Every day is a time of rebirth. Every dawn is the beginning of a new day. We are constantly being transformed into a newness... every day... every moment... if we are open to it. However, if you are anything like me, you may miss it.
I haven’t felt much like Christmas this year. I am feeling the loss of my mother deeply. Christmas was her favorite time of year. Mom spent the entire year buying gifts for all the people in her life, giving each one a great deal of thought and experiencing a sense of joy as each arrived in the mail and she imagined the pleasure it would give to the recipient. Often, she lost track of all the things she bought... or I would put them in ‘safe’ places and not be able to locate them on request... so she bought more. Always wanting to match just the right gift with just the right person.
Mom enjoyed giving. I have never met anyone who received as much joy from giving as Mom did. As much joy as she received from giving, she experienced the same joy in receiving. What a lesson there is in that for me!!
It’s often said, “Christmas is for children”... mainly because we love seeing and experiencing the joy and excitement of children as they discover Santa had come and open their gifts. With Mom at Christmas, I never felt the lack of the presence of children. Mom herself was like a child in her excitement of being surprised. It was pure joy for me to watch her carefully open each gift, cutting the pieces of scotch tape, saving and folding the paper for future use and finally getting to the gift itself. Then she would laugh and squeal with pleasure at what she found. Our friend, Dee, said she loved finding and giving Mom little things because she loved the way Mom giggled at opening them and was always appreciative, praising the giver for being so thoughtful.
I know I got a little carried away talking about Mom... but with Mom gone, so is a very large part of my celebrating Christmas. There is sadness but for some reason I think feeling the sadness is paramount to coming to know the joy... the joy of knowing there is always a new birth ... a new day on the horizon... a new hope.
Uniting myself with Jesus’ birth... joining with others in celebration... I know the joy, the peace, the love and the light. I see it as a time of a personal rebirth... a time of renewal of self. Christmas is another beginning... a time for growth and renewal.
Yes, there is sadness attached to the joy... there will always be labor pains with birth... but we labor with love because we know and want all those gifts new birth brings.
Happy Birthday, Jesus!
And a very Blessed Christmas to you, my family and dear friends
P.S. It's been a while since I've written a blog but I assure you, the writing has never stopped. A new book, "A Bird on the Wing of God" has just been published....available on Amazon....and another. "In the Light" is scheduled for January.
God Bless you All!!
Monday, December 18, 2017
Sunday, June 25, 2017
Painting With God
I’ve been telling this story so often I figured I’d put it in a blog and tell everyone at once.
My painting has become a very interesting experience....to say the least! It’s taken me a while to realize, and accept that God is in charge. Every now and then I forget that particular fact and try to go ahead on my own. This painting is a perfect example of having to “let go and let God”.
I started it months ago, not long after moving the studio to my home. It’s a fairly large canvas (36x48) and I hung it on the wall feeling sure of what I wanted to paint. My idea was to paint people...lots of people...coming from the light in different directions...walking toward the dark and having the artist’s paint brush light their torches. My idea/message was that art gives light to the world. A pretty good concept, I thought.
So, I painted a frame on the canvas and sketched the artist’s arm and palette. Then I stopped. I sat for weeks looking at that painting, not quite sure how to begin. The picture I had in my mind kept fluctuating and I couldn’t see it clearly. Eventually, after hearing my students ask numerous times, “What are you going to paint?”, I took it off the wall, put it away and forgot about it.
A few weeks ago my desire to finish the painting was renewed so I took it out of storage and again hung it on the wall. This time I didn’t hesitate. I figured it was time to follow my own advice and jump right in. Things were moving along pretty well, I thought...until I saw the green and suddenly knew I didn’t want to use green.
Once again, I stopped and spent days looking at it. This poem was a result:
I accepted the fact my idea wasn’t going to work, so off the wall it came and back into storage.
