There Is Light In The Dark

Today my words are drawn from the inspiration of my niece, Caroline, who is seen and heard in this video. As she paints to the music of Mat Kearney, Breathe in, Breathe Out, I see the beautiful. And so I write.

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There Is  Light In The Dark

You know my every breath
The shallow breathing times were the hardest
And the times I held my breath in fear, the stronghold, grip, on me
But fresh the air you gave, new the winds  blew in
Restoring peace
You knew the tension, knotted, held, locked tight the lungs
You saw the rattling, ratcheted up-beat of the racing breaths
Too, many, too often
Many times you caught and captured the release in the exhale
Went deep into my lungs, with love
Air of Hope
Breath of Life
Whisper new breath into my deepest places
Make new the stale air
Form new, Your spirit in me
Freeing me to breathe deep
A life which
Hopes
All things
Through and by the very breath you give
Breath of Hope

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Joining emily today for Imperfect Prose. Today’s prompt is Light.

(Postscript – This post was originally published on January 18, 2013. When I go back and listen to music, watch Caroline paint to the words and melody of the artist and interpret I am deeply moved. And as I re-read the poem I wrote in conjunction with Caroline’s painting and Mat’s art, I choose to submit this offering to the  Imperfect Prose community  today. May the light shine bright in my eyes as I look to live in love, write of grace, and make art that honors Him. The original post title was Breathe Hope. I have changed it to  There is  Light In The Dark.

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When You Speak

Emily Wierenga asked me to join her Imperfect Prose team late in 2012. Honored, humbled I responded with an excited “yes”. Today is my first time leading off the Imperfect Prose community. I chose the prompt, encouragement. And then I struggled  to write. The fog settled in and the walls came up.

 But before you go there …

 So, I emailed Holly, a member of the Imperfect Prose team of writers and asked for prayer. Later I gave Emily glimpses into my wrestling spirit.

Immediately this word became real. It wore flesh and bones and had a heart.

The possibility held in the word encouragement became manifested through their actions, their very words.

It seemed I couldn’t draw from the well on my own. They undergirded and strengthened me.

But the process I went through of fog  and uncertainty were  necessary for working out true understanding.

There is a mystery in why. But on the other side it felt needed.  The struggle strengthened.

In the middle of my struggle, a bird flew into the glass door through which I see the world while I write.  Injured and broken, lying on my porch, I felt viscerally, the injury along with him.

He couldn’t fly. I couldn’t help.  He lay wounded. I ached.

There was so much imagery in this crippled bird for my soul to soak in. I left for a bit and when I returned he was gone. There were no signs of death, no stray feathers. My heart hopes there was recovery for him.

I choose to think he flew away.

And I think of  how encouragement is poured out. Where it starts and stops. What transpires in our struggle, in the times when we feel on our backs in defeat. And yet the Saints intercede and pray.

And speak words of encouragement into our souls.

And we too can fly again.

Please join me as we explore encouragement.  See you at Em’s.

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Create In Me

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We worked together shoulder to shoulder for a season and I found her wise. She, a bishop’s wife and mother of three. And she would spout gently like a mother dolphin. She’d spout jewels of wisdom and I, younger wife and mother would catch the droplets of sparkling gems.

We worked together in the lab of the creative. And we enjoyed fellowship of two business partners, entrepreneurs in a business for the home.

The words she said that day were one’s I thought I would never forget…the verbatim of her phrases of mini-teaching. I, the student she, the teacher, we workers in the field of creativity with meaning.

But I have forgotten though I have tried to remember. There are many years between that time and this. But the core of what  she said  I caught and held the heavy weight of wisdom in my hands. My heart vowing never to forget.
What I have not forgotten  is the sweet fragrance of her words. I smell the fragrant offering of their meaning.  The words she repeated often like a loving metronome, ticking off in repetition only to help with learning. And more importantly, the beautiful art she created for the home, from the overflow of her heart.

We create an environment in our homes. We create a place for God there. We create and make – environment.

And it wasn’t to justify  our work. It was to realize and recognize the importance of the work of creating. Aren’t we more like Him when we are creating, making, forming, sculpting, molding. Doesn’t He long for us to make, offering back to Him from what we have, the what He has given.

Doesn’t it matter. Our work as mothers. And the whispers from our home into the lives of others.

I look around at the turquoise and brown sofa with piles of pillow, square art on a rectangular sofa. And my daughter studying her vocabulary words there. She is comfortable and she is safe. By a fire in a fireplace with an old mantel which my husband chose from rubble or an antique thrift shop or a reclaimed wood store. These are the places he looks for treasures for our homes.

And my husband says is there anything better than this…and this was my dinner last night. I created nourishment, but it was more. At my hands I cooked up statements of love from my kitchen. It conveyed Comfort through the foods, chosen, prepared.

She was right you know. The books they speak, the art it speaks softly hanging on the walls. Each piece says quietly constantly it has a story to tell, are you listening. Of beauty, of another time, of a mother and daughter together in an embrace, a woman thoughtfully lingering in thought by a window.

We create an environment in which our families learn and live and love. And it’s important work. At and by our hands we create a world within the world. A place of peace and love, a place of mercy and forbearance. Of joy, pure joy and comfort by the things we set out and set before.

