Tag: Family

Thinking of You As I Prepare Him Room

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 3 Comments

berries in sunlight

I am thinking of you as I slip out the back door. Cracking the door and slipping through to a place of preparation, pondering, reflection, and above all celebration.

And I am thinking of you as I look back over the shoulder of the year, glancing back on the months and days in review. What they held, how they shaped and what they taught.

So it is I think of you as I look at this art, this ministry, this way of writing out life on a paperless post. Of processing and framing all the grace and all the life that comes on shore, wave on wave.

I am thinking of you but I will be quiet for awhile. As I step out and embrace all that is good, and there is much. As I step out and focus on all that is glorious, and there is abundance there too. As I focus on Love Come Down at Christmas and look for ways to see His love anew, I’ll say my Merry Christmas now.

I am off for a break from this writing life. And circling the outstretched arms around family and friends. And hoping for you glory and grace and peace of our Lord.

May you embrace the Love of Christ at Christmastime as you too prepare Him room.

Room to replace the disappointment, room to fill the gaps of want, room to pour out Love and Healing where there is pain, room to fill a soul with Peace where there is fear, and room to set us free from all that binds.

Praying the space in our hearts, our lives, our homes is deep and wide for Him to come and abide.

Alleluia Anyway and Always.

Grateful for your eyes and hearts in this writing life, always.

 And Wishing you Joy in the smallest of moments ,

in all the days of this , most holy of seasons.

Merry, Merry Christmas All.

nighttime collage

Joy, Comfort and The Element of Surprise

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 12 Comments

All the moments of joy, they can sneak up on a girl. I rest in the thankfulness of the moment. But not for long. For these moments of Joy, they propel me forward infusing new life, new hope, in all the new mercies.

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Yes, these moments of joy can sneak up when she least expects it.

Giving a desire to go and spread and carry and send it out. To give something away. Something of the gift.

These moments come when they are most needed. Like new skin, new flesh springing from a place of fresh healing. Where new sensations of tender feeling are born.

And the world bears  much new in this season. My heart would be wise to have eyes to see it. To wipe the foggy lense of despair and seek the tucked away offerings of life, and love and redemption in the folds of the new skin.

He did say He was doing that. Making all things new.

And old can look new to the eyes that can see, really see. See through and around with hope.

First born visits and walks around this home filled with light and life, by grace, singing. He is singing constantly. It sounds new and joyful. But as I visit the mental records of my memory, I think he always did sing.

I wasn’t always listening.

I think I surprised her as she stood stocking the shelf. Life is fragile and I had just come from a funeral. The sun shining and a full life celebrated. And we all long for those second chances. Mercifully I was given one. I told her I had woken in the night. That I felt a gentle nudge to pray for her. And I told her I should have offered to  the other day. She is a stranger. I am a stranger. We are wrapped in community by hearts, by hurting, and by need.

And she told me why I may have felt she was hurting and yes thank you for praying for me.

I was surprised by the joy of her smile. She thanked me and thanked me. But in the giving, I was left walking ten feet above the earth.  Buoyed by her tender gratitude. And I may have a new friend in this life. She smiled a smile that is blazed and branded on my soul. From her place of tangled worry and stress. She smiled and thanked.

Its as if the icy tundra, the frozen reeling earth which grieves is melting. The sorrow slowly melting from the cold. And the days, the few days between us and  His birth are a healing balm of warmth.

The pain and grief redeemed by new birth. And all that He brings as Light of the World, shining bright in cold darkness is warming the souls of men.

In these days, He brings Comfort and Joy. He is comfort and joy.

He sits across the table wrapped in budding new and I see what warmth and care of another  can do to the heart of man.

How the smile breaks so wide it wants to leave the face. How the hands wrap around gentle with comfort and joy.

My mommas heart is surprised. It is beautiful living breathing joy. And it is new. This is redemption from the piles of ash, and prayer has fueled this fire of burning joy. Its fragrant beauty drifts my way and I inhale. Billowing joy.

We dropped a gift of gold in a glass of liquid last night. For the girl who has the birthday rocking up on the heels of Christmas.  She looked down into the sparkling water and saw a gift, she knew it had been mine. I hoped that in a passing from mother to child there would be sweet surprise, in the offering. In the receiving. And in the receiving she smiled. But I realized the joy was mine…in giving of something I treasured.

Releasing  to another. There is  more joy in the offering than in the receiving.

