My dad was a talented yet humble watercolor artist who often painted landscapes; over time, my mom found her new role as his creative assistant, learning to watch for interesting, “paintable” scenes. Dad would be driving through the countryside when Mom would suddenly exclaim, “Oh, Les, there’s a painting!” She would point out a dilapidated barn with a rusted roof, a weathered porch with rickety rocking chairs, colorful wildflowers along a white picket fence, or broken cornstalks in a winter field. The two of them gained an appreciation for the beauty of shadow and light, the importance of subtlety and depth, the power of a scene to tell a story.
And I learned that watercolor painting is more than simply choosing blue for water, green for grass, white for snow. Dad would swirl together a combination of watercolor pigments to create shades that I might describe as snow shadow, seafoam highlight, aging barnwood, or morning sky (if you look at this painting, you will notice that the shadows of the trees are not simple strokes of gray). I learned that white was not the pigment but the paper; at times, Dad would use peelable rubber cement to protect certain areas from his watercolor washes. I learned that images could be suggested, not perfectly outlined, and yet still convey what they were intended to be (such as the background trees in this painting).
This gift of finding works of art in ordinary or unattractive scenes has been passed to my siblings and me. On my daily walks, I love to look for unique, colorful, or meaningful scenes to photograph as inspiration for my writing. I am grateful to walk my route with deeper attention to the world around me.
We are now entering the Third Week of Advent, the week of Advent Joy. This is difficult to write about. I hesitate to bring up the idea of Joy when I know that so many are grieving, anxious, irritated, fearful, or discouraged. But my memories of my artistic father and attentive mother are revealing a lesson in joy…
“Happiness does not depend on outward things, but on the way we see them.” ~ Leo Tolstoy
This week, I hope to observe my ordinary life with the appreciation of an artist; to regard the moments, experiences, and scenes as part of a bigger picture. I hope to be mindful that my life is an ongoing project of God–our infinitely creative, still creating, always loving Creator. With an attentive eye, I hope to look beyond the ordinary for the miracle, behind the challenge for the lesson, between the experiences for the meaning. I hope to find the importance of both shadow and light, of subtlety and depth, of the power of each story. I hope to be attentive to God’s work within others; to look more deeply into the eyes of the hurting, into the spirit beneath the smile, into the yearning that may be suggested but often goes unmentioned. I hope to pay closer attention to God’s creative progress in crafting this eternal Joy.
What joys might I find? What joys might I share? How will this ongoing project of my life add more beauty, more joy, to God’s work of art at its completion?
I pray to find–and to be–the abundant joy in Christ.
Creator God,
“Make me an instrument…”
open my eyes,
guide my ways,
use my gifts…
that I may become
a creative assistant
in your ongoing,
often messy,
carefully crafted,
intricately detailed,
softly suggested,
uniquely imagined,
ever evolving,
masterful work of art.
Amen.
May you find many reasons for Advent Joy this week, dear reader friends.
(Photo by Karen; Make me an instrument is a quote from the Prayer Attributed to St. Francis)
In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,
“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.’”
But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”
(Matthew 3:1-3, 7-12)
In our Advent devotional readings, we have revisited the story of John the Baptist several times this week, and each time, I have to smile. As we reflect on the gift of Advent Peace, we read that John calls his followers (and perhaps us), “a brood of vipers!” His additional name-calling warnings do not bring peace to my soul. But John’s message in Matthew 3 is an important one for Advent, reminding us that the kingdom of heaven has come near and now is the time to repent, as we prepare our hearts to receive Christ Jesus once again.
In this call for repentance, this call to turn from our sin, we are truly gifted to know the rest of the story.
Jesus does come, and he invites us to follow him. As his followers, we witness his acts of mercy and healing. We hear his stories, such as the one of the prodigal son with the loving father, and of the shepherd who searches for his lost sheep. We learn from his wisdom of a new way to live, as in the Beatitudes. We are invited to come to him, weary and burdened, and he will give us rest. Finally, as we remember his terrible agony, we also recall his words, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” *
Because of Jesus, today we can find the Peace in repentance. Our turning away from our sinful nature is–most of all–a turning toward God; the God whom Jesus reveals as loving, forgiving, gracious, merciful, healing, restoring, welcoming. Our turning toward God is always for our good, our peace. Any “burning of the chaff” will be done in love, in gentle corrective wisdom within our souls. Because of Jesus, repentance transforms into a joyful invitation to keep turning toward God, often and in everything!
