In awe...amazed and humbled.

    I struggle to share something that "God" is doing in me without it being about me. But, if I'm being completely honest, I'm overwhelmed by it all, so I'm going to try. I'll start with my point.
    If we give God a willing heart, and walk in faith, He brings to fruition the things He begins, and sometimes, they absolutely blow us away.
   
     Recently God recently reminded me that many months ago, when I showed my sister Kay the ToonPaintings on my Iphone she had said, "I think you should paint for real," but there was only a slight serious tone in her voice, and I remember smiling.
   
     He reminded me that after a very precious prayertime following Bible Study, a dear friend said to me, "I think you should write a Bible Study, Pam." And I remember shaking my head and laughing,  "Oh yeah...you see me in here. That's so not happening."

     Around this same time, another friend sought me out in the hall outside the nursery after church one Sunday and said, "I really have to share something with you. It sounds kinda crazy and I don't know what it means, but I think I'm supposed to tell you this."
     "What?" I asked her.
     "That you're going to start using your hands in a new way." There was a pause, smiles, and then we both kinda shrugged. "Okay." I said. Then I hugged her and we both went on with our day.  
    I spoke to this last friend recently, we had not seen each other in quite some time. I asked her about that day and she did not remember her words to me. She also did not know that I was painting.

     I write this because I see clearly how God uses the people He puts in our lives to encourage and affirm the things He is saying to, and doing in, us and I want you to see it too. God knit his people together for His good purpose. I love this!

     Now, almost a year later, I work on my Bible study, and paint almost every day.
 If I'm not writing or painting, then I'm praying, or thinking about it.
    If you told me a year ago that I would do a charcoal drawing of a horse for a friend, or paint my Mother's favorite picture of tulips for her birthday I would have told you that you were nuts. I am now, though, forever thankful that God knows me better than I ever knew myself. He is pulling something out of me that I never knew was there. 
     So I am now fully committed to this journey down, "The Glory Road," I don't know everything that lies ahead on this trail, but I trust my God. 
     I know that He halted a fiery passion in this daughters heart and in his time gave her back something even greater. I have great peace in that kind of love and know, without a doubt, that it can be trusted. 
     So use this for your Glory, Lord, and know that I see it for the miracle it is. I know what you have done. 
     May I never forget how impressed I am at this moment with what my Father in Heaven has done with one single willing heart.

     In awe, I sit amazed and humbled.

 

Just pick it up already...

      "You're ready for this." He tells me. "I've been preparing you for a long time."

     "But I'm scared." There. I said it. I want to shout with joy, and keep it a secret. I was full of excitement and flooded with fear.  
     The very idea of someone like me trying to paint the creation of God was beyond crazy. So I do nothing. I just wait. I wait and I pray. 

     As I do, God begins to remind me of the unique way I had been created. As far back as I can remember, I have known him through the glory of creation. "This is why I chose you for this,"  and I remember box turtles, fat bumpy croaking toads, and caterpillars of childhood.  Oklahoma thunderstorms and juicy plump tomato worms with long curved thorns. I remember Jude Paul's miracle blackberry bush, the coming and going of the Sierra mountain sun, and the cloudy summer days of my youth. 
    I know the deep joy and laughter of Grandsons and I had a moment of deep connection as I looked into the huge glassy eye of a Mother humpback whale. 
     "You see me everywhere," God said, and I knew it was true.

     So I stand here in faith with my feet on the, "Glory Road", because God has put them here. I will stop walking by the table and pick up the paint brush.  
     I will paint.
    I will. 

It is Mother's Day...and I know love.

    I spend the morning alone unpacking suitcases, sorting laundry, and mopping dirty floors. I do it with praise and know I am blessed.  After back to back weeks of travel and a workweek ahead, this is my time.
    I load the wash and remember Reed, not yet one, standing in the laundry room sink beside me.  I clean the toilet in the guest bath, see myself on the floor beside Jude, and remember all the bathrooms I've sat beside toilets in while babies learned to potty.
     I turn corners, go up stairs, and everywhere are marks and memories.  Every knock and fingerprint, and mouth smudge hold a story. I vacuum as the living room fills with a brother and sisters, grandsons, nieces, nephews and puppies.  On the glass porch door I see Onyx's lick marks and picture Paul curled in a Tug Chase pile by the fire. Our Michael hangs from the ceiling beam.
     A chest in the office is covered with marked up Bibles and studies that still make me weep and I know God.
     I paused today on the stair my Mother fell to when we got the call her baby brother Bill, had died, and I can hear her cry out.
    I add tea bags to a pot for my Kombucha and see Gus sitting at the window crying for Garrett. But now it is Cali who sits and cries.
     I see Chandler dance across the kitchen floor and sing with a smile as big as the sun and I stand at the sink and know her heartache. I remember the words she spoke to me in this very spot and how the truth of them made me weep uncontrollably.
    Outside in the yard I see weddings, celebrations, tables, flowers, families, children, and I hear worship, laughter, prayer and praise.
    I smell ReAnnon's cooking and see her nursing baby boys from almost every room as Paul passes by windows on his tractor. We grieve babies that were lost and yet life goes on and still Paul passes by the windows on his tractor.
    A back porch holds a daughters heart and the songs of a Mamo and three baby boys.
    Under the stairs is a tiny room with pillows and books and broken horses.
    Outside is a sanctuary. A garden gift of miracles. A meeting place where I listen and pray and know.
    Praise, tears, death and life.
    It is Mothers Day and I know God and I know love.

