The Color of Me

One of the assignments from this week's focus in The Artist's Way required  me to describe myself as a color..  The explanation suggested using one's favorite color, which I did.

"I am purple, a royal purple.

It is the color of the King's daughter, who is all glorious within.

That glory, His glory, causes the purple to shimmer!

In the shimmering Light red hints are seen within the purple.

A deep wine red.

It is the blood of Christ.

The colors merge and together are deeper and richer, as they intermingle with one another.

If you plunge into this vibrant color, you will discover there is no bottom.

It is fathomless.

That is God and His daughter.

They are eternal."

The exercise closed with a question of whether I have anything in my life that is this color.
It is enriching to surround ourselves with beauty that speaks to us.

As a matter of fact, one of the primary colors of my little sanctuary is a royal purple!

This explains, in part, why I am constantly drawn back to the room.
It is a place of peace and joy.
To be reminded of Whose child I am and all that means can't but draw me deeper into the Beauty of  His Presence!

Never Alone

The only time I ever consider jumping ahead in a book is if I have decided I am not going to finish it.
Otherwise I want to wait and allow the story to unfold as the author intended.

I use to handle recipes that way, but soon learned that it is a good idea to know the details before beginning to prepare it.  More than once I would start a recipe only to learn that it would take much longer to get it to the table than would work or that I did not have a key ingredient!

Details!  Details!
Whether in a story or a recipe or even a hike, the details are important.

Yes a hike!
I was reminded of that yesterday when my two hour hike turned into nearly four hours.

It was time for my weekly Artist Child's date and I decided a hike in a nearby State Forest was a good choice.

The forest had a series of Letterboxes that I thought I would scout out.  There were six in total that were part of the series.
I found three.

Two of the missed boxes were due to me not reading ahead.
Thus I missed a few details....

There are a number of details that I missed that would have helped me to not only find those boxes, but would have helped me find my way out much more quickly.

In looking for a sign and a map that were suppose to be posted, according to the clues, I missed the fact that whether I found them or not, I needed to turn from the blue trail onto the red trail.
I did not realize this fact until much later.  I just kept watching for those markers.

Once becoming aware of my gaff I just continued on with the clues in search of the rest of the series.

As I have shared before I am not very visual, so why I thought this scavenger hunt was something I should do on my own, I have no idea!
Seeing the trees in the forest is not easy for me.  
Neither is hunting out a stone wall or bark-less tree among the many details that fill a forest!

Well, the hunt took me over small streams and not so small streams, up rocky hills that lead to more hills, but I did finally find the last box!

At this point the clues ended with a question as to whether I had enjoyed my hike?

This lead me to think that I was near the end of the trail.  After all the information had said it was a two hour hike and I had been hiking for over an hour and a half.  So I just continued to follow the blue trail.

Had I taken time to check out the park map to learn just how long the trail was and where it ended, I would have turned around!  However, contrary to all I know from years of hiking and camping, I kept going...

And going....

Until I reached the cliffs, which were beyond my ability to climb!

I was growing very tired by this point and thought I would call the ranger station to learn what the best way out would be.  I had stuck to the trail even when I spotted bodies of water at a distance that I thought might give me some direction, because I knew that once off the trail it would be very difficult to find it again.

An answering machine is all I reached.
Next I call my friend who lived nearby.  She drove to the ranger station and learned by a posted sign that no ranger would be there until next month!

We formulated a plan.  I had crossed a service road on my travels in, so when I reached it again I would take it out instead of reentering the woods.  I knew my energy level was too low to face the streams and hills that awaited me.

In time I did come to that road and did take it.  My friend drove around trying to find it.  Neither of us had any idea just how far off I had wandered!  It was a long road and at the end of it there was a gate which prohibited vehicles from entering.

Throughout this adventure I could stay calm because I knew that I was not alone.
Yes, though I had not encountered another person during my travels, I had a constant Companion and His Name is Jesus.

That is one of the details that I never lose sight of!

Once I stepped past that gate and began to walk down another wider road I spotted a pick up heading my way.  It turned out to be an old timer who had hiked the woods for many years.  In exchange for a ride out to civilization I listened to him share some of the adventures he has had.

It was with gratitude that I climbed out of his truck and met my friend, who then drove me back to my car.

As I sat in my car gathering my thoughts, I thanked Papa for His care and Presence.
His girl is never left on her own.  He knows better!
In Hebrews we are reminded that He has promised,

"I will never desert you, not will I ever forsake you." 

 I am so very glad!

Something else I am so grateful for is how He always supplies me with something to share with my friends at the rehab.
Since I can no longer use Scripture a little more creativity is needed.

My adventure was easily used to speak to them about how He cares about every step we take.
Any adventure that lends itself to being an illustration of His love and grace is a grand adventure!