Yes, we can turn to God in our sorrow and regret for the sins we have already done. We can turn to God when we are tempted to do wrong; when we are impatient, reactionary, revenge-seeking, unloving, selfish, prideful, unkind. But we can also turn to God when we are sad, hurting, frustrated, or lost; when we need to be comforted, healed, listened to, calmed, assured, forgiven. We can turn to God in each of our everyday moments to find wisdom, discernment, companionship, and every need for our soul’s well-being.
We can turn to the One who will lovingly tend and nourish us to “bear fruit that is worthy of repentance”–fruit that is healthy, helpful, and holy.
* Stories are from Luke 15; Beatitudes are from Matthew 5; Jesus’s invitation to come to him is in Matthew 11; and Jesus’s words of forgiveness are found in Luke 23.
(Photo by Karen; Bible passage is NRSVUE, found at https://www.biblegateway.com/)
In days to come
the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains
and shall be raised above the hills;
all the nations shall stream to it.
Many peoples shall come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob,
that he may teach us his ways
and that we may walk in his paths.”
For out of Zion shall go forth instruction
and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations
and shall arbitrate for many peoples;
they shall beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation;
neither shall they learn war any more.
O house of Jacob,
come, let us walk
in the light of the Lord!
Isaiah 2:2-5
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing,
so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Romans 15:13
These first two weeks of Advent are a time when many of us observe the Hope and Peace of God in Christ. Last week, we lit the Candle of Hope, and this week, we light the Candle of Peace. These Advent observances remind us of the goodness of God made known to us in Christ Jesus; Jesus came to bring our Hope and Peace (and our Joy and Love).
Hope and Peace…
even as my personal life is currently filled with joy and blessing, my heart aches for those who are hurting, grieving, anxious, or lost–the people I learn about in sad and upsetting news stories, as well as a few dear friends who are enduring heartbreaking days. How can they find hope or peace in such troubling, even devastating times?
This reading from Isaiah for the First Sunday of Advent has remained with me as a vision of hope. When everyday life can often feel like an uphill climb, Isaiah’s image of God’s presence on a mountain assures us that the climb will be worth it.
We are on a lifelong journey toward God’s glorious presence “on the mountain,” God’s presence of awe, wonder, and infinite love for all eternity.
This journey of life does not come with an easy, well-marked path. We are likely to encounter surprises, stumble over obstacles, or lose our direction for a while. We will be wounded along the way by deep loss, hurtful acts, broken relationships. But when we envision the mountain of the Lord and anticipate the glorious splendor that awaits us there, we are inspired and strengthened with hope to persevere on our journey.
We are now also on an Advent journey toward God’s humble presence “in the manger,” God’s presence of compassion, humility, and abiding love for us, here and now.
And as we journey through this season, we might be challenged here as well. We can feel discouraged, saddened, doubtful, or distraught, despite our faithfulness. But when we envision the manger of Christ and anticipate the humble birth that promises life anew, we are encouraged and comforted to continue on our journey. The peace of Christ draws us onward to the manger–and accompanies us as we go.
Oh, our journey may not be easy; our path may be an uphill climb. But when we keep our focus on the goodness of God, we can persevere in hope and peace…
the radiant hope that shines before us from the mountain
and the gentle peace that glows upon us from the manger.
May you feel surrounded by infinite hope and peace this week, dear reader friends.
(photo by Karen)
Bible passages are NRSVUE translation, found at https://www.biblegateway.com/
INTRODUCTION
For the past several years, I have felt an increasingly deeper “Advent Ache,” an inner longing for more of God in Christ amid the heartache, worry, and sometimes despair of these days. This year, as I contemplated reflections for the season, I listed some of my soul’s deepest longings (such as peace, patience, hope, purpose, justice) and wondered how God might help me with them. Suddenly the verse from Psalm 46 came to mind:
“Be still and know that I am God.”
It came to me that if I could be still with God, I would be giving God more of my attention and space to work with every longing in my soul.
