing home and for the last 48 hours under hospice care. Not bad, I think. She lived on her own for years, I could call her independent. She laughed a lot, had a player piano and collected rug beaters. She was married 3 times; divorced once and widowed twice. She always had a least 3 poodles which were her babies. She lived in East Dayton and no one could get her to leave her house, even though the neighborhood became a less than desirable place to live. We worried about her a lot.
Things I loved about her. She was one of the people responsible for me being an artist. When I was in 4th grade I did a watercolor and I showed it to her. She made over it and told the family I was an artist. I mean the all my aunts and uncles. She never had children of her own so she often brought my grandmother over to our house. All four of us West girls would go with my aunt and grandma to Big Boy and eat and, you know, misbehave. My Aunt taught me to shoot my straw. We would laugh the whole time we were there. We had a three slurp rule. We were only allowed to slurp our drinks three times. Do the math, multiply that by 6 and you see why we giggled our way through lunch. Then there was playing spoons and the Elephant Club, whose secret I am sworn by fear of death to not reveal. But if you want to join the Elephant Club in honor my Aunt Margaret I just must let you in, special.
We used to have lots of family picnics where we spit watermelon seeds (contest) and made homemade ice cream.
When I was in Ohio my dad took us to the gravesite to show me where my grandmother is buried and my Uncle Gene. There will be a graveside service on Saturday, so I have it in my mind where the family will be gathered.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
haiku
pressed
against
the window pane
she says shine
breathe remains
morning moon
jet trails
scratch
the cool azure
against
the window pane
she says shine
breathe remains
morning moon
jet trails
scratch
the cool azure
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Self Portraits and Healing
I am looking at old photos trying to find the first self portraits I did. I was going to write about art class until I ran across another woman on Flickr who is doing self portraits as a way of healing. There is a group of them I really want to find. I found one called “A Matter of Time” Interesting to me this week because this week marks several events in my life.
The other was a series from the Hebrews mixed media portrait. They were more deliberate self portraits. I remember being very awkward as I did them.
This one was one of the first. I was trying to catch the pain in my face. There was some release in the taking of the pictures. It was the beginning of trying to deal with what was going on in my life at the time. There wasn’t a lot of self honesty. This was an attempt to see behind the appearance I kept up. 
Then I am leaving this little exercise from this weekend. It captures feeling loved.
The other was a series from the Hebrews mixed media portrait. They were more deliberate self portraits. I remember being very awkward as I did them.
This one was one of the first. I was trying to catch the pain in my face. There was some release in the taking of the pictures. It was the beginning of trying to deal with what was going on in my life at the time. There wasn’t a lot of self honesty. This was an attempt to see behind the appearance I kept up.
Then I am leaving this little exercise from this weekend. It captures feeling loved.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Tuesday is Creative Writing Class
There is something about literature/compostion/creative writing type classes that the Lord seems to love to use to speak to me. I guess when he walked the earth he used parables, so a short story isn’t a stretch.
So tonight it wasn’t so much the stories we discussed as the discussion and just my general state of mind for the last few months which is close to confusion, an increasing sense of peace and both a giving up and a renewed effort. Confusion is maybe a poor word, because in the Christian culture I live in it is associated with evil thus, God is not a God of confusion. I beg to differ only because I totally KNOW he doesn’t explain Himself, at least not to me. Half the time I just don’t get Him. I am slow to process. I think faith walk is a walk in the dark. Sometimes without bearings maybe just the still small voice that say… be open to this… And I am off in a direction I never imagined or I have fought, just because I didn’t believe it was the direction God was leading me in… just a distraction.
Tonight he said rest… awhile. Maybe I will catch up on all the stuff in my head that I am trying to figure out… or maybe I will rest from figuring it out… because I can’t.
I won’t go into the story that one of my classmates wrote, but I will share part of my review of it. I was about the death of a child from a fatal inherited disease.
The care the father gave was imperfect and inadequate, because there was nothing he could do and he was such a wounded character that really when he turned to God there was a beautiful plea to God for life. There was nothing for the father to do, but he did something. His prayer was not answered. Then there was the burial which again was imperfect. It seemed to add to the father’s despair. The author left us with the father’s only solution, to drink, again an imperfect solution. The story is an expression of the knowledge that life is lived in a fallen broken world sometimes without answered prayers or answers to our whys.
Add to this how angry I was about another story I had to read which was so full of obscenities, spiritism, drug, and homosexuality. When I found out the story wasn’t finished I hit the ceiling and refused to read it again in order to review it. I did a harsh review of it.
When I got to class I realized who had written it. I had written a bad review of his last story for the same reason. There is something about this kid when you see him in person that tells me he has been dealt some very severe blows in life. I know from his countenance and stature that he is beat down and broken. I didn’t give him my review I handed his story back uncommented on. I hate what he wrote, but the Lord broke my heart for this kid. He has softened my heart towards some others too. But even more than that he showed me how guarded my heart is and how un connected I am to people. I am there, but not really connected, not like I used to. I used to invest emotionally in people. I haven’t done that. I have a few friends that I feel safe with, but everyone else I keep at a distance. I have been too wounded and sad to invest. Or maybe I had nothing to give having been devastated by the events of the last few years. As I have worked so hard to forgive and have had some measure of success by feeling the pain, I am also feeling other emotions. I am very emotional lately and trying to deal with it all, thus some of the confusion that I don’t want to call confusion… maybe just restoration.
How God brought all that out in class I don’t know, but it all fell into place as I walked through the place that God speaks and out to my car in the parking lot.
I need to let some people in my life. I have really been in isolation.
So tonight it wasn’t so much the stories we discussed as the discussion and just my general state of mind for the last few months which is close to confusion, an increasing sense of peace and both a giving up and a renewed effort. Confusion is maybe a poor word, because in the Christian culture I live in it is associated with evil thus, God is not a God of confusion. I beg to differ only because I totally KNOW he doesn’t explain Himself, at least not to me. Half the time I just don’t get Him. I am slow to process. I think faith walk is a walk in the dark. Sometimes without bearings maybe just the still small voice that say… be open to this… And I am off in a direction I never imagined or I have fought, just because I didn’t believe it was the direction God was leading me in… just a distraction.
Tonight he said rest… awhile. Maybe I will catch up on all the stuff in my head that I am trying to figure out… or maybe I will rest from figuring it out… because I can’t.
I won’t go into the story that one of my classmates wrote, but I will share part of my review of it. I was about the death of a child from a fatal inherited disease.
The care the father gave was imperfect and inadequate, because there was nothing he could do and he was such a wounded character that really when he turned to God there was a beautiful plea to God for life. There was nothing for the father to do, but he did something. His prayer was not answered. Then there was the burial which again was imperfect. It seemed to add to the father’s despair. The author left us with the father’s only solution, to drink, again an imperfect solution. The story is an expression of the knowledge that life is lived in a fallen broken world sometimes without answered prayers or answers to our whys.
Add to this how angry I was about another story I had to read which was so full of obscenities, spiritism, drug, and homosexuality. When I found out the story wasn’t finished I hit the ceiling and refused to read it again in order to review it. I did a harsh review of it.
When I got to class I realized who had written it. I had written a bad review of his last story for the same reason. There is something about this kid when you see him in person that tells me he has been dealt some very severe blows in life. I know from his countenance and stature that he is beat down and broken. I didn’t give him my review I handed his story back uncommented on. I hate what he wrote, but the Lord broke my heart for this kid. He has softened my heart towards some others too. But even more than that he showed me how guarded my heart is and how un connected I am to people. I am there, but not really connected, not like I used to. I used to invest emotionally in people. I haven’t done that. I have a few friends that I feel safe with, but everyone else I keep at a distance. I have been too wounded and sad to invest. Or maybe I had nothing to give having been devastated by the events of the last few years. As I have worked so hard to forgive and have had some measure of success by feeling the pain, I am also feeling other emotions. I am very emotional lately and trying to deal with it all, thus some of the confusion that I don’t want to call confusion… maybe just restoration.
How God brought all that out in class I don’t know, but it all fell into place as I walked through the place that God speaks and out to my car in the parking lot.
I need to let some people in my life. I have really been in isolation.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Tying up my day with some writing…
I am in a Sunday school class now and we are studying Hebrews. This is one on the first mixed media pieces I did in what is now called my Faith Series. It is entitled “Once and For All.” It represents a struggle I had in accepting not that I was saved, but that I can be forgiven. The truth is Christ died once for all and He died for me. And the blood of Jesus is applied to me.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
A Direct Quote
A woman I write devotionals for, an adjunct professor at a women’s college in North Carolina and a pastor’s wife, gave me a book to read a long while back. I have very, very strange reading habits that have been made stranger by the fact I am in school and have very little extra time to read what I want.
I have been reading the book she gave me for more than a year and finally came across why she gave me the book. She has been a dear and published some very heart wrenching devotionals and tucked most of them under the category of healing. She believes in it. In the meantime I want to write devotionals on victory, contentment, progress… anything but woundedness. But because I am obnoxiously straight forward, I haven’t written much like that.
I am dealing with what I am dealing with and it involves forgiveness as I encounter “triggers” that bring up memories that wound. I am not in control of this. I am doing the best I can. Recently the nature of the triggers has changed, also the responses. I have these very strong emotional currents that surface with these triggers. A kind word, something beautiful… really good things make me weep. There is something going on that I don’t understand, but it is powerful and healing. I feel a little wacked. But I think because I am aware of the phenomenon and I almost observe it and allow it, it doesn’t control me or even lead me to conclusions, it just is.
The passage… but I can’t explain how it relates to what I just wrote or the painting and the response to the painting I had on Saturday. I think if I tried to label this it wouldn’t do it justice and I would say, wacked.
From When Heaven Invades Earth, Bill Johnson, page 114.
About a spiritual experience he was having…
I didn’t know of anyone who would believe this was from God. I recalled Jacob and his encounter with the angel of the Lord. He limped for the rest of his life. And then there was Mary, the mother of Jesus. She had an experience with God not even her fiancee believed, although a visit from an angel helped to change his mind. As a result she bore the Christ child… and then bore a stigma for the remainder of her days as the mother of an illegitimate child. It was beginning to become clear; the favor of God sometimes looks different from the perspective of earth than from heaven. My request for more of God carried a price.
Tears began to soak my pillowcase as I remembered the prayers of the previous months and contrasted them with the scenes that just passed through my mind. At the forefront was the realization that God wanted to make an exchange – his increased presence for my dignity. It’s difficult to explain how you know the purpose of such an encounter. All I can say is you just know. You know His purpose so clearly that every other reality fades into the shadows as God puts His finger in the one thing that matters to Him.
I have been reading the book she gave me for more than a year and finally came across why she gave me the book. She has been a dear and published some very heart wrenching devotionals and tucked most of them under the category of healing. She believes in it. In the meantime I want to write devotionals on victory, contentment, progress… anything but woundedness. But because I am obnoxiously straight forward, I haven’t written much like that.
I am dealing with what I am dealing with and it involves forgiveness as I encounter “triggers” that bring up memories that wound. I am not in control of this. I am doing the best I can. Recently the nature of the triggers has changed, also the responses. I have these very strong emotional currents that surface with these triggers. A kind word, something beautiful… really good things make me weep. There is something going on that I don’t understand, but it is powerful and healing. I feel a little wacked. But I think because I am aware of the phenomenon and I almost observe it and allow it, it doesn’t control me or even lead me to conclusions, it just is.
The passage… but I can’t explain how it relates to what I just wrote or the painting and the response to the painting I had on Saturday. I think if I tried to label this it wouldn’t do it justice and I would say, wacked.
From When Heaven Invades Earth, Bill Johnson, page 114.
About a spiritual experience he was having…
I didn’t know of anyone who would believe this was from God. I recalled Jacob and his encounter with the angel of the Lord. He limped for the rest of his life. And then there was Mary, the mother of Jesus. She had an experience with God not even her fiancee believed, although a visit from an angel helped to change his mind. As a result she bore the Christ child… and then bore a stigma for the remainder of her days as the mother of an illegitimate child. It was beginning to become clear; the favor of God sometimes looks different from the perspective of earth than from heaven. My request for more of God carried a price.
Tears began to soak my pillowcase as I remembered the prayers of the previous months and contrasted them with the scenes that just passed through my mind. At the forefront was the realization that God wanted to make an exchange – his increased presence for my dignity. It’s difficult to explain how you know the purpose of such an encounter. All I can say is you just know. You know His purpose so clearly that every other reality fades into the shadows as God puts His finger in the one thing that matters to Him.
Friday, March 27, 2009
That would be me.
Getting ready to watch a film, the Girl with a Pearl Earring. I came home from work and after I helped Scott get ready for Dnow in Oklahoma and SNOW, I took a nap. I woke up at 9:30 and thought it was morning. I hate that feeling like who am I and what am I doing here?
Just a fun story tonight. We have so many elderly people come in because it is Richardson and the neighborhoods haven’t turn over quite yet. There is a lady I love who sells Avon. She is a pastor’s wife who is about 75. Every other week she comes into the shop to fax her order in. This week she tells me that since I have seen her last she has fallen into the Rio Grande.
See I like that, a woman after my own heart I tell her. She went rafting with the Senior Center on a trip to Big Bend. The raft hit a rock and she bounced out of the raft into the river. She told me after her rescue her guide said, “I want you to know you went over with a smile!”
That would be me.
Then another lady came in who is more my age. We were talking and I found out her daughter was in the TVAA High School art show at UTD and won an award. That is just exciting to hear a parent talk about the effect the show had on her daughter. She home schools the daughter, but has private art lessons for her because art recently became an emerging interest. The show helped solidify her decision to attend Austin College in art. I told the mom to have her daughter attend the opening next week of Art of the Everyday because one of the artists in the show is a professor there.
I love all these connections.
Art of the Everyday Art Exhibition Opening Reception
Apr 3(6:30 - 9 p.m.)
Location: Visual Arts Gallery
Part II: March 27 - May 2, 2009The University of Texas at Dallasartist reception: April 3, Friday, 6:30 - 9:00 pm
How very weird... that film is my story.
Just a fun story tonight. We have so many elderly people come in because it is Richardson and the neighborhoods haven’t turn over quite yet. There is a lady I love who sells Avon. She is a pastor’s wife who is about 75. Every other week she comes into the shop to fax her order in. This week she tells me that since I have seen her last she has fallen into the Rio Grande.
See I like that, a woman after my own heart I tell her. She went rafting with the Senior Center on a trip to Big Bend. The raft hit a rock and she bounced out of the raft into the river. She told me after her rescue her guide said, “I want you to know you went over with a smile!”
That would be me.
Then another lady came in who is more my age. We were talking and I found out her daughter was in the TVAA High School art show at UTD and won an award. That is just exciting to hear a parent talk about the effect the show had on her daughter. She home schools the daughter, but has private art lessons for her because art recently became an emerging interest. The show helped solidify her decision to attend Austin College in art. I told the mom to have her daughter attend the opening next week of Art of the Everyday because one of the artists in the show is a professor there.
I love all these connections.
Art of the Everyday Art Exhibition Opening Reception
Apr 3(6:30 - 9 p.m.)
Location: Visual Arts Gallery
Part II: March 27 - May 2, 2009The University of Texas at Dallasartist reception: April 3, Friday, 6:30 - 9:00 pm
How very weird... that film is my story.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
haiku
fatigue
at the edge
fog makes the city strange
eyes closed
piecing together
what was said
jeweled leaves
beaded
with rain
a note
in his hand
tattered at the edges
at the edge
fog makes the city strange
eyes closed
piecing together
what was said
jeweled leaves
beaded
with rain
a note
in his hand
tattered at the edges
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Art
If I were going to post today, it would look like a grocery list because I am so tired. But I actually have a lot of interesting thoughts in my head that might actually connect if I could get 7 hours of sleep.
We learned about installation tonight in class. It is very much like graphic design.
Also just for fun when the man from the big press came to pick up the brochure files my boss and I decided to tell him we wanted the printing done Thurday and be just like our customers. It felt so good to be that obnoxious.
We are totally over worked this week, but it is good. We had six pretty bad months, but things are better, as far as work flow. I am getting to do some neat stuff. This week I got some print pieces for my portfolio.
I didn't remember to buy a new umbrella. So I use my broken one tonight. LOL.
I feel like I need to place a photo here. I will do this random things, let's see what I can find.
This is a paper folding I made with Shannon in mind. "beauty for ashes, a garment of praise for my heaviness." She used to pray this scripture for me.
Isaiah 61:3
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.
haiku for a rainy day
wisteria over
the top of the wall
fragrant
sparrows
pattern the sky
with flight
storm clouds
tip
the lone oak
wind
with
my coffee
the top of the wall
fragrant
sparrows
pattern the sky
with flight
storm clouds
tip
the lone oak
wind
with
my coffee
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