writing

Sanctuaries

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, doubt, eating disorder, grace, Peace, rest, Stillness, Vulnerability, writing

We have value.

Worth caring for. Cared for. Worth resets of neglected places and grace in the rearranging. Worth “beginnings again”.

Sitting in my studio (there, I said it!) that I call a “sanctuary”, the room that was Heather’s, the room with every momento of my children or creative inspiration on the walls before, I feel renewed.

Today, I cleared the walls of unnecessary (almost every space was push pinned with something!) and only left a little. I left the cow Heather painted, an empty frame to get me thinking, and a color wheel Austin must have done in a school assignment. Other things on tables, just a very few to keep my focus on what matters.

I exchanged a pretty chair for an old one and added a forgotten pillow. I repositioned the desk to the window, no longer facing the wall. I cleaned up my messy painting desk, layers and layers of dust, pencil shavings and paint. I felt a little embarrassed by all the paint tubes without lids, how I’d been so careless. I let it pass and I kept at it. Because, I knew the result would be fresh, it would be a “begin again”.

I woke with that thought today, begin again. I wake with it often. Today, just maybe it’s sticking.

My space had gotten totally out of hand. It had a vibe of disrespect. It did not represent the love I have for writing and art and it was a glaring contradiction of a “sanctuary”. Nothing but claustrophobic info overload was its loud unmotivated voice.

On Friday, a friend purchased three paintings. We talked for a bit in the center of my room and I saw my “sanctuary” from her perspective. An outsider seeing in would never know that these things in my room are my treasures.

She certainly didn’t say it. And she didn’t make me feel it, I felt it because I knew it.

I guess in this pandemic season I just let things go, lots of things, thinking well does anything matter anymore? It can be easy to think that way, to let things go, when all around you are questions about life going on and if and how and when it will.

So, begin again, I am, Yay!

Reluctant for sure, tomorrow morning I’ll step on the scales. I haven’t since October. October told me to eat sandwiches again and I have been since then and it is showing, the excess “uncaringness” of it all.

I’ll accept the number and I’ll acknowledge its causes and I’ll begin again in this body God says is His temple. Begin again. We matter to God, every little thing about us does. We matter.

Treasured we are, treasured spaces for God’s use.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”
‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Perspective, the Secret

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, coronavirus, courage, curiousity, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, painting, Peace, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

I caught a glimpse of one of the last pink camellias. The bushes that border our home and the ones along the driveway had been spectacularly brilliant.

Then with the temperatures and rain were suddenly bloom-less. The grass wore a skirt of decaying flowers, their edges rusty with color and the petals limp and fading.

I paused when returning from walking and a glint of pink popped out from the deep green. One camellia was tucked away. I picked it.

I brought the flower inside and filled the vase with water. This was three days ago. The color remains and the bloom is strong on the stem. I can’t decide what I love the most about looking over to see the simple flower.

From every perspective.

Up close, the underlayer of petals are changing from pink to shriveled golden brown. Standing over it, I am drawn to the fragile innards, the bright yellow heart of it. From a distance, I love the contrast in color against our brick.

Why this one camellia caught my eye feels like a sweet secret, something God knew I needed.

I see beauty.

Lately, I’ve thought of how distinctly different every individual’s perspective is in this coronavirus crisis. It is based on their views, their experiences, their current emotional and physical as well as spiritual state.

I’m reminded of a long held truth. No one truly knows how another feels.

Secrets are our truth.

They are tender. They are hard. They are transparent.

I like the definition of perspective that is synonymous with “outlook”. I believe this.

Before we see, we feel and what we feel inwardly leads to our outward view, our perspective.

I asked myself this morning, How can I be more intentional and sure of the way God wants to use me, to continue rather than decide, oh, you must’ve been wrong?

It all begins with and comes back to belief.

“I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living!”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭27:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Believing is the perspective changer, the perspective keeper, the level ground during doubtful times, confusing ones like these.