I sense this invitation to Be Still as a time to be with God just as I am, even when I am carrying heaviness, hurt, or heartache. What might happen if I humbly offer my sorrow, anxiousness, fear, scorn, anger, frustration, or other burdens to God as gifts? What might happen if I prayerfully name and surrender all that is troubling, all that aches within me? Might God be ready to receive my daily burdens, my unattractive qualities, my doubting ways–in order to empty my cluttered soul, to clear space for more of God’s goodness?
More than that, the invitation to Be Still also asks that I let go of my expectations. As I spend time in quiet stillness, I hope to truly let God be God, to set aside my (often short-sighted or selfish) seeking and allow God to fill me as God sees fit. When Mary was told that she would be the mother of Jesus, she too, had been longing. She understood that God had looked with favor on the lowly state of his servant and filled the hungry with good things (Luke 1:48, 53). And Mary was filled with good things–God things–but they were certainly unexpected things, even difficult things! As God looks with favor on my lowliness and fills my every longing, I may be surprised, too. But as I continue preparing my heart and soul for our Celebration of Jesus’s birth, I wonder…
What new thing might God want to be birthed in me?
Bless you this Advent. May you find moments of stillness in which you feel the deepest longings of your soul quieted and fulfilled in unexpected ways.
(Photo by Karen; sunrise in Newberry, SC)
Most every morning around 7:00, I begin walking toward the eastern horizon to see the dawning of the new day.
As you can imagine, with the passing seasons my views of the horizon keep changing. At 7:00 in July, the sun was already quite high, but now at the end of October, there is only the promising glow of the sun on its way. Each morning offers a varying palette of color–deep purples and blues, pale yellows, or bright oranges and pinks. There are times when clouds completely hide the sun and other times when they allow a few lovely sunbeams to shine through. On foggy mornings, the blanket of gray lends itself to quiet contemplation. And last week, as I walked in the early morning darkness, the Bridge Park caretaker turned on the parking lot lights for me. The lights washed out my view of the morning sky, but his kindness warmed my heart.
When I first began this practice, my goal was to witness the perfect sunrise as often as possible. I would be disappointed when the sky, the weather, or my schedule kept me from doing so. But over time, this practice of just showing up–for whatever the sky presents–has become a ritual of comfort and peace. I choose to keep walking toward the eastern horizon, but with a new spirit of open curiosity and a grateful acceptance of each different view before me. The sunrise is ever changing, but the regularity and consistency of this discipline are grounding and centering me (before I return to the chaos and concerns of these days).
In a recent gospel reading, we heard the story that Jesus told of a widow and an unjust judge (Luke 18), in which the widow keeps coming before the judge with her pleas for justice, but he remains unwilling to help. She finally pesters him enough that he grows weary and agrees to take care of her request.
My Jim gave an insightful message in which he echoed the words of Jesus, that God is the opposite of this unjust judge. We do not need to pester God, because God is always ready to lovingly hear our prayers, and God already knows what we need. Jim went on to say that the story is about persistence in faith–the kind of faith that keeps trusting when life gives us every reason not to. “Faith isn’t proven by instant answers, it’s proven in persistence,” he added.
Then my thoughts went further…
I considered how persistence in faith and prayer might be like walking toward the dawn. Maybe faithful persistence is to regularly, routinely open my soul to God, with no other purpose except to enter into God’s loving goodness, trusting that God will reveal what I should take in and take with me.
Like my experiences of the morning sky, my time with God may feel foggy or clear, ordinary or striking, disappointing or amazing, uninspiring or wondrous. But whatever is revealed, I will find comfort in the consistency, peace in the present, hope in the promise of another new day. Persisting in faith, I will keep walking toward the eastern horizon. I will keep showing up for time with God, not knowing what might be revealed… but trusting the great Revealer.
Hidden or bright or ordinary or awesome, the rising sun is always radiantly shining.
And so is God.
(Photos by Karen)
INNER SANCTUARY
Where can we go
in days of tears
and turmoil,
when the world feels
too much with us?
There is an inner sanctuary
we can fill
with solitude and silence,
prayers and petitions,
reflection and release.
