Hope Springs

Hope Springs 

I look outside and I wonder if I have lost them all

Vines, plants, bushes tended and laboured over with love, 

Life seems utterly sucked out of them. 

Wind battered, frost bit, brittle they look back at me with pale face. 

Look again, my child.  

I hear the Gardener's quiet whisper. 

Do you see the green?  

I lean close.  I search and look with my pale face and aging eyes. 

Just barely.   Ever so slight, I see the smallest green bud appearing.

Amidst the woody, lost-looking bits, I see life. 

Can these dry bones live?  He whispers

My heart yields, 'Only You know, Lord!?'  

Later, as if a reminder, the song wafts through my speakers.  

This soul-singer speaks of his furrowed, torn-open-heart. 

My heart nods an emphathic "yes" in recognition. 

I, too, feel a bit battered and worn.   

Ripped holes makes space for seed, he sings. 

Will what looks so-very-dead rise again?  

Do you see the green?  I hear the whisper, again. 

I look and see this smallest spark of life and I will hope.  

"Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, 

but in every leaf in springtime"

~ Martin Luther

Andrew Peterson's The Sower's Song 

How are you, you ask...

How Are you, you ask...

There are swirls deep inside

Emotions lash and tug 

Lifting and lowering 

I don't understand.

Maybe understanding isn't the point.  

Like the wind today, from which way does it blow? 

It propels leaves up and brings trees down

I don't understand.  

Maybe understanding isn't the point. 

How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?  

I Protest

I was listening to Sara Groves, "Why It Matters", this morning... 

And... I had an epiphany.  

Why it Matters

Funny word... epiphany.  Sounds so BIG or so WOW.  But, actually, it usually comes very quietly and very softly.  It's an awakening.  It's simple awareness.  While listening to this ode to creativity written by Sara Groves twenty years ago, I became keenly aware of why I blog, why I paint, ...maybe why I live my every single day.  I guess that is big-awareness!

I wrote Why I Blog in August, 2011...  ten years ago.  In that post, I explore my need and desire to connect and be known.  This was why I started blogging.  This need and hunger to be known is still in me, of course.  But, I am realising that through the years, my motivation and reason for blogging is different now.  Or, at least, 'added to'.  Yes, I want you to know me and I need a place to process what God is doing in my life.  But, NOW...  I find that my blog is a bit of a protest.  

Yep, a place of protest.  

In my small way, in this very small place...  I protest.   I protest the darkness and hopelessness that seems to invade our every day lives with songs and sounds of death, destruction, and theft.  I long to speak life, creation, and generosity.  

I protest the idea that Christians are stupid/silly, ignorant, bigoted, and hypocritical.  I long to speak of wisdom and truth.  I want to write about the true things that invade my life.  I long to speak of where I see the truest things--- beauty, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness and sacrificial love--- invading the world all around me.  I protest with my desire to be authentic and vulnerable here.  I want to share struggle and pain and triumph and ambiguity--- all of which are the reality of most of the Christians I know.   I don't have all the answers at all!  I have a journey to walk.  I protest with my offerings of my own journey into being loved and loving others with Christ's unfailing, unbounded love.  

Am I sometimes very stupid/silly?  Ignorant? Bigoted? and Hypocritical… yes, of course!  We all are.  You are, too.  But, you and I are SO SO much more than that.  And, certainly that is not even close to ALL that I am.   So, I protest to these labels over me and over the thousands of Christians world wide--- spread far across cultures, denominations, generations, and this beautiful globe.  

I protest.   

I protest the idea that music, art, and writing must always be perfect like a photo, or always moody and dark, or only ever filled with happiness.   I protest!  I want to write about the real things.  My blog is full of questions, wrestling, dark frustrations, light moments, and bold truths that I still struggle to fully live out.   Our lives, ...our real lives... are so multi coloured! 

I protest that small things don't matter.  I protest that only things that ----cost much, or are 'liked much', or are 'celebrated' or are held up and noted---  that only these things matter.  This small place.  This very small life.  My life.  And, yours... they matter.  

I believe it matters that when I smiled yesterday on my walk... making every effort to pass by each individual, look them in the eyes, and smile.  I believe that THAT matters.  It certainly mattered to me.  And, I believe that it matters to them.  Their small lives. 

