Tag: Writing

When The Oh So Ordinary Looks Extraordinary- Day 1

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 8 Comments

Joining The Nester and hundreds of others for a 31 Days of… series. Joyfully reading there and writing here for 31 Days. Would you join me? It would be a gift.

Yesterday I wrote an introduction of sorts for this series. You can read about it here.

Ordinary. Ooh la la ordinary. A new ordinary. Different but same, changed in the blink, because of the eyes.

The eyes of the heart.

In the monday, small case, days and the plain and mundane. There is no such thing.

You turn a monday, small case day on its head and shake it gently until the coins fall from the pockets. And the sparkle is revealed. The something of value is discovered.

Discovered because it sat there all along. Stumbled upon, tripping you up in the wonder of it all. The plain turns to fancy and the ordinary becomes extra so extra-ordinary.

Small is grand and simple is elegant, and the lense turns the world upside down. Its wild and wonderful.

Its an ordinary day in an ordinary life.

The dull becomes bright. The eyes frame the mundane with the frame of wonder and discovery.

And there in the middle of the mundane small case monday, is the height of the unspeakable beautiful.

She walks her monday walk and she breathes her monday air and she turns her monday corner.

And with nothing more than a change in perspective, of measuring the abundant and marking the glass to the line of the full, not half, not whole, but spilling over, she sees her black and white before oz world turned upside down as the colors are thrown on the life canvas.

With reckless abandon.

She sees the ordinary, beautiful.

She hears the ordinary, beautiful.

She comes to see all in the ordinary. Seeing as Alice saw. Wonderful whimsy in the cat and the child and the tea-cup.

A laugh is eeked out. The imagination is sparked.

But it was really there, all along. No imagination is needed. Not really.

The life-art pops and Wonder and Glory are revealed. Just everywhere.

If you look close.

When a dandelion is as a peony or a rose. Beautiful is in the plain.

Simple looks exquisite and marvelously faceted because her lense of love and thanks compounds the what just simply is.

Brown is sepia, dinner is fellowship, a friend, a life-giver in a conversation dipped in grace.

A spider-web is art, a pile of mess is the heart beat of the home.

The weary spirit is we lived with zest in celebration of a marriage.

And the owl and the pussycat take a ring from the nose of a pig. Its grace. It’s all they need.

Well that and honey. And Christopher Robin has bear. And the woods. A friend and a forest seem simply enough.

While a note, a call, a word, a smile carry extravagant small case monday love. Notes of grace, sing a song to the aching broken.

Shine light in the dark shadowy.

Steady a shakey gaping wound. With a word, a whisper.

For you and her and they and we and the ones who walk down-trodden and dejected.

In the black and white, seemingly graceless places of pain. Where you can color it Hope and color it Healed when you speak the words He gave.

She wipes the tear that cleared the way. After the poured out sorrow. And sees the river of joy, wet streams of Living Joy, running rapidly right behind.

And all the burlap, rough brown ragged wrapping of the moments right there,

They shine like silk, soft and beautiful, wrapped around the small case monday,

Through the lense of the not so ordinary after all.

And she continues counting, quietly today, but counting…. the gifts in the ordinary that really are extraordinary.

After all. If you count it all Joy.

linking with Ann and Laura.

When Writing Feels Like Breathing

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 20 Comments

I thought I wouldn’t write today.

But it felt like I was holding my breath.

And then my writer me wanted to pop my holding my breath me like I was a big balloon.

So I stuck the sharp pin in and let out all the air. It felt like there was something there that needed to be released. And it came gushing out, like the whoopie cushions we used in grammar school.

Like walking without seeing the all along the way, was moving through the day without breathing — that writing part of me.

The words became little oxygen holders, like place the mask on yourself before you help your children, or the passenger seated beside you. Like miniature oxygen tanks on wheels for the sick.

Like an asthmatic needs an inhaler the words became vital, life-giving.

Maybe when He lights the passion He doesn’t intend for you to hold your breath. Maybe if you were meant to encourage and give and serve and love, that if you stopped you might pop too. Or feel like you’d explode.

Maybe you get your breath back when you are obedient. The steady breathing resumes and the heart finds a peaceful rhythm when the artist gets on with making art or the servant gets back to serving. Or the doctor keeps on healing.

If doing the passion thing He gave gives life,then stopping may diminish it in some way.

Like the film went from color to black and white silent in a flash.

I thought I wouldn’t write today. I worry readers tire of the black marching words like ants at a picnic. They tread where they’re not wanted.

