Thursday, August 30, 2012

Through it All

The picture is titled "Through the Dark" and I just painted it. The song is "Better than Life" by Acapella.

Through all things. Through the darkest times. In the times when life is confusing. When it's dark, scary and overwhelming. Through the valley of the shadow. In a dry and weary land. Through the forest of confusion. Open your eyes. See Him in His sanctuary. Hold His scarred hand. Follow His wounded feet. He will take you through... Through all things. No matter the dark. No matter the whispers that you won't make it. No matter the confusion. He knows all. He cares. He loves. And His love is better, stronger, brighter, bigger. Bigger than the forest. Stronger than the whispers. Brighter than the dark. The dark hides from His face. His Father is all-knowing, all-caring, all-seeing. He knows your pain and confusion and is a balm to your wounds, a light in the dark. Ask. Seek. