Tag: Mothering

The Morning Art Gallery of Life, A Grand Opening

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 8 Comments

The Web of Life

She opens her gallery in morning bright light early

Displays God Art.

 First fruits offered in obedient love.

Weaving with legs strong graceful

Navigating  strength,symmetry

Strong small presence, centered

Delicate lovely home made art.

Like a prayer labyrinth she walks alone, in her, on her,

Home made strong, receptacle of nourishment

Quiet delicate web net of protection.

Quiet masterpiece holds fast in love

Holds strong in love.

And in woven winsome beauty, she makes her way through,like a maze.

She waits,  heartbeat holding watch.

Glimmering gleaming hopefilled web

Offering order in chaos,

Perfectly alligned with His will for her.

Perfectly imperfect, seeking Grace

She hangs in the net web,

Soul centered place of still waiting waving in the gentle spirit breeze,

Peace-filled knowing

Anchored here, anchored there.

No fear takes space, finds a space in the perfect web of peace.

No angry broom will knock down, rip down, tear down.

Grace for her, grace for all.

She and her God art catching the morning light.

Masterfully weaving this artful way through the life web.

Tied in obedience to the One who teaches  art of making the way

through a beautiful web maze, the story

that is her sparkling sticky, glistening fragile, light-catching, light-relfecting,

Hidden to some,

 Yet visible to the lover of Beauty, God Art

A Hopeful, graceful web.

Catching nourishment for the soul.

Counting Gifts and Linking with Ann at A Holy Experience dot com and with Michelle on this Monday.

And with Laura Barkat and Laura Boggess for In On and Around Mondays and  Playdates at the Wellspring.

*A lost cross purchased in New York, found this morning, a treasure found on the floor.

*Beautiful time with volleyball family, winning, losing, fellowshipping

*Long day in the creek after church, salt, sea, friends, The Patient One, counting the gifts of close finish-your-sentence friends and a day on the water and in it too.

*Encouragement coming in so many different forms, delivered sweetly in love

*New connection with old friend

*The Patient One giving gifts, a lawn cleaner and tidier and the gift of time lovingly spent together

*During woship, watching The Patient One sway in the breeze of praise, singing sweet the songs of worship

*Planning a Monday night family dinner- Joyfilled family meal, with hopes and dreams to play our High/Low game again. (naming the highes and lows of our day).

*Making plans for a trip to Haiti, and feeling the call in Peace and in Love.

*Receiving my Compassion International Packet in the mail with the precious picture and information on the sweet sweet girl I am privileged to sponsor. So hopeful about her future and a budding relationship.

A Frame, A Lense, And The Eyes of The Heart

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 18 Comments

When I look I see.

When I see I feel.

When I feel what I see when I look is it because the eyes of my heart are soft and tender? Am I looking through the frame of His word? Am I looking through a lense created by His hands, molding and shaping and forming my will and my thoughts.

Whispering gently in my ear is the notion of perspective. It has been for sometime. The title of this blog is viewing life through a lense of grace. So the tapes in my head and the beat of my heart is to the song of perspective. And framing. And viewing.

And yesterday I saw it in a fresh way with a child. It is the children who teach and point and show and bend the heart to truth. It is so often they who press in to the hard places and make them tender, the rough places and make them smooth.

Everytime I hear and respond, I have a choice. And everytime I see and act, I have a choice.

I want to choose well. And so very often I don’t.

But the lessons keep coming and the chances for new mercy and change are ripe for the picking. And I want a basket of juicy and sweet fruit to hang from my arm swaying in sweet love.

One has a challenge with ADHD. So I have a challenge with ADHD. And I can choose the lense of patience, and understanding. If I choose to. And view his heart and life through a beautiful lense of tender mercy, with my momma love.

When I go off into a writer’s imagination and dream, I dream of writing a book on perspective and framing events, and circumstances and the story of our lives with a frame of grace and beauty. Shhhhh, don’t tell anyone. You are the first I have told of this dream. Can you keep it tucked away?

