What I’m About and Where This Blog Is Headed
It’s been a while since I’ve written here. That’s partly because the last couple of years have been filled with deep reflection as I’ve moved through my training in spiritual direction. In the past, this blog served as a kind of examen—a space to name and notice how God has been shaping me. But with regular written examens required throughout my training, my need to process publicly here has naturally quieted down.
Now, as that season begins to draw to a close, I find myself asking the big questions again (questions we all ask, and if we don’t, maybe we should be?):
What’s next?
What am I passionate about?
How do I most want to spend my time?
A recent retreat gave me the space to listen. I journaled. I made lists—of what I love, what I want to do more of, and what I want to release. And through all of that emerged something simple, honest, and energizing.
Here’s what I’m about:
Teaching kids and adults contemplative spiritual practices through:
coloring books and journals
picture books (mine and others)
Godly Play and other contemplative curricula
arts-and-crafts-based play
When I step back and look at it, the phrase that best captures all of this is “contemplative play.” Or, put another way, finding God in play—encountering the sacred through color, imagination, story, and creative rest.
So, I’ve been doing some refreshing behind the scenes—updating my website and narrowing my focus. I want this blog (and the monthly newsletters to come) to be a space where I share ideas, prompts, and resources to help you bring contemplative play into your own life and the lives of those you love.
Whether you’re a parent, educator, spiritual director, or creative soul just looking for something deeper—I hope you’ll journey with me.
Let’s make space. Let’s create and play. Let’s go deeper. Let’s rest and remember.
Pre-cut Fruit Just Tastes Better
I have a long-standing joke with a friend about how much I love when she brings me cut up fruit. She laughs because she says she doesn’t do anything special to it, but when I bite into that fruit, I know it’s something special. I’ve noticed this with other people, too. Fruit just tastes better to me when someone else has cut it into small, bite-sized pieces. (My mouth is even watering thinking about it!)
I also buy pre-cut strawberries at the supermarket almost every week. This feels like a huge indulgence. I know I could cut up my own strawberries! It would be cheaper, too. But somehow buying them pre-cut makes them taste better and sweeter.
Today I was reading a text exchange with a few friends, each one offering to bring food to a luncheon we were planning. I silently begged my one friend to offer to bring fruit because I knew she’d cut it up just right! I stopped myself then and wondered about this for the first time. Why do I delight in this so much? As I said, I could prepare it myself! What is the significance of someone else preparing it for me?
That’s when a memory flashed, of being a small child visiting my grandparents in Florida, of waking up to small bowls of cut up Florida oranges, prepared lovingly by my grandfather, “Bumpa”, of the small forks that stabbed only one piece at a time, making the small bowl last longer, of the perfect, bite-sized chunks of oranges - no peel, no strings (which is especially important to a child!) - that practically melted in my mouth. I remember begging Bumpa to cut up oranges for me, even as I grew up and he grew old. No one could cut up oranges like my grandfather. And each bowl he handed me felt a lot like love.
Bumpa had a lot of wonderful qualities that are worth an essay or two of their own, but today I am missing those days of him offering me not only a small bowl of perfectly cut up oranges, but a sign of his love for me.
So now I’m wondering if my love of pre-cut fruit could really tie back to those days of perfectly cut up Florida oranges. Is that why I love fruit that is especially prepared just for me? Because maybe the fruit really is sweeter when it comes from someone else, maybe other people know how to choose fruit better than I do! Or maybe, just maybe, it’s a little taste of what we are all longing for: the feeling of being loved.
a short update...
I am having surgery on Friday and somehow that feels like a deadline of sorts to submit a couple of my finished stories. I am going to submit my middle grade novel, as well as a picture book manuscript this week! I’m nervous and excited and that’s how I know it’s a good thing.
So today I am doing some final edits as I read through them one more time. I want to be published, of course, but mostly I know I just have to try. That’s all we can do, right? I’ve had this dream since I was 10, so it’s time to really give it a shot. I’ll keep you posted!
Spiritual Direction
In my training to become a spiritual director, we were tasked with coming up with a brochure of sorts about our spiritual direction practice. I thought I’d post mine here, in case anyone would like more information about it!
