A Conversation with Libby John of Art and Faith Conversations Podcast – Part Two

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

Dear Friends and Subscribers,

Thank you for listening to this episode of my podcast, Peabiddies: Pursue the Art of Noticing, Season Two – Episode 10. 

As always, I’m grateful that you carved out time to both listen and to share the podcast with friends on social media, and for referring us to others who would perhaps also choose to say yes to the invitation to pursue the art of noticing—noticing more beauty, awe, and wonder. More of the poetic, more of the winsomeness, the “whatever is lovely” in this one extraordinary life.

In this episode, I continue my conversation with artist Libby John, host of Art and Faith Conversations Podcast. Libby is a singer/songwriter, a dancer and choreographer, and both a gracious podcast host and guest.

I hope you will explore more of Libby’s music on Spotify, take a listen to her podcast, which is in its second year. And of course follow her here, on instagram @artandfaithpodcast. 

Remember that you can also subscribe to Peabiddies Notebook: Pursue the Art of Noticing, a weekly subscriber-only newsletter containing show notes, book recommendations, news regarding upcoming guests, as well as highlights from my real life and around the inter web — highlights of my own beauty and noteworthy noticings. I’m digging around, and sharing my own discoveries with you on the pages of the notebook.

Click here to subscribe: Peabiddies Notebook

Listen here:

https://anchor.fm/elizabethwmarshall/episodes/Season-Two—Episode-10-e3cgjv

Again, thank you for listening. And thank you for saying yes to the invitation to take note of this one extraordinary life.

warmly,

elizabeth wynne marshall

@Instagram – elizabethwynnemarshall

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In Your Own Words — Restoration (A Guest Post On The Blog of Charity Singleton Craig)

Join me, please as I share my word of the week Restoration as part of a beautiful series hosted by my writer/friend/blogger Charity Singleton Craig.

Every other Thursday, Charity invites writers to writer about their word of the week. Mine,

Restoration — noun

the act or process of returning something to its original condition by repairing it, cleaning it, etc.

the act of brining back something that existed before

the act of returning something that was stolen or taken

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Restoration

(Fly with me over to Charity’s. It is a beautiful place filled with her words and the words of her favorite writers.  And my poem is featured there today. What an honor. Join us...Click the link and you’ll be there by the magic and mystery of the internet)

A Prayer For My Friends Who Went There

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A Prayer For My Friends Who Went There

May every fiber of your body, soul and spirit listen with all that you have and all that you are.

May you seek the smallest of those who are hurt, with the eyes of your heart. With clarity and tenderness of spirit.

Stand gentle strong, stand gentle brave, in Christ alone. In Christ alone.

Reach close and far, wide and deep, narrow and to every point circling the place where you stand, in love.

Know that you are loved by the Saints not there. Hear our prayers, know our prayers, ingest the words of those who stayed behind. In love. With love.

Drink from The Well, often, drawing moment by moment on strength that comes from Christ. Oh Holy Spirit bless, oh Holy Spirit strengthen. Oh Holy Spirit, heal.

Don’t drown in worry or fear about your husbands, and children and wives who remained at home. Lord, protect. Lord, cover, Lord bless the families of this group.

Speak with wisdom, discernment and love. But listen more. And listen hard. God have mercy. God give grace. God give extra measures of wise words and discerning hearts.

And when it is time and leave, and pain remains. Cover , Lord God, the people who have come to serve You, let them leave in the knowledge that You will continue to do a good work here.

And when it is time to say goodbye to new friends. And relationships have been birthed  among the hurting, carry this group home safely and give them the knowledge that You will bless the work of their hands, their hearts, their lips.

Lord we ask travel mercies. Lord we ask your presence. Lord we ask what we can say and do.

As we continue to pray in humility and with hope…..Amen.

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This prayer was penned in love for my friends who traveled to Ferguson. To help, to listen, to listen some more, to hear, to love, and to seek. Praying for you my precious friends. And for everyone there who is hurting, angry, or confused. My smallness feels particularly small right now. But I am offering what I have. e

Catching Up With Gratitude and Thanksgiving

So there is a place. This space, a canvas, a carved out place. Where there is a gathering of souls. My blog. A gift.  And things have been quieter, a little quieter, recently. Here.

And sometimes when I write in this place it feels like prayer, or speaking to an empty room, or a  crowd of no one, or a gathering of kindreds. Very often it feels like releasing words on wings not knowing where they will fly. But God knows. He always has and He always will. Good and gracious.  Everlasting to everlasting. Eternally. World without end.

So this feels like an accounting and a catching up. And in this season of Gratitude and Giving Thanks, I am called and lead to do both. This week that is ending, is the week before Thanksgiving Week, though I want to live in a place of Thanksgiving  always. And everyday.

And so in a spirit of Gratitude and Thanksgiving I say thank you. For reading my art, my offerings, my poetry, my prose. Thank you for hearing and seeing the words that fly from this place.

You may want to know that for the last 12 weeks I have been working, though it has felt more like playing some days,  in a workshop entitled “The Writing Life” offered by Tweetspeak Poetry. So for 12 weeks much of my writing has been in the form of writing assignments. Some of it will appear here. It has kept me busy, away from here more than usual. But I hope that you will see a new passion in my writing, new focus perhaps, or just more of the same with a little more prose.

You heard more prose, yes you did.

Poetry is driving my writing. It will influence my prose. But I am pushing myself into other genres. Or flinging open doors, taking my metaphors, my lyricism and compression, an economy of words, into my prose.

And I have been scheming and dreaming about my art and where it might go. And how it might look. And what changes I may make and what projects I may undertake. I have some projects up my sleeve. You will likely be some of the first to know. They really just involve more writing. Which is what this place is about.

In addition to being grateful for you, I realize I have been enormously blessed to have had my work appear at Burnside Writer’s Collective. I have a poem running this weekend. I believe it is my fourth there. But who is counting. When it is up I will link to it.

And I have a by-line/bio appearing under the tab “Meet Our Team” at Tweetspeak Poetry. This has been a wonderful community for me. A place where I have developed friendships, learned about the craft of writing and had some of my work published on-line. I am submitting a new piece soon. I may have the privilege of having it appear there. I will share it when it runs over there.

So thank you for reading and commenting. For encouraging me and supporting my art.

I have added some new tabs to my blog header and have made a few changes. Did you notice? I am still working on all of it. So thanks for grace and patience.

I hope it is a peaceful place, a quiet place. And a rich and soulful place to come.

Gratefully and thankfully yours,

Elizabeth

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Quiet Is The New Loud

Quiet is the new loud, a reconstitution
of noise, watered down background
Sound, sounds hushed
like peace
and quiet. If it were a color it would be
White
Noise is the new normal.
Transformation is everywhere.
Orange is black.
And simple is complicated.
And renaming is everywhere.
Just calling is so doesn’t make it
but somehow quiet seems to want
to take over and rule me.
And I concede, give up the reigns
Loose the bit and bridle
As let it take control, run away with me.

Because quiet is queen.
And she wears a crown of humility.
A simple garment.
And whispers all I need to hear.

For if I thought I had much or any
Control,
I, thankfully, do not.

Everything I have ever needed to hear,
I have heard in the quiet,
still, small voice,
of a whisperer.
The new reigning queen
Of a quiet and peaceful world.

Hush, you might hear her pin drop,
Her scepter
Light as a feather
makes
no sound.

And quietly she takes her place
Upon a humble
Muted throne.

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