Because, I know that each life is small.  ...even the celebrated ones.  But, each life, each and every single life matters!  I believe that each one of us was created on purpose inside our mother's womb.  You.  Me.  Every.  One.  

So, I protest here.  

Like Sara Groves sings--- thank you Sara for again singing my soul----  "tell me of the beauty of the beauty...  speak to me until I understand...  like a rampart for the soul... like a single cup of water...  why it matters!"  

I want to be known, yes. 

But, I also want to speak of the beauty of the beauty.  I want to offer you, my friends, my sister, my brother, ...and those I do not know that read here...  I offer you this single cup of water:  

God is so very, very good.  He is powerful and knows all.  God is faithful.  His love endures forever.  He is love.  He acts in love.  His very nature is love.  His justice is love.  His justice is right and righteous.  He is active and alive.  He offers peace.  He gives us all we need for joy.  He speaks and wants to speak to His people.  He is making and continues to make...   

May these words be a cup of water for your soul today. 

Let us, my friends... add to the beauty and offer a small cup of water to each other!!  

Unfinished Beauty

It always starts with a vision of beauty. 

Something strikes me as beautiful and I want to paint it!  

In my mind's eye, I can always envision the breath-taking 'could be' and I dive in...  sketching, laying it out, choosing the colours.  

Step by step, I paint.  

Every single time I paint, I am aware of how my skills fall so very short of my vision.  What is so remarkable in Creation... that cloud, those colours, that shade...  it never quite matches or lives up to the beauty that I desire to represent.  

                                    But... still.  Step by step, I paint.  

As I have been painting now a few short years, I have learned that patience is a key ingredient.  Grace, also is needed...  where there is a wrong stroke or a wrong colour...  grace and creativity are needed to compensate and shift.  

God reminds me today that I am His masterpiece...  his 'poema' (Greek word in Ephesians 2:10).  His poem!  He is writing, and painting, and creating me continuously.  

Just as I sketch with a vision--- so He sees Stephanie as she will be, should be, ...is.  He starts with a sketch.  His ways are perfect.  His skills masterful.  His ways good.

Just as I paint this bit, then that bit, waiting, ...layering and adding.  Shading and shifting.  Taking mistakes and turning them with my brush into purposeful strokes...  So, He is constantly "completing His good work in me" (Philippians 1:6)  

These paintings of mine... they aren't done yet.  So much can be added to or 'fixed' or tweaked... 

I am not done yet.  

I am not done yet.  Or, shall I say... He is not done with me yet!

He is not done painting.  The story is not over.  The poem is not complete.  He still has much colour to add, much shading to do... 

I am reminded that He always starts with a vision of beauty.   Knit together in my mother's womb, on purpose, I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  All my days planned, known, and shaped by His love.  (Psalm 139). 

You, too.  He sees.  He is shading.  He is working.  He is painting. 

Every. Single. One of us.  

His poema.  His masterpiece.  His loved, beloved creation.  

Lean in and let Him have His way.  Tell Him you want Him to continue to make you a thing of beauty.  

It always begins with a vision of beauty!  

Go Looking For It!

I live in a country where it rains a lot.  I mean... it seriously rains...  a ...lot.    

An awful lot!

Growing up in California, where it is daily 75 degrees and sunny, this can still be hard for me from time to time.  

One thing I have learned in these 10+ years in this rainy land is---that with rain comes the opportunity for a rainbow!  One never knows when it will come...  but, with rain comes the hope.   Without rain, rainbows aren't even a possibility!  

I have a funny habit that has developed over the years.  When it starts to rain, I go looking for the rainbow.  Today, instinctively, when the downpour started, I ran to front window and then to the back window--- feeling like a child looking for Santa's sleigh in the sky.  

At the back window, I could feel my heart drop just a bit.  I was disappointed when no rainbow was found.  But, ...then I had this inclination...  this whisper in my heart...  Just wait a minute.  

So, I waited.  A minute...  such a short time.  But, it took effort.  Waiting is not easy for any of us.  

Then it appeared.