Resting in Belovedness
“May I invite you to drop the old names, come out from under the shame that tries to hinder your intimacy with God and others, and step onto the spacious path. Child of the living God, sing to the living God.”
--Tamara Hill Murphy in The Spacious Path: Practicing the Restful Way of Jesus in a Fragmented World
I wrote a couple months ago about shedding old coping mechanisms to live more intentionally and to walk in truth and today I’m going to write about another. This one has been a longer journey for me, with many iterations. But it ends with a tattoo.
It began recently as it always does: with an awkward encounter with an acquaintance.
In the past, I would have left the encounter and verbally berated myself about how weird and awkward I am, asking myself what was wrong with me. Looking back, I am sad about how cruel I was to myself - knowing that if someone else had said to me what I said to myself, it would be labeled abusive. I am happy to say I am past that, as that was a more obvious affront to God and His good work that is me.
But as I fought that old habit, it morphed into the thought that (and this is embarrassing to admit) “Wait until I lose weight, then they’ll want to be friends with me.” It was a mostly sub-conscious thought, but it somehow gave me (false) hope that someday I’d be better and more deserving of people’s love. As I was slowly convicted of loving myself as God’s image-bearer, I again realized that this was not a healthy thought and began to fight this one as well.
Soon though, the thought turned into the more subtle “well, that was awkward but wait until (fill in the blank) happens” pattern. I had become more comfortable with my weight and physical self, but still wasn’t happy with just being me.
This pattern took me a while to suss out. I had shed the verbally abusive comments, the negative thoughts about my weight, but I still put my hope it a false idea that someday people would love me for my accomplishments. I was idolizing some false ideal to help with the pain and fear of just offering my true self, take it or leave it. But the Holy Spirit is faithful and even revealed this one to me after a while, and I believe it was to bring me right here, to this moment.
After the aforementioned awkward encounter the other day, I started mentally going through different ways I could prove to this person that I wasn’t actually a weird person. I can be fun! I am a good friend! I give good gifts! (Yes, these are literally the thoughts that ran through my head…) I thought of texts I could send or offers of favors I could make. When suddenly it hit me: I am already beloved. I don’t have to prove myself to people. They can just accept me for who I am: broken, fragile me. Because the good news is that I am already beloved.
I am already beloved!
It has taken me a long time to see what a restful truth this is. I can stop my striving to prove myself and rest in my belovedness. Because the truth is, I am a good friend. I can be fun. I do give good gifts! I am a good and beautiful Creation of the God of the universe. And most importantly, I was loved by Him even before I came to be.
I absolutely love this quote from Tamara Hill Murphy in her book The Spacious Path: Practicing the Restful Way of Jesus in a Fragmented World:
Our parents name us at birth, and God gives us our forever name at the second birth of baptism. In baptism, we step into the water of death with Jesus and are raised with him, the beloved. Because belovedness begins in God, we do not name ourselves beloved; instead, we receive the name—the reality of ourselves, fully seen and loved by God—as a gift. We accept beloved as our name, and we accept ourselves as being loved. Our temptation is to live as if we are beloved without letting the truth sink down into the true state of our souls. We may believe God loves us, but we haven’t allowed that love to help us discover the truth about ourselves. Any rest we feel that doesn’t help us discover the truth about ourselves is a false rest.
And oh! The rest and freedom that comes in truly believing that I am beloved. No more coping mechanisms after awkward encounters. Instead, I will snuggle into the truth of my belovedness. I’m so grateful that God calls me his beloved. And I’m grateful that my parents gave me the name that means beloved.
And that’s why I got a tattoo, to always remind myself of that truth and find rest.
Announcing "The Enchanted Grove"!
I am so excited to announce the publication of my first coloring book! As you probably already know, I love to make coloring pages as a restful hobby. It began for me in early 2020, during the first lockdown days of the pandemic. I realized that making art felt too overwhelming, but I still needed a creative outlet. That’s when I first posted this hedgehog coloring page. Something about the simple black lines felt soothing to me, so I kept going. I was soon putting coloring pages like this one in our church’s Easter book and doing customized pages like this one.
Since then, every month, I’ve posted a few more, including some activity pages. Finally, earlier this year, I took a class on how to publish your own coloring book. In my excitement, I was tempted to rush its completion, but I tried to take my time so I could be proud of every page, and especially the cover.
