God does my art

Friday morning. Ahhhh. My coffee and I have just arrived in the living room, in fact there are no lights on yet. It's a cool rainy rather bleak morning. Except. Except it's October 30, and the view is spectacular.

The entire south wall of our livingroom is windows. Thus the title: God does my art. Every morning I make my cup of Butter Toffee coffee in the Keurig (with a splash of cream and one Splenda) and mosey over to the dark living room. If it's still dark out I'll put on the twinkle lights which are draped over the small picket fence near the living room window. But most mornings I just stand, literally just stand there in my jammies, robe and slippers and sip my coffee while I stare at the landscape that's our back yard.

Today the red bush is the highlight. I love this strange bush whose branches all come from the base - not from any sort of a trunk or from another branch. The long branches create a continual movement in the wind. I just love it. I do cut it down continually (though carefully so it never looks newly chopped) but honestly treasure the movement of those continually swaying branches. No, it's not a burning bush, but the color is as spectacular. We have burning bushes galore. In fact I set out to count them twice, and both times became distracted. There are about a dozen, all groomed quite small.

Recently my first morning sight was a red fox. I saw him on two consecutive mornings, and gave him the charge to eat a few squirrels before he moved on. No recent sightings of coyotes or deer. Did I blog about the blue jay? I had my first ever blue jay visit (alas no camera near by) and he was spectacular, twice the size of the cardinals also feeding at that time. Yes, I know that I do not want the blue jay - I've been told that if he chooses my feeders I'll lose all other birds.

As we near November and our minds turn to Thanksgiving, I will blog about my blessings. Today I thank God once again for this living room window which overlooks acres of park land. There are no words to describe how it lifts me - buoys up my soul. No matter the state of my checkbook, the view is rich. No matter the state of my relationships, the birds want to chatter. No matter the dullness of my feelings, the colors dance. No matter the messiness of our household, the outdoors is in perfect harmony and planned display. This must be what prozak feels like - I can literally breathe in the calm and the peace.

Thank you Father. Thank you for the way you have planted me in a place of beauty, a place where I've discovered anew the beauty and order of the rhythm of nature. Thank you for Your creations, and for the simplicity of our responses to them. Amen.

Twinkling

The best part of fall and winter is the lovely effect of lighting inside our home. Unexpected dim lights from all corners of a dark room makes me smile. I'm big into dimmer lights, and into the general calming effect of candlelight and low wattage uplighting and glows.

Last night Sweet Sue was at our house, and I asked her to help motivate me in my office - the half of our bedroom which is dedicated to study and creativity. A couple piles of unfiled mail is really all that stood between me and order, since a couple weeks ago I finally hauled all the funeral paperwork, photos, cards, etc. to the basement. There comes a time when I simply have to haul a pile to a new location - it's something about how I'm wired - just seeing the pile overwhelms me and I avoid it all together.

Sue observed that what I really needed was more lighting.

An hour later the perimeter of this little cubby was sparkling with twinkle lights. Icicle lights on white wire hung from tiny nails spaced a foot apart - about 3 inches from the ceiling. It is positively magical.

My desk was quickly cleared off, and when I went to bed all that remained on it was my laptop and my desklamp. This morning I've been busy with Bible study and the preparation to lead worship on Sunday, all beneath the glow of a million white icicle lights.

I'm working on a photo to post. It's a tough angle to get - this is an indented cubby area of our bedroom - and the lighting is hard to capture.

In the mean time, I am twinkling. Thank you Sue!

Delicious

Sitting in the family room, staring out a window to a garden of fall splendor, sipping Butter Toffee coffee, journaling, day dreaming, and reading in Luke. It's Friday morning, and I'm off until Monday. There is no quiz next week, no mid term exam, there are no out of town guests this week end, in fact... there's little on my calendar. What bliss.

Beth Moore's "90 Day" series are my favorite devotional studies *ever.* The book lover in me appreciates the sturdy hard cover presentation and especially the thick ivory pages with the rough uneven edges. The book itself is magnificent. The disciple in me loves how Beth probes into the text. And the woman in me identifies with the relational details upon which she focuses.