The waited for...  it appeared.  My rainbow.  It felt personal.  Such a beautiful result of rain.  

My rainbow!

This rainbow doesn't distract from the reality that with rain comes mud--- oh! so much yuck, muck and mud.  With rain comes mould, mildew, sickness, slippery walk ways and bone-chilling-cold--- oh! such deep cold.  The rainbow doesn't take away from the 'yuck' that comes with so much rain.  

The beauty found in any moment doesn't lessen the pain.  But it adds to...  It adds some joy to the equation.  The equation now includes breath-taking, moving, dramatic skies, sound of rushing and pelting water, and green fields that stay green all year round.   Reality is balanced by these moments of joy.  

One small moment.  

I could have missed it, if I hadn't gone looking for it.  

Looking.  And waiting.  I waited in hope.  

It's been a 'rainy' year--- this 2020, hasn't it?  And, 2021...  is deep in muck and mud.  Our nightly news is bone-chilling with no end in sight.  

Join me in looking for the shadows in the skies as an artist might look.  Look for the green fields of strength and endurance in each other.  Listen for the sounds of life amidst the pain.   They are there.  I promise.  

Promise.  

Let's look--- hope and wait for the rainbows.  We have no promise they will come today. But, we can always hunt for them.  Hunt and look with me, today, will you?  

------

Yep... I have written on this topic A LOT!  Here...  and here...   I guess it's still impacting me today.  Nothing new under the sun--- especially rainbows!

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #35 Farmers Words

 The Farmer's Words

Something is always wrong with the sheep, 

the farmer says with disdainful tone.

Their feet, their bums, ever lost or caught.

Would never make it on their own.

Funny that He calls me sheep,

Rumbles of laughter fill my soul.

My body, my will, often lost or caught.

My freedom is found in His control. 

Something is always wrong with this sheep.

This truth sits like a wisdom crown.

My shepherd, my farmer, my gardener, my friend.

Watched by Him, I'm safely found.  

Written November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #34 Painting Clouds

 Painting Clouds

I simply can't paint you. 

I try and I struggle. 

But you will not be held or captured. 

I can not pin you down.

Your splendour and majesty.

Your brilliance of colour and depth.

Your movement and grace.

Your diversity and changeability.

I cannot capture you with my brush.

An argument I will never win.

A venture that has no end.

Wrestling Leviathan or a fight with the sea.

I try.  I struggle.

I attempt new techniques. 

New colours and strokes.

I shift and shade.

My skills are lacking, to be sure.

Yet, I am convinced that even if...

If I had the skills of the masters, 

I could never paint you.

Vangough's brilliant use of colour, 

his light and shadows...

He failed to paint you.  

To paint you truly. 

You have been painted already.

Made, altered, mastered...

by the Master, Himself. 

He that pulls the great beast with a hook.

He that wrestles the waves.

He that says, thus far and no more!

He has painted you perfectly.

Displayed His magnificent skills!

November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #31 Tree Symphony

 Tree Symphony

Sounds like rolling laughter

The trees shout and rejoice.

They dance and sing, 

wild movements inspired

by wind and worship.

One high note rings, 

One low bass resounds.

The symphony of celebration

surrounds and engulfs.

Enchanted and uplifted,

I raise my voice.

I lift my hands.

I join the song and the dance! 

"Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them;

Let all the trees of the forest sing for joy! Let all creation rejoice!"

Psalms 96:12

Written October 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page#20 Hidden

 Hidden

The tide rolls in and covers.

Boulders and stones lay beneath.

Hidden. Unseen.

Beneath movement and thick deep

Cities and stadiums of structure stand.

Hidden. Unseen.

Give it time!  The tide will shift again.

These rocks and foundations will be revealed

Opened and on display.

"For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, 

and nothing concealed that will not be known

and brought out into the open."

Luke 8:17

Hallelujah and Praise Him for His mercy and unfailing love.  

Hesed  חֶסֶד‎!  

Written October 2020

Reminds me of this post from 2009

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #20 Midnight Call

 Middle of the Night Call

 A nudge.

A gentle tap.

3 am invitation comes again.

I roll over.

Pull covers up tight.

Certainly the clouds are too thick tonight, Lord.

