an illustration.

you know how we get these pictures of things we want? we draw them out in full color: this will be like so, and this part here like so. we get it all placed and framed to perfection. we do that.

then God comes along. He brings His perfect plans for us.

only problem is, they don't look exactly like our perfect plans for us. so He starts cutting, molding, tweaking. sometimes completely transforming.

we like this process more or (often) less. we don't see the end He works towards. all we see is our picture being ruined.

but sometimes, often, the ending leaves us breathless.

you never know what analogies i will draw when editing photos. i took the top photo thinking i wanted the "big picture" of both the focused petals and blurred buds. i got to the drawing (editing) board and saw something better. as i scrapped over half my photo to capture what was most beautiful, i thought about the dreams we bring to God for fulfillment...and how He surprises us every time. i'm glad He does. we'd miss out on a lot.

i was uploading pictures...

and i used a form of the word "wait" twice in one sentence of the photo description. so i did what any self-respecting person would do. i looked it up in the thesaurus. ok, not really in the thesaurus...at the thesaurus. it gives not only the synonyms of "wait" but also ones for select related words.

one of those was "abide."

this word has always carried to me a connotation of staying with something. you know: "abide in Me," "faith, hope, and love abide." they keep going. they continue.

the definition here was different. "to stop temporarily and wait for," it said.

i'm pretty sure i blinked.

because you know what that means? that means that abiding doesn't look like me running to stay abreast with God. it doesn't look like me striving to be where He is or fretting about finding His path. abide doesn't look like that.

abide looks like me letting go of my agenda and compulsions and worries - even the ones for "good things" - and listening for His stillness. it looks like me sitting at His feet and drinking in His words. it looks like me stepping back from my busyness and following His purposeful prompting.

this message has been coming to me in different ways all summer long.

and so after i blinked, i smiled. chalk one up to God.

a raspberry ridge story.

i was playing soccer. defense. it was the end of the camp day, just minutes before all the campers would straggle to their cars and the grounds of raspberry ridge would fall soft into silence.

but we were playing soccer. and it was far from silent.

the sun beat down on the field as handfuls of us at a time fought over the ball in a way that was wholesomely good-natured and fiercely competitive at the same time. i'm not quite sure how that works; it's just one of the awesome attitudes that flourishes at raspberry ridge.

at this particular moment, i wasn't one of the ones in direct combat. i was watching. waiting, staying open...relaxed and resting for a minute but poised for action at the blink of an eye. focused outward.

but from behind, i hear the voice of a young boy. "did you know that you have sweat on the back of your shirt in the shape of a heart?"

how those children make me smile.

a reminder.

acrylic and canvas: sunday, 11 july, 2010

puppy antics.

enjoy. :)

listing.

learning:: to rest. the unforced rhythms of grace.

loving:: this picture from may, unlimited texting, faded hydrangea that are beautiful in a whole new way, glow-in-the-dark bracelets, and summer cooking.

living:: these days of puppy love and studying for a summer course in a slow way that sometimes feels like sitting still but produces not-too-shabby results in the end. (see learning.)

laughing:: at josie's antics. the puppy, that is. have you met her? this little one chases spinning vitamin bottles across the floor and loves nothing more than an open dishwasher. unless it's the 7 inch space between the china cabinet and the wall. hmn.

leaving:: memories and thrills and dreams in the only Hands that can hold them safe. i'm letting go in this economy of God's in order to truly hold on. to Him, as He holds all i leave to Him.

leaping:: into the last month of summer.

landing:: squarely in awesome grace. it's the only way. (but why do these Arms catch me by surprise every time? oh me of little faith. i'm landing again in the life-long lesson of trust.)

captivated.

so i have the urge to write. to just keep typing until my guts or what-ever-it-is-that-i-really-want-to-say flows onto the screen. to spill my nothingness out until my head quiets with true silence.

i've had this urge for a few days. i normally avoid blogging in times like these because i know i'll say anything just to hear my own voice. to hear my own voice somewhere besides echoing endlessly inside me.

i normally wait. wait until the urge has passed, wait until the message becomes clear. wait until it is not my restless voice that speaks but His calm, His purpose, in me.

i ache for that effortless knowing. its experience is breathtaking. living, abiding, in His purpose an exquisite gift.

twice this year i've felt the consummation of His Presence channeling through me. twice this year i've felt the intense wash of His grace. the extreme of His mercy.

twice i have watched Him move and turned, speechless in wonder, to marvel at His wake.

and twice i've been left in what felt like devastation and emptiness, with a hunger to be filled again.

what i'm learning, as i sit in this seemingly sparse place for the second time, is that my Breath has not left me breathless. i see His power and i yearn for another outpouring of grace through my life, yet He sees my tender heart and seeks to fill it. i move to grasp at the raw beauty of His work, but He turns my face to tranquil rest.

and here, in the rest and the filling where i squirm to be "busy" again for Him, He holds me until i see. see that it is here that He is and not there. I AM, He says. not I was or I will be. I AM. now. here.

with me.

my words quiet in His Presence. His peace comes.

consider the lilies.

morning comes
bud bursts
breaking open to receive light

the day passes
as blossom
traces sun

with the falling darkness
petals curl
folding within themselves
the hope of returning glory

a day of art: in pictures.

apologies.

sometimes i feel sorry for you poor people who read my blog. do you ever come here and have to blink a few times? and then i can just imagine an eye-roll. "ooh. she got that urge again. when i finally got used to the old look."

yeah. i did. and you should know that i am just as bad with the furniture. every day is an adventure!

so help me out: i want to know if you can see the whole page of my blog in your browser window (when the window is fully maximized, of course). most specifically, is there a slider bar at the bottom of your window when you come to my blog? thank you. :)

i may post again a little later if i'm not too tired of the computer screen. i have pictures that have been burning a hole in my files for...weeks. stay tuned.