Currently I'm savoring this one on Jesus. In the past I did 90 Days with John, and David is waiting on my bookshelf. Savoring. Honestly, when I'm snuggled under the warm covers in the morning, what seduces me from bed is the thought of curling up with my coffee, my Bible and Beth. No exaggeration. It's my favorite part of the day.

I'm not racing through. The pages are filled with my notes. She set up the books as journals, with questions and space for answers, but I go well beyond that because her perspective draws me in. From the familiar stories she extracts details that add to the richness, add to my appreciation of Jesus' humanity and His divinity. It's a matter of falling in love.

This morning I continued to linger in Luke 10:38-42 - the story of Mary and Martha. I've never really been ashamed of being the Martha of the story, mainly because there is so much Mary in me as well. Martha makes the preparation, and she is the one who actually invites Jesus over in verse 38. We can all ooh and aah over Mary's devotion, but if Martha hadn't been practical enough to invite the guest, there would have been no feet in their house at which Mary could sit.

One thing Beth brings out is that the word "preparation" begins with "pre." Preparation is a good and necessary part of every gathering. Even my time with the Lord each morning involves preparation - likely more than necessary because I'm such a nut with my pens and books - but then when I sit down and open the Word I need to discipline myself to be in the moment and no longer gathering supplies or getting other household processes started. The prep allows the setting in which the relationship can grow, but the Martha in me needs to glue myself to the chair. Enough is enough. The time comes to enjoy the guest.

If Jesus were coming for dinner, you'd better believe I'd be a white tornado of activity all day, cleaning and preparing a warm and welcoming environment. But once He arrived, I hope I'd have the sense to sit as near as I could and just savor His presence. In a way that's what I'm doing as I sit here on this rainy Friday morning. As thoughts cross my mind I bring them to Him, we talk about them a bit, and then I return my attention to His Word.

It's a beautiful thing.

Through It All

Here's the words to the song I'm singing at church tomorrow.

And it's the title of the book I'm going to start.

Through It All.

Little life stories, experiences, and what I've learned...through it all.

I'm inspired.

Again, my favorite version is by Selah.

I love this song.

I've had many tears and sorrows,

I've had questions for tomorrow,
there've been times I didn't know right from wrong.
But in every situation,
God gave blessed consolation,
that my trials only come to make me strong.

Verse 2
I've been a lot of places, and
I've seen so many faces, but
there's been times I felt so all alone.
But in my lonely hours,
in those precious lonely hours,
Jesus let me know that I am His own

And oh it was...

Through it all,
through it all,
I've learned to trust in Jesus,
I've learned to trust in God.
Through it all,
through it all,
I've learned to depend upon His Word.

Verse 3
So I thank God for the mountains,
and I thank Him for the valleys,
I thank Him for the storms He's brought me through.
For if I'd never had a problem,
I wouldn't know that He could solve them,
I wouldn't know what faith in His Word could do.

Through it all,
through it all,
I've learned to trust in Jesus,
I've learned to trust in God.
Through it all,
through it all,
I've learned to depend upon His Word.

Finally

Last night in history class...it all began to make sense.

I've been studying during every spare minute for the last two weeks. Unfortunately there have not been many spare minutes. Yesterday I left work after a noon time meeting, and set up shop at a table in the Barnes & Noble cafe. For 5 straight hours I read, reread and made index cards from which to study for next week's midterm. Our professor gave us a list of 65 topics to master...so I now have 65 large index cards. As I read and hit a topic, I make notes.

That undivided, concentrated time made such a difference. I started putting events and people in order in my mind, and seeing where different readings covered the same time frame. I had a map and tried to find the origination of the various conquerors.

I've already said...I came into this clueless. I must have slept through geography and history classes in high school and undergrad. I don't know where the modern day countries are, let alone the ones at the time of Constantine. Our professor is so knowledgeable that he doesn't teach to my level - leaving gaps that totally confuse me.

We had a quiz last night, which was the impetus for my feverish review. What a gift that was - a quiz on 2/3 of the material we've learned. I need to keep studying until next Wednesday but the majority of the material is at least on my cards.