A whisper.

A small thought.

'I want to show you, again!'

Another gentle nudge.

A push and a tap in my mind.

Barely conscious I am waking.

Doubt-filled thoughts.  

Questions rise.

This second-guess girl wonders at crazy midnight ideas.

Oh!  But, the tug.  

Now, the pull. 

With little expectation, I yank myself out of bed. 

Grab the coat

But, oh!, it's so very cold, Lord!

I slowly wander outside. 

Startled. 

Instant awe.  

I am shocked to my very core.

Dark clouds drawn back.

Opened like heavy curtains.

Pushed right to the edge of the earth.

Stars on display.

His masterpiece.

Singing His glory again!

Arrayed in majesty.

A picture of love.

Arranged by the greatest artist of all time.

To think! He invited me!

His hands pushed the clouds back.

Did He smile big that night?

When next will He call? 

Will I respond?

Will you listen?

"By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, their starry host by the breath of His mouth" Psalm 33:6

Written August 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #18 Stargazing

Stargazing

Middle of the night rendezvous

I wait for Your call.

Step through the dark

Into the glory of light.

Tiptoe out. 

Don't wake the neighbours!

Wait.  Watch.

Tears fill my eyes.

Tiny. Bright. Distant dance.

Beauty and majesty touch my soul.

Spread out like a tapestry

You made these with Your word.

A still, yet moving, work of art.

Your heart shouts with a thousand lights.

Written July 2020

Jeremiah 31:35  This is what the LORD says, he who appoints the sun to shine by day, who decrees the moon and stars to shine by night, who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar-- the LORD Almighty is his name!

 

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #13 The Sky

The Sky

It reaches.

It covers beyond what I can see.

Beyond what I can even imagine

'Stretched out like a canopy'  

Dark, deep, high, vast

A space of stillness---

a moon, set in place

stars in their home.

Reality of movement, phases

Lifting and lowering.  

And dancing 

...so much dancing!

Stillness, yet so much motion. 

Clouds that shift and sway. 

Layers of profound stillness.  Layers of movement. 

Still one moment, swift the next. 

Colours and shadows

Depth and variety

A different portrait each day.

Moment after moment

It holds a welcome for all.

Welcome to gaze and behold!

Always the same and ever changing.

Simple; yet with complexities I can not comprehend.

Beyond what I can even imagine. 

It reaches.  It covers.

He 'spread it out like a tent'. 

It wraps us, a shelter and a wonder. 

"Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: who created all these?" Isaiah 40

Written July 2020

 

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #12 Mrs. Tree

 

Mrs. Tree

Old, rugged, worn. 

How long have you been there, Mrs. Tree?

You stand so tall, so very stable. 

As new growth climbs and entwines, 

encircling itself in and around you.

You seem untouched.  Firmly fixed.

What have you heard, Mrs. Tree? 

The comings and the goings of life.

The laughter, tears, cries and triumphs.

Building up all around you.

Breaking down, falls and rubble.

Days and years passing.

Have you felt the sadness? 

Or, rejoiced in the triumph?

Have you felt the frustrations?

Have you pondered or considered why?

How long have you watched as your friends, 

your neighbours are destroyed? 

What have you seen?

Generations come and go.

Littles run around your feet,

Aged rest in your shadow.

The young carve their hearts' intentions.

Who has noticed you?

Old and new.

Ancient and aged being replaced.

Yet, you remain still.

Years after years. 

What was, is no more. 

What is, will always be.

How many winds have run through your branches, 

How many rains have rustled your leaves, 

torn and tugged at you... made you dance?  

Do you worship while you sway?

Do you know the hands and mind that made you?

Do you 'laugh at the days to come'?

How long will you be there, Mrs. Tree?

My time will have come and long gone by, I am certain. 

Yet, there you are.  Old, worn and rough.

Steadfast and sturdy.

With 'strength and dignity'.

There you will be.  

Written July 2020

Proverbs 31

"For as the days of a tree, so will be the days of my people" Isaiah 65:22

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #8 The Moon Again

 

The Moon Again

I watch for you each evening. 

Waiting and wondering.

Like a child longing for dessert,

When is dinner time over?  