IndestructibleTreasures

The Pyrex tea kettle sat on the counter for a few weeks.
No longer useful, but I was just not ready to toss it out.

My family teased me.
They know I hate to waste and thought that I felt it still was usable.

No, I knew it was a goner, but it was a reminder to me of my oldest son.
Nearly fifteen years ago Eric came to visit with it in hand.  He had found it at a tag sale and knew that he had to pick it up for me.

I am a tea drinker.
I also love a bargain.
Our home is decorated in what I call "early tag sale."
So Eric knew this was just my cup of tea.   :)  (I couldn't resist).

That the kettle lasted all these years is a miracle.
It doesn't whistle and I am a little absentminded at times.

Those two facts finally did the little water-boiler in.
I put the kettle on and then became occupied with something else.

A while later an odor coming from the kitchen came to my attention.
The smell was from the plastic lid melting drip by drip into the pot that no longer had any water in it, as it had boiled away to nothingness.
The lid and glass pot had become one, as the plastic formed a plastic stalagmite that rose up from the bottom.

Yes, I knew it was silly to hold onto it, but I just had to give myself time to let it go.
It did end up in the recycling bin, it just took a little while.

Papa reminded me that I still have the sweet memory of my son's thoughtfulness and that is not something that is at risk of damage.

You cannot break a true treasure.  Neither can it be worn out.
Those are the lasting things.

My relationship with my God falls under that category and actually is the most indestructible gift of all.

This afternoon I needed to remember that truth.

The director of the rehab called to talk with me. 
I must stop reading to the residents from the Bible.
Theirs is a spiritual program, but not a religious one.

I wanted to tell her that I am all about being being spiritual and not religious.
To be truly accurate, I am about relationship, not religion.
But they don't get it and I know that trying to enter into some sort of debate is not the wise course of action.

She went on to say that they love my visits with the residents, as the residents really look forward to me coming and that I am free to end with an inspirational thought, just not from the Bible.

I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. 
This is day eight of the agony of a major case of poison ivy, which has not only caused me to begin to think that Job was onto something with his pot shards, but has also left me sleep deprived.

You could say that I am a little out of sorts.
Which means everything is appearing in darker, more dramatic colors right now.  All troubles seem to be looming larger than life.

Though that is how I feel, I know my God is bigger and is certainly up to the challenge!
So I think I will take the advice of something I read somewhere a while ago.

"Sometimes the most spiritual thing a person can do is go to sleep." 

 This brings to mind the words that Psalm One Hundred, Twenty-Seven, verse two end with,

"For he gives to His beloved even in his sleep."

I think I will put some water in my new tea kettle and try some of those Benadryl tablets and then head to bed.

Tomorrow I will wake to find what treasures He has given to me while I slept.
He will show me how to share His eternal treasures with my precious friends!

Reasons to Worship!

As I was cleaning up after dinner I decided I needed a little music so I clicked on my favorites and found Pandora Radio.

Worship music is my go-to genre.
He is so worthy of worship and one song after another drew me to do so.
Right now the song Above All is playing....

"Like a Rose trampled on the ground                                                                                 You took the fall                                                                                                                   and thought of me                                                                                                              Above all."

How can we not worship at such a thought!

The words to another song were easy to own and sing out.

"I would walk a thousand miles to spend time with You."

Oh yes!

If I knew that at the end of that trek my God and Savior awaited my arrival, I would gladly head out right now!
Actually, I do know that at the end of this trek I am on, my God and Savior is waiting to greet me
face-to-face!

As Papa inhabited my praise, He brought a young man to mind.
My nickname for this particular man is Eeyore.

How he needs to realize how wonderful our God is and how He loves him!
That the Living God is so beautiful, loving, good, kind, wise, tender and glorious, to name a few, is what my friend needs to discover.
That is what I am asking Papa to do for him.
He is delighted to answer such requests!

I am still working my way through the Gospel of John and find much that moves me to worship my amazing God.
The Sixteenth chapter tells us of the gift of His Spirit that He has given us and all that comes with this gift.

A Helper.
Convicts of sin, righteousness, and judgment.
Guides into all Truth.
Speaks what He hears from the Father
Discloses what is to come
Glorifies Jesus
Discloses what is of Jesus

Which of the above could we do without this Helper?
The Helper who holds all the Power of God.

As we meditate on any one thing on that list, we must worship out of gratitude and love!

The Power, the Resurrection Power is ours!

It is time to worship!!

For Me and All Mine!

This week I have been getting a taste of what it is like to have a obvious disfigurement.  Most of me has been covered in poison ivy and my face did not escape inclusion.

I did not want to forgo all I had to do, so I decided to ventured out with a swollen lumpy face.  Really what did it matter?  I figured I would hold my head up and just be myself.  Anyway, most wouldn't recognize me and more didn't know me.