That night, in that space just before sleep, I had a very clear picture of how the painting was to be painted. After a brief discussion with myself as to whether I wanted to sleep or get up and paint in the wee hours of the morning, I knew there would be no sleep for me. God was back in charge. I put the painting back on the wall and spent the next hour or so painting the picture I’d seen in my mind. It was after 3:00 am when I finally made it back to my bed and am still wondering if I got more than an hour’s sleep that night.
I have to tell you, I took my time with this one and painted it slowly and in stages....always trying to listen to the Spirit’s direction and trusting in my ability to follow. I have to admit, I like God’s idea a lot better than mine.
My painting has become a very interesting experience....to say the least! It’s taken me a while to realize, and accept that God is in charge. Every now and then I forget that particular fact and try to go ahead on my own. This painting is a perfect example of having to “let go and let God”.
I started it months ago, not long after moving the studio to my home. It’s a fairly large canvas (36x48) and I hung it on the wall feeling sure of what I wanted to paint. My idea was to paint people...lots of people...coming from the light in different directions...walking toward the dark and having the artist’s paint brush light their torches. My idea/message was that art gives light to the world. A pretty good concept, I thought.
So, I painted a frame on the canvas and sketched the artist’s arm and palette. Then I stopped. I sat for weeks looking at that painting, not quite sure how to begin. The picture I had in my mind kept fluctuating and I couldn’t see it clearly. Eventually, after hearing my students ask numerous times, “What are you going to paint?”, I took it off the wall, put it away and forgot about it.
A few weeks ago my desire to finish the painting was renewed so I took it out of storage and again hung it on the wall. This time I didn’t hesitate. I figured it was time to follow my own advice and jump right in. Things were moving along pretty well, I thought...until I saw the green and suddenly knew I didn’t want to use green.
Once again, I stopped and spent days looking at it. This poem was a result:
The Painting - Not Now
I look at my painting
on the wall
and wonder why
I don’t feel at all
like painting what
I once saw.
on the wall
and wonder why
I don’t feel at all
like painting what
I once saw.
I can still see
what I thought
it would be.
Is it meant to be different?
Or is the change
in me?
what I thought
it would be.
Is it meant to be different?
Or is the change
in me?
I’d set it aside
months ago
when I wasn’t sure
how it should flow;
decided to wait
until I know.
months ago
when I wasn’t sure
how it should flow;
decided to wait
until I know.
So I hung it there
and started anew,
painting the landscape
in shades of blue.
Then green appeared
and again I knew
and started anew,
painting the landscape
in shades of blue.
Then green appeared
and again I knew
this painting’s time
isn’t now
for the brush I hold
knows not how
and I have to wait
til it me allows.
isn’t now
for the brush I hold
knows not how
and I have to wait
til it me allows.
I accepted the fact my idea wasn’t going to work, so off the wall it came and back into storage.
That night, in that space just before sleep, I had a very clear picture of how the painting was to be painted. After a brief discussion with myself as to whether I wanted to sleep or get up and paint in the wee hours of the morning, I knew there would be no sleep for me. God was back in charge. I put the painting back on the wall and spent the next hour or so painting the picture I’d seen in my mind. It was after 3:00 am when I finally made it back to my bed and am still wondering if I got more than an hour’s sleep that night.
I have to tell you, I took my time with this one and painted it slowly and in stages....always trying to listen to the Spirit’s direction and trusting in my ability to follow. I have to admit, I like God’s idea a lot better than mine.
Lighting the Light
(oil and acrylic)
Saturday, May 20, 2017
The Power of the Shirt
I couldn’t decide if this would be a story or a blog....most likely it’s both so here it is.
It had to be on the closet shelf for a couple of years. It was one of the things Mom thought I’d like but was normally buried under other clothes I didn’t wear. It was only later I thought to question its appearance on top of the pile. Hummm, I mused as I lifted it down, the color blue making me think I should wear it today. I hesitated slightly when reading the large white block letters on the front: KEEP CALM AND LET GOD HANDLE IT. Normally I would have returned it to its pile on the shelf but today I had a very strong feeling I should wear it and put it on. Little did I know then how important a little thing like wearing a T-shirt would be!
The day was beautiful and I was happy to get an earlier start than planned. Except for the occasional discomfort of my knee in traffic, it was a beautiful drive ....until Florence, South Carolina. After stopping for gas at the previous exit I noticed a shimmy in my steering. Already back on the interstate, I turned on my flashers and rode the shoulder to the next exit which was Florence. Realizing it was Sunday and Mothers’ Day to boot, I didn’t figure on being able to find mechanical help...but on pulling into a gas station/convenience store, I decided to try. What else could I do? The fellow behind the counter directed me to another young man he thought could help. That’s when I first began to realize the power of the shirt.
Now I’m probably one of the last people to recognize God’s plan.... and part of it is still a mystery to me....but I figure He had a reason for all those people to cross my path...and read my shirt. That young man, when I explained I thought something was wrong with one of my tires, offered to come and take a look. When we reached the car, I simply handed him my keys. “Do you want me to drive it around the parking lot?” he asked in surprise.
“Sure,” I responded. “How else will you know?” Well, he found the problem. It was a swelling of one of the steel belts of my front passenger tire. We then returned to the store where he proceeded to make phone calls, trying to find an open garage. The 2nd Walmart he called said they were open until 7:00 pm. He wrote the directions down for me, I thanked him and I was on my way....hoping I’d make it in time. I didn’t. When I arrived, the garage was closed and I parked in the middle of the lot while trying to decide what to do.
My first thought was to call Margie and explain why I wouldn’t be arriving in Philadelphia at my planned time. “What are you going to do?” she asked, concern in her voice. “Well,” I answered. “It’s a 24 hour Walmart so I may just spend the night here and wait for the garage to open in the morning.”
It was after that conversation I decided to call AAA. I did. Though for the life of me, I don’t know why. I figured the spare was a donut and I wouldn’t feel comfortable driving with it for any distance. I thought about cancelling that call but couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t much later when Walter arrived. Walter is one of God’s darker angels, probably somewhere between 60-70 years of age with a few teeth missing in his smile. “I was thinking of staying here and wait for the garage to open.” I informed him.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he replied. “There’s a rough crowd hangs out here at night, stealing cars etc. You wouldn’t be safe.”
With that in mind, he assessed the situation. We talked of possibilities until he suggested he exchange the front and rear tires. That way I wouldn’t feel the vibration.
“Will the tire last me?” I asked, trustingly?
“Oh, yes,” he replied. “I’m sure it will. There’s less weight on it in the rear than in the front.” When he finished, I called him one of God’s angels, gave him a thankful hug and found my way back to the interstate.
I admit to hearing a vibration in that rear tire and still believed it would hold together as Walter had said. Walter and I were both wrong! I hadn’t been on the road for an hour when the tire blew. What a racket! The steel belts had come loose and done damage to my bumper as well as knocking my taillight out. The interesting thing about the tail light was it was still blinking, though on the ground. At least it still worked and I managed to secure it enough with painters’ tape to keep it from falling out. I later found myself very grateful to Walter for changing the tires as it would have been a lot more dangerous for me...and probably more serious damage... if the blowout had happened with a front wheel.
I must have called AAA three or four times before I finally got a person I could talk to without being put on hold forever. It was a bit confusing for them too as they thought it was still part of my first call. This time I knew I’d need a tow truck and they needed to find me a drop off place where I could stay with the car, would be safe and would receive good and prompt service. Lisa was her name and she promised to do exactly that...as well as promising not to put me on hold.
By this time, the state trooper I’d requested for security, saying he had more important things to do, told me he was leaving. So here I was....sitting alone on the side of a very busy road, with cars and trucks whizzing past at 80 mph plus, in the dead of night. I was more than grateful when my friend called and said she’d stay with me until the tow truck came.
Interestingly enough, along about midnight I saw headlights behind me. My hope almost turned to despair when the truck passed me, picked up speed and threatened to drive away. In desperation, I turned on my lights and flicked my high beams. Thank God, I got his attention and he backed up. When he came to the window the conversation went something like this:
“Im sorry. I was looking for a grey Kia Rondo”
“This is a grey Kia Rondo”
“I’m looking for Constance Townsend”
“You found her.”
“Well, Ok then! Let’s get you hooked up.” Then he added, “I’d appreciate it if you’d get in the truck.”
Everything was fine up until that last statement but with last words of encouragement from my friend before she hung up, telling me my knee would be fine, I was determined to try. The sad fact is it wasn’t my knee I was worried about. However, I did give it “the old college try”...and failed. My legs simply wouldn’t lift me up. He watched me try and I noticed he was trying to figure out what to do with his hands. Realizing he was hesitant to touch me I assured him, “I am 72 years old. Do what you have to do and it’ll be fine.”
“Well,” he replied, “I can lift you onto the seat but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Am I not too heavy?” I asked, concerned for him.
“Oh, no! I can do it.” He then grabbed my legs and lifted....
“Not quite high enough,” I told him. “Grab a little lower.”
That time we made it and I was securely in the seat.
When he returned to the truck, I jokingly held out my hand and said, “Since you’ve literally swept me off my feet, we should introduce ourselves. My name is Connie.”
“I’m William.”
The ride to the place Lisa of AAA had chosen was in some little town at the end of a lonely, long country road and his GPS landed us in the parking lot of a motel. “Well, William,” I quipped. “I can’t say much for this particular date.” as we both entered the motel office to ask the number of the property. I will say I don’t think the owner was too happy about being awakened when there was no prospect of business. When William walked up the street to investigate further, I returned to the motel office to ask to use the facilities. The man’s unhappiness was apparent when he told me to get out and use the street. Did I mention he had noticed and read my shirt?
In the meantime, William returned and informed me the tire place was just up the street. I thought about getting back in the truck and elected to walk to our destination. When he asked me if I was sure, we both had a good laugh.
I watched as he carefully unloaded and parked the car. Realizing he had to leave me but not really wanting him to, I gave him a grateful hug, assured him I’d be all right and watched him drive away. It wasn’t long after, suddenly appreciative of the quietness of the little town, I was safely and comfortably sound asleep in my car.
I think it was probably the increase of traffic noise which woke me...and just in time to see a white pick-up pull in and park by the door. “Are you the owner?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Well, I seem to have a little tire problem.”
“Be happy to take care of it for you. My crew will be here in about a half hour.”
“Great! Do you mind if I use your rest room?” (By this time I was close to bursting!)
“No, not at all. Come on in. It’s straight ahead on your right.”
Feeling relieved and slightly refreshed, I asked where I might be able to get a cup of coffee.
“Just up the street on your left,” he directed.
I knew my knee wasn’t going to appreciate the walk but at that point in time a cup of coffee was of absolute necessity.
It wasn’t long after his crew arrived and I watched them move my car into the bay, I received a text message from my friend, “Good morning to you. In meditation, I heard you need two tires. Have other tires checked please.”
God had been with me up to now so who was I to doubt my friend’s message? I approached the owner and requested he check the other tires as well. We walked together under the car while he pointed out the wear on each tire. Apologetically, he suggested I purchase new tires for all four wheels. I knew his caring was sincere and didn’t hesitate to give him the go-ahead, trusting he was doing his best for me. The other thing he was concerned about was securing my bumper. I assured him the two screws he was suggesting were fine with me. “Whatever works is my motto,” I assured him. “Do what you think is best. I’m more concerned about function than looks.”
A little later he came out and sat with me in the waiting area. “You know,” he began, “about 5:00 this morning I saw your car in my parking lot and walked around it with my flashlight. I saw you sleeping and hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, you didn’t wake me,” I laughed but was grateful for his concern.