But most importantly by what we create with our words and arms’ embrace. The tenor of the home sets the stage for the actions of the heart.

All the pieces come together to form an environment. The blank canvas that was is now brushstroked by our very hands, as creatives, as mothers, as wives and women.

And our very lives, a blank canvas, wait and long for the touch of creativity to mark the white space with meaning and beauty and love.

To launch children out into service, out into a world in need of hope and mercy, in need of grace.

Our homes, a launching pad into the world. A place for recharging, reigniting, re-energizing, reconciling, rejoicing, and re-connecting. For regeneration.

First marked by His touch. First created by His hands. First breathed on by His holy breath.

Created in love by Him. Created in love for Him.

Created to create.

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A  Prayer For All Creatives

Recreating and creating daily, endless opportunity. Unfathomable possibility.

Releasing our hands and hearts and art over to Him.

But please first. But please preface all my work by making a new creation in me. Take my old and take my dull, take my tired and take my weary and create in me a living new offering to a world that needs art and beauty and newly born lives, relationships and attitudes of the heart.

First before all else, please cleanse me and re-create all that I have and all that I am.

Mold me first.

Shape me in your image.

Make me more like You.

Take me in your hands, making me pliable, moldable, shapeable, bendable.

Make me something you can use.

Before I create, create in me.

Before I offer up art and words and a gift back with the gifts you give, first.

First, change me so I reflect, more.

So first, I reflect You. So I am the servant and the artist and the creator of the beautiful message you desire.
Create in me so I can create for You.

First, make me new so that I can make new..

Words for healing, words of hope, words of  grace…because of Your creation in us, in me, in this world.

Thank you for the fabric you give, that we may give back. Thank you for the gifts you give that we can turn into art and worship.

But first, we offer all the gifts back to you.

And thank you for the canvas, our lives, the tools, your gifts, and the desire to create alongside You, in partnership with you, humbly by your side, and in Your Holy Shadow.

Amen.

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Joining Emily and others for Imperfect Prose. (So privileged and honored to now be a part of the Imperfect Prose team. Thanks Emily for the opportunity.) Today’s word prompt is Create.  Join me over there, won’t you.

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What Should We Do When The Lights Go Out?

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What should we do when the lights go out.

What do we do when the lights come down.

How do we feel when the lights go dim and dark and out and up and away.

When all the bright and all the light are stored and boxed and put up high, out of arms reach. Tucked and stored. Out of sight. And suddenly so suddenly the twinkles are no more. And the normal new normal is back to dim and duller, in the rooms in all the rooms where we move and live and have our being.

And plain seems to  reign and dulller rules and all the exteriors are undressed and no longer wearing their Sunday best. The music fades, the carols quiet, and still covers the nights of the bleak mid-winter.

So what should we do when the lights go out and up and are put away. And we grieve the change or we celebrate, our unique spirits reign during the days on all the days of shifting gears and changing lanes and traveling back down the roads of living before we stopped and prepared our hearts for the holy celebration. Prepared Him room in all the light and bright.

Oh, what do all  the souls of all the saints do and say as all the lights are dimmed at once.

Don’t we each see through lens with unique eyes on all the dark. Frame the change as only  I can frame and you can frame and we can frame the change, when all the lights come down.

As boxes take the baby Jesus back to tissue wrap and all the scenes of Hope and Glory and Redemption go back gently in their box, we all take time to grieve the change. Take it tender, take it slow.

And say goodbye or say hello.

And weep with tears of Joy or tears of pain. And look back with that keen hindsight on all the days to all the days of the year that is and almost was.

But what if when the decorations and decor and garland ribbons bows and such come down we see more clearly, all the bones of life. With all the fluff and stuff removed, or some of it at least.

And trim back ornamental accoutrement to just the what we usually have.

And dim the lights, it’s sweet that way. And turn the dial that dims the lights to see just you and see just me right straight in the eyes, of the soul,  of all the ones that gather round a life.  And see He is right there He always was, when all the lights go out.

When all the candy has come and gone and all the presents are received and thanks are sweetly given. And simple rules again in the hearts of men, what will we do what should we do when all the lights go out.

WIthout the cords and bulbs and lights, without the trim and trees and wreaths.

Its you, its me, its family.

And in all the dark and dim and dull,  the hurting and the weak still stand.  The lonely, sick and so afraid, still look for light to shine on them.

So when the lights go out and down and up, let’s be and shine and show and love with all the Light from Love Come Down, At Christmas.

In all the dark, in all the days of all the year for all the world to see.

Paint with brush strokes the flames of Hope and Mercy bright and glowing.

Where death and pain and hurt and dark are seeking His bright love.

Let’s still sing loud and soft and sweet,  let’s still tell Truth and tell it tender,  let’s still Love and Be the People Bearing Light.

And lets stand, huddle, rest not move, in the shadow of His perfect light and love.

Stand with me, rest with me, linger long and slow. Let’s stand together, touching always the hem of His garment of perfect love. There in the light, in the heavenly light.

Dim the lights of the world all you want, for in Him there is no darkness at all.

In Him there is no darkness at all. And the broken Hallelujahs and the always Alleluias sing loud and clear in the light, in the bright light. In the forever light.

Merry The Days After Christmas…. remembering always the Light and The Hope of Glory in Him.

There is not a trace of darkness in Him – 1 John 1:5

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