God’s perspective of us, His creation?

He believes we are able.

He made us this way.

But, what about your secrets that tell you otherwise, ones that say to your soul, don’t try, don’t be sure, don’t step out in faith…you never know, you may discover you were wrong?

What if deep down you’re afraid you will learn, you were wrong about God’s believing in you, you were wrong about trying?

What a shameful secret this is. The one that hinders, the one that feels safer to be the same not take any more steps believing.

I may be wrong, I don’t think I’m alone in this occasional and yet, so overwhelming feeling.

This is why I own it, call it out, really look closely at its defeatist agenda! I speak to it! I tell it otherwise.

“God created me to be creative. God believes in me.”

Believe.

Continue and believe. Your heart will find truth when you confront your secrets. You perspective will follow.

Linking up with others on the prompt, “perspective”

FMF Writing Prompt Link-up :: Perspective

Faithful To Tell

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, hope, memoir, mixed media painting, painting, Redemption, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

A friend commented that I followed through on a painting idea, a still life with pears, an avocado and an orange.

I delivered this painting, acrylic on old wood, to a young buyer today.

No Stones

She said she loved the way the rocks were all around her body but, not a one caused her harm.

I smiled.

Me too.

We talked about “The Scarlet Letter” and I told this young woman who could be my daughter, that this is when in college, oh my goodness decades ago, that I finally knew others had felt called out and misfit.

Then, now, and even tomorrow the red letter novel will be important to me. Now, the account of the woman caught in adultery and facing them all, standing tall, her would be stoners, this story matters even more.

“Yes”, I told the young woman, I had to paint her gown red.

“The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery.”
‭‭John‬ ‭8:3-4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I love that part too. The boldness of her brave acknowledgement of wrong. She never expected to walk away unpelted.

I love the way we face the ones who’d have reason to stone us and Jesus tells them, tells us all…if you’re without sin, go ahead, you get the first throw.

And nothing. No stones.

Yet another redemption story waiting to be told.

I’ll be faithful to the telling of mine as well as the ones I treasure.

“No Stones” prints are available. Comment to inquire.

Love Remains

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, coronavirus, courage, Faith, hope, Peace, Prayer, rest, Serving, surrender, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder, writing

“There was a believer in Joppa named Tabitha (which in Greek is Dorcas ). She was always doing kind things for others and helping the poor.”
‭‭Acts of the Apostles‬ ‭9:36‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Last night, I saw the writing prompt, “Now” and thought there’s so much that word could inspire in this time, this time that feels like now is an open-ended question or complex algebraic word problem I’d likely give up on. So, I thought to write about the difficulty of now, the tough realization that we’re running out of distractions to fill up the time called now that feels so far away from “then” and even farther from “when”.

Instead, after making a very good to do list to help me feel a purpose, I lingered over a quote on my “In Touch Ministries” devotion, knowing this was pressed prior to Co-Vid and meant to turn us towards Easter.

“In loving with His whole heart, Jesus was willing to be turned down.” Dr. Charles Stanley

I turned back to my daily Bible guide and returned to Acts. The story of Tabitha, I missed before. She became ill and died and was surrounded by friends who wore garments she had sewn for them. Peter prayed and she was healed and because of her healing, many others believed.

But, I couldn’t stop thinking about the women who surrounded her, the lives that would remain in the room and that many would carry with them, wearing tunics made by their friend and remembering her acts of charity, her love for them.

I thought of the quilts my grandma and aunt made that lie folded across our beds. I thought of women everywhere who’ve learned to make masks for medical workers and others.

Love remains. The love we give, the love we’ve given. The love we decide to give today, regardless of it being well-received or going unnoticed. Jesus is our example of love giving, love that will remain.

We’re beneficiaries of His choice to love mankind through dying not knowing who or when or if we would receive it.

So, the prompt called “now” that caused me to be frustrated over its lack of borders led me to a story of a creative and what she left for others, love and beautiful garments.