If you do color any of the pages (either by purchasing a copy here or by downloading some of the sample pages I’ve posted), please share your versions with me. One of my surprising joys in creating these coloring pages is seeing how other people use color to make them unique and beautiful.
Two things I refuse to do anymore
Wish away the time (or “push through”)
Try to “get ahead”
I’m going to be honest and say this is a rushed blog post because I wanted to have something to post for the month of August! But what with vacation, back to school, and being sick, among other things, I haven’t sat down to write at all the entire month. But I have been pondering those two points for a while now, as I try to embrace a more restful lifestyle, even in the chaos of life, and had written those two points down a few months ago.
First of all, for many years, I would whisper to myself “just push through to bedtime” or “once this week is over, everything will be better”, but recently I realized I’ve been saying those things for nearly 40 years! So obviously these are lies I tell myself to get through a hard thing or week and something needed to change. I have been working on this because it’s a pretty big mental shift but I refuse to wish away the time anymore. It goes too quickly on its own!
I just finished Anthony Bloom’s Beginning to Pray and these are some of my favorite quotes from the chapter “Managing Time”:
“The moment I began to feel ‘I must be quick”, I would sit back and engage in small talk for a few minutes just to prevent myself from hurrying…
“Learn to master time, and you will be able - whatever you do, whatever the stress, in the storm, in tragedy, or simply in the confusion in which we continuously live - to be still, immobile in the present, face to face with the Lord, in silence or in words.”
He argues that we should practice sitting still and doing nothing for five minutes, gradually increasing that time the better we get at it (it makes sense that we should have to practice this, given that we are naturally very “busy” creatures!). So I figure that if I need to take a break for 5-10 minutes to gain some perspective, take some deep breaths, whisper some prayers, or write some laments or gratitudes, then that is worth stopping and doing in order to stop wishing away the moment.
My second point, “trying to get ahead”, is related to the first. This is another lie I’ve told myself for a long time! You know the one: if I just do this thing now, I won’t have to do it tomorrow and I’ll get ahead (I suppose the goal of this is so maybe we can gain some rest tomorrow? Which never happens!)*. I realized this one Sunday night when I threw in a load of laundry to “get ahead” for Monday. It hit me that there would always be laundry. It’s laughable to think there’s a “getting ahead” with laundry! So I should just rest now, when I’m supposed to be practicing Sabbath rest anyway!
And isn’t this true with so many other things in life? The work will always be there. The idea of “getting ahead” is almost universally a lie (I suppose we can all come up with exceptions) that I don’t want to buy into anymore. I need to rest when I can, which is probably still less than I need.
So these are two things I am working on not doing anymore. Does anyone want to join me?
*Weirdly, I also do the opposite. The famous procrastinator phrase “Why do today what you can push off until tomorrow?” also applies. What can I say? People are complicated.
Selah Residency #1
Pictured: Feelings cards from Elise; St. Benedict quote from Tamara Murphy that goes with her new book “The Spacious Path”; prayer cards by W. David O. Taylor.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, but I’m learning that’s #momlife in summer! Most things have been good, but some have been hard and sad. But before any more time goes by, I wanted to post a short update about my first residency with Selah.
Selah is a program designed to train Spiritual Directors. There is a lot of reading, contemplation, retreat, practicing Spiritual Direction, and there are 5 in-person residencies total. This post is about my first residency. Much of what I took away I am still processing and will leave between me and God and a few close friends. But some of the gifts of the weekend, I would like to share here more publicly.
The weekend started very hard for me, a shy introvert unused to big groups of strangers! I felt unloved, unknown, and unwanted, if I’m completely honest. Those feelings were very familiar to me once upon a time, but not recently, so it was upsetting to have them come back. This is why I started journaling gifts. It felt important to notice them.
Gifts
I forgot my phone charger. This doesn’t sound like a gift, and I would not have said so at first! In fact, in all honesty, I panicked a little. Not even just at the thought of not having my phone, but the thought of even asking someone for a charger felt overwhelming to me. I did get to the point, though, that I realized this was actually a gift. I was able to be fully present without any social media or other distractions on my phone.
I shared, through tears, my true feelings. Again, doesn’t sound like a gift! But in speaking those feelings out loud, to a woman that I immediately trusted, took away their power. I was able to put voice to the fact that I believed God to be inviting me to deeper levels of healing.
