Just recently I was reminded of something I saw a few years ago on the screen of my mind. It was during a time of prayer I saw the angels dancing and though I thought it might be a subject for a painting, eventually realized it wasn’t. Every once in a while there were re-runs that made me smile but I saw no reason for them other than the reminding of a beautiful memory.
Recently, with these days of Mom’s non-responsiveness to the outside world, the vision of the dancing angels returned. As I watched Mom’s facial expressions and listened to my own internal knowing, I knew she was in the Light and dancing with the angels.
It’s funny how some things come together. One friend assured me she was sending the angels to Mom in her prayer. Another friend shared her seeing Mom dancing in the Light during her meditation. This morning I awoke with the knowledge she was no longer here but was as a child having the time of her life singing and dancing with the angels.
She deserves this time of joy and celebration after all she’s been through and I am happy for her! I find peace in knowing that when she is able to be released completely from her body, the angels will take her home......skipping, dancing and singing all the way!
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
Saturday, October 1, 2016
Walls to Bridges
I have it in my mind that I’m a bridge builder. Oh, I’m not an engineer by any means, nor do I actually build physical, tangible bridges. Nonetheless, I do find myself building them....bridges leading to acceptance, understanding, appreciation and eventually to love.
Quite a while ago I started a fairly large painting I was going to title, “From Walls to Bridges”. It was to be a painting of people of all colors, nationalities, etc, each taking the stones from the walls on their side and using them to build a bridge spanning the chasm between them.... allowing each to freely walk across to the other side. I wanted to include new communities being formed; to show the re-unification of God’s family.
I wanted to show all those things I saw in my heart but either couldn’t, or didn’t know how to, express them in paint. The painting stayed stapled to the wall for quite a while. I even transferred it to a different wall so I could begin another painting. I looked at it every time I entered my studio. My students looked and wondered, some aloud, when I would finish it.
I felt sad the day I removed it from the wall, rolled it up and put it away. From my students, when they noticed its absence, was excitement in the form of, “Oh, did you finish it? Let us see! Where is it? I want to see what you did.” These quickly turned to “Oh.” “Well, you’ll get back to it when it’s time.” and “It just wasn’t ready to be painted yet.” (I love those women!)
Not finishing the painting didn’t affect my being a bridge builder. On the contrary, it made me realize my bridge building is meant to be more active than expressing it in paint. I am constantly being given opportunities to build.....some small and even some larger bridges. Sometimes I have to work hard at the building while other times I may only have to suggest and encourage while others proceed with the building.
There’s always plenty of material available and in a way, I find it kind of humorous. We simply recycle the stones others have used to build thicker and higher walls. Of course, those who are intent on building walls try to use the stones of the bridges so the work is on-going. It never stops.
Some walls are too high and too slippery to climb so there will always be bridges to build. Bridges are the only way God’s family will become united.
Unfinished
God Bless!
Connie
Quite a while ago I started a fairly large painting I was going to title, “From Walls to Bridges”. It was to be a painting of people of all colors, nationalities, etc, each taking the stones from the walls on their side and using them to build a bridge spanning the chasm between them.... allowing each to freely walk across to the other side. I wanted to include new communities being formed; to show the re-unification of God’s family.
I wanted to show all those things I saw in my heart but either couldn’t, or didn’t know how to, express them in paint. The painting stayed stapled to the wall for quite a while. I even transferred it to a different wall so I could begin another painting. I looked at it every time I entered my studio. My students looked and wondered, some aloud, when I would finish it.
I felt sad the day I removed it from the wall, rolled it up and put it away. From my students, when they noticed its absence, was excitement in the form of, “Oh, did you finish it? Let us see! Where is it? I want to see what you did.” These quickly turned to “Oh.” “Well, you’ll get back to it when it’s time.” and “It just wasn’t ready to be painted yet.” (I love those women!)
Not finishing the painting didn’t affect my being a bridge builder. On the contrary, it made me realize my bridge building is meant to be more active than expressing it in paint. I am constantly being given opportunities to build.....some small and even some larger bridges. Sometimes I have to work hard at the building while other times I may only have to suggest and encourage while others proceed with the building.
There’s always plenty of material available and in a way, I find it kind of humorous. We simply recycle the stones others have used to build thicker and higher walls. Of course, those who are intent on building walls try to use the stones of the bridges so the work is on-going. It never stops.
Some walls are too high and too slippery to climb so there will always be bridges to build. Bridges are the only way God’s family will become united.
God Bless!
