In Luke 2 we read the Christmas story. Christ is born! And shepherds are roused by angels telling them the good news. They hurry to Bethlehem to see the baby Jesus and spread the word to all who would listen. All who heard were amazed the scripture tells us, at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. I think about Mary here…pondering, contemplating..and wonder what was she thinking about? Could she know the greatness of what had transpired? Could she truly understand the miracle of this birth and all it was to come to represent? Could she possibly know how this child’s life and death were going to save the world? I am trying to take time this season….take time out of all the hustle and bustle, and the to-do lists, to ponder…to contemplate….this story once again. To try to fully comprehend the vastness of the story. To relish the gift. To contemplate His Love for me…for all of us.
The darkness has been long…and deep…but once again I feel it lift, if only a little…and find my spirit able to dance…yes, once again….dance.
And if God cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and gone tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?
Rest in His love and care for you today…let the beauty of a flower be a reminder of His faithfulness to you….
God’s reveals Himself in many ways. I was thrilled to find my crocuses breaking through the cold ground and blooming today. It felt the same as when I find God revealing Himself in my studio as I paint. Sometimes when I least expect it, He shows up in the most beautiful and powerful ways. Praise Him for new mercies every morning and love everlasting….and new life and revelations everywhere we look….
It seems that so many of my posts have to do with grieving. My dear beloved Charlie dog passed away two days ago, and my heart is hurting again so much. He was my constant companion for the past twelve years and a source of unconditional and unreserved love. I miss him more than I can express. As I sat with him while he passed, I prayed for God to take him into His loving arms…I have no doubt that I will see him again. If angels have socks, shoes, or undies, they are running around now to catch him with them….(-;
“Every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine.”
And every creature which is in heaven, and on earth, and under the earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, I heard saying. “Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever.”
My family, myself, our friends, and our community are suffering the pain of the tragic death of a close friend this week. There are no words to adequately describe the agony of burying a 19 year old son. These words were offered by one of my son’s friends, and I want to share them here. I don’t think I could say it any better.
Leighton, this painting is for you….we love you and will miss you terribly….
God does not cheapen Himself or us by offering us easy answers to the anguished, “Why?” that we who are human cannot help but ask. The mystery of life and death and suffering remains a mystery in all human generations, and it is no less a
mystery for us. We don’t get a quick fix from our faith.But we do encounter a God who sits patiently beside us in grief, usually silently, like an orthodox Jew sitting shivah with his bereaved friend, offering no words to explain away a mystery that is beyond words. God sits with us in our sorrow. In the days and weeks after a loss, as we sit together in the silence, something new begins to creep into our consciousness. The faith that has sustained our whole lives will begin to knot our sorrow over this death together with what we believe about the life to come. Faith and experience will knit together like a broken bone knits together as time passes. We begin to be able to see for ourselves what is already a reality for those who have gone on ahead of us, something the tears of early bereavement make it hard for us to see at first. They begin to appear in our vision of heaven, taking their place in the communion of the saints. We begin to feel their presence, not just their absence. Once again, the resurrection faith to which we cling gently bathes our hearts, and our hearts are healed.
A Broken Hallelujah