“I have a friend who has a junkyard up in Dillon.” he continued. “I could give him a call to see if he has a tail light for you. It wouldn’t delay you much more as it’s on your way.”
I thanked him and told him to go ahead and ask. I figured he didn’t have to go that extra step and I was grateful for his concern. It turned out his friend didn’t have a tail light but I had no doubt God was continuing to handle things.
Not long after, $397 poorer, I was back on the road with two screws in my bumper and clear tape securely and neatly holding my tail light in place. But what a difference those tires made!! My ride was so much smoother and there was no nagging worry about possible faulty tires. Many times since, I’ve been grateful for those tires, especially in navigating pot holes and construction sites.
I couldn’t help but smile at the sequence of events as I saw God’s hand in every aspect of my adventure with my timely arrival in Philadelphia the final surprise. I do believe those who read the words on my shirt and acted as God’s angels along my way, were called to be the best they could be....except for the motel manager of course....
So, my friends....good advice, "Keep Calm and let God Handle It!"
God Bless!
It had to be on the closet shelf for a couple of years. It was one of the things Mom thought I’d like but was normally buried under other clothes I didn’t wear. It was only later I thought to question its appearance on top of the pile. Hummm, I mused as I lifted it down, the color blue making me think I should wear it today. I hesitated slightly when reading the large white block letters on the front: KEEP CALM AND LET GOD HANDLE IT. Normally I would have returned it to its pile on the shelf but today I had a very strong feeling I should wear it and put it on. Little did I know then how important a little thing like wearing a T-shirt would be!
The day was beautiful and I was happy to get an earlier start than planned. Except for the occasional discomfort of my knee in traffic, it was a beautiful drive ....until Florence, South Carolina. After stopping for gas at the previous exit I noticed a shimmy in my steering. Already back on the interstate, I turned on my flashers and rode the shoulder to the next exit which was Florence. Realizing it was Sunday and Mothers’ Day to boot, I didn’t figure on being able to find mechanical help...but on pulling into a gas station/convenience store, I decided to try. What else could I do? The fellow behind the counter directed me to another young man he thought could help. That’s when I first began to realize the power of the shirt.
Now I’m probably one of the last people to recognize God’s plan.... and part of it is still a mystery to me....but I figure He had a reason for all those people to cross my path...and read my shirt. That young man, when I explained I thought something was wrong with one of my tires, offered to come and take a look. When we reached the car, I simply handed him my keys. “Do you want me to drive it around the parking lot?” he asked in surprise.
“Sure,” I responded. “How else will you know?” Well, he found the problem. It was a swelling of one of the steel belts of my front passenger tire. We then returned to the store where he proceeded to make phone calls, trying to find an open garage. The 2nd Walmart he called said they were open until 7:00 pm. He wrote the directions down for me, I thanked him and I was on my way....hoping I’d make it in time. I didn’t. When I arrived, the garage was closed and I parked in the middle of the lot while trying to decide what to do.
My first thought was to call Margie and explain why I wouldn’t be arriving in Philadelphia at my planned time. “What are you going to do?” she asked, concern in her voice. “Well,” I answered. “It’s a 24 hour Walmart so I may just spend the night here and wait for the garage to open in the morning.”
It was after that conversation I decided to call AAA. I did. Though for the life of me, I don’t know why. I figured the spare was a donut and I wouldn’t feel comfortable driving with it for any distance. I thought about cancelling that call but couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t much later when Walter arrived. Walter is one of God’s darker angels, probably somewhere between 60-70 years of age with a few teeth missing in his smile. “I was thinking of staying here and wait for the garage to open.” I informed him.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he replied. “There’s a rough crowd hangs out here at night, stealing cars etc. You wouldn’t be safe.”
With that in mind, he assessed the situation. We talked of possibilities until he suggested he exchange the front and rear tires. That way I wouldn’t feel the vibration.
“Will the tire last me?” I asked, trustingly?
