Snippets and Snatches

“Destiny” mixed media

This painting/collage expresses for me the power of Love that is freely given and in unlimited supply from the Hand of God.  It is more often than not that this benevolent offering of grace has appeared on the scene to turn a sour mood sweet, help lend a hand to another hurting soul, or lighten a load weighed down by darkness.  When I was a younger mother with small children I sometimes questioned my purpose and place in the world when I couldn’t see past my nose or my front door and felt a little lost in the alternate reality of babydom.  But even on the most frustrating days this unseen Hand full of Love would bring me back to what really matters.  This excerpt from an essay I titled “Is This My Destiny?” brings back vivid memories of those days:

“Often when I am elbow-deep in dishwater or baby bathwater, when I’ve prepared more ‘peanybutter n yelly ’andwiches’ than I care to count, when I’ve spooned infinite heaping teaspoons of Gerber bananas in the mouth of a baby whose eyes and mind are everywhere else BUT on eating, I lose sight of the meaning of life.  In some way I think ‘I could be doing great things in my life, really make a contribution to this troubled world…’ It just somehow seems that the ‘real’ world is in a time warp, that I’m watching it pass by from my vantage point, not doing much to help things along.  I am surrounded by crayons, soiled socks, baby rattles, trails of Zwieback crumbs, squeak toys, matchbox cars, and Sesame Street dramas stuck in my head.  In the midst of this corner of the world are two healthy, active boys who I miraculously keep up with most days…Needless to say, there are days when I go four to five directions simultaneously for most of the day.  It’s only when the boys are BOTH asleep for a nap that I collapse on the couch to get myself together and worry that I’m losing my mind.  I start imagining the ‘could-have-beens’ and I think about the meaning of life, trying very hard to figure out what it might be.  ‘Is this my destiny?’ I wonder.  ‘Surely the talents God gave me are going to waste…I could do so much if I only had the chance!’ my ego screams.

Suddenly, without thought, I am compelled to get up from the couch and walk down the hall.  I peek in at my sons and gently tuck their blankets around them.  I pause to gaze at these sleeping angels and I am overwhelmed with love for them…In the presence of their sweet innocence I am in awe.  I try to memorize every curve of their heads, each detail of their changing faces.

I return to the couch filled with peace, warmed by love, enlightened by the essence of life.  I no longer think of what could have been or yearn for the meaning of my existence.  In those quiet moments God reminded me of what truly matters through his sleeping angels.  I feel reassured that the talents He gave me are being used for the greatest purpose of all.  My doubts are washed away and replaced with confidence that who I yearn to be, I am already becoming.  These precious children rely on two sincere yet flawed adults to respect their humanness, to teach them the way of Love so that they may one day walk a path of Light.

I thank God for reassuring me.  My husband reassures me too.  When I am sinking in a sea of clutter and confusion, I need only remember the verse he wrote in my Mother’s Day card: ‘You may not be moving mountains, building cities, or feeling like you’ve done enough.  In our kingdom you’re the greatest, moving diapers and building minds.  We love you!’ “

It wasn’t long after this that I became pregnant with our daughter and life grew even more interesting with three children than it was with two!  Now that they are grown I can look back and gratefully know with certainty that the unseen Hand was graciously extended infinite times throughout the years with that glowing heart of Love at the center.

The Child Within (mixed media detail)

No matter how old I get, I’m just a child within…

running in a race called Life.

No matter how many mistakes I make, I’m just a child within…

trying to grow up, not meaning to hurt anyone.

No matter how many things I do well, I’m just a child within…

trying my best to find my belonging place in the world.

No matter how much happiness I am blessed to know, I’m just a child within…

who loves and wants to be loved.

No matter what heartaches I’ve known, I’m just a child within…

who is sad when love leaves and wants to love again.

No matter how lost I am in the foggy wilderness, I’m just a child within…

who knows Jesus will find me and bring me home.

No matter how many times I fall down, I’m just a child within…

who knows Jesus will pick me up, dust me off, and tell me to

 ”Get back in the race!”

“Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:30,31

Draw Me Near, a song inspired by John 12:46: “I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.”

I have come, I have come, as Light into the world.

Believe in Me, believe in Me,

That you may not dwell in darkness.

Draw me near. Hold me here. Draw me near. Calm my fear.

In this quiet place, may I see Your Holy Face.

Ever in Your Light, turn my wrong to right.

Draw me near. Love me dear. Draw me near. Hold me here.

Let Your Light shine through, help me ever dwell in You.

May I learn to give, that I learn to live.

I have come, I have come, as Light into the world.

Believe in Me, believe in Me,

That you may not dwell in darkness.

I found strength and glimpses of light in a devotion that speaks of David, the great but humble psalmist, whose cries out for God came from the depths of his soul struggles, sins, and helplessness.  “David found himself in a lonely, dark cave at En Gedi.  He was hiding from King Saul, in fear for his life and pursued by thousands of his own countrymen.  How did David climb out from his soul’s dark hiding place?…In his grotto hiding place, David cried out to God for help, ‘Have mercy on me, O God’ (Psalm 57:1).  What a great place to start when we’re in a dark place.  Then, he wrote what he knew to be true about his God, saying, ‘God sends His love and faithfulness (verse 3)…Next, David verbalized his fears, saying, ‘I am in the midst of lions’ (verse 4).  Naming our fears can make our enemies seem smaller in the context of the Creator of the universe.  Finally, he relinquished his circumstances to God’s glory, saying ‘Be exalted, O God, above the heavens’ (verse 5)…This progression toward trusting God lit David’s way from a place of worry to one of worship; he chose to hide in the shadow of God’s wings, whether he lived in a cave or in a palace.  When King Saul came to En Gedi and entered the cave, David had the courage to do the right thing: He spared the life of the king God had anointed, and he sought reconciliation with Saul, even though it might mean death for him.

If you’re in the dark, follow David’s steps and walk toward the light: 1) Cry out for mercy. 2) Remember God’s love and faithfulness. 3) Verbalize your fears. 4) Pray that Gods’ will be accomplished in your life for His glory.  Then choose to worship God wherever you may be.” NIV Bible 

Draw me near, Lord.  Let me see and be Your Light.  This song was something I wrote many years ago when I was in a dark place and it is as true for me now as it was then.  I’d sing it for you but it sounds better in my head or in the shower!  Well, if my husband sings it, now that’s a different story! 

In Search of the Muse, detail of a collage

Imagine this!  …a world where Christ’s Love permeates cold hearts and heals broken ones…a world where even the tiniest flicker of light in the darkness illumines the way and inspires hope…a world where the imagination of God finds expression through His children, all artists in His eyes…a world where everyone is included, none excluded because God has no favorites.

Springbank Retreat, Prayer Labyrinth

I can’t imagine a more beautiful, serene place on earth to explore one’s dreams than this oasis in a black cypress swamp.  I have been to this special place before and on this last visit for the dream workshop I learned something new.  One of my very favorite authors, Sue Monk Kidd, used to come here for writing retreats and worked on her now famous book, The Secret Life of Bees , in the solitary woods of Springbank!  When I walked the prayer labyrinth and contemplated the footstones set in the path at important junctures, I couldn’t help but think of this amazing writer walking here and bringing to life the characters in her novel.  Her dreams came true here and I pray mine will too someday!  The words on the footstones were: patience, gentleness, faith, love, peace, kindness, and imagine.  At the very center of the labyrinth was the word imagine surrounded by a circle of velvety green moss that I almost wanted to lie down upon.  Instead I stood there and gave thanks for the healing my soul embraced in my dream the night before and for the growth gained from exploring new depths in a short time.  How I wished to be on sabbatical until December like the group of nuns in the workshop!  I came across this quote and I hope it will inspire me to stay on this new path: “Only as high as I reach can I grow, only as far as I seek can I go, only as deep as I look can I see, only as much as I dream can I be.”  Karen Raun

Don’t Let Dreams Die…

This detail of a pen and ink drawing is inspired by Habakkuk’s Prayer.  I encourage you to read chapter three sometime to see how some of the images expressed in the scripture are in the drawing.  There was a time in my work as a counselor that I worked with children who suffered abuse and it coincided with the scandal that was uncovered of Catholic priests who were accused of unspeakable abuses inflicted upon God’s innocent children.  Many were later found guilty.  I was angry and enraged but out of it came this drawing and this song in which I dreamed of justice and a world where children would be safe from those who would harm them:

Don’t let dreams die, or hope is gone.

