Tag: Faith

Art Bus Project {Roll With It Baby}

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 7 Comments

What will it look like to look out from the inside, out past the self, into the eyes of the others, and open the heart to love with Jesus’ love through art?

And creativity. And joy. And with new paradigms for spreading the gospel?

Or newer for this writer. But isn’t He a God of new each time.  Doesn’t he create, and re-create, and make all things. new.

The tools are willing hearts, a big bus, a little bus, bubbles, a grill, and art supplies.  I imagine. I don’t  know all the details. There are ways in which the trip, which starts  (or continues) for me tomorrow, is still evolving. But I need only know He loves and lovingly provides. Resting in His provision with each turn of a plane wheel, or bus tire, its all we really need.

The adventure is in the stepping out, and into, and onto, and with, and beside. It’s following. With the spirit  leading the way. Trust bending the head in gentle agreement, yes we are on board. Yes, we hear this call.  Yes, we know He has a plan. And it is good.  It always is.  It always was.  

It’s  in imagining how The Creator will and does lovingly use creativity to reach and speak and draw in with love. Everytime there is love.

So here for the next six days I will share everything I can about this studio with a mission.

This art bus. The one that we are rolling with.

The one we are riding on. Weaving our way from Brooklyn to Charleston.

We know a little, we don’t know a lot.

But we know and love the One that does know. Oh, He knows the plans, His plans for a colorful, joyful, creative ministry. And when we step out and trust and watch as He reveals, we will be blessed observers and participants in His kindgom plans for a string of souls, the ones that He will love and who will love us along the way.

Isn’t the story still being written.  Mine is.

Doesn’t He ask us to be willing vessels. We know that no one will be more blessed than those going to serve.  Those intending to be used by God to bless, will in fact receive the blessings. With humility. Honored to have any role at all.  That he would trust and entrust with anything of even small importance to Him.  Loving and reaching His children.

We hope not to waste any chance along the way, on the ride. To stay alert and awake and sensitive to His whispers of how and when and where to go. When to speak and when to listen.

If you are following here for the next six days, thank you for your interest and your prayers. And if you have friends who want to ride along on these pages here, invite.(And follow along here too.)

And we will watch with expectant hearts to see colorful joy spread in a stroke of His love down the eastern seaboard.

Oh the privilege of being a part. Oh the joy in being in a community on a bus with a mission, along for the ride, as The Creator creates a story of art displayed in love for Him.

May all the Glory and Honor be His.

Counting Gifts with Ann, at A Holy Experience.

*Attending my niece’s graduation with my daughter…. oh the family time. Oh the bread , doesn’t it always accompany a celebration.  The joy surrounding this milestone was oozing out for days.  So grateful to be a part and to have a wellspring of memories of laughing and remembering.

*A long, very long visit with a childhood friend whom I hadn’t seen, really seen and talked with at length, for over 24 years. For laughter in the restaurant that drew stares and remarks. The remarks of one bystander caused me to realize anew how valuable and even priceless this friendship is.

*Sitting with wisdom and hearing new insight into a parent struggle. Regaining and reclaiming hope to shift somethings. Replenished reserves of hope leading to optimism and new beginnings for leading and encouraging differently.

*Time with my daughter on a recent trip, the getting reaquainted time after a very long school year which kept her so busy.

*Getting on a plane tomorrow with her to walk out in Faith this art bus project

*Going to Brooklyn with her to shop, have lunch, explore before we begin the true ministry portion of the trip.

*Plans for lots of time as a family in our beloved moutains at the old family home.  Memories to be made and savored and secured under the roof with three generations.  A huge gift.

Linking up with these fine ladies today, Michelle, Ann, and Laura

Can’t Go Around It, Must Go Through It

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ Leave a comment

Do you remember Red Rover. Did you play the game as a child where you called out “Red Rover, Red Rover….” to the opposing wall of linked-armed children? This is a game I remember well.

But what I remember most is the phraseology of the child’s game that went something like this– can’t go over it, can’t go around it, can’t go under it, must go through it. And so with steely eyes, and a huffing and puffing of all my might, and as much determination as a grade schooler can muster up, I would go running toward the chain link fence of gangly arms and attempt to break through. If you played this you remember the feeling of bouncing off the flesh and falling down on the ground, defeated and giggling if you failed. But if you won… well you were prideful, and pompous and celebrated the victory. You had smashed through the linked arms, broken the wall of defenses and crashed through the best efforts of your peers.

Dread has moved in, invaded my space, and is encroaching on my personal bubble. Do you know that space that is yours alone into which no one is allowed to enter? Dread is there. She is causing me to feel uncomfortable. She is robbing me of Peace. Dread steals Hope and belief in the best outcome. But what magnifies the discomfort is that I have given her space in my heart. Just handed it to to her. Dread, you may have a big chunk of me today. Take what you need.

So like the child whose turn it is to run the gauntlet of linked flesh and bone, I usher Dread out the front door, withdraw the invitation she sneakily stole to the party which is my life, and I run with Hope.

That which I dread, I have to run through. I can’t go over, around, or under. I will walk through it knowing that through Him all things are possible.

I may hurt. I may sting. I may feel disappointment. But I choose not to dread.

I choose Bold. I choose Courage. I choose God’s hand in mine, linked as I run into the wall, into the
obstacles.

I have over a half a century of life to look back on and see that He was there. Lifting me, encouraging me, carrying me, and teaching me.

With Him, we will toss Dread under the proverbial bus. We will take back that which she has stolen. We will set a place with fresh flowers and fine linens at the table of life for Hope. And open the books to learn all that He has for me from this chapter.

This is not a child’s game, this running the gauntlet of life. And I am not Brave, like a grown-up. I do not have Courage, like a mature adult facing the challenges of life. But rather,I am like a child nestled in my fear. I am vulnerable and scared. I long for someone else to take my turn. I wait until I have to go, to go and face the wall. I want to be last. Or worse, not go at all– into the wall.

But through Him all things are possible. in adversity and in challenge. So I grab the hand of the Friend of the Afraid and say, let’s run hard, this race together. I am white-knuckling the hand of The One Who Made Me and relying on His strength to knock down Dread.

And as I release Worry and release Distrust, I slowly gain Peace. And I gain the knowledge that right there in the bruised flesh from striving and straining against the wall, He sits with open arms. Right there as I tumble down, not laughing nor giggling in a pile of defeat, He is there to wipe the tear. He comforts me. He embraces me. He dusts me off so I can get back into the game with renewed Hope and renewed Courage.

And this time He has ushered the school-yard bully Dread, off the playground. I have called on His name. I have yielded my struggle to Him. I have sought help from The Advocate. And I am not afraid.

Can’t go around it, must go through it. Let’s Go God.

Sky Writer

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ Leave a comment

Friends, Happy Weekend, Happy Mother’s Day. 

Wishing surprises of joy, endless time around table with words of mothers, words of children dancing and skipping from lip to lip;

wishing moments of happy punctuated by loud barks of belly laughs from deep down deep;

wishing rest here and rest there, quiet here and quiet there

and time  alone to focus on His  unfailing love, to feel secure in His warm embrace,

to give thanks  to God for this gift of motherhood

 seeing anew the privilege that it is of raising a child, or two, or three or……….

wishing His grace…