How many peas must I eat first?

I anticipate. 

I wonder and wait...

when will the dark become 

dark enough!

Enough to reveal your glory.

Each night I see a different sight

A new shade and perspective. 

Light reflected, revealed, radiating. 

Or tonight... covered, shroud, hidden. 

Yesterday's dusk brought deep, dark clouds 

Across my vista, shadows swept thick with movement

Dense with a heaviness that slowed their race overhead.

Each step they took across the sky laboured.

I waited.  I watched. 

Wondering if I would see you when these dark ones parted.

As the clouds trudged through the murk of the evening sky

I wanted...

Willing just one glimpse... 

One quick view of your face. 

For I knew you were there.  

Even if hidden.

You are always there.

Positioned there long ago, 

you remain.  

Not yet shaken, always firm in place.  

I know you are there.

Now, I watch for you every evening.   

Written June 2020

...reminds me of this post from March 2012

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #6 "The Moon"

 

The Moon

How many phases have passed in my 47 years?

Sliced and thin

Hung... tilted precariously on it's side. 

Nursery rhymes and children's books tug at my mind.  

Beauty revealed.

I feel wonder rise up.  

He moves and shifts upward. 

His head almost tilted.  

The veil pulled back only just so.

Will I see his eye?  

Tonight?  

Each episode new sights.

Each stage, a fresh wonder.

Half here tonight.  

Only half and yet so very brilliant!

Flanked by stars that feel so distant. 

He looks almost close. 

If I could only just reach out.  

Maybe... just maybe...  

Why is this the first time I've seen, 

or watched?  

Why is the first time I have waited to see his brilliance each night?  

Evening comes.  I will and urge the sky to be clear, 

longing for a sleepless vigil.

Tomorrow night, where will he be?  What state will I find his face?  

47 years

 I have never taken the time.  

I have never noticed, never seen, never watched and wondered.

  

Google tells me I have had 611 opportunities. 

Six hundred and eleven phases I have missed. 

Well, today I see.  Now.  I see. 

This chapter... turn the page... 

I will anticipate.  

 I will watch and wonder.  

I will let the joy linger.  

 I will crawl up on my Father's lap and let Him read this book.    

Will anyone join me?  

Written May 2020

 

Let's Dance Again

You know that moment when you are smiling so much, your face starts to ache just a bit?

I felt the ache in my cheeks the other night.  I sat, smiled, and watched them with deep joy.

How many were they?  Thirty?  Forty kiddos?  Up on stage...  standing in-front of a room of 250---some proud parents, aunties and uncles, and many they would not know.   Most of the audience friendly strangers. These kids of all ages were singing and dancing with all their might!   They sang song after song about Jesus--- His love and grace, His faithfulness and goodness.  Loud voices.  Full attention.  They sang out with their whole hearts.  They gave it their all.

Each song had movements.  Each child did the movements with their "stamp"---their personality.  Some made quiet, small movements. Some kiddos made exaggerated and beautifully flamboyant moves.  Some had hands, legs, faces all in sync.  They were perfectly orchestrated with the music.  You might say these were "on fleek"!   Others---little ones and bigger ones--- hardly managed the choreographed movements at all... they just danced.  Smiles.  Jumping.  Swaying.  Shuffling their little feet.

They performed with joy and freedom and so much fun!  It was pure delight to behold.

While I watched, I had a recurring thought which became a prayer:  When do we loose this?  When did we loose this, Lord?

When does this dancing, jumping, laughing, smiling, singing get lost?  Why don't we do this anymore when we sing of You?  

I began to pray these questions... When did I loose this unhindered joy in moving my body and singing songs for you?  What hinders me in worshiping You like this, Lord?  

As I watched and prayed, everything in me wanted to jump on stage and sing along.  Dance along.  I wanted to join them!

I know the stories that many of these kids walk.  I am aware of pain in their journey.  I know they don't live perfect lives, or in perfect families.  But, still... still...  this night they brought their whole bodies, hearts, and minds on stage and performed with exuberance.

Most faces in the crowd smiled.  Even the older teenagers--- this freedom already lost for most of them--- sat and watched with cheek-aching grins.

