The First Flag

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends."- John 15:13

How in the world could I begin to paint a picture of Arlington National Cemetery? How?
If you've never seen it, look it up. Both breath-taking and heart-breaking at the same time. Lines and lines and lines of beautifully white washed stones, each one there for a soul who gave a life for our freedoms. For our country. For you. For me.

Tears flowed freely as I looked at photos of family members clinging to the memory of that soldier, clutching that stone as if to grab a piece of their beloved once again. And the soldiers saluting, I cannot even begin to describe the combination of absolute pride and brokenness. I wont even pretend to understand how it would feel to stand there on this side of heaven, looking on all my fallen friends.


When a friend of mine asked me to do this, I knew it was going to be incredibly challenging. Not only was it a whole lot of lines to paint, but the significance of the sacrifice these people made, the representation of each individual who served and gave his life, there was no way I could capture it. I still haven't, but I knew I could take a lifetime and wouldn't get it, and I had to be okay with that. Because I could never confine the beauty of that sacrifice to a canvas. As I type that I think of the Lord and shake my head at even trying to contain His Majesty.

I knew in my heart I could not do this justice, but I sure would give it on over to the Lord. The landscape aspect came naturally. The stones were a dickens to paint-ALL THE LINES.  In fact, I felt like the stones needed more space, so I scraped a section of the painting and started over.

But the soldier, planting that first flag through the crust of the soil he vowed to protect-- I couldn't give him a face. I just could not define him, because he needed to be a representation of all our men and women who serve, who leave family and home to defend our country.

There he is, back pack full of flags, meant to honor each and every one of those souls who died to protect us. A rectangular piece of fabric with our beloved stars and stripes, which beautifully depicts all we should stand for. That piece of fabric seems such a small way to honor that amazing sacrifice; but, I beam inside knowing what Old Glory represents.  I just want to hug that person- to say "Thank you for your service, for loving your country, and for honoring these people who died for you and me." I know I would never ever get those words out because I'm tearing up now, only seeing that opportunity in my mind's eye.

I pray that the Lord is pleased with this most feeble attempt to capture and honor Arlington National Cemetery, the people who are laid to rest there, and all those who have served past and present.

I love our country and its foundation in Christ. I am so grateful for the souls who have and currently serve. To those folks, I say "Thanks."

Layered.

I am in a big, fat, stinky funk. I hate funks. Well, except the 70s style. I know that this funk is likely (definitely) a result of my busyness. When I get too busy, I get too dang near-sighted. Then I start to creep away from my Center- Jesus.

Just like the Earth is so perfectly placed that if it is moved one degree closer to the sun we burn to a crisp, one the other direction we freeze to death, so it is with Our Creator. When I get away from the sweet spot of resting in Him, I begin to quench the Spirit.

Bringing my heart back to His beauty by honoring Him here.

I worked on a project awhile back. I think I've mentioned before how I absolutely LOVE all things old/worn/lived in. I just love worn down wood, old homes, and things that show the wear of the world.

That said, my mother-in-law requested me to paint a piece of glass to hang in an opening above a doorway of her beautiful, old victorian home. The glass was about a foot and a half by five feet. Big. The plan was to nestle it right into the rich, warm original woodwork that stood above the huge doorway between the formal/informal living rooms.

She gave me free range, except with a few color requests. She offered ideas of folk art, or even foliage. I love folk art and that would have been fun. I love landscapes and they are cool, too, but I needed to honor the style of this home. So, I remembered seeing a piece of victorian floral fabric on a pillow in her living room years ago.

That was it. I found my inspiration. So off I went. I loved this part, designing the "bones."

 

 

Then Layer.

 

By Layer.

 

By Layer.

 



 

Until it was complete.

To be honest, in the middle somewhere I wanted to quit. It looked "weird" and my eyes were so strained. I thought, 'I am totally screwing this dang thing up."

But, I persisted and kept thinking this is how it is with the Lord. As a new creation freshly bought with salvation blood, we feel free, vibrant, and our raw potential in Christ feels so clean. Kind of like the bare bones of this painting. It was simple and looked nice as it was, but there was a lot of hard work ahead for it to be complete.