I think I would do well to give it all away for the joy in the release. And I would be wiser than those three wise men to look to Him for all comfort and joy.

Listen, do you hear the hymns of praise. Can you hear the songs up in the heavenlies. A song of redemption breaking through the clouds, the icy pain melted by a baby born in the bleak mid-winter?

May each of you find comfort and joy in the receiving of His son. And may you seek and see and find the elements of surprise, the wonders of His love in the all around you in the beautiful days leading up to Christmas.

Alleluia Anyway Always.

Joining Emily.

imperfectprose

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Someday Is One Day Is Today

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 4 Comments

Let the peace of Christ keep you in tune with each other, in step with each other. None of this going off and doing your own thing. And cultivate thankfulness. Let the word of Christ – the Message – have the run of the house. — Colossians 3:17

One day the sun will hit the Magnolia leaves just right so that there are glistening greens of every shade and hue, even Moss and Hunter and Crayola’s New Spring Green, all in one tree.

And one day the house in its quiet will hum like a cat’s purr and the still will sound like a beautiful peace covered it in a blanket of goose down insulation. For a moment, cocooned in its own safe place, away from all the world.

And birds will chirp on repeat in their repetitive reset rhythmic cadence like a gentle alarm clock belonging to the Earth itself.

Children will grow while they are sleeping in the quiet space between childhood and adulthood and Thanksgiving and Christmas, dreaming of white lights and decorated homes with roaring crackling orange flamed dancers over the cut wood sturdy logs.

And she will know, that the one day she prayed for and hoped for is actually this day, this today, the day that the Lord has made. And that all the dreaming can now stop because someday sits curled up like contented milk filled baby with sweet bowed lip on the lap of her today.

And its all more than just okay.

Its simple. Its beautiful. And five will stand shoulder to shoulder in church and thank the One who gave her today.

Today.

Joining Deidra and her beautiful Sunday community.

Delight, Refresh and Restore – A Trio of Words For Healing

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 4 Comments

Today is Day 24. The collective can be found here by taking a hop, skip and a jump over here.

Yesterday I wrote of the words standing in line with their resumes.

It is as if the words have their own hourglass tipped over measuring the days left in their series. They watch the time slipping like particles of sand and they shout choose me, choose me.

So I do. I choose to bundle some words, package them in prose, let them out to breathe and serve. To  pack them up and let them run with me,  play,  escape. To shout and dance. Release and restore.

Art is the only way to run away without leaving home.

Twyla Thorp

So I pick and I bundle them  like fresh cuts from the Fresh Market and plop them down to both soak and suck the water through their straws. And to  give life-affirming beauty to the eyes. Even one. And especially His. Because there will be a day for audience. It has been planned since the beginning.

There is a struggle in focusing on the audience of One. Of writing and art making just for Him and Him alone. The day is coming soon for audience.

But today. For today I give the day to delight.

For delighting in the simple. Delighting in the restorative refreshing power of soaking in the absolute remarkable of a single moment.

A memory blazed in blues.

It is worthy of delighting under the microscope.

Viewing it closely, squinting intensely at the art. Peering at it all, while seeking the seemingly unseen beauty in everything.

I see anew when my soul is delighted by beauty. By a walk by the water, splashing childlike, dodging the surf. Seeking the simple in the treasures washed up on shore, strewn like confetti after the ocean threw a party for the world.

I am restored when my eyes wrap around driftwood masterpieces anchored in sand for study. I stand. Feet planted, toes wriggling, in October sand. Bleached and beautiful.Looking at the bleached woods, worn smooth , its limbs of death.

It was waiting to meet me this day, this wood. To meet me in the salt and sea.

With my child, grown, a man – by my side. WIth the dogs laughing, pink tongues wagging, they swim out and back in. Each a furry metaphor for living, the old the young, the brave, the timid. The energetic and the weary.

All in a dance on the shore. All in a restorative time by the blue blending, water with sky, sky with water, inseparable blues, a melange and mix of azures and others.

So the young call me out, and build me up and restore my hope in possibility and longing for living. And we laughed.

And all looks hopeful and healed at the art gallery by the sea.

My soul delights in the beauty of family and blue looks as blue should look. Strong and beautiful, a backdrop, a canvas for the art of simply living.

Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.

—Thomas Merton

Linking with Ann at A Holy Experience dot com and Michelle. And continuing on the 31 Day journey at The Nester.

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