Joy begets joy.  Worship begets worship!

Father, I want some of it back!  What I lost... whenever it was... I want to know this childlike faith and purity again.  I want to worship You with my whole body, my whole heart, and all of me.  Teach me to join them in song.  Today... and moving forward.  "Let everything that has breath praise the Lord" (Psalm 150:6).  

"They should praise Him with dancing, they should praise Him with tambourines and harps!"  (Psalm 149:3)

Loved Even More Than Birdie

Every day, without fail, he comes to the window.

How he knows I am awake or how long he has been watching for me... only God knows!  My little friend---Mr. Black Bird.  Or, "Birdie" as we fondly refer to him.

Early each morning, I stumble downstairs and find myself a glass of water.  First things first...I am just trying to wake up!  And, without fail, Birdie flies over to my kitchen window.  He turns his head left, then right, trying to see me more clearly... I think.  Then he chirps.  Sometimes silently, just an open mouth chirp, like you might imagine from a young bird opening to his mother.  Sometimes he offers some soft sound. He is coming for food.  Raisins, to be exact.  (I have offered him alternatives without success)  His early morning cheeky begging for raisins is one of my great joys each morning.  I can hardly express the happiness it gives me to see him fly over---almost like he is announcing, "You're here!".

I adore his "feed me" eagerness and persistence.  I can walk around the kitchen for half an hour and he will wait.  Turning his head left, then right.  Mouth open.  Waiting.  Expecting.  He knows...  He just knows I can't resist him.  Too cute for words.

This was the keen picture which came to my mind today.  I was praying and telling God how thankful I was for His grand abundance of provision in my life.  There is so much He has given me---eyes that work, ears that hear, feet that function, a roof keeping off this horrid rain, a warm bed, food in abundance, and so so much more.  How can I even begin to articulate the gifts of goodness the Lord provides!?  I was in a moment of profound gratefulness... when this clear image of Birdie popped into my mind.

As I was prayerfully curious about the picture, I could sense God wanting to show Himself--- His heart.  This.  This, Stephanie, is how I feel about you. 

Like a flash, I had the thought that God loves to give.  ...No, not only loves...   God loves AND delights to give His kids good gifts.  It makes Him thoroughly happy when we come to Him for our food.  When we daily look for Him, wait for Him, and when we expect good things from His hand.  The joy I feel when I feed Birdie--- this.  This is how God feels about us.  We can bring Him joy.  You and me.  The thought of bringing joy and delight to God is truly staggering; and, certainly Biblical.

"You are precious in my eyes.... and I love you." (Isaiah 43:4)

"God the Father will give good gifts to those who ask Him." (Matthew 7:11)

"The Lord Almighty will take great delight in you..." (Zephaniah 3:17)

The verses are endless.  If you look for the heart of God---Old Testament and New--- you will see the heart of love, delight, and determination on God's part to give goodness to His people.

Lord, thank You for your daily provision for me.  You give me so many things... and even "raisins" (what I like!).  Keep my heart ready and waiting for You each day.  May I run to Your word and wait in anticipation for Your filling and feeding.  You delight to give me good things!  Your food is my hearts greatest desire, I know.  Keep me eager and persistent and ever looking for it---and looking for You.  

Every day.  Without fail.  I want to come to you and wait expectantly.

Creativity Unleashed and the Battle Rages

In an effort to incorporate and 'lean into' a bit more fun in my life, I began watercolor painting in June.  I am enjoying the process and have been painting frequently--- in some cases even losing track of time (which never happens in my life!).

On a side note, that is a definition of 'fun' I once heard.  "Fun is when you are doing something and loose track of time".  According to this definition, I never have fun and my husband is absolutely always having fun!!  Which may or may not be true.

Joking aside, I am indeed having fun!  But, I can honestly say that this fun has had it's challenges and the enjoyment is often under siege.  Let me explain.

I don't think I am alone when it comes to a perfectionistic tendency.  I know that the critical voices, and the judgmental reality and struggle, come alongside any type of creativity.  I have yet to meet one author, one visual artist, dancer, singer, or musician that hasn't had their own battle.  The fierce fight with thoughts of all sorts...'didn't hit that note','missed that step', 'could be a bit more profound', 'doesn't look quite right'...   Judgment seems pretty constant when trying to create.