In the same way as the paint sloooowly progressed, we experience the daily strain of having the Holy Spirit encased in sinful flesh, in a sinful world- we aren't complete. We are a work in progress.  As the verse in proverbs says  we are being made "ever brighter until the day of Christ." I know that , like this painting, I am in the middle, where Christ is adding layer upon layer of His goodness. It comes in the form of blessing, simple joys, hardship and loss. And we are to be continually sanctified until we meet Him face to face.

I'm forever grateful that if no other soul on earth gets my heart, my Heavenly Father does. And He patiently keeps working on me, making me "ever brighter until the day of Christ." Thank You, Lord!

New Heart

"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh."- Ezekiel 36:26

 

I cannot tell you the  comfort this verse brings. It tells me so many things. It tells me God saw the hardness of heart in me and He loves me enough to remove it and replace it with a fresh, vibrant one. Thing is, I think that this not only happens in a big, eternal way-through salvation- but in the small, hard-hearted everyday stuff that steals our joy.

I have prayed this verse over my own heart so many times, yearning to be set free of selfish, near-sighted life-walking. It is no wonder that it would make it to canvas. But how it surfaced, came as it often does, through the lives of others.

I was scrolling along facebook when I came across a family's page for their little one who was in need of a new heart. While I don't know the family personally,  I had been following the story, praying along. This post was an update, baby had gotten a new heart! Praise God! There, photographed so beautifully, was her "sick" heart, . It struck me, searing its image so deep, I still see it in my head so clearly. It really was beautiful. My mind was blown at the brilliant minds/hearts involved in removing this VITAL organ from a living, breathing child and replacing it with one that would work for her. And it was blown, too, that something so beautiful could be "worthless."

Isn't that how it is with us?  On first inspection, our exterior may be polished and beautiful. Even our intentions can be good. But, honestly, even with the best attempts, our hearts are bound to be sick. Because we are made to be eternally connected with the Creator of the world. Our hearts are made to yearn for the Best One, not the best things of this life. He offers that freedom. When we come to Him, naturally, the damaged, scarred areas of our innermost are removed and replaced with His best. The mental picture is so beautiful. Exchanging Stone for Flesh. The Inanimate for the eternally living.

That indelible image, stirred that verse right out of my heart and onto the canvas.

I love that I was able to pray for that baby girl, and for her family. Little girl, may the LORD fill your spiritual tank to overflowing and that your "new" heart will beat wildly for Him.

 

Woven

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,

    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
 Your eyes saw my unformed body;

 

 

    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.

Psalm 139:14-16

 

Not a single thing in all of my existence as a new creation in Jesus has lit a fire under my soul's rear like the role of mother. I couldn't have had the relationship with Christ I do, without my three, little nuggets. Each birth brought a different lesson for my heart and each joy, struggle, storm and laugh along the way is used to shape me for His glory.

 

Goodness, I couldn't have fully appreciated these words without seeing that first ultrasound; without holding that fresh, warm, soft newborn in my arms. I cannot, will not ever be able to describe that joy. And because of that feeling, that fierce love, I can understand just a minute amount of the love Christ has for us.

 

He sees us. He formed us (especially those who are handicapped or deemed "different") PERFECTLY for His master plan. He makes no mistakes. Nope. He sure doesn't.  Because He is perfectly sovereign. Doesn't matter, dear one, what the heck you've done or what the world tells you of your worth. Oh, you are so loved. You were INTRICATELY woven together by the Creator of the world. Oh yes, you are here for a Mighty purpose.

To the ones who have carried that precious life in their womb and never had the chance to experience life with that soul this side of Heaven, and for those who had to return their child (0-80 years), to the arms of God, too soon for the human heart to comprehend-I'm broken for you. I cannot fathom the grief you must feel as the world keeps spinning, with your heart suspended out there-forced to keep moving.

To the woman with a barren womb, how could I even understand? How could I, a mother of three, even utter comforting thoughts your way? I cannot, other than to say that there is a Great Comforter that can provide peace that surpasses understanding. The peace would have to surprass understanding, wouldn't it? Because your arms ache so bad for something so many treat as "common place" or "insignificant." I say, here, you aren't forgotten by me and NEVER forgotten by God.