I loved my peer group. We separated into smaller groups and I loved all the people in mine. It felt easier to open up in a smaller setting, and easier to make connections.
Someone had an extra phone charger. Somehow the first person I shared with about my phone had brought an extra charger and she gave it to me on the last day. She offered to just let me have it, but I returned it to her, thinking I’d be home the next day. (When my flight was cancelled, I really wished I had kept it!)
We had a story time with a picture book. What a gift to be ministered to with a medium that I love so much! How often have I said that adults should be reading children’s fiction? And that they can teach us so much?!
The picture book was about a bunny. This felt like a gift just for me! I’m not sure if anyone else in that room had sat with a bunny and snuggled, but for me it is almost a sacred experience. To hold a bunny is to quiet your body and be silent, which is such a perfect picture of Spiritual Direction.
Walking the labyrinth in community. I’m not sure I can put words to this one, but it was a highlight of my time there. We all walked into the labyrinth unsure and thinking it was a little weird, but most people left in tears. There was something about everyone being on the same path, just different places, but with the same goal. And sometimes we would be close to the center and sometimes we would be farther from the center, even though we were further along the path. During some of the hard things these past few weeks, as I have battled old demons, I have thought of this image, telling myself that I am further along the path, but maybe just not so close to the center right now. I know that God is inviting me to deeper levels of healing and intimacy with Him.
Spending 8 hours in the airport with T. What could have been a long afternoon by myself was made much more pleasant with a new friend from Selah who was also waiting on her flight. We spent 8 hours getting to know each other and it really was a joy. I’m so thankful I could end my time by processing, debriefing, and just getting to know her!
Good Friday Testimony
I recently had the privilege of sharing part of my testimony at our church’s Good Friday service. If you know me, this was way out of my comfort zone! But that is all part of the testimony of God’s work in my life. I decided to share what I wrote/shared on here, as well, in case it encourages anyone else. (The service had testimonies that corresponded to the seven last words of Jesus. I was assigned “I thirst”.)
I thirst.
I’m going to start off by reading an excerpt from a blog post I wrote in August of 2021. I often use my blog to try to put into words things that I’m learning or wrestle with the things I’m thinking about, so I feel like this post is a good starting point for what I want to talk about tonight.
______
The fear is a mountain, a living mountain with arms that reach out to me.
I know that the mountain can shrink over time. But it’s not the mountain that goes anywhere. It’s a mountain. It doesn’t move. It doesn’t get smaller.
It’s just a matter of whether I stay in its shadow or not.
It’s a matter of whether I look at it or not.
It’s a matter of whether I give it space in my thoughts or not.
It’s a matter of me saying “God is good.” And then realizing if I really believe that, then fear can have no room in my heart.
It’s a matter of me saying “Do I trust God or not?”
If the answer is yes, then I can’t even look at that mountain. I can’t even glance that way. My only response is to stare into the face of Jesus and never look away.
The fear mountain is still there. It is a mountain of fear. A scary mountain with rampaging arms and gnashing teeth.
But it’s getting easier not to look at it.
I am walking and the mountain that used to loom above me, completely obstructing my path, seems smaller now.
It’s walking with Jesus in the helpless moments that gave me the way around it, and I am slowly making my way towards him, away from the mountain. The mountain never shrinks, it’s just easier not to look at it all the time because I have taken steps away from it.
_____
This journey from fear towards freedom started a few years earlier when I was talking to our pastor about possibly leading a small group. I told him no, I’m not a group person, I don’t feel comfortable speaking up in groups, I prefer one-on-one. I remember the moment very clearly, because he sat back in his chair and sort of pointed at me and said “You can be set free of that.” I think it took me by surprise and I may have even been a bit insulted! I was thinking this is just who I am! I don’t need to be set free of anything! I’m fine, I just don’t like groups, it’s OK to prefer one-on-one!
But I think he must have heard the fear in me that day and I just couldn’t see it. I didn’t even know how trapped in fear and old wounds I was and that God was offering me something better.
But since that day, I have heard God’s invitation with that sentence so many times.
Fear of speaking in groups? “You can be set free of that.”
Self-loathing and insecurities? “You can be set free of that.”