And who’ll be left to carry on?

It is the Lord who gives dreams birth. 

His Holy Breath, like wind, stirs the whole earth.

O, Lord, we hear of your renown.

We stand in awe of Your great work.

And in our time, revive, make known.

But in Your wrath, have mercy, too.

Though the fig trees won’t blossom now

and there’s no fruit left on the vines,

don’t let dreams die.

And though the flock has been cut off

whisper to us,

“Don’t let dreams die.”

O God, You are our only strength.

You make our feet like the feet of deer.

O make us tread upon the heights.

Live in our hearts,

Your shining lights.

Don’t let dreams die or hope is gone.

And who’ll be left to carry on?

It is the Lord who gives dreams birth.

His Holy Breath, like wind, stirs the whole earth.

Trust Dreams…

This detail of a collage I called “In Search of the Muse,” from the Skirt Magazine collage series, is what is sometimes called in art therapy a “soul collage.”  In a soul collage the artist is creating a personal jigsaw puzzle of words and images that connect strongly to them.  In my own quest for creativity I know the importance dreams play in the imagery or words I am inspired to express.  I have always been curious about exploring the meaning of my dreams when I can remember them.  Most of the time the challenge is to get up and write the dreams down.  This curiosity with dreams echoes way back to graduate school and my training in art therapy which is deeply grounded in the work of Carl Jung, the renowned Swiss psychiatrist who is the father of analytical psychology.  His work on the unconscious and the symbolism of archetypes in dreams is a long-time interest that I have renewed in the past several years, not only as an art therapist but as a woman in mid-life going through many changes.  I am excited to attend a two-day dream workshop as a present to myself this week at a beautiful retreat center not too far from here.  I hope I will learn more about the meaning of dreams for my own journey as a woman and an artist to live a healthier life, physically, spiritually, and emotionally.       

Giving birth is on my mind on the eve of my daughter’s 21st birthday.  She is about to become a legal adult and all I can think about is her birth.  I also have two beautiful nieces who are pregnant, so they are on my mind, too.  A friend at work just became a grandmother for the first time and another friend there just had her first baby sixth months ago.  One of the bridesmaids in my daughter’s wedding in May just gave birth the other day and I saw the beautiful baby girl’s picture on facebook.  If life can be compared to the metaphor of a game, becoming a mother is a game changer, no doubt!  But it is the most wonderful game in the world even at its most challenging moments.  Long ago, when it was my turn, I wrote a poem, more of a prayer, and I offer it for all the mothers I know:

Mother-To-Be, A Prayer

LIFE churns within her body.

Ever so slowly, in silence and darkness,

by God’s miraculous handiwork,

a babe forms.

Though the child is not yet whole,

waiting for tiny fingers and toes,

she knows of its presence,

of the miracle inside.

Weary, her body yearns for more sleep.

Drained, she fights for energy

to perform simple chores.

Struggling, her body changes to prepare

for the Birth of LIFE.

She succumbs to bittersweet feelings

of joy and sickness.

Deep within smolders fear,

that the strength needed

to bear the innocent will falter;

that the patience and endurance

needed to love and care for a newborn,

will waver.

At times her fear overshadows the joy of LIFE,

stealing the quiet assurance of faith,

darkening the light of hope.

Restore to her Creator of LIFE, Giver of LOVE,

strength and peace.

Help her bring forth with faith and hope

the miracle of her child,

sweet and innocent,

needing mother’s tender love.