Connie
Thursday, September 29, 2016
Labels
It’s interesting to me how we humans always try to label things. It’s as if we have to classify everything and once they’re classified and labeled we feel more comfortable. We can determine where the box we’re in fits amongst all the other labeled boxes.
We are a “tribal people” . We are members of families, clans, classes, groups, organizations, churches, religions and we have a tendency to label ourselves accordingly. I have met more than a few who have put themselves...and continue to live... in a box and stuck a label on it as if it describes who they are completely.
Unfortunately, the world tries to force labels upon us.... “Are you Democrat or Republican?; Jewish, Christian; Buddhist, Hindu, or Muslim?; Catholic or Protestant?; heterosexual or homosexual?; married, divorced or single?; black, hispanic or white?; rich, middle class or poor?; conservative or liberal?; and within each label there are sub-labels and classifications.
In my studying, my associations with people from “other tribes”, my learning, my seeking and my growing, I find I consciously try to avoid having any particular label or classification applied to myself as if it were the only one applicable. With an inward smile (most of you know I’m a natural rebel), I admit I enjoy how some try to apply a specific label to me and seeing their surprise and confusion when it doesn’t stick....at least not for long....or is immediately joined by another. I absolutely refuse to be put in a specific box and labeled.
The only label I accept with love, pride and confidence is the one which states, “I am a child of God”. Now, that one I would paste to my forehead!
We are a “tribal people” . We are members of families, clans, classes, groups, organizations, churches, religions and we have a tendency to label ourselves accordingly. I have met more than a few who have put themselves...and continue to live... in a box and stuck a label on it as if it describes who they are completely.
Unfortunately, the world tries to force labels upon us.... “Are you Democrat or Republican?; Jewish, Christian; Buddhist, Hindu, or Muslim?; Catholic or Protestant?; heterosexual or homosexual?; married, divorced or single?; black, hispanic or white?; rich, middle class or poor?; conservative or liberal?; and within each label there are sub-labels and classifications.
In my studying, my associations with people from “other tribes”, my learning, my seeking and my growing, I find I consciously try to avoid having any particular label or classification applied to myself as if it were the only one applicable. With an inward smile (most of you know I’m a natural rebel), I admit I enjoy how some try to apply a specific label to me and seeing their surprise and confusion when it doesn’t stick....at least not for long....or is immediately joined by another. I absolutely refuse to be put in a specific box and labeled.
The only label I accept with love, pride and confidence is the one which states, “I am a child of God”. Now, that one I would paste to my forehead!
Monday, August 22, 2016
A 'Rising Up'
While the world is in the midst of violent, murderous uprisings, there is a quiet, but steady, ‘rising up’. While people strike out hatefully against one another, driven by fear, desire for power, greed, mistrust and misunderstanding, there is a peaceful ‘rising up’ happening in every part of the world.
While Satan revels in the evil so prevalent, God quietly calls and lifts up those people who, like Isaiah of old, respond with, “Here I am, Lord. Send me.” (Isaiah 6:8) These people carry the flame of God’s light into the darkest corners of the world, sharing love and hope.
There is a ‘rising up’ of a people with a spiritual appetite, people with an innate sense of justice, people who, like Isaiah, are not afraid to step forward and speak God’s truth.
I am in awe as I watch and become more and more aware of these people as we find and unite with one another. “We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord.”. I am in awe as we come together across mountains, rivers, oceans, continents; of how language, customs, religions form no barriers. God calls us all and we all respond with “Here I am, Lord. Send me.”
We have no weapons but the ones God gives us. We carry nothing but God’s light of love and truth. It is more than enough to dispel the darkness evil needs to thrive.
Our numbers are growing in every country in the world as well as in our own families and communities. We are ‘rising up’, making ourselves heard, working together toward one end...the reality of God’s kingdom here on earth through obedience to God’s law of Love.
Here I Am, Lord
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=Here+I+AM+Lord+Hymn&&view=detail&mid=E132E2E236B7E9A7722FE132E2E236B7E9A7722F&FORM=VRDGAR
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
God's Surprises
Our God is a God of surprises! As soon as I start to feel comfortable with where I am, God leads me around a corner to yet another eye-opening experience.
It’s a lot like walking into an empty room that suddenly fills with light and people coming from all directions shouting, “Surprise”! If you’ve ever had that happen to you, you know exactly what I mean. It’s initially a shock which turns into my being grateful for all the love in that room. God’s surprises are a lot like that. They might rock me back on my heels for a bit but I’ve never known one where I didn’t encounter love.