“Oh, yes,” he replied. “I’m sure it will. There’s less weight on it in the rear than in the front.” When he finished, I called him one of God’s angels, gave him a thankful hug and found my way back to the interstate.
I admit to hearing a vibration in that rear tire and still believed it would hold together as Walter had said. Walter and I were both wrong! I hadn’t been on the road for an hour when the tire blew. What a racket! The steel belts had come loose and done damage to my bumper as well as knocking my taillight out. The interesting thing about the tail light was it was still blinking, though on the ground. At least it still worked and I managed to secure it enough with painters’ tape to keep it from falling out. I later found myself very grateful to Walter for changing the tires as it would have been a lot more dangerous for me...and probably more serious damage... if the blowout had happened with a front wheel.
I must have called AAA three or four times before I finally got a person I could talk to without being put on hold forever. It was a bit confusing for them too as they thought it was still part of my first call. This time I knew I’d need a tow truck and they needed to find me a drop off place where I could stay with the car, would be safe and would receive good and prompt service. Lisa was her name and she promised to do exactly that...as well as promising not to put me on hold.
By this time, the state trooper I’d requested for security, saying he had more important things to do, told me he was leaving. So here I was....sitting alone on the side of a very busy road, with cars and trucks whizzing past at 80 mph plus, in the dead of night. I was more than grateful when my friend called and said she’d stay with me until the tow truck came.
Interestingly enough, along about midnight I saw headlights behind me. My hope almost turned to despair when the truck passed me, picked up speed and threatened to drive away. In desperation, I turned on my lights and flicked my high beams. Thank God, I got his attention and he backed up. When he came to the window the conversation went something like this:
“Im sorry. I was looking for a grey Kia Rondo”
“This is a grey Kia Rondo”
“I’m looking for Constance Townsend”
“You found her.”
“Well, Ok then! Let’s get you hooked up.” Then he added, “I’d appreciate it if you’d get in the truck.”
Everything was fine up until that last statement but with last words of encouragement from my friend before she hung up, telling me my knee would be fine, I was determined to try. The sad fact is it wasn’t my knee I was worried about. However, I did give it “the old college try”...and failed. My legs simply wouldn’t lift me up. He watched me try and I noticed he was trying to figure out what to do with his hands. Realizing he was hesitant to touch me I assured him, “I am 72 years old. Do what you have to do and it’ll be fine.”
“Well,” he replied, “I can lift you onto the seat but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Am I not too heavy?” I asked, concerned for him.
“Oh, no! I can do it.” He then grabbed my legs and lifted....
“Not quite high enough,” I told him. “Grab a little lower.”
That time we made it and I was securely in the seat.
When he returned to the truck, I jokingly held out my hand and said, “Since you’ve literally swept me off my feet, we should introduce ourselves. My name is Connie.”
“I’m William.”
The ride to the place Lisa of AAA had chosen was in some little town at the end of a lonely, long country road and his GPS landed us in the parking lot of a motel. “Well, William,” I quipped. “I can’t say much for this particular date.” as we both entered the motel office to ask the number of the property. I will say I don’t think the owner was too happy about being awakened when there was no prospect of business. When William walked up the street to investigate further, I returned to the motel office to ask to use the facilities. The man’s unhappiness was apparent when he told me to get out and use the street. Did I mention he had noticed and read my shirt?
In the meantime, William returned and informed me the tire place was just up the street. I thought about getting back in the truck and elected to walk to our destination. When he asked me if I was sure, we both had a good laugh.
I watched as he carefully unloaded and parked the car. Realizing he had to leave me but not really wanting him to, I gave him a grateful hug, assured him I’d be all right and watched him drive away. It wasn’t long after, suddenly appreciative of the quietness of the little town, I was safely and comfortably sound asleep in my car.
I think it was probably the increase of traffic noise which woke me...and just in time to see a white pick-up pull in and park by the door. “Are you the owner?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Well, I seem to have a little tire problem.”
“Be happy to take care of it for you. My crew will be here in about a half hour.”