Because each part of the story that has a narrative of pain and challenge, has brought deeper understanding of His charachter and love.In my life. So the eyes that saw hurt or pain or confusion can now frame circumstances in richer understanding. I feel tugs and pulls to write of framing with grace and framing with love. Is it a season for my heart? Most likely. I want to stay there for eternity, so that I can see my world with more compassion, more tenderness, more mercy and more love.

Yesterday I glimpsed with a sharpened lense of grace a child. And a beautiful change. He is Grace. I want to reflect Him more. I want to show more and more and more grace in love to my world. And my child with ADHD is a good starting place. For me.

Because even when I reach down to draw from the springs of empathy and cry out for more empathy and understanding and patience, do I really know the individual struggle and challenges of an ADHD child?But God knows. The number of hairs on his head even, amazing. Amazingly. Beyond a mother’s heart of understanding is the love He has.

Each of us grow and learn down a path that is our very own. I want to go before my child with grace, and sprinkle bread crumbs of patience and understanding on his way.And mark it with compassion. And hem him in with gentleness and mercy. He has one more year at home. I want to end well my journey of his days at home.

I am a miserable failure, broken and banged up on my own.

Mercifully, God goes down these mother roads in tandem with me. And I can look at mothering through the lense of the cross.

And the road of friend, and wife and sister and child. And neighbor and writer and blogger and each and every role He allows me the privilege of playing.

Praying for His grace as we start this “new year” of school and life.

And as always, grateful and privileged to have you on this journey.

And it would be a joy to have you come to my facebook page, wynnegraceappears on FB (scroll to the bottom of this page and click over). Thank you in advance. We can chat over there some too.That would be lovely.

If you are on twitter, I am at @graceappears on twitter.See you there?

Thanksgiving In July

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 9 Comments

They move from event to event, stoic, chin-up with game faces squarely on.

Determined, fierce-competitors, steely-glass eyes starring the moment directly in the face without blinking. Unflinching. Taking on the challenges with grace.Brave. Unwavering. Strong. And appearing to all the world as though they have no fear.

Mighty warriors on the world stage. Grace on display in diminuative packages. And they amaze.

I watch these young Olympians strong-jawed and graceful, gymnasts who take my breath away with their poise, beauty,and skill packed in lovely small packages of pure muscle.

They are like marathon runners pacing their emotion. Pacing the celebration and victorious grins and all-out over-joyed thanksgiving for their wins, the milestones.

Because until they are finished, they must pack their bags and unwrap their wrist-wrappings and move to the next big event.

But I am not an Olympic gymnast. Very far from it. But sometimes if I am not careful I will move fists clenched and jaw tight from one event to another without stopping to rest in moments of thanksgiving and praise for God’s goodness.

And I have seen God’s goodness in many areas of my life. So I have to stop. And be still for long moments of the heart. To let myself catch up with my living. To let the soul soak in the worth savoring. Because I have seen break-through’s and they are worthy of noting with praising lips.

They are worthy of big Alleluias and Hallelujahs back to the Giver. They deserve a return of praise. They require a thank you note of the heart.

If I am not careful I will race ahead without engaging my heart and soul in a long grateful embrace. The moment worth the long savor risks being passed over. The answered prayer of the heart and lips risks going by without an outpouring of gratitude.

I will rush ahead of myself and God into the forward moving moments of life. Without rightful praise. Without rightful thanksgiving. Without giving the breakthrough its long celebration of being born into my life. I risk being stalled out and stuck in a place of forward moving living which races into the next without pausing and looking long on the beautiful miraculous milestones of God gifts of the now.

The now is so deserving. The right this minute is so worthy of marking and noting. And of celebrating.

I see these as the happy middles. No longer wanting to desire only the happy endings in life, but rather finding joy in the happy middle moments. The good stuff on the way. The stumble upon small things which are truly grand. Like the small Olympic gymnasts we pack a pint sized punch, these little life-moments are grander and more glorious than we often give them credit for. They are huge if we but stop and marvel.

Just because its good. And just because The Giver of Good Gifts, a holy God, has given with and in Love.

If I miss the opportunity to walk into His presence with praise, I miss a holy moment of intimacy with God. And we were made by Him to praise Him. The praiseworthy moments then, are just what we were created for.