Anxiety over health problems? “You can be set free of that.
Fear for your children and their future? “You can be set free of that.”
Fear of speaking in front of people? “You can be set free of that.” (That one is a work in progress! They all are actually.)
My eyes have slowly and gently been opened to all the ways that I was trapped, and even paralyzed, with fear and I didn’t even know it.
I wish I could say how it works. I think about that a lot. When I hear that invitation to freedom from God, how does it work then to actually make it happen? And I really don’t know. All I know is that I have to say “OK, I want the freedom that you’re offering” and then it happens, God takes care of the rest. Sometimes it’s like I have to cling to that “OK”, but clinging to an OK to God is still way better than being trapped in my wounding and fear.
When Jesus was on the cross and said “I thirst”, he was offered only sour wine. When I echo the Psalmist and say “My soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water” he offers me all of himself. He died for me so my thirst would be quenched and that I would be set free.
My church on Easter morning
He was pierced for [my] transgressions,
he was crushed for [my] iniquity;
the punishment that brought me peace was on him,
and by his wounds [I am] healed.
The journey away from fear is the long game and I am not totally out of its grasp, probably in ways I still don’t even know about it yet. But I do know that I am a better friend, wife, and mother now that I’ve been set free of so many things and I know that I want to keep being set free for the rest of my life.
I thirst.
The Hospitality of Jesus
This was a painting that I had painted with houses representing my three words, which I then tried to recreate digitally as seen here. I think it represents the topic of the hospitality of Jesus pretty well.
Occasionally I write about my work as a Director of Children’s Ministry for our church, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned our unique worship space. My Christian church meets every week in a Jewish synagogue. And not only that, we have an entire hallway in the building that is just ours, including 3 classrooms, office space, and a sanctuary. The space is perfect for us in more ways than just because the space suits our needs so well: it has also done more for my faith and my understanding of God’s love for us than I ever could have imagined.
One morning, early in our time there, I asked one of the synagogue volunteers if they minded having us there and treating it like it was our building, too. I was quickly assured - completely sincerely - that they love having us there sharing the space with them. I was then offered a tour of their sanctuary, which I had never seen at that point, because they keep it locked. It is very sacred for them, and I was honored to be offered the chance.
We walked upstairs and she unlocked all the doors on the way. I felt the sacredness of the moment and the space. My children were with me, so I was a bit worried that they wouldn’t show the place its proper respect. But I needn’t have worried. As we were shown each beautiful stained glass window, depicting Old Testament scenes, my kids were quick to name every story. I could tell that their knowledge of the stories brought joy to my tour guide’s face.
As I walked around looking at the windows, and ultimately, the ark with the scrolls, I had a brief moment of sadness. I found myself wishing that I had something this precious and old and beautiful to call my own.
That’s when it hit me: this is my heritage and these are my stories, too, because I have been adopted into the family of God. (Remember the old Sunday School song “Father Abraham”?) And instead of pushing me away and declining me this, the people of this synagogue had welcomed me (us!) into their building and their most sacred spaces. And in doing so, they revealed to me more of God’s character and love of His people than I had ever understood before. He is truly the God of love and hospitality and adoption.
My church was welcomed into a Jewish synagogue to worship as Christians and isn’t that the perfect picture of what Jesus did for us? He broke the barriers between God and people and allowed us to enter in to God’s presence and be adopted into His family. My heart swells at the beauty of this and the enormous gift it has been to me, my faith, and my church!
And I am eternally grateful for this Jewish Congregation for teaching me about God, love, and the hospitality of Jesus.
What of Salt?
You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. (Matthew 5:13-16)
These are familiar verses, but a recent conversation helped me to see them in a new way. The idea of light and darkness makes sense to us. We talk about the looming darkness all the time. We focus on the darkness, probably more than we should. So the idea of Jesus being the Light, of us being the light, makes sense. This poor, sad, dark world needs light.
But what of salt? Why do we care about being the “salt of the earth”?
In those days, salt was used more for the preservation of something than for just adding flavor. If we are called to be the “salt of the earth”, what then should we be preserving?
I’ve heard it said that this metaphor is about “good, Christian living”, about being faithful to Christ in the world, about preserving what is good. But I don’t think that’s completely true.