I am the child who is filled with awesome wonder at the new things I encounter and discover. I am also that child who persistently asks the question, “Why?” My questions aren’t always answered and I often forget my asking when I am lost in the wonder of discovering and seeing God in all.....in all of creation, in all people, in all religions, in all beliefs in all things. In God’s showing me all these little bits and pieces of God’s self, I clap my hands and jump for joy.
Sometimes I wonder if my heart could possibly expand enough to hold all of the God I discover. My heart must be a very good elastic to be able to stretch and include so much. Whenever there’s something more, there’s always room. God keeps showing me how big God is....how some try so hard to keep God in a box of their limited understanding and how God is so much bigger than that. God broadens my vision so I am free to love God in all.
Not only am I free to love all, but I am free to learn from all. No one denomination or religion can possibly be the only way to God. God is much, much bigger than that. So I stay open to the wonder....open to the discovery of truth.....open to love.....open to all the surprises God has in store for me.
I’m getting so I really love God’s surprises and look with excited expectation for the next one.
It’s a lot like walking into an empty room that suddenly fills with light and people coming from all directions shouting, “Surprise”! If you’ve ever had that happen to you, you know exactly what I mean. It’s initially a shock which turns into my being grateful for all the love in that room. God’s surprises are a lot like that. They might rock me back on my heels for a bit but I’ve never known one where I didn’t encounter love.
I am the child who is filled with awesome wonder at the new things I encounter and discover. I am also that child who persistently asks the question, “Why?” My questions aren’t always answered and I often forget my asking when I am lost in the wonder of discovering and seeing God in all.....in all of creation, in all people, in all religions, in all beliefs in all things. In God’s showing me all these little bits and pieces of God’s self, I clap my hands and jump for joy.
Sometimes I wonder if my heart could possibly expand enough to hold all of the God I discover. My heart must be a very good elastic to be able to stretch and include so much. Whenever there’s something more, there’s always room. God keeps showing me how big God is....how some try so hard to keep God in a box of their limited understanding and how God is so much bigger than that. God broadens my vision so I am free to love God in all.
Not only am I free to love all, but I am free to learn from all. No one denomination or religion can possibly be the only way to God. God is much, much bigger than that. So I stay open to the wonder....open to the discovery of truth.....open to love.....open to all the surprises God has in store for me.
I’m getting so I really love God’s surprises and look with excited expectation for the next one.
Friday, July 15, 2016
Digging My Ditch
Growing in the knowledge of God is sometimes very labor intensive. This morning I compared it to my digging a ditch. It takes work.
Sometimes the dirt is easy to remove. It doesn’t weigh too much and doesn’t fall off the shovel as it’s being transferred. Sometimes there is sand which slides off the shovel, insisting on returning to whence it came, requiring me to double my efforts. Sometimes there are rocks which require me to dig around and pry them up with my shovel. Some are larger than others and some I need help in the lifting and removing.
Some days I look back at the ditch I’ve dug and am proud of all I’ve done. That pride is short-lived for in the morning, I find dirt and sand have returned to my beautifully dug ditch. The rain so sorely needed had washed the dirt so it sits again at the bottom, needing to be removed....a task much more difficult due to its new wet heaviness. So I go back and clean out my ditch, fighting the discouragement which makes it even more difficult.
There are brighter times, I remind myself. I smile when remembering the gopher who did half the digging with putting his tunnel along the direction of my ditch. There are the times when someone helps me remove the huge rocks I cannot move by myself. The hole they leave behind requires no digging. There is the brightness of the day with the sun warm on my shoulders....the coolness of the breeze taking the sweat from my brow and filling my nostrils with the sweet scent of flowers. There are those times I love digging my ditch!
There are times, too, when I want to throw down my shovel and walk away...telling myself I don’t need this ditch. But then I realize I do. I need to continue digging, no matter how labor intensive it might be. This ditch is needed and I have been given the task of digging it...so I renew my resolve and continue to labor, knowing the reward is great.
Sometimes the dirt is easy to remove. It doesn’t weigh too much and doesn’t fall off the shovel as it’s being transferred. Sometimes there is sand which slides off the shovel, insisting on returning to whence it came, requiring me to double my efforts. Sometimes there are rocks which require me to dig around and pry them up with my shovel. Some are larger than others and some I need help in the lifting and removing.