I am...

I am a sinner saved by grace...
I am chosen child...
I am set apart by God...
I am a covered by the blood of the lamb...

I am tempted...
I am fearful...
I am made new...
I am beloved...

I am refined by fire...
I am saved...
I am unfathomably loved...
I am a worshipper...

I am called...
I am died for...
I am a receiver of gifts...
I am a receiver of promises...

I am not worthy...
I am a wretch...
I am forgiven...
I am an ugly thing made beautiful...

I am a walker of faith...
I am a believer of promises...
I am a warrior princess...
I am a daughter of the King...

I am a soldier of battles in the spirit...
I am a beloved daughter...
I am a bearer of Armor...
I am a vessel of the Holy Spirit...

I am broken...
I am transformed...
I am made beautiful...
I am a lover of your Glory...

You are mine...

Flashback when Chandler sewed...

     I had a moment of surprise today that I'm still pondering with a bit of awe.  It is kind of like that moment that I put the boys bike chain back on. In my head I saw my Father's hands do it and I just knew what to do.
     It happened today with Chandler, but the video memory I had came from Mom.
Chandler is sewing.  My precious child simply jumped into the sewing pool with both feet. On Moms last visit, she spent all day shopping with Chandler for material and patterns and shared with her from a well-spring of sewing knowledge.
     There would, however,  be no "super simple" or "easy to sew" patterns for my redhead. She wanted what she wanted, and that was that.
     "That's pretty ambitious," I told her yesterday as we shopped for another pattern, but I couldn't really explain why I thought so when she asked me.  It has been almost 40 years since I've sewed anything.  In the end, Chandlers strong will provided all the confidence she needed and I couldn't help but smile.  "Go for it." I told her.
     Chandler and I could not look more different physically but beneath her pale skin, blue eyes, and red hair lies a spirit I know intimately. I really get her. She is, at age 24, so much like I was at 24 that it stuns me sometimes.
     This child now sits and my kitchen table, patterns and material covering them both, and I remember...
     In my childhood, mother spoke through the straight pins she held between her lips or as she bent over a pattern on the floor with scissors in her hand.
     Today I was working on taxes. Papers in piles all over the floor of the living room, so as the purr of Chandler's sewing machine filled the room,  it soothed and comforted me in a way I did not expect and I saw my mothers foot against the pedal of her own machine. I remembered the excitement and anticipation of the new dress.
     "Mom!" Chandler shouted. "I need your help."
     I sat down beside her and could hear my mother voice. I saw her fussing with the patterns, turning them this way and that and suddenly I knew what Chandler had done wrong. I could see it. Crazy.
     Chandler is going to be amazing behind the sewing machine. I believe this.  With a legacy of love and a heritage already in place, Mimi will simply pass the baton and answer all her questions until the day Chandler makes patterns of her own.  I think she's gonna take to this like a duck to water and I smile as I write this.
     Thank you Mom!  Your love from behind the sewing machine formed and blessed me as a little girl and is coming full circle back to me as a mother. Our little Chan is sewing! I love you.
   

Prophetic painting by a Nana...

     Do you know how something can be right in front of your eyes, day after day, and yet you just don't see it? There is a picture hanging on the wall downstairs in our house. It is in a darkened hallway that goes from our family room into a bedroom. It's been there since my husband brought it home from his Nana's house in Cleburne, Texas five years ago. It hangs in the hall right outside our office and I must have passed it hundreds of times as I've gone from here to there, and yet...I never really saw it.
     It was painted by Paul's Nana in Oklahoma City in 1976 (the year we were married) and is inscribed to him on the back, "Love Nana."  It recieved a "Runner Up" ribbon in the local fair in 1980 and she kept it with her until Paul brought it to our home in California five years ago.
     After a terrible tragedy, Paul's Nana gave up her life and walked without hesitation into the shattered world of two teenage boys, one adolescent boy, and a five year-old baby girl. She prayed, she trusted God, and she walked in faith.
     Nana died in December at age 98.
     Paul and I were laughing and telling stories about Nana for weeks after her funeral, then one night when we got into bed, Paul said to me, "I've been thinking about that painting Nana made for me. I think it was Prophetic."
     "Which one?" I asked him thinking about the rose painting in the upstairs bedroom and the "Rare Bird" album cover painting that Nana had done for Charles. I had recently put that one in a closet and suddenly felt bad about it. "The one I brought home from her house and hung in the hall. The one of the Road."
     "There's a painting of Nana's in the hall of a road?" I asked.
     "Yes. Over the King chair, outside the office."
     Was he crazy? I wondered. Was I?
      I got out of bed and rushed down the stairs and there it was in front of me. Paul said Nana had painted it the year we got married.
     It looked so much like a picture I had taken just a few months before, that tears filled my eyes. It's our "Glory Road." How could I have missed this?
   
     The last picture on this blog post is my photograph. I show it to you because I don't want you to miss what was right in front of me and what might be right in front of you.

     I'll think I'll paint it, frame it just like Nana's, and hang them side by side.
     I know that Nana and Jesus are smiling right now. It took me awhile Nana, but I see it.  I see it and I love you. Thank you for this.

Every picture tells a story, dont it?

I hear the whispers...