These negative voices have been loud and intense at times.  Just to be clear, by and large, the 'voices' I am talking about are almost always and exclusively in my head.  ...the inner critic, some call it.  The imagined judgment.  Or, the very real criticism that Stephanie has of Stephanie's work.  She can be really, really mean.

The other day I tore up, ripped in half, a piece of art I had been working on for a week.  I was fed up with the painting and threw it away.  When I told my son, he said (with this tongue firmly in his cheek) "Mom, are you going to cut off your ear any time soon?" (think:  Van Gogh)  No, son... I am not!  I laughed at his words and appreciated his reference.  But, here's the deal.  Creativity can be really hard.  Why am I so mean to myself?

It wasn't long ago--- even a few years ago---that I was in adamant, verbal denial of my creative abilities, at all.  "I am not a creative person", I would say to my husband.  He disagreed just as adamantly as I denied the fact.  I finally understand that every human being, being created in the likeness of our Father, is 'creative' by nature.  We create all the time, just as He creates all the time.  Call it cooking, baking, email, organization...  Call it what you like, we---as beings---create.  We are made to create beautiful, wonderful, and new things every single day.

Anyway, so... yes, I am creative.  So are you.  But, unlike God--- I create imperfectly.  And, there lies the rub.  I have been wrestling within this battle, indeed, as I paint, or write, or speak... sometime even when I cook!

Is my Father judging my picture?  Is He pointing out the flaws in the brush strokes or angle?  No!  By no means!  We, ourselves, are better parents than that, right?  What do we do when our children bring us their art work? We oooo and we ahhh and we enjoy the beauty they create--- pasting it to our refrigerators and posting it to our walls!

Why?  Why are we so mean to ourselves?  I know I am not alone.

Yesterday another friend voiced her creative struggle.  With deep frustration she blurted out, "But... I keep thinking... what is the point?  Why am I even doing this?  What does it produce?"

She vocalized a second problem and battlefield within creativity:  pragmatism.

Second to perfectionism is the issue of pragmatism.  Ah... the modern idea that everything has to be useful or practical.  And, if I am anything, I am practical--- practical to a fault.

My watercolor paintings have very little (if any) use.  Okay, yes,... to ease this discomfort, I have made a few birthday cards.  That's practical!  But, really, I now own a pile---ever deepening pile--- of 'useless' paintings.  Sunsets, buildings, landscapes, flowers.  Why?  For what purpose?

Oh the battle rages!

Immediately when she said those words in frustration, I understood.  I deeply understood.  But, on the heels of the understanding was---literally--- a picture of a bright flower in a field of wild flowers, followed by the image of a giraffe.  A flower and a giraffe.  That's what came to mind.  Flower... bright and beautiful.  Here today and gone tomorrow.  Why?  What purpose is that splash of color?  And, a giraffe...  why?  So creative and so weird and ...fun and bold and bright.  Beautiful.  Why?

So, as the creation battle continues to rage, I will press in and lean into the fun.  I will make color on page... I tell myself.  I am creative, just like my God.  He splashes color on a page every single day.  So can I.

I will paint the weird, fun, bold and bright.  And, like a child... I can do this for no "purpose" and my Father can enjoy it, in all it's imperfection.

As a beluga whale was made to swim.  I was made to create.  So, create I must!  And, maybe, just maybe I will have fun and loose track of time.

Okay, God... let's have some FUN

A few months ago, as I was being prayed for, a brother felt he heard God whisper the word Fun into his heart.  After the prayer time, he approached me and said he felt God wanted me to have more fun in my life---especially in this season of transition with my children launching into the world and out of my nest.  He then asked me a pointed question, "What is fun for you?"

I was dumbstruck.  The feeling of utter confusion must have wafted across my face... because he laughed out loud.  "Ah!" he said, "That is probably where you need to start!"