But then I recall the One for whom I write. And the one who called me to.

And I trust that He both steadies the hand and the heart. And the one lone traveller on the journey would stumble here if they were meant to come. And He could say you popped, you breathed, you are no longer blue from holding it in.

That the details rest with Him and the marching words bring back to Him a worship from an uncertain hand. The writer.

Who found that writing felt like breathing. And that not was not an option.

Just for today.

Until we cross back into tomorrow and He leads me back–to the page. And breathes words and thoughts and the what to write. To honor Him.

Or until He says, stop, wait, rest, no.

Joining Kris at Always Alleluia dot com

What Happens When A Monkey Mind Writes A Blog Post?

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 28 Comments

I wish you were here.

Well not really because you’d see the laundry basket and quite frankly it would scare you. Well maybe not scare, but it might freak you out. Well not that either, but you might not want to stay long because you’d want to free me up to “Just Do It.”

And if you were here I might ask you to run a soccer shirt to one school and a phone and a volleyball jersey to another school. And I might ask you to feed the cat and dogs.

And then I’d ask you to be a good listener. So I could tell you what it felt like to sit beside a man with Parkinson’s Disease and a single mother, with another single mother two down, last night at a volleyball match. I was in the middle.

Did you read the title of this post? Ok. Do you think I should change it? I don’t either.

And I might take you with me to the window to see the HUGE, I mean two HUGE spider webs that are like goal posts outside the window. And we could talk about the God Art and how lovely the sun is on them. And whether you think they are as spectacular as I do.

Now tell me are you still here? Did I run you off yet. Sheesh, I hope not. Because I know you have a choice and you may unsubscribe or not come back or unfollow which are all your choice. And BELIEVE ME, I would understand.

Did you think I was going to tell you more about my friend with Parkinson’s Disease? I was. I am. (Do you think I am rushing today a little too much? I am.) He asked me last night if I was still working. Then I asked him the same thing. He said he’s not because of his “mind” and he then told me of his recent diagnosis. I saw his right hand quivering. He said he misses work because he misses having something to do. I gave him a lollypop. No really I did.

Did I tell you dementia runs in my family. It does. Did I tell you two people in my family have ADD. I have written about that. Did I tell you I don’t. Wait, don’t look so surprised.

Did you think there was a point to that.

Well I want to ask you to help me with the running around and the washing of clothes so I can sit and write, and do art, and make art. And write my hybrid proety, proems and such.

And write my friend in Peru, the little girl I sponsor Erlita. Because did I tell you it can take three months for her to receive my letter? For the Compassion children to receive letters. So I want to write one now.

For some reason, and I believe God put it on my heart, while I can I want to help Compassion International.

And I want to pray for my family member with Dementia and my friend with Parkinson’s Disease and my really good friend who is a single mother. And I want to figure out the best way to love my children while discipling them and encouraging them as they grown into responsible people.

It is really important  that I raise responsible children who don’t leave their phones and sports stuff at home. Because I get one chance to get it right with them. I don’t really know what that means because there is nothing left to chance to raising children. God’s got this with me. Oh yeah that other chance, like opportunity.

Did you read the title of this blog post? Do you think I should change it. Good, I don’t either.

I want to tell you more but its gotten quiet and I think some of you have left. Before you leave will you visit the Compassion Sponsorship page and pray for the kids who need sponsors. And will you join me in praying for my new friend Erlita?

I can’t wait to hear from her. I will tell you about it when the letter arrives, if any of you are still reading by then. (This is Ella and she has nothing to do with the post but I am trying not to forget to go feed three dogs).

While I can write I want to write. While I can pray I want to pray. If you all could help with the laundry, I could go write the prayer I am trying to write to pray for Compassion. Well big C compassion and little c compassion, but mostly big C.

You know if you have never left a comment, today would be a really good day to. Because my monkey mind and I are feeling like we lost all our friends with our laundry and our craziness. So saying hello would be particularly well-timed. And you can go to my facebook page (wynnegraceappears on Facebook) if you are handing out affirmation and cyber-hugs today. And if you are feeling exceptionally generous you can share this on your facebook page.

Oh, I saw you click over to Compassion and pray. That was awesome. Thank you. I know it means a lot to the children.

Linking with Jennifer today.
And with Duane at Unwrapping His Promises at Scribing The Journey dot com.

And with Mary Beth at New Life Steward dot com.