On quiz one I learned that Dr. G. likes to quiz you on the reading that he has not yet discussed. So I especially concentrated on new material at B & N. Wow, did THAT make a difference. Class finally made sense. The material was familiar. I knew the names. Yes, yes, I know that I should always have my reading done before class...but really, life gets in the way, and once you're behind it's hard to catch up, and then the reading is dry. Anyhow, I *loved* class last night. I felt so on top of things referencing the index cards I already had made for the material upon which he was lecturing. PLUS, the material is about to turn...the second half of the semester is the Reformation and beyond. I just can't wait to hear about so many names that I know but really know so little about. Last night we learned about Wycliffe. John Wycliffe was so passionate about the Word of God being translated into the language of the people. At that time the only option was hand copying, so copies of Scripture cost months of wages. The church was the only keeper of the Word, and was so corrupt. The political process and the church hierarchy were intertwined, and the common man was plundered. Wycliffe studied at Oxford, and God opened his eyes to the inconsistencies. Luther continued on with so many of the same ideas, but Luther was able to encourage the laity's reading of the Word because the Printing Press with its movable type had been invented in 1450. Wycliffe began the dissension, and once Gutenberg's press was able to churn out Bibles, the wildfire of the Reformation spread.

I'm such a history nerd now that I asked my prof if I could borrow a book for the week. [a week ago I would have laughed in your face at the suggestion of extra reading] It's entitled The 100 Most Important Events in Church History. In chronological order it goes through many of the events on my list of 65. He kept reading from it in class, so I reasoned that a concise summary, with writing from a different perspective, might help jell the material even further. In fact I read a few topics in bed at 10:30 last night.

Ha. Miracles never cease.

Disappointment

Disappointment is my word tonight. I'm sorry to write it, and I sort of want to hide it, yet I figure if I'm writing this blog to have an honest remembrance of the year, once in a while there needs to be an honest post on a disappointing day.

Today the tears have been ever present - just on the edge. Plenty have fallen and been added to my bottle.

Psalm 56:8 (AMP)
You number and record my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle—are they not in Your book?

I'm disappointed that some things hurt so much. The same things. Over and over. That progress does not seem to be made. One step forward, two steps back.

I'm disappointed that I can't cope better.

And really, I'm disappointed that I hope, and that my hope is squashed.

Our pastor talked about Bible Study Partnerships today - reading one chapter of the Bible each day and then getting together with someone to share which verses "popped out" while you read. And so, here I sit at Starbucks, about to dive into Isaiah chapter one. I'm hoping that there will be another blog soon - one with a much better title.

I'm just disappointed.

Age Old Dilemma

In reading about Constantine, the Roman Emperor in the fourth century who ended the persecution of Christians and embraced Christianity, the chapter ends with this quote:

The disagreement [of the ancient church] rested on exactly what it meant to be obedient in a new age while remaining faithful to an old message.

Interesting, isn't it? There is nothing new under the sun...

Power

This morning I am at my desk in our bedroom for my quiet time for two reasons: the kids are up and about which distracts me if I'm in my spot on the couch (my timing is off this morning...their routine is as always) and also my sciatic nerve is killing me. One too many boxes moved in the basement...I've been paying dearly for lifting one box in particular, and as a result must avoid the cushy furniture!

And so, since my laptop is also on the desk...who can resist? A wee note on today's study.

In Mark 9:14-18, directly following the transfiguration, Jesus comes back with Peter, James and John to find the other disciples in an argument with the scribes amidst a crowd of people.

One pattern I'm noticing as I step back and study the *whole* in my classes is that it was the established religious group that were so against the movement of God through Jesus. God had something new planned, which was, actually, the fulfillment of everything old. The establishment just kept clinging to the old, to tradition, to the known. The "religious" people were the ones who continually stirred up the trouble. Interesting.