What if being salt was actually a question of remembering our identity? And perhaps helping other people recognize their identity, worth, and purpose as well.
In my life, I have been amazed that the closer I draw to Jesus, the more I want to be like Him, the more I submit to Him, the more I actually feel like my true self! It is one of the greatest mysteries to me of being a Christian: that I can work to emulate someone else, and in turn, become more me. What a gift to feel secure in my identity because of Jesus! Jesus is my salt: the preserver of my true identity. I want to be salt for others: to help them see who they really are in Him.
It’s interesting to me that salt doesn’t actually ever lose it’s saltiness. Then why would Jesus have said that? But if we think of salt as a question of identity - made in God’s image, made to be His children, loved by God - than that can absolutely never change, even whether you believe it or not.
But we can forget.
Or not even know it in the first place.
I don’t think that being the “salt of the earth” is about preserving some sort of Christian sub-culture. That interpretation of the metaphor is far too weak.
Our job as salt is to remind or show others that they are salt, too. Each and every person, whether they know Jesus or not, has been made in God’s image and is loved unconditionally by Him. That is what gives us hope and makes us worthy. That gives us purpose. That is our identity.
Salt and light working together help us to know each other and ourselves better. And most importantly, they point to the true and greatest Light, Creator, and the One in whom our identity is complete: Jesus.
Let’s Notice Together
I think about the book The Art of Noticing by Rob Walker a lot since reading it last year. The subtitle says it all: “131 Ways to Spark Creativity, Find Inspiration, and Discover Joy in the Everyday.” I loved the idea that how you notice and what you do with what you’ve noticed can all be an art form. And that is pretty much what the entire list is about: what people have decided to notice and how. I took some notes and had a few ideas for how I could replicate some in my own life, but none have come to much fruition. Still, I can’t get the book out of my head, because my biggest takeaway was just to take time to notice, well, anything!
For a while, I tried to notice anything odd, and even better, snap a picture of it. I chose “odd” rather than “beautiful” because oddities tell stories and make you curious. The first example that comes to mind is when I saw a motorcycle parked on the sidewalk outside the local library. Immediately questions came to mine and a story formed: Who parked it there? Were they in a hurry for a certain book? What book can make someone that hurried? Is there treasure I should know about? Scavenger hunt? Or maybe it was someone important? I have no idea, but to this day, I wonder!
On another day, I saw a orange traffic cone perched at the top of a tree. How did it get there? Did someone put it there? Was it an industrious squirrel? Or a giant?
These are fun examples, and I hope I can keep up this practice. But it’s actually not the point of this post. The point is that efforts to be present in my every day life, to “eliminate hurry”*, to practice noticing, are worth pursuing.
As a Christian, I actually think I have the same calling: to lift up my head and see life for what it really is. And if I use my lenses of “beauty, freedom, and abundance”, the results can be profound. I really love the idea that not only can noticing be an art form, it can also be a spiritual discipline. (I would argue that creating any art is actually a spiritual practice, which I’ve always known in my soul but have learned more practically from these art classes.)
So I will continue to notice oddities (there may be an occasional blog post), but also every season I want to pursue noticing different things that I set up beforehand, engaging many or all of my senses. For example, this fall, I want to notice anytime:
I see the colors of the trees.
I hear the sound of the leaves on the ground.
I smell and taste fall spices.
I feel soft blankets.
All these things come so naturally in autumn, and maybe that’s why I love this season. Maybe I’ve spent my whole life really noticing fall, and therefore finding the most joy this time of year. That’s good. That’s the whole point.
And it’s also good to start with an easy one!
Will you join me in taking notice, in the hopes that it will keep us really living in the present? What goals would you set for yourself to notice this season?
*This quote is from a chapter I read from the book The Life You’ve Always Wanted by John Ortberg.
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Blessed are those who Mourn
This post is a part 2 to what I wrote a couple days ago. I split the post in half, because the first part felt like it should be poetry. This post is mostly to tie up what I was saying, as well as highlight the words of the amazing Deacon at our church. May we all live by her words.
We make room for lament and grief in the church calendar during Lent, and it is the season that speaks to the depths of my soul. It is missing or overlooked too often in churches. We all know the time for rejoicing is coming - and has already come - but we need to take time to grieve now.