I have been a wife for nearly 25 years and a mother for 20 years.   Almost half my life I have had the privilege of nurturing and raising two amazing children.  I have worked part time from home and we chose to home educate, as well; and so... my time has been very much all about them.  I truly don't regret this in any way, shape, or form.  I feel blessed by this truth.  But, when it comes to fun for me... well, ...I just didn't have an answer.  The question actually felt strange in my ear and hard for my heart to comprehend.  I know what is fun for my husband.  I know what is fun for my son and my daughter.

In all honesty, I am not sure I could have answered this question even 25 years ago.  'Fun' doesn't come naturally to me... I don't 'do' 'fun for me'.  Or at least, that is how it felt.

I began to pray.  What IS fun for me, Lord? Lord, help me know myself.

My 'go-to' solution to any dilemma is to pray and then read.  When in doubt, I say, read a book!  On the heels of this prayer time, a friend 'just so happened' to send me a book about the God-given creativity in every human being, The Soul Tells a Story by Vanita Hampton Wright.  I wondered if creativity and fun went together?  So... why not... I picked it up and gave it a go.  Maybe God would begin to answer my question in this way...

For years, I have had a very regular debate going with my husband.  "I am not a creative person" was my stance.  We had the--- 'yes, you are'... 'no, I'm not'--- going for years.  From the beginning, Ms. Wright suggests that creativity lives in each and every of us;  innate in us, creativity is like one fingerprint of God's design as 'made in His image'.  He created.  He creates still.  We also create.  Wright does a fabulous job explaining that creativity is so uniquely colored and varied with each individual...and so, I guess, sometimes it just isn't noted.  Or, understood and labeled as "creativity".

Or, in fact, it just gets lost for some of us.  In the first chapters, she offers a set of exercises which explore what was 'fun' for you as a child.  Like venturing back memory lane, you are searching for what was in you naturally... maybe what got hid away, or set aside.  What did you do as a child that you enjoyed?  What made you happy?  What did you do for fun?  For me, this question alone took quite a bit of time, quiet, prayer, and memory-journeying to find some answers.

I now believe with all my heart that I am indeed creative.  (My husband will be pleased with this!)  And, I have slowly ventured into the effort of 'doing' more fun things in my life.  Opening up.  Pressing in.  Things I used to do...?  Things that I have always wanted to do... or wondered about?  Slowly.  One thing at a time.

My newest venture has been into the realm of watercolor painting.  The ever-present practical-Stephanie assumed (wrongly, as it turned out)... that this was a cheap hobby.  So, I started here.

Today, I boldly---and it does take significant courage, mind you--- I share (below) a few of my first attempts to have creative fun in my life.  I figure, for the faithful few of you that read these posts, you hear the ins-and-outs of many vulnerabilities and very often the weaknesses in my life.  So, why not... I'll share this vulnerable place of creativity and strength, too.    And, I will assure you... I am really enjoying it!

...having a little bit of fun.  Thank you, God, for whispering on my behalf.  

Instructed Day after Day

photo source

I love education.  I love learning.  I really do.

Give me a few quiet moments in my day, and you will find me watching a Ted Talk, reading a book, or listening to a pod cast on the Enneagram or the topic of brain science.  I just can't get enough.  Every time I scroll past one of those MasterClass advertisements online, I just want to take the class.  I wish it wasn't so expensive---I would totally sign up!  I don't care what the topic---although to be fair some are more intriguing than others to me---but, I just want to watch and learn.

I really love learning.

I have always said, I could happily be a full-time student.  ...Sitting in class, listening to lectures, reading books, writing and discussing interesting topics.  I was born a student.

So... it struck me this morning as I was reading Psalm 19:1-2:

The heavens declare the glory of God;
    the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
    night after night they reveal knowledge.

It struck me as I studied the Hebrew words here in this text.  I have a teacher who is always speaking, always declaring and recounting.  I have an instructor available to me day after day who will reveal to me knowledge and wisdom.  I do indeed sit in a classroom night after night.

What do the heavens teach and declare?  What do the skies proclaim and recount?
What is God's creation speaking forth to me---every single moment of each day?  

I can learn so much from God's handiwork, His creation.  It speaks.  It tells and teaches me about Him that made it... it instructs me of His glory.  

Lift your eyes, Stephanie.

May I continue to learn to sit up, take notice, listen to this lecture, read it, take notes and discuss this all important topic!