It wasn't as easy as I anticipated.

Most people had some sort of reaction and then did all they could to avoid looking at me a second time.
It started to affect me and I found myself looking down or away and more than once taking a circuitous route.

After a couple of days of this not only my skin was raw and oozing, but emotions were also in similar shape!  I was feeling pretty much the outcast.  Besides I was and am miserably itchy!

Then I went to visit my friends at the rehab.  They welcomed me and were glad to see me no matter how I looked.  They were looking through eyes of love.  I was encountering my Papa with skin on!

A visit to my dear brother-in-law, Jeff and his wife, Audrey brought additional soothing for this frayed lady.
Of course, Jeff's way of loving me took the form of humor, but since it all was said in love, it actually lightened my spirit.
Audrey did all she could to help me feel better and did a good job of it.
There was Papa in skin again!

It was Papa, Himself, who really refreshed my spirit and revived my sense of worth.

I have been in the Gospel of John this month and the reading today started in the Fourteenth chapter, the twenty-fifth verse and continued through the following chapter.

Here is what Papa reminded me of, as I read His precious Word:

He has given me His Spirit.  He is my Helper.
Jesus left me His peace.
Any pruning is meant to be a blessing for me.  It brings more fruit!
I am attached to the vine.
Answered prayer is mine.
The fruit in my life will bring Him glory.
Joy is mine.
His love is mine to abide in.
I am not of this world.
I am His witness.
I am His friend.

All of this is mine because He loves me.
Just as I am.  At all times.

All of this for me, from Him, is all mine!

The Cross

My adventure continues with the twelve week course The Artist's Way and I must say it has been very enlightening and freeing thus far!

Every morning I write my three pages before I begin anything else and I have found that it is a dialogue between Papa and me.
He led me to this study and He knows what He wants me to gain from it, so, as with every other aspect of one's life, He must be included!

The weekly date with my artist child has had its ups and downs, as I explore what really brings me enjoyment.
This week was an up!

The date included a few thrift stores and a light repast, which were enjoyable. 
The highlight, however, was my walk, which took me through the Stations of the Cross.

I have heard this mentioned many times and have even perused a few stain-glass windows that depicted some of the stations, but I never really examined them in their entirety.

As I began the walk I realized that I needed to go back to my car for my notebook and pen.  At the first station many impressions were stirred within my heart and mind.  It caused me to stop and reflect on the agonizing path my Savior walked for me.

Join me, if you like, as I share what I received on this path.

The first Station was entitled Jesus Condemned to Death.
Four figures were included in the scene: Jesus, Pilate, a servant and a soldier.

Jesus'  demeanor was one of grief with no resistance.
I believe He was grieved by the fact that it had come to this.  The ignorance that surrounded Him and the future that awaited those who rejected Him had to weigh on Him also.

Pilate had his jaw set in grim determination, as he attempted to wash his hands of the whole affair.  There was an almost desperate look to his eyes, as if his thoughts were betraying his actions.

The soldier was obviously trained to follow orders with no thought to whether they were appropriate or not.

Then there was the servant. 
With eyes cast down he held the bowl as Pilate washed his hands.
I know that there is no servant mentioned in the Scriptures, but I can very easily imagine one being there, as it wouldn't have been unusual for Pilate to have servants ready at his beck and call to do his bidding.  The Word says that "he took water."  That implies receiving it.  Either way, here are the thoughts that came in regard to this servant.

The servant's face was not harsh, but gentle and humble.  I imagined that he often had many thoughts running around in his head, which he carefully kept to himself, as he observed the behavior of his master.
It would not have been far fetched to think that he knew who Jesus was and maybe even heard Him speak.  If so, then he knew a lot more than Pilate!
I could imagine him first being incredulous and then having sorrow fill his heart.

Station Two shows Jesus beginning to carry His Cross.  Again grief etched His face, along with resignation.  It was the way He had to go. 
The artist sculpted Jesus hands open, as the soldiers laid the Cross across his shoulders. 
Hands open to receive anyone who would come!
The expressions on the soldiers faces were cruel.  It seems to me that, at times, pure goodness, pure light causes evil to grow-puff itself up in self-defense.  Eyes and heart stay blinded to the truth.

Moving onto Station Three Jesus has fallen.  I do not find that in Scripture, but I can imagine that carrying His heavy Cross would cause anyone to stumble.
His Spirit was willing, but even His flesh is weak.

Jesus' mother Mary is the focus of the fourth Station.  In Scripture she is at the foot of the Cross once He is hanging on it.  However, He must have been grieving for the woman who mothered Him on this earth.  She definitely grieved.  How could a mother not?