Jesus models this for us so beautifully when he took time to weep for Lazarus. Why? Why did Jesus do this when He knew Lazarus would be alive again soon? Why is it even recorded in the Bible?
Because we are not meant to skip the weeping. It is part of the process of healing and abundant life. It is hard. But it is good.
Psalm 126:5-6 says,
May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.
Those who go out weeping,
bearing the seed for sowing,
shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.
My friend, the Reverend Jan Buchanan says about these verses,
He does not tell us to stop weeping. We are not told to stop crying so we can get back to work (sowing). We are instructed to go out weeping – to keep doing kingdom work in whatever way our grief allows. The promise of coming back in with joy and with abundance (sheaves) is not dependent on us wiping our faces and getting ourselves together enough to work, but rather the promise is for those who, in their grieving, keep moving forward in the work God as called them to do, in whatever capacity our particular grief allows.
To that I say “Yes, and Amen”.
Mourn with those who Mourn
I wrote this after wondering why I do this to myself sometimes: I just let myself sit and cry, and the grief isn’t always my own. Sometimes I’m crying for friends or family who are hurting, I’m crying for the church, or the world. It feels like a heavy cost, and I wonder what is the payoff? And then I remembered God’s upside-down kingdom, and our prayer to “Let your kingdom come.” Something in me stirred and I realized these tears are kingdom work. I can’t explain it, but this is me trying.
I invite Grief in to sit with me and weep.
Alone, with no one to hear or see,
I cry with those in mourning,
For the oppressed,
And for the suffering.
I know this weeping is good work,
But I don’t know why.
I know it keeps my heart soft,
My eyes open, my ears listening.
I know Grief is a friend of mine.
But Grief is more than just for me.
Grief is a warrior.
One who fights for the suffering.
And when I invite Grief in,
I am a warrior, too.
When I sit with the grief of others
I am advancing the kingdom of God.
My tears are doing battle.
I am alone with Grief,
But I am doing the work of God.
I can’t explain it,
But I know it’s good.
My friendship with Grief is a gift.
A gift I will willingly share with others,
Even though it costs me.
Even when they don’t know,
I share this gift with others
Because I have nothing else to give.
My tears are the widow’s mite,
An offering to God.
I invite Grief in to sit with me and weep.
Alone, with no one to hear or see.
I cry with those who suffer,
For those who are oppressed,
And for those who mourn.
An Abundance of Time
If you’ve been reading my blog or looking at my artwork recently, you will already know that the three words that I’ve been meditating on are beauty, freedom, and abundance. These are the three areas I have been trying to live into and see everywhere. And believe it or not, you can find these things everywhere, if you will just have eyes to see them. Sometimes “eyes to see” just means taking the time to look, sometimes it means shifting your perspective, sometimes it could even mean some serious self-care or mental healthcare.
Today I want to talk about my path of seeing the abundance of God, and even how it relates it to my anxiety. This is just my story, and everyone will have a different story to tell. But I hope it can be an encouragement to someone.
I have heard that anxiety is your body being constantly ready for something to happen, even if there is no immediate threat! I feel this a lot when it comes to time or productivity. My natural inclination when I feel high anxiety is to just go with it and keep doing and doing and doing until I can cross off as many things as possible from my list. Logically, this should make me feel better, right? If I’m anxious about there being enough time to get everything done, then a few hours of high productivity should make me feel better! Unfortunately, that’s never how it works.
I remember the exact moment it hit me that the opposite is actually true. I was starting to get that panicky feeling. It was getting late in the day and I was tired. I started to notice piles of stuff everywhere (that’s usually how it starts for me: noticing all there is to do). It suddenly feels like I am drowning and I will never be free, never get done, never be good enough. My impulse was to get to work and push through. But then it occurred to me that maybe I actually needed rest, instead.
Now, resting when I am feeling panicky or anxious is really hard! Taking deep breaths, putting on music, taking a walk, playing the piano, or even just sitting outside are all things that have helped me in those moments. Audiobooks help a lot, too. I don’t have it in me to read, but listening can be soothing.
My spiritual director helped me come up with a breath prayer for moments like these as well. I told her about a time earlier that week when I was telling myself “I just have to push through the rest of this day” when a very clear thought came into my head: God doesn’t want me living like this. Every moment is a gift, I don’t want to squander them by just “pushing through”.