The disciples had told a man that they could not heal his demon possessed son. In Luke 9:1, before the transfiguration recorded in Luke 9:28, Jesus had indeed given the disciples the power to heal. Jesus doesn't seem too pleased when in Mark 9: 19 He states, "O unbelieving generation, how long shall I be with you? How long shall I put up with you?" Was He unhappy with the clamoring crowd? Or with the bewildered disciples?

I find it interesting that the disciples had less faith than the boy's father. Likely they experienced fear, and perhaps intimidation. With Jesus and the favored three gone, the remaining 9 may have felt unqualified. Of course they were young in their faith...still learning, still grappling with just who this Jesus was, and what their role might be.

God's power was available to the 9 disciples left on their own, just as it is available to us, to me. With Christ within, I have the "surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe," (Eph 2:19) available to me. The same power, Paul points out in Ephesians 2:20, that raised Christ from the dead.

Beth Moore points out in her devotional book Jesus, 90 Days with the One and Only that "...the worst conditions can often provide the best atmosphere to act in faith." And yet, like the nine, I can tend to wimp out and think "I can't." God, that is simply too big. This situation is too overwhelming. Lord, this feels impossible.

Jesus had given them the power to heal. 2 Peter 1:3 tells us

"For His divine power has bestowed upon us all things that [are requisite and suited] to life and godliness, through the [full, personal] knowledge of Him Who called us by and to His own glory and excellence (virtue)."

With Christ within, truly no situation in my life is impossible. Whenever I think of relational issues in particular, I need to think of God's resurrection power, and that He has ALREADY given me EVERYTHING pertaining to life and godliness. God not only can work in the situation, but He can work in me to make the situation bearable. Whether He changes me or the situation is likely not the point...

I won't judge those nine disciples and their lack of faith. Every day I need the same lesson as they did - that "With God, nothing is impossible." (Luke 1:37)

Catching up with myself

It was a great week end. A full week end.

It started EARLY as I left the house Friday at 4:25 am to meet coworkers to drive north to Wausau for an interview. On the way back we stopped at a restaurant, where I wandered into the gift shop. A Gooseberry Patch cookbook caught my eye. Entitled "5 Ingredients or Less," its simple recipes are arranged by season, and each page has a seasonal decorating tip as well. After previewing a few "autumn" pages, I bought it for some pleasure reading on the 3 hour return trip. I was too exhausted to study the class books in my bag...

So I snuggled into the back seat of a monstrous BMW (the seats recline in the BACK seat!), got out a highlighter, a pen and some post-it notes, and started in. An hour later it occurred to me that I was feeling like "me." A palpable feeling of awakening washed over me.

Recipes, seasonal decor, sitting, perusing...no immediate pressures or deadlines. It was, in a word, blissful. I realized that some parts of me have just been shelved this year as I've gone from activity to crisis to activity to crisis. I simply have not caught up with myself. I've not recovered.

I came home and decided to clean the basement for 30 minutes. Make one little dent. In 2008 the basement had been DONE - completely organized for the first time ever in my adult life. Our new house has great built in storage, and all my seasonal boxes, as well as quilting supplies, had been arranged and at the ready. It was an incredible feat of purging and organizing. And then we had the 100 year record rain storm and a basement flood, so everything on the floor had been hurriedly moved to higher ground. In February of 2009 we had the drain tiles repaired, so everything was moved out and then covered in order to minimize the damage of cement dust. In March my uncle was so ill and then died, which involved two week ends in Iowa. My dad began to spiral in March. I was rarely home. In April I brought up box upon box of my mother's photo albums to have out for my dad's funeral. In May I took them all back down, but by then the two college kids, who both have lower level rooms, had moved in with all their stuff.

Somewhere along the way I gave up, and put the basement on "ignore."

And so, this past Friday, inspired by a bit of reading of simple seasonal celebration, I ventured down and began to move the photo album boxes back into place. I folded up my father's clothes and drove them to Goodwill. Something in me began to wake up... it was time to move on, and to start celebrating again. This isn't likely making sense, but this was big... I was coming out of a fog. Little by little. I found some boxes of fall decor, and carried them upstairs. Frank joined in and helped clean - vacuuming as I cleaned my way through areas. We set up a guitar area downstairs for Jake - the pieces had been there since before the repair, but we had just never put it together.