Some days I look back at the ditch I’ve dug and am proud of all I’ve done. That pride is short-lived for in the morning, I find dirt and sand have returned to my beautifully dug ditch. The rain so sorely needed had washed the dirt so it sits again at the bottom, needing to be removed....a task much more difficult due to its new wet heaviness. So I go back and clean out my ditch, fighting the discouragement which makes it even more difficult.
There are brighter times, I remind myself. I smile when remembering the gopher who did half the digging with putting his tunnel along the direction of my ditch. There are the times when someone helps me remove the huge rocks I cannot move by myself. The hole they leave behind requires no digging. There is the brightness of the day with the sun warm on my shoulders....the coolness of the breeze taking the sweat from my brow and filling my nostrils with the sweet scent of flowers. There are those times I love digging my ditch!
There are times, too, when I want to throw down my shovel and walk away...telling myself I don’t need this ditch. But then I realize I do. I need to continue digging, no matter how labor intensive it might be. This ditch is needed and I have been given the task of digging it...so I renew my resolve and continue to labor, knowing the reward is great.
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Through the Window
The other day I shared in meditation with a friend. It began but did not stop in that time, but has become ongoing...as meditations sometimes do...because God often has more to say and goes beyond the time I allot. I’d like to share that meditation with you here...I don’t know why but then again, I am often led to do things without knowing the ‘why’.
To begin, I was led through the meditation to a window. For me, it was a large picture window consisting of large panes of framed glass. Through it, I saw a golden path saturated with light. Rolling golden clouds and mist rose up, making the path itself barely distinguishable. The light, the colors and the clouds were beautiful and inviting. However, I had no desire at the time to go beyond the protection of the window. I interpreted what I’d seen as being the path to heaven and presumed the reason I did not go “outside” was because it wasn’t my time....though I did wonder at God's showing it to me.
What I saw through the window came into my mind again this morning. This time, I saw more meaning than I had seen before. It wasn’t just the path to heaven God was showing me....it wasn’t where it led that was important. What was important was that I was walking it with Jesus.
I am now outside the window and on the path. The golden clouds and the mist make it impossible for me to see where I’m going. I can’t even see my feet. So I hold tighter to Jesus’ hand as I become the child I am. I’m not afraid. In fact I kind of like the feel of these clouds against my skin. I laugh at how the mist tickles me as I dance along and how I can barely see my foot when I kick it into the air.
There is such beauty here on this path. The light is so bright the clouds shine as each bit of their moisture reflects it in golden transparency. Its beauty fills me until I feel I, too, shine with this light.
The clouds leave a wetness on my face and even as I touch it gently with my fingers, I realize it is more than moisture they leave behind. It is tears. It is the tears of all of those in pain. Here in this place, Jesus shares with me the tears brought to Him in prayer. A lump comes into my throat and I look to him questioningly with tears in my own eyes. No words are exchanged, Jesus simply smiles understandingly and nods his head.
I have no doubt there will be more and I will come to know in God’s own time and when I am ready.
To begin, I was led through the meditation to a window. For me, it was a large picture window consisting of large panes of framed glass. Through it, I saw a golden path saturated with light. Rolling golden clouds and mist rose up, making the path itself barely distinguishable. The light, the colors and the clouds were beautiful and inviting. However, I had no desire at the time to go beyond the protection of the window. I interpreted what I’d seen as being the path to heaven and presumed the reason I did not go “outside” was because it wasn’t my time....though I did wonder at God's showing it to me.
What I saw through the window came into my mind again this morning. This time, I saw more meaning than I had seen before. It wasn’t just the path to heaven God was showing me....it wasn’t where it led that was important. What was important was that I was walking it with Jesus.
I am now outside the window and on the path. The golden clouds and the mist make it impossible for me to see where I’m going. I can’t even see my feet. So I hold tighter to Jesus’ hand as I become the child I am. I’m not afraid. In fact I kind of like the feel of these clouds against my skin. I laugh at how the mist tickles me as I dance along and how I can barely see my foot when I kick it into the air.
There is such beauty here on this path. The light is so bright the clouds shine as each bit of their moisture reflects it in golden transparency. Its beauty fills me until I feel I, too, shine with this light.
The clouds leave a wetness on my face and even as I touch it gently with my fingers, I realize it is more than moisture they leave behind. It is tears. It is the tears of all of those in pain. Here in this place, Jesus shares with me the tears brought to Him in prayer. A lump comes into my throat and I look to him questioningly with tears in my own eyes. No words are exchanged, Jesus simply smiles understandingly and nods his head.
I have no doubt there will be more and I will come to know in God’s own time and when I am ready.
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