Then, filled with presence and peace,
this sanctuary stays with us,
a source of respite
to center our souls.
OUTER SANCTUARY
Where can we go
in days of heartache
and helplessness,
when the world feels
too dark before us?
There is an outer sanctuary
we can find
with sunrises and seasons,
birdsong and blossoms,
rivers and rainbows.
Then, filled with healing and hope,
this sanctuary surrounds us,
a source of renewal
to light our way.
MUTUAL SANCTUARY
Where can we go
in days of hardship and hatred,
when the world feels
too heavy upon us?
There is a mutual sanctuary
we can form
with love and laughter,
compassion and comfort,
service and solidarity.
Then, filled with life and love,
this sanctuary includes us,
a source of refuge
to stand and to support.
(Photos by Karen)
Last weekend, our family gathered for our “Family Christmas,” a tradition that began three years ago when we struggled to find a December day that fit with all of our schedules. We have found that celebrating the holiday in the summer season works well for us–the weather is better for traveling, the little ones are more likely to be healthy (avoiding the cold and flu season), we can spread out to the back porch when we need a little space, and then in December, each family can have a more restful time with their own families and traditions. Grammy and Grampy do all of the usual festive holiday preparations. We decorate, wrap gifts, make lots of food, and bake cookies! (In December, we keep it simple, with just a few nativity crèches and candles on the altar table.)
Our celebration is now over, but I have decided to leave the decorations up for a while. Because, even as it feels incongruous to have snowmen displayed (especially with this heat), I need this joyous holiday feeling to linger.
Our country and world feel so very heavy, and while I am trying to help make a difference where I can, I’m also finding respite from our worries and concerns as I keep the joy of the holiday with us. I’m reliving our precious family moments, the memories made, the laughter shared. I’m sitting quietly with the festive lights and colorful decorations that brighten our home, now that our pace has slowed. I’m smiling along with our mail carrier when he sees the snowmen on our porch, and I’m appreciating the way our neighbors added to the spirit of the season. Peggy made us tasty cookies and fudge, Connie took family photos, and Cindy texted us Christmas and New Year greetings!
But I’m especially holding on to the best gift of all–Jesus, who knows very well the hardships and heartaches of this life, who continues to be with us, here and now–and perhaps now more than ever. I’m holding on to his life’s example, his teachings, and his guidance for the living of these days. I’m holding on to the love of Christ, the love in which we can abide, celebrate, trust, find comfort, and be grateful, even in these especially challenging times.
I’m holding on to the truth that God’s love is infinite, steadfast, generous, and eternal–for every season of our lives.
Joyous Christmas, dear friends. Peace be with you all.
Love,
Karen 🙂
(Photos by Karen)
Up until this morning, I had no ideas for my weekly blog. These weeks have been busier than usual, filled with delightful days but with much less free time. So, as I was drinking my morning coffee, I went through my emails and caught up on a few posts from some of my favorite writers. When several of them offered similar messages, each one resonating and inspiring me, I knew I was receiving a holy invitation to be attentive, to explore my soul for new revelations.
In her post, “Savor,” my friend Laura B. writes of the challenging days that she and her husband have faced recently (house repairs after a recent storm and concern for their dear dog, Bonnie). But she then describes the joy she experiences as a hummingbird sips the nectar she offers. Laura continues: “What do we do with moments like these? The days are filled with stress and strife and when the light comes with thrumming wings, it gives our bodies and our brains a much-needed lift to savor, contemplate, and spend a few minutes in gratitude for these fleeting gifts.” 1
I then read a post by Dr. Kelly Flanagan, “Don’t Miss the Sacredness of Any Moment…” He humbly describes a family trip in which he let smaller disappointments keep him from seeing all the blessings of his precious family time. “Don’t miss the sacredness of any moment by wishing it was some other way.” 2
Finally, in “Divine Messengers,” Victoria Fann writes, “…when upsetting things show up in our lives, there’s usually a message or a learning opportunity in that experience that if we walk away too soon, it will appear again in the form of another similar person or situation.” 3
Even though we cannot change the present moment, we can change the way we regard it.