Station five is Simon helps Jesus.  This scene is mentioned in three of the Gospels.  John is the only one that omits this part of the story.
 Simon was pressed into service.  He was given the task of carrying the Cross for Jesus.
Whether he ever met or heard Jesus before Simon could not have ever been the same after this experience.
There are so many stories left unfinished!  I am looking forward to finding out the rest of them once I get to Heaven!

Veronica's veil is the focus of the sixth Station.  Legend has it that she wiped Jesus face with her veil and the outline of His face was left on the veil.
This is not mentioned at all in Scripture and through further investigation I found that there is no mention of it anywhere until the year one thousand eleven.
At the Station my thoughts went to the women who did follow Jesus, who probably longed to minister to Him in any way possible.  They were later found at the foot of the Cross.

Station Seven states and depicts Jesus falling yet a second time.  This has no Scriptural basis, but it stirred my heart, nonetheless.
My Savior struggled and possibly fell, but kept going; continuing to Golgotha for me.
So He could die for me!

Jesus' words to the weeping women, who followed Him, were the subject of the eighth Station.
Would I have been one of them? 
He tells them to weep for themselves and their children. 
If this is what the world does to the Son of God, imagine what is coming!

Once again we find Jesus falling according to Station nine.  Again I was reminded that His determination was for me.

Station ten shows Jesus being stripped of His garments.
It struck me afresh how He was mistreated.
No respect
Given no honor
Definitely received no praise
My LORD and Savior endured being despised by His creation and finally the Cross.
All for me.

The next Station was very moving.
Jesus being nailed to the Cross.
The artist rendered this scene in such a way that it appears that Jesus is looking right into the onlooker's eyes.
Did those doing the nailing not sense or see who this Man was?
How can man be so cruel to other men?
Even more so, how can they be so blind to God in their midst?
We seek to protect and provide for ourselves and end up with ashes in the end.
Meanwhile totally overlooking His Presence and provision which alone satisfies??!!

Jesus is Crucified and Dies is what the plague says at Station Twelve.

There are two sets of stairs you must climb to get to the foot of the Cross.
There I sat.
Literally, at the foot of the Cross.
Women are weeping there.
I can hear them.
Oh, that is my voice among all the voices.
Sorrow and joy are in my tears.  Sorrow that my sin had a part in putting Him there and joy that He would do such a thing for me!
Oh, how He loves me!

The grief of those who had been at the foot of the Cross was compounded by the fact that they did not know or understand how the story would end.
Or should I say begin?

At the following Station the sign reads Jesus is taken from the Cross.
The scene has three people ministering to His body.
I do not know whether anyone did this.
I am certain He wasn't gently removed from the Cross.
To the soldiers it was just one more body of a criminal.  The sooner they got the bodies down, the sooner they could be relieved of duty.

Of course, the next Station, number fourteen, is entitled Jesus is Placed in the Tomb.
From then on Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus were no longer secret followers!

The final Station states Jesus is Risen!
To which I reply, He is Risen Indeed!!

What a wonderful gift walking this path has been for me!
At times I do meditate on the path Jesus took for me.  This brought it to life for me in a way no words or movie ever could. 
I sat at the foot of the Cross!

Useful Banes

Every year I battle one particular weed in my garden.

Matthew tells me that a weed is simply an unwanted plant or misplaced plant.

This thing is definitely unwanted!  I call it the water weed, as its stem is hollow and holds water.
It does flower, but it is very small in comparison to the size of the plant.
The weed is pervasive and takes over very quickly.

I never considered this plant to have any redeeming qualities.
Not until this week.

In an effort to get our yard in order I have been raking out the gardens and lawn, as well as gathering up the numerous twigs and branches that are to be found.  There is much clearing to be done thanks to the crazy storm we had in October.

The weather made it easy to be outside doing the yard work. 
It was too warm for jeans, so I dug out a pair of shorts and a tank top and got to work.

The effort is beginning to show results.  Yay!
But at a cost.

I am covered in poison ivy.  If I could shed my skin, I would!

My ankles and feet, as well as my arms, neck and face all have ugly red pumps that resemble tiny mountain ranges.  Everywhere else has a few scattered welts here and there.  The gloves I wore saved my hands, but I obviously touched my face and neck with the contaminated gloves!

For years a friend of mine would cook up a batch of Sweet Fern and give me a jar of it.  It works wonders on poison ivy, drying it while relieving the itch.
She has moved and no longer has access to the plant.

So I went on line to see if there was anything else that might help.
That is when I discovered that the unwelcome water weed, whose true name is Jewel Weed, is a natural antidote!

This information elevated my opinion of the bane of my garden.
I went out to gather some up and discovered that the plant has not made its appearance for the year.
I just know that it is getting back at me!

It is time to close as I have to go reapply the calamine lotion.....