And with Ann at A Holy Experience dot com for Walk With Him Wednesdays

And also with Emily
The purple zinnia and butterfly photograph used above is a gift from my friend H.M. Miller (isn’t she talented). I love her to pieces. She sent me the picture I used for the Mother Teresa quote. Thanks Harriett.

Blogology and Those Darn Tired Turns of Phrase

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 14 Comments


What about a little backing up and regrouping.

I believe if I were you I’d want to know the why’s and the how-come’s behind the space. The one right here which often irks the grammar police, I feel certain. Because I was born in 1959 I was taught there are two spaces after a period and last week I learned there is only one. And that looked like a run on sentence to some.

What were you thinking? Sort of a blogology or blogging credo or mantra or something.

I love that you are here and it blesses my heart, literally not like the wonderful southern  cliche which I use far too often. But it truly does.

So if you are here and when you are here this is a bit of the “what was I thinking”.

I do love that you are here and that we can walk shoulder to shoulder through this life, or parts of it at least.  And I almost said “walk through this journey” together. Darn those cliches. It is that though truly so until I find a fresher more unique to me and my voice way to say it,  I’ll  just say journey.  And then I’ll ask you to extend a bit of grace for the lack of originality.

I do love this community of ya’ll. You know who you are. I don’t want to label you or define you or put you in a box or slap a term on you. Because if you are here, until you tell me why I guess I don’t know. Really. For certain. But I am grateful. And every time you speak through the comment box I can feel and smell and hear your presence. And I am thankful that my spam catcher catches some CRAZY stuff. I mean ya’ll should read it sometime. But I digress. You all teach me, encourage me, and inspire me.

Please know that when I am here and you are there, my deep longing of the soul is to type, say, write, and present that which is honest, real, true, and authentic . Thank you for allowing me to share pieces and parts of my story as I feel lead and at the leading of the Spirit.You are gracious and you seem to be great listeners.At least from my vantage point.

Thank you for remembering that each post is just a snapshot in time, a piece of a larger part. In order to see and hear more completely, well, you may need to follow and read more of the parts and pieces. That is to say, one post does not make the man. Okay, I am a woman which you undoubtedly know by now. And when I update my “About Me” on this blog, I will add that though cliches seem to annoy me, I seem to have more than a few popping up. Got to fix that.

Which leads me to telling you how I would like to offer you fresh posts. Unique perspectives. And a mix of how I see with what we all see as a community of Christ followers. In our shared humaneness we share so much, but as individuals it will always be mad crazy deeply unique to me.  I can truly only really write honestly and passionately from my insides. From my own knower that was formed from my heart, soul, mind and spirit. So what I write, probably should look like my story. That you read and that you come is still amazing. Simply beyond amazing. But don’t we all hunger for the creative. And don’t we long for Art. And don’t we seek excellence and not mediocre. Please know I try to bring it and to lean on and into Him.Thank you for grace when you see stale. And when you see less than. I offer my apologies, truly.

Sometimes simple is  strongest and the straightest way to real. I love to write. But man oh man do I love God. You all should hear some of the things he’s brought me through. So I want to point to Him and honor Him with my writing. If I don’t, you all can help. Keep me accountable. That would be lovely. And I thank Him  for the privilege of writing and the honor of your eyes being here.

And because I just wrote that last point, you know the one above, I need to heed my own advice and keep this simple. Therefore, I will stop. But I do reserve the right to write a Part 2 of this Blogology post. You’ve seen some posts have both a part one and part two. If you haven’t you can search the archives. There is at least one there. Or rather here.

Did you think because there were shrimp boats in the photograph I was going to make a reference to this blog being a voyage? Well I am not. But I am going to thank my friend Harriett for her wonderful photograph. And I do try to mark my own photography with “wynnegraceappears” in the corner. At least I have for several months. But today and other days, my dear dear friend Harriett has given her gift of photography freely and generously for its use on this blog. Thank you Harriett. You’ll see some more from her.She’s got talent. And she loves the Lord in a big way. I will ask her permission to tell some of her story. It will bless your socks off. (mixing metaphors is so much fun).

Thank you for viewing life through this lense of grace. And if you were counting the number of times I used truly…..it was probably more than once. And you can practice wild grace even now for that.

And if you thought I was going to thank you for your comments before you even left one, you were right.If you come back tomorrow I will probably start more than one sentence with And. Got Grace? (Is that a cliche yet?)

Linking with Heather and Jen. And I am grateful for their hospitality. Thank you ladies.