In challenging times, Laura found the simple blessing in the smallest gift of the hummingbird. In disappointing times, Dr. Kelly learned to seek and appreciate the goodness that remained. In upsetting times, Victoria looked more deeply to find a lesson or opportunity that might be gleaned.
I began to think of other ways to experience our moments and find the holy invitations.
We might begin by asking God to keep us aware and open to the day, and to reveal what we need to see. We begin by paying attention.
Then, depending on the moment, we can choose to embrace the joy… hold the gratitude… glean the lesson… notice the beauty… cling to the hope… abide in the peace… seek the opportunity… find the healing… tend the wound… take the risk… offer the forgiveness… notice the “more” beneath the “ordinary”… question the restlessness… capture the beauty… rest in the quietude…
and remember that Infinite Love can transform each moment into an opportunity for grace, growth, and goodness.
(Photo by Karen)
1 https://laurajboggess.substack.com/
On one of my morning walks, I found this nice little insulated cup nestled in the grass along the roadside. The cup was personalized with the person’s name, so I wondered if it may have been a special gift. Perhaps he had set the cup on his car and then drove off, forgetting it was there. I placed the cup on this level utility surface, hoping that he would be better able to see it, if he should drive by again.
“So he could see it…” This thought then led to additional reflections on life and love.
I thought of the kindness, graciousness, and love that are always present in our world, but often go unnoticed because they are in unexpected places or moments. Or they are overshadowed by so many stories of all that is not good. Or perhaps–by the very humble nature of all that is good–they are not drawing attention and can only be found by being observant. Like the cup (or the love, kindness, or graciousness), we know they are there; our role then is to make them more visible.
How might we lift up everything that is good to make it more easily seen? How might we take the universal love that is always with us and reveal it to others? How might we seek more of those hidden gifts that will bless when we bring them to light?
We might begin by opening our eyes and spirits to notice more of God’s goodness, to look in unexpected and smaller places, and to recall at day’s end all of the ordinary yet miraculous moments of the day. We can share those moments and stories with others, naming what we have found good and right. We can point out the people who are making the world a better place. And we can follow their example.
This week, goodness and love were made visible to me from my friend Laura (an avid birder) who shares wonderful photos of the variety of birds she has found, examples of God’s amazing creativity. Several faithful and dedicated people worked to make the church office clean and fresh for me. During worship this morning, everyone mingled with delight as we shared a time of peace–the joy was abundant. When I hear a car horn beep outside my office window, I know it is my Jim passing by and sending his love. I cherish a recent email that my friend Ruth wrote to thank me for my writing.
Every prayer can become an act of support or provision. Every compassionate feeling can become helpful care. Every random thought of someone can become a friendly phone call. Every moment of gratitude can become a written acknowledgement or a kindness in return. Every regret may become an opportunity for an earnest conversation. There may be times when we are the ones to reveal just what someone has needed and missed–even if we were there all along.
When we pay attention, we notice. When we notice, we are moved. When we are moved, we can act. That’s how goodness and love become visible.
Be the reason someone smiles. Be the reason someone feels loved and believes in the goodness of people. ~ Roy T. Bennett
(Photo by Karen)
I shared a post back in May of 2023 (linked below) about planting iris seeds in the drainage area near our home. From the time those seeds were planted, I have been watching the area for any little purple-blue flags to appear. For four years I have been disappointed. In fact, I had pretty much decided that the conditions were just not conducive for these irises and began to consider a new plan.
But then a few weeks ago, I was surprised to find one blue flag waving to me from the bottom of the hollow! And soon, five more appeared. I felt such giddy joy that the long-ago seeds had finally flourished!
This has been a lesson for me. When I think about the future and all of its uncertainty, I generally think of the disappointments, trials, or heartaches that might lie ahead. Uncertainty has become a negative outlook rather than a hopeful one. But these surprising blooms remind me that the future can hold very good moments, very wonderful blessings, and very special gifts of hope, joy, or peace.
Whatever uncertainties we face today, may we remember that yes, we do not know that the future holds, but the future could hold surprising goodness. May we choose to regard uncertainty in the best possible light, continuing to dream of what could be, contributing what we can to bring about brighter days, perhaps even preparing to be surprised. May we cling to the hope that, though it may take a while, time will keep revealing every goodness of God.
(Photo by Karen)