And some just seem due a longer pause, a wider smile, and an even more joyful heart. I don’t know why they seem to stand out, accept that when you journey with Him and cry out to Him, and pray to Him, there are moments which feel so glorious. Maybe its the ones we thought we’d never live to see. Or maybe its the ones that come after long periods of drought or what feels like extra-long waiting. Maybe its the ones which look so transformative as to have God’s mark, His handiwork so beautifully displayed that we are in awe. Of His Goodness. And His Love. Maybe it’s the ones that have a bit of the prodigal son peppered in the narrative.

That God in His mercy works beautiful gifts into  every day is worth an outpouring of gratitude every day. But sometimes it feels hand-stamped,hand-delivered right to the door of our hearts. Because it is.

It always is when it comes from God. And thanks be to Him, the Giver of Good Gifts.

Counting gifts today. And it truly feels like Thanksgiving in July. And grateful to Ann and her book 1000 Gifts for helping point me in a grateful direction of the heart.

*a beautiful worship service yesterday with glorious music and a very very funny guest preacher. Joy in the laughter echoing all through the sanctuary.

*a transformation in a relationship. Restoration, love, and tenderness.

*a moment to mark and celebrate a moment with a mother in church which involved seeing great things in the lives of our sons.Seeing her beautiful tears of joy at God’s hand in our lives. A gift.

*Seeing my man/child in his new home loving His job and seeing glimpses into his future with his career. Feeling God’s hand of protection and love on his life.

*Hearing my middle son say how much he enjoyed our family day together, after not wanting to participate. Hearing him proclaim the joy in the day. Amazing. Grace. A mother’s heart hears how very much we are wired to be in relationship.

* Four of the five riding back from Charleston and my daughter looking out at the marsh and marking the beauty. Then, passing the river and marking the beauty. Her words of longing to be on the beautiful water. Seeing her mark beauty.

* Hearing my son sing in church.

*watching the Olympics with my family

*Mother-daughter time of fellowship with friends laughing and savoring and spending hours, the four, for a celebration of birthdays. It is good. Friendship.

*Finally telling my husband how very badly my heart desires a literal white-picket fence, and having him sweetly receive, and try to see where and how he can provide my silly heart’s desire for one.

*A loving text message filled with gratitude from someone in my life, early this morning. A welcomed-Monday morning sight for these eyes.

*Seeing the joy in a woman’s heart upon receiving home-communion yesterday. Seeing  the power in breaking the communion wafer for someone for the first time. The beauty. The holy of the moment. Grateful for the opportunity to serve. Seeing her touched by the love of Jesus.

Writing in community today with Ann, who is helping me develop a heart of gratitude. And I am joining with Michelle at Graceful today.

Beyond Metaphors

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 8 Comments

Today is 5 Minute Friday where we just write freely for five minutes on a one word prompt. Today’s word is Beyond.. Let’s see…. beyond. Go.

Like launching a rocket into another galaxy or launching a stone from a sling shot.

Like gently tossing a stone on a pond to ripple and skip along its way.

Like sending a carrier pigeon on its way with messages for the world, holding hope on one’s breathe that he arrives, delivers, and returns.

And like a feathered mother on her nest with her owl babies, oh my favorite book, oh the memories of that book and my children in my lap, they and she and me and my trioed tribe.

And its beyond words and metaphors. Its past containment of bounds of language.

Its a language unto itself, a leaving language, a language of beyond the familiar, beyond this home.

Its launching your first born from your nest into the wild, into the blue, into the great beyond this place called home. Into that place called other.

And though you knew it was coming its beyond mother-human comprehension how it would ever feel, when he has a life, a church, a home, a refrigerator filled with 25 cent yogurt, and he is way beyond your four walls.

And he is standing upright.

And somehow the world still spins on its axis and the sun still rises and sets.

And you know there is nothing out there that can catch up, equal or surpass a mother’s love.

Stop.

(disclaimer- grace required a minute or so over as a mother’s heart gushed past 5 minutes. Thanks for the grace, friends.)

Linking up today for 5 Minute Friday’s with Lisa Jo Baker dot com.