“Great! Do you mind if I use your rest room?” (By this time I was close to bursting!)
“No, not at all. Come on in. It’s straight ahead on your right.”
Feeling relieved and slightly refreshed, I asked where I might be able to get a cup of coffee.
“Just up the street on your left,” he directed.
I knew my knee wasn’t going to appreciate the walk but at that point in time a cup of coffee was of absolute necessity.
It wasn’t long after his crew arrived and I watched them move my car into the bay, I received a text message from my friend, “Good morning to you. In meditation, I heard you need two tires. Have other tires checked please.”
God had been with me up to now so who was I to doubt my friend’s message? I approached the owner and requested he check the other tires as well. We walked together under the car while he pointed out the wear on each tire. Apologetically, he suggested I purchase new tires for all four wheels. I knew his caring was sincere and didn’t hesitate to give him the go-ahead, trusting he was doing his best for me. The other thing he was concerned about was securing my bumper. I assured him the two screws he was suggesting were fine with me. “Whatever works is my motto,” I assured him. “Do what you think is best. I’m more concerned about function than looks.”
A little later he came out and sat with me in the waiting area. “You know,” he began, “about 5:00 this morning I saw your car in my parking lot and walked around it with my flashlight. I saw you sleeping and hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, you didn’t wake me,” I laughed but was grateful for his concern.
“I have a friend who has a junkyard up in Dillon.” he continued. “I could give him a call to see if he has a tail light for you. It wouldn’t delay you much more as it’s on your way.”
I thanked him and told him to go ahead and ask. I figured he didn’t have to go that extra step and I was grateful for his concern. It turned out his friend didn’t have a tail light but I had no doubt God was continuing to handle things.
Not long after, $397 poorer, I was back on the road with two screws in my bumper and clear tape securely and neatly holding my tail light in place. But what a difference those tires made!! My ride was so much smoother and there was no nagging worry about possible faulty tires. Many times since, I’ve been grateful for those tires, especially in navigating pot holes and construction sites.
I couldn’t help but smile at the sequence of events as I saw God’s hand in every aspect of my adventure with my timely arrival in Philadelphia the final surprise. I do believe those who read the words on my shirt and acted as God’s angels along my way, were called to be the best they could be....except for the motel manager of course....
So, my friends....good advice, "Keep Calm and let God Handle It!"
God Bless!
Monday, February 27, 2017
Don't Fence Me In
From the time I was an child and first heard this song, it had special meaning for me. It spoke to me of the freedom to be open and enjoy all of creation....a creation which awakened in me, and enforced, a true kinship and appreciation of all nature’s beauty. I needed to be free to sit under the stars, climb up cliffs, sit in the branches of trees, watch the ripples on the lake, meditate to the sound of the waterfall and the singing of birds.
I was blessed in having parents who not only encouraged, but shared in the oneness of the natural order of things. We had no fences. We didn’t even have a key to our house. The doors were never locked. I realized as I grew that whenever I was presented with a confining space, I shied away and inwardly rebelled against it. Though I appreciated different experiences I found I couldn’t stay in a place where I felt constrained and was expected to adapt to those constraints.
It seemed to me then, and it seems to me now, that I am always being offered a ‘box’ of some kind with the expectation I should willingly put myself into it and happily call it mine. Granted, some welcome their boxes, feeling they fit themselves perfectly and they’re comfortable enough not to want to grow beyond it.
My continual problem is, I have tried different boxes of various types and sizes but find they don’t allow me the room I need to grow. It isn’t long before I outgrow them and struggle to push the box open so there are no walls and I am free to grow as much as I am able. I have a mental picture of my self oozing out of the cracks and growing until the box bursts. Then, suddenly free, I can dance in the moonlight, one with the universe, singing and praising God.