Her love remains even today because of my discovery of her “story” and the way it made me feel worthy, feel hopeful, inspired.

What’s your story? How have you loved others, how can you continue elaborately even unknowingly in this time of openness in time despite closed doors?

Love now, knowing it will remain.

Linking up with other encouragers at FMF. You can read here: https://fiveminutefriday.com/2020/04/02/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-now-a-gift-for-you/

Say So

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, fear, memoir, Peace, Redemption, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, writing

The sky opened in the distant corner.

No podcast this morning.

Music.

A lyric.

You are not a taker, You are only ever
Giving and drawing, seeking and calling. “Over us”

It only took words unsolicited for my fear over words to make sense.

I did not use my words as a little timid girl.

As a middle child buffering the childhood fights. Staying quiet, not adding to the noise. Only one person has ever given a word to my existence back then. She remembers me as “bewildered”. What relief that was when she told me, to find out after so long, someone had noticed.

As the teen who discovered her body and then lost it with food.

As a young woman who just didn’t tell because it seemed no one would listen.

And an older woman who continued not to tell and then found permission but got all kinds of bogged down in not telling because that’s what she knew.

Yesterday I read something I should quote but won’t because it’s so rich I fear I’d dishonor the writer, water down her revelations

Lessen the gift of it being shared by a blogger who calls my writing “gentle”.

Because the article led to a realization, this is why you don’t step out in the faith you now have.

You still do not think there will be listeners.

It takes a bit, has taken a bit.

You begin to believe differently.

You believe you have listeners and you may have actually had them back then, you just weren’t certain so you chose the safer solution, don’t tell, don’t need, stay quiet.

But your stories remain.

As do your listeners.

Continue. Continue and believe.

“Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he has redeemed from trouble”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭107:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Sky Writing Stories

Abuse Survivor, birds, bravery, confidence, contentment, curiousity, Faith, hope, love, memoir, Redemption, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

This is my space, the place my feet take heavy steps now, more slow, less driven. This arena of sky all around me. I’m known, she keeps walking. The neighbors don’t interrupt only nod. I keep walking under God’s massive and ever fascinating sky. I take photos with a not up to date phone. I continue to chronicle my notice of God. Birds all in a cluster. Oddly, one, only one, a lonely goose flew over. I wondered why.

I noticed the birds all together and then separate. I wondered if the ones on the borders of the wide expanse were afraid they might lose the others.

I wondered if birds are that way. If they compare their flights to the flight of another.

Then I said to myself.

“You don’t notice the way you did before, don’t write quite as often about emotion stirred by evening walk, birds or feathers or the breeze that brushed your cheeks.”

Perhaps, there’s a lull or a rest or better yet.

Yes, better yet. You’ve grown.

The story that you’re writing now is not nearly as melancholy.

Not heavy. Not as hard to hear I’m hoping.

It’s more melody.

Harmonious.

Still honest. Maybe just busy with the grandbaby and too tired to notice feathers…

No, not that at all. Maybe your soul has settled. Either way. It is good. You’re still writing. You thought of a new title just last night.

One that includes remembrance.

You know you’ll continue either way.

Continue and believe.

Still. That’s the sermon to self that guides you.

Continue and believe.

Day Fulls

Art, Children, contentment, Faith, grace, memoir, painting, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I miss random writing. I do.

I store up stories for later like today my granddaughter sitting at my feet, letting her play in the dirt she dug up, cool and moist from recent rain.

That was beautiful. Her little pink ruffled butt in the ground sprouting open for new Spring grass.

She held up her tiny hand and offered me dirt and I held it. I watched her return to the work of discovering.

But, painting, I’ve been painting.

I’m satisfied with this one, the middle of three “girls”, a commissioned triptych.

More stories to come.

Surely Goodness

birds, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, heaven, hope, Peace, Redemption, rest, surrender, Truth, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I’m standing in the kitchen and thinking go snap another picture.