But the truth is, laundry still has to get done, dishes still have to be washed, children still have to be fed. And honestly, those moments won’t just stop coming. So the next time I feel that impulse, praying in the form of deep breaths:
Inhale: Lord, lift up my head
Exhale: To see your beauty
In taking a deep breath, I literally have to change my posture and actually lift up my head. But I am metaphorically changing my posture, too. I am asking for “eyes to see”, even in those hard moments.
One of my goals this year was to do more things that have no purpose, or that don’t make sense on the outside. And with the aforementioned realization of needing rest instead of more work, it suddenly felt like this goal was the answer! Just taking the time when you feel like there is no time somehow multiplies the time! This is God’s economy at work, friends. This is abundance.
Rob Walker, in The Art of Noticing, claims that taking the time to notice our surroundings in different ways sparks creativity. I say absolutely yes, and so much more. Taking the time to do something different, or seemingly pointless, helps us see the abundance of God! Not just in our time (but that, too!) but in our world!
And I have found that in making an effort to take that time, my anxiety about having enough time has lessened.
Surrendering this to God has been hard, and breaking the patterns of 40 years of living is definitely going to be a process - one that I am doing imperfectly (and that’s OK!). I know God is continuing a good work in me and it’s bigger than I can put in this post. But I have been amazed at how much I have been set free in the surrendering, and how much more I can see of the beauty all around and the abundant life He promises.
This is a little infographic to help me remember that God’s economy looks different from ours. Somehow He multiplies where we hoard.
A Harvest of Abundance
I wrote a few weeks (maybe months?) ago about an art journaling class I am taking hosted by my friend, Farrell. In the process of taking this class, three words began to emerge as powerful and meaningful to me: beauty, freedom, and abundance. I’ve noticed how somehow those three words are showing up in every art journal page, so I decided to do a blog series featuring some of my pages, and just explaining my thought process of each.
This page’s assignment was to create a pumpkin, perfect for this time of year. I wanted to paint a teal, knobbly pumpkin with lots of texture. I used a stencil of grapes to make the texture you see all over the pumpkin.
Grapes have become a symbol of abundance for me. And harvest time really is a time of abundance, isn’t it? The harvest is coming in before the winter and all of a sudden it’s easy to see the abundance of food and life. But all too soon, winter sets in and our mindset of scarcity is back. In fact, I would say that most of our lives are lived out of scarcity. Sometimes I wonder if we actually prefer to live in scarcity: there’s always not enough time, not enough money, not enough space, not enough love.
But seeing the world with eyes of abundance is worth fighting for, and I believe it’s what God wants for us! I highly recommend this video by the Bible Project on Generosity. This is exactly what the video talks about: that scarcity is a mindset, and Jesus calls us to live differently.
In this pumpkin I wrote “a harvest of abundance” in the corner, because not only does a harvest imply abundance, but I also want to harvest a mindset of abundance in my life. It takes work; it takes a shift of my thoughts. But I know it’s worth it.
Reynie
We just adopted the most adorable Dwarf Netherland bunny. I should say that technically he was a gift to our daughter for her 10th birthday, but he has quickly made his way into all of our hearts. After much thought, she decided to name him Reynie, after the main character in a great series of middle grade novels! It also suits his gray color. So here are a few illustrations/sketches that I’ve been playing around with of bunnies, as well as a nature scene that I dropped a bunny into (and a real picture for reference)!
Beauty, Freedom, Abundance
These three words have been on my heart the past few months and I finally realized that this is how I want to see the world, with eyes that seek beauty, freedom, and abundance. I want them to be written on the frame in which I see every landscape, every sorrow, every joy, every face. But sometimes I need the reminder to actively seek these things, and not expect them to just come passing by.
Today I read in The Art of Noticing by Rob Walker that you should take a piece of plastic and point it at a scene. Then describe that scene with markers on the piece of plastic. Now shift the plastic to another scene and see how the words could possibly fit. I thought I can make that work with my three words as well!
So this is the scene I look at from my office, and these are the three things I want to seek in every place I look. It’s easy to see them here. But may I be the kind of person that can find these three things anywhere and then help to show them to others as well.