Many of the essays and poems/lyrics that I have shared in Snippets are from the past and have come from an unpublished manuscript I wrote when my children were younger called “Pink Balloons.”  Who knows one day I may get lucky and get it published!  Of course, that would mean sending it out numerous times to publishers and having to face rejections!  I have never sent this manuscript out but I did try with one of my children’s stories called “Tilly the Churchyard Cat.”  I came close on that one, had a small press interested and they kept me hanging for nine months while I worked on the illustrations but in the end they didn’t offer me a contract.  I was so disappointed that it took me YEARS to work up the gumption to try again.  I wish I could say I have been consistent and persistent but I have not.  I am working on the issue though and that is progress!  

“Pink Balloons” came to me as the title for my collection of essays, anecdotes, and poems following an experience my daughter and I shared in our backyard with a pink balloon when she was three years old.  It was a rather mundane incident where her pink balloon escaped her hands and floated away into the sky, leaving her heartbroken.  She cried inconsolably and insisted I go get her ”boon.”  I couldn’t use logic on her as to how it was physically impossible for me to fly up into the sky to get her “boon.”  Something so simple made her very happy and just as quickly it was gone, making her very sad.  I wrote about this and how after that pink balloons became metaphors of joy to me.  Following my brother’s unexpected death earlier that year at the age of thirty-seven, I also wrote about the grief and sadness we feel when a pink balloon (loved one) leaves us.  One day, while struggling with the title of the manuscript, I looked out my bedroom window and saw a pink balloon floating in the sky.  Perhaps it was coincidental but it hit me then that this should be the title of the book about mothering and family life.  Pink balloons became symbols of anything or anyone that brings joy, especially the joy my children bring and of being a mom.  Well, the manuscript has collected dust and the metaphor lost its significance over time. 

Recently, the metaphor returned but in a different form as pink flowers, symbols now of the irrepressible spirit of the individual.  In spite of futile efforts to subdue, control or extinguish the unique beauty and worth of each person born on this earth, sometimes pink flowers will blossom and bloom against all odds.  Last fall, while walking at Cypress Gardens, I came upon this beautiful tree full of pink flowers and somehow it reminded me of the pink balloons metaphor though in a different form and I was filled with joy.  As far as the rejection issues with writing (or anything else in life) I find the most help by repeating the Serenity Prayer: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” 

There Is a Place I Know…

Several years ago I accompanied our children on a youth trip to the mountains in North Carolina.  We hiked and climbed a mountainside and as I watched these many teenagers fly by me non-stop up the steep incline, I felt my heart pounding in my head and I was beyond parched.  Breathless, I had to stop and rest many times along the way.  I remember my eldest son’s concern for me that his forty-something momma would have a heart attack right there on the mountain and tumble to the bottom.  He stayed with me, sacrificing the fast pace of his friends to make sure I was okay.  He may not remember this but I will always remember his love that day.  I found out then how out of shape I was and thought “next time they will ask a younger chaperone to come along.” 

Well, I made it to the top and somewhere along the trail was an oasis of a waterfall where thousands of tiny purple butterflies rested on tree trunks or flitted about like tiny Tinkerbells.  It was a magical place where I rested among the butterflies.  When I returned home, sometime after the trip, I imagined this painting and it came to be more as a remembrance than a realistic rendering…no that wasn’t really me, a naked nymph, in the waterfall!  But symbolically, she was a part of me, an ideal, better version of a woman, refreshed, her thirst quenched by the Holy Spirit, communing with her God.  

Sometimes the soul just thirsts, sometimes it knows not for what, yet thirst it does.  The void gets filled with all the wrong things sometimes and if there is too much dryness there is the risk of brittleness that can make a twig snap or a bruised reed break.  I know this thirsting and have found the only answer for me to avoid prolonged droughts in the soul to be found in the unconditional love of God.  ”There is a place I know where healing springs now flow.  Over rocks hear the water spill, in the center all is still.”  (This song I wrote long before was in my mind as I painted and the full lyrics I will post another day.)