There's still a lot to do. But the "funeral" boxes and remnants of my dad's room are not there in a pile. The spring decor is put away, and those boxes are on the shelves. The upstairs is cleaned, dusted and looks ready for autumn. It's like I've arrived back home - the things that are SO important to me - I'm doing them again. Organizational chaos weighs me down - even behind closed doors in the basement. Celebrating the change of seasons is ME - I smile as I look around the dining room here where I'm typing. Cooking meals - new ones with 5 ingredients or less - it's ME.

I'd lost myself for a while. It's been a hell of a year. Really. I'm glad to be on the road back.

Gotta scoot. I'm going to set the timer for 30 minutes and organize some Christmas boxes which are still uprooted from the February repairs. 30 minutes at a time...it'll be done eventually...

His Eye is on the Sparrow

why should I feel discouraged

and why should the shadows come

why should my heart feel lonely

and long for heaven and home

when Jesus is my portion

a constant friend is He

His eye is on the sparrow

and I know He watches over me

His eye is on the sparrow

and I know He watches over me

I sing because I'm happy

I sing because I'm free

His eye is on the sparrow

and I know He watches me

He watches me

His eye is on the sparrow

and I know He watches

I know He watches,

I know He watches me.

This song has been in my mind almost constantly in the last two weeks. What comfort it brings to me. My favorite part? "A constant friend is He."

Just now I wanted to find the writer of the song, so I looked up Wikipedia. There was an amazing amount of information...I've included some of it below.

My favorite version is by Selah. If you have itunes, you may want to download it. It is so so soothing.

I've just this morning figured it out on guitar. A dear "sista" is in the hospital with a scary diagnosis. I'm planning to sing it to her tonight, as she is likely in need of the reminder.

From Wikipedia:

"His Eye Is on the Sparrow" is a Gospel hymn. Although today it is a staple of African-American worship services, the song was originally written in 1905 by two white songwriters, lyricist Civilla D. Martin and composer Charles H. Gabriel. The song is most associated with actress-singer Ethel Waters who used the title for her autobiography.

The song has been performed extensively in Gospel music with notable versions by The Soul Stirrers, Shirley Caesar, Crystal Lewis, Marvin Gaye (from In Loving Memory), Kirk Franklin & the Family, Lauryn Hill & Tanya Blount (from Sister Act 2), Mahalia Jackson, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Dottie West, and Barbara Mandrell. Jessica Simpson recorded the song for her 2001 album Irresistible. Recent jazz artists who recorded the song include the George Adams-Don Pullen Quartet (1984), the Scott Amendola Band (2002), and by Jessi Colter, on her new album, "Out of the Ashes" (2006).

[edit]Inspiration

The theme of the song is inspired by the words of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew in the Bible, as referenced by Mrs. Doolittle in Elmira, NY .

Chapter 6:26
²⁶ Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?

Chapter 10:29-31.
²⁹ Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.
³⁰ But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
³¹ Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.

Civilla Martin, who wrote the lyrics, said this about her inspiration to write the song based in the scriptures outlined above,

Early in the spring of 1905, my hus band and I were so journ ing in El mi ra, New York. We con tract ed a deep friend ship for a cou ple by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Doo lit tle—true saints of God. Mrs. Doo lit tle had been bed rid den for nigh twen ty years. Her hus band was an in cur a ble crip ple who had to pro pel him self to and from his bus i ness in a wheel chair. De spite their af flict ions, they lived hap py Christ ian lives, bring ing in spir a tion and com fort to all who knew them. One day while we were visiting with the Doo lit tles, my hus band com ment ed on their bright hope ful ness and asked them for the secret of it. Mrs. Doo lit tle’s re ply was sim ple: "His eye is on the spar row, and I know He watch es me." The beau ty of this simple ex press ion of bound less faith gripped the hearts and fired the imag in a tion of Dr. Mar tin and me. The hymn "His Eye Is on the Spar row" was the out come of that ex per i ence.

-- Civilla Martin