Instead I settle on the view, a room filled with tall windows and panorama, a telephone doesn’t suffice, for the glory and purpose of me saying to me.

You are here.

“He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭23:2-6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

You get to experience this time.

This place. This grace.

This momentary hand of God that tells you, stop rushing. Stop trying to capture any more clearly than what I’m revealing gradually. The sunrise in the country with clouds sweeping up to the places you can’t see.

But you know are there.

Eternity is possible for those who believe. Life is more than earth and heaven more beautiful than we can conceive.

Stand still. Let that heart of yours rest easy. Now, the baby is rising. Open wide eyes and smile and exploration of every single crevice of her sweet life and pretty place.

Ready yourself! Life is worth discovering! You get to be an observer!

Now the grand sky has changed to pink. The window above the plant, the cookbook, the big letter of their last name offers me peace.

The color of love and peace.

I look down, look away and well, I could go on forever.

I’ll stop lest I start telling you about the birds, the trees, the wide open field shifting from brown to green.

The geese that are communicating.

Wherever you are today, I hope something captures your attention, something you can’t really capture, only believe.

Bible as Memoir

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, Peace, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

It occurred to me just now as I decided I love the Book of James, the gospels are essentially memoir, perspectives provided of what the writers knew and know of Jesus.

Hmmm, just like us. Our life stories left in piles of journals thought to be too personal for the perusal of others. Lord knows my journals tell all kinds of stories, my life stories. Some admittedly hard to reread, the coming to terms with life events, questions, agonizing hashing out of major decisions.

Thankfully, truly really, those days are over; they’re over because I finally learned to filter my days through the lens of redemption, not regret.

Still authentic, still honest but more gentle, more wise.

This is why the Book of James is calling my name. James, the brother of Jesus wasn’t quite sure of the truth of Him until He saw for himself the death, the resurrection. It became real then and the Book that bears the name of James is worth reading and reading again.

“Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.”
‭‭James‬ ‭1:2-4‬ ‭MSG‬‬

I love this so much, my faith life being forced into the open showing I’ve endured some struggle and I’ve kept on believing.

Life is just that, continuous belief and knowing that faith is our preserver, our kind companion, our rescue in every storm.

The display of our many colors.

What’s your life looking like today? It’s cold and rainy outside my window. My house has me home alone and quiet. I’ll take my time reading, a half hour maybe and read the Book of James. Remembering, at one time it was believed he was uncertain.

RememberIng in words I especially love that he knew enduring, believing and not doubting wasn’t a given. Still, James reminds us that this is the way to sacred and true living.

We all stumble in many ways. We all get beat up and tossed around in life’s storms. (James 3:-4)

But, we hold on tight to what we believe is ours for the asking in faith.

We continue and believe. Our colors are beginning to show.

I’m linking up with others at Five Minute Friday here: https://fiveminutefriday.com/2020/01/30/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-life-guest-post-by-heather-gerwing/

Enduring

Art, courage, curiousity, obedience, painting, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

I don’t keep track of when I began. I know I should. I just don’t know a whole whole lot about numbers.

I lose my “umph” when I get wrapped up with who’s reading, who’s buying a painting…who follows me, who’s interested! I wrote about this in this month’s Newsletter:

https://mailchi.mp/23b2252f56aa/believing-in-a-lasting-way

But, people are reading. People are seeing.

I am shipping art to a gallery in Greenville, SC called Me’lange.

I have an article in the current issue of Fathom Magazine. https://www.fathommag.com/stories/i-would-say-jesus?fbclid=IwAR3mruDC0Zb0FP_px_LxDto0i1PVDtBqUYdEMXYyovf_QYi9fhKen-5GiKA

My art was here in 2018.

Still, I know me and can’t let this be big. I am much more comfortable with small…doing small things and letting my God be big.

Here’s the end of a quote I’m loving.

“Do not be so eager in your vain desires, do not even be so eager in avoiding eagerness; go quietly in your own path … it is a good path.” St. Francis de Sales