 

Then, you know, there are so many women who are hurting out there because they find themselves in a society that says the child they are carrying will throw them off, mess them up, or that they just won't  be able to "handle it." Some of those women now grieve because they made the choice they thought was right and now the "would haves" come and go-birthdays, dances, and other  rites of passage aren't forgotten. Man alive, I hurt for those women. I can't imagine the heartache. If you are that woman, I sure love you and I'm just a piddly, little grouchbag. Broken heart, The Creator loves you so beyond what you can ask or even imagine.  Trust this big sinful disaster when I say that there is literally nothing you have done that can separate you from the love of Christ. He is there waiting.

 

And the teenage mom, who is scared out of her gourd. Girl, my heart is so huge for you. So big, that I often dream of having a place, a BIG place, for you to come stay. To be safe, loved and cherished. To be encouraged and helped along the way because you and your precious babe is so worthy of love.

 

I didn't realize where this post was going before I sat here to peck it out. What a mix of emotions. Gratitude, that God is who He is and He never, ever changes. That He makes no mistakes and He has a plan (numbered the days, even) just for me. Just for you, too. Humility, that He might offer me children to open my eyes to His love as a Father. Brokenness, for those who can't or haven't yet tasted the goodness of Jesus. Sad, for those mamas who grieve the loss of their babies and for the ones, still, who are feeling hopeless in real-time. And HOPE, for those who find Christ out there in the feeble hands and hearts of those who serve Him here on earth.

 

He made us not for this world, that superficially builds us, wrecks us, and forgets us--He made us for Him, to be infinitely loved and a part of His daily family affairs.

Sparrows

Inspired by the verse Matthew 10:26, "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care."

This verse has been bouncing around my head and heart for over a year now. It hit me just right; in the midst of transition from two children to three. Sleepless nights of newborn life mixed with the busyness of caring for a newborn, two siblings, and a naughty weimaraner puppy- my life felt a blur. As I read those words, it was like my monotonous offerings meant something to the Creator of the world. As if He said "No worries, Child, I notice ALL things." Not a bird of the air, seemingly so ordinary and forgettable by the world, escapes His care. How much more does He love me.

Why? I'm a messy disaster, literally in my mommy attire, and even more in the deepest places of my heart. I began to see this mix of color and a vision of just how my heart would paint such a verse. But, again, three kids, husband, life, and the naughty dog.

 Six months passed and my heart's desire to paint this was renewed. Though, we've never met, though they don't know of my existence, I learned of theirs and my heart was incredibly changed. See, their last name is Sparrow and they experienced and incredibly painful journey of loss that I cannot begin to understand-truthfully, I hope I never do. I'd love to share more, but don't' feel I can without actually meeting this folks and having their blessing.  I share this much to say God wastes nothing. Their faithfulness to share their RAW, fresh hurt with the world brought to surface something that had already been ignited within me and made it anew. Let's not forget that folks. Little bits of love and faithfulness are multiplied in ways we often will never know and make differences we cannot even fathom. Why? Because God is big and He wastes NADA. Nothing. Not one thing. He is good and He is for us.

Slow but sure this painting came along as I prayed it through and prayed for the family who boosted it from the depths. As I pray for the hearts who will eventually call it theirs. What a privilege. For average, little me.

I started with a BIG (44" x 24" x 2.25") double-pane window we found nestled safe and sound in an abandoned shed in Southeastern Iowa. They were abandoned from a project and left for over fifty years. Untouched by life. Until we found them. I love things old and worn. Things forgotten. Ah, to give it life again. LOVE that. Just like God does in us, slow but sure.

I tried something different and new to me. An acrylic mixed-media piece. Notice my childhood towl made by my Great Great Aunt Fern? Love that it is always there with me. She was an incredible woman. Anyway, the main features here. Notice the little mama and baby sparrow? Not yet, I'll show you later :)

 I flipped the painting over and slowly but surely layered a warm, deep sky.

 Back over it went for more fine details. More layers of color and love. There's that mama and baby. Nestled in. Noticed and cared for.

 And here she is finished. I decided to leave that wood frame free, unpainted/unstained. Raw and natural as we found it.

 

I hope to list this somewhere, some day to find its home. Until then, I love to see it. I love to be reminded of God's tender, intricate care for me and for us all. And I appreciate the reminder to pray for the Sparrows of this world, who need reminding of His love, His blessings for those who seek after Him.