Room to Grow

Over the past several years,  this tree has grown from a spindly random sprout into a giant, towering over my home. Countless hours have been spent in its shade, semi-secluded from neighbors, thinking, writing, reading, laughing, praying, crying, eating, wondering.

A few springs ago, I woke to a freak May snowstorm that had dumped a foot of heavy wet snow over everything newly green. My dear tree, my shelter from life's storms, had split down the middle.

A tree-fixer person gave me a plan to save it, which a friend executed. This tree has done much for me over the past several years as I've been learning to live alone. I will do much for it in return, to help it survive its own battles with whatever would threaten its existence.  

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This afternoon, I got out my saw and removed chunks of the 18-year-old bench that had been installed a decade before this tree even dreamed of sprouting. Two other times I'd taken a sliver out of the bench, but recent growth had the tree beginning to dislodge the planks. As my saw bit through the final inch of lumber,

I swear I heard the tree sigh in relief.

My tree taught me that sometimes things need to be cut away, in order to give room to grow.

What in your life is squeezing too tightly?

Still More Joy

The power behind these words steadies me:

Don't postpone joy

until you have learned all your lessons.

Joy is your lesson.

~Alan Cohen *

I'm home now, after five days away--five days overflowing with God's transformative teaching. I'm unsure where to start this day, what task to put my hand to.  How do I allow what I've learned this past week to inform my daily life?

Still unsure, I listen. And listen some more.

Gratitude bubbles up for the beauty immediately surrounding me.

And I turn to this poem by Violet Ker Seymer, #16 in the Christian Science Hymnal:

As sings the mountain stream, Past rock and verdure wild,

So let me sing my way to Thee, Thy pure and happy child.

O boundless source of might, My praise must e'er increase,

For Love is Life eternally, Whose blessings never cease.

I sing my way to-day, My heart is joyous, free,

For what is Thine is ever mine, I find myself in Thee.

And I do find blessing. Peace. The courage to take one step forward, into this day.

* for a ridiculously wonderful overflow of joy, visit PersistentGreen.com

Joy, Freely Given

Today I dedicate this blog post to a fellow artist whose generosity of spirit overwhelms me.

Amanda, persistentgreen.blogspot.com, has long been a source of inspiration to me. Her commitment to a vibrant, juicy, artistic life spurs me to aim for the same.

On Amanda's blog for today, persistentgreen.blogspot.com, she has launched her first e-book and wonder of wonders, is offering it as a gift. Wow.

My copy is already downloaded and printed out and displayed, eye level, at the nexus of my home.

I plan to change the pictures often, as the spirit moves me. In fact, as I was taking these pictures, I switched out the pages--look closely and you can tell!

Already, after only a few hours of walking past these vibrant pages, the level of joyful expectancy bubbling in me has risen markedly. I am finding joy everywhere, even on the sticky wrapper from a recently slurped down waffle cone :)

Amanda, sister artist, lovely  human being, fellow child of God--I salute you. And I thank you.

Fresh Start

Hello, dear ones.


This spring for me has been juicyfull with growth and new beginnings. I do so hope you have been having the same. Don't get me wrong: a lot of that growing has felt like the hacking of a hoe as it breaks up winterhard ground. Given a choice, I would have wanted to decline, except for the knowledge, hard won, that prepared ground receives seed far more easily.


During the past couple of weeks, I've been away at a Bible study conference in California. Deep diving into the Book of Books, at Asilomar ("refuge by the sea") on the Big Sur coast . . . for me, it doesn't get much better than that.



I've been home a handful of days now, spirit-saturated with an overflowing of gifts from the Divine: peace, direction, possibility, wonder, gratitude, hope, and so much more that dances just beyond the reach of words.


I'll let these images of the vision board I made yesterday speak to what I'm feeling. If the text is too small to read, try clicking on the image--that should enlarge it. [Nope, I just tried clicking and nothing happened. I'll add the text.] [Ah . . a lesson in dropping perfectionism--the first image was supposed to be last, but it got jigglebumped into the first spot, and I can't move it. Okay. I surrender. Happily.]

that big pink "empty" spot insisted on remaining "empty"

(the whole picture)

Something beautiful is happening.

Rediscover

. . . you owe it to yourself to experience

a true breakthrough

effortless and fluid

as if lit from within

emerge

lean into the mirror and say . . . wow

Dear fellow journeyers: may you feel God's tender touch today. Share with me, if you like.

Feeling Hopeful

It's 2:00 a.m.

Yep, I shoulda been in bed hours ago.

Instead, I'm here, paying tribute to beauty . . .

. . . to having survived a bitter long winter of the soul . . .

. . . to feeling the uncomfortable yet exceedingly welcome itch of new growth.

May you, too, experience the unutterable joy of having your heart come back to life.

I'm Back

Tonight's eastern sky, just before sunset.

I have no idea why so many weeks have elapsed between my last post and now. Or why, tonight, at 10 minutes after 10pm, I am suddenly here, writing. But here I am. I'm tired and ready for bed, and yet parts of my heart feel as sweetly fresh as this soon-to-be-blossoming lily, dressed in morning dew.

I feel as though I have been "in transition" forever and a day. Sometimes I honestly wonder if I will ever make it beyond transition. Will I ever grow to the point where old hurts are mainly healed? Will I ever manage to do much more than survive emotional crap?

Then I remember my new gratitude journal which gets written in multiple times a day. I remember the sharp sweetness of praying for friends in need these past weeks. I remember holy times of stillness recently when I have listened long enough, and deep enough, to feel God's presence so strongly I can almost touch it.

This, then, is enough. More than enough.

P.S. I've said it before, but will repeat it: it means a great deal to me when people leave comments. You don't need to say much. Just a "Hi there" means a lot. :)

"He knows the angels . . . "

"He [God] knows the angels that you need,

and sends them to your side,

to comfort, guard, and guide.

These words from a favorite hymn capture the feeling of how God met me right where I was a couple days ago, and showed me quite vividly what an incredible tool He has given me, in the form of artistic expression.

Sunday afternoon I found myself swamped by some unsettling thoughts. I knew I had to l eave for house church that evening in less than an hour, but I couldn't see how I could pull myself together in time. Right as I reached out in wordless prayer, I heard, "do something arty." Before I had much time to process that, I called my sweet daughter/friend/fellow artist and really wasn't surprised to hear her echo that thought, "Why don't you work on this week's prompt for ThursdaySweetTreat?" The next 30 minutes were amazing.

My hands felt as though they were moving of their own accord, but I know it was the me deep inside, responding to the great Creator, the great Artist. I kneeled on the floor and taped out a message.

Then came drips and drabs of the two colors in my nickname: AquaMaureen. Then came blowing through a straw and the pure fun of seeing how different puffs of air and wiggling the straw to semi-direct the flow made magic happen.

Then the peeling away of the tape.

Ah . . . by me just being me, the me God made me to be, joy is exposed. Joy shows itself to lie underneath all of my life. Joy tells me that God, divine Love, is everpresent.

The alarm goes off--time for church--time to wash my hands and leave my little spot on the floor . . . let the paint dry, but take the newborn joy and sweet serenity with me. Thank You, God of all good, for showing me these ways of turning to You when my world seems upside-down. Thank You for showing me my world in all its upside-up beauty and glory.