We are a tribal people and we look for the comfort and security of belonging but we are also seekers. We wish to come to know God. The thing is, God is not in any one of the boxes organized religion has tried to put God in. God is in all of them...and more. I don’t know about you, but I get very uncomfortable when someone offers me a box and tries to tell me it’s the only place I’ll find God. I simply can’t believe it.
So I say to those who are always trying to cram me into the boxes they’ve designed..... Those boxes are for you, not me. Don’t fence me in. I need room to grow.
Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above
Don't fence me in
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love
Don't fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please
Don't fence me in
Don't fence me in
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love
Don't fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please
Don't fence me in
Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies On my Cayuse,
let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise
Underneath the western skies On my Cayuse,
let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
And gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
And I can't look at hovels and I can't stand fences
Don't fence me in
Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies
Don't fence me in
Let me ride through the wide country that I love
Don't fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please
Don't fence me in
Don't fence me in
Let me ride through the wide country that I love
Don't fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please
Don't fence me in
Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies
On my Cayuse, let me wander over yonder Till I see the mountains rise
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
And gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
And I can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences
Don't fence me in
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
And gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
And I can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences
Don't fence me in
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Painting is More
Of course I’ve known this, so why do I see it this morning as such a revelation? Perhaps because I’ve always used words surrounding and alluding to it but never the actual word.... and of course it makes sense when “God” and “Love” are used synonymously.
I believe any painting I do must be from love, for love, and of love. If love is not the underlying and prevailing factor, the painting won’t communicate... and to tell you the truth, I don’t have much interest in it. It’s only the response of the heart that determines the “value” of a painting....one reason I have such a hard time assigning a monetary figure. How does one put a price on the love? In self-examination and reflection, I realize that love is indeed the driving force behind my painting.
Recently, a very successful and talented artist friend made a point to stop at my studio to see the painting I am now working on. Her comments of praise were more than appreciated but I’m enough of a realist to know my painting will never be on the same level as hers. So I couldn’t help but wonder at her reaction. This morning I knew.
It’s not the drawing or the technique she was seeing, but the love within the painting itself. It was a meeting of the souls. She saw, and responded, to the love.
In reflection of previous paintings and responses to them, I have to accept the fact that others often see what I cannot. While I look with a critical eye, get overly concerned with the “how” and judge a painting as “not good enough” or “I can do better” and push it aside, someone else will come along and say they love it. I can only assume then that the painting communicates something to others I can’t see....but must have painted.
Most artists are aware of images not consciously thought of or planned sometimes appearing in their paintings. For example, I didn't consciously paint the figures seen in this painting, yet they are there. If you look closely, you can see them in the light.
We do not create alone and we are definitely not in complete control of the outcome. God, the Master Creator, is always present.
I believe any painting I do must be from love, for love, and of love. If love is not the underlying and prevailing factor, the painting won’t communicate... and to tell you the truth, I don’t have much interest in it. It’s only the response of the heart that determines the “value” of a painting....one reason I have such a hard time assigning a monetary figure. How does one put a price on the love? In self-examination and reflection, I realize that love is indeed the driving force behind my painting.
Recently, a very successful and talented artist friend made a point to stop at my studio to see the painting I am now working on. Her comments of praise were more than appreciated but I’m enough of a realist to know my painting will never be on the same level as hers. So I couldn’t help but wonder at her reaction. This morning I knew.
It’s not the drawing or the technique she was seeing, but the love within the painting itself. It was a meeting of the souls. She saw, and responded, to the love.
In reflection of previous paintings and responses to them, I have to accept the fact that others often see what I cannot. While I look with a critical eye, get overly concerned with the “how” and judge a painting as “not good enough” or “I can do better” and push it aside, someone else will come along and say they love it. I can only assume then that the painting communicates something to others I can’t see....but must have painted.
Most artists are aware of images not consciously thought of or planned sometimes appearing in their paintings. For example, I didn't consciously paint the figures seen in this painting, yet they are there. If you look closely, you can see them in the light.
We do not create alone and we are definitely not in complete control of the outcome. God, the Master Creator, is always present.
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