Broken Pitcher

What a joyous day! Family, love & laughter, celebrating life over a home cooked meal – is there anything better? As the merriment draws to close and the fun packed up for another day, my heart sighs at the return to normal.   And though many hands make light work, it’s all cleaned up too quickly - the evidence of the day.   And in the quiet, I ponder all the love the day has held.   The smiles, the conversations, the laughter, the joy, the hugs, the spills.   A messy lot are we - just as it ought to be.   Remembered joy is in the little things that oft we are all too eager to sweep away.  Those of us who’ve lived long enough, see the secret delight.  Scraps of happiness strewn here and there and if you’re fortunate, some are hidden from reach and live to sparkle another day. And morning light reminds the heart and joy does rise afresh.   And even more, with gratitude, I thank God for His most amazing gift, and especially for the tender reminders.

Gilgal   – An unknown heart’s desire fulfilled My response to El Greco’s painting of “Christ on the Cross” circa 1600 You’ve haunted me since early youth captured, yet not knowing why. The agony was clear to see “languish” is the word that comes yet understanding escaped me and yet I still was drawn. For years the image would come and then go. For years I’d ponder with sorrow For years I’d long to see you again And yet still not knowing why. A fortnight passed and world away and I knew before I turned Your presence beckoned me Heart racing, feet rushing, boldly approaching You Causing alarm, laughable now, for it was love that drew me to You Standing in Your Presence Tears of knowing joy Love so deep its painful Soaking You in Breathing You in Never wanting to leave Grateful for the most intimate gift. Gilgal. Knowing now (even in the smallest part) leaves me in awe and wonder more. Oil on canvas, nay, but more.   Heaven

Bathing in the Word of God Sitting, soaking in the living Word of God, letting It have Its way in our life cleanses us, invigorates us and prepares us for life - both here and eternal. (Sensing that this is just the beginning of a series,  hope it gives you a fresh perspective and appreciation for His Word.)   Imagine an old claw-footed porcelain tub and imagine you in it as the Word and Words of God are poured out over you.   This, the first bath, you are drenched with Mercy , it hits fresh and weighty causing your grateful hands to be raised as you humbly wipe your face, seeing yourself as you really are, maybe even for the first time – grimy little urchin grasping at life and yet empty-handed.   And just as your eyes begin to see afresh and before shame can consume, Grace is poured long and slow, inviting you to lather up, let it wash away the filth. And the lather fills the tub and overflows as Grace has its way and as Forgiveness is seeped in you lay back and

Flying - 5/25/18 the first day of the rest of my life and there is a beautiful blank canvas before me... That used to scare me, now I’m just timid about the first stroke.   But the palette is being prepared for the Master and His work is always beautiful, so I rest as I wait. Metaphors will abound today, for I love them!   They breathe life into our limited language and paint deeper understanding in our minds.   ;-) Last night, as I drove away from HDC, the place & people who have been my home for over 13 years, my heart broke and it was a Gilgal moment. Remembering pulling into the parking lot for the first time over 18 years ago, now leaving it for the last time…   So, so much life has happened in between!   And God in His faithfulness to me, bound me up in short time and as I blew a blessed kiss and waved goodbye the tears began cease and my heart, held fast within His loving hands, overflowed with gratitude for the great gift, actually a desire of my heart that

Somber grays fill the sleepy sky in puffs and wisps. Its pallor, little to behold.   Then morning’s blush rises and washes away the gray and as it blooms, gold and fiery orange begin their dance upon the clouds.  First one, then the other, each rising in crescendo before giving way to each other, and wakes the sky.   Shaking off its solemn rest the horizon begins to glow yellow-green, then vivid fuchsia ignites the whole of it behind the tango celebrating the arrival of day.    And deep blue and dusty plum envelope to calm the sky fire and playful pink lights here and there, until the purest of gold is left awaiting the moment.    From horizon to horizon the colors play until the blue snaps brightly to attention and wisps and strokes reflect brilliant white.    The orb rises slowly, stretching far, burning off any remaining hue, demanding our gaze be turned away from the beauty.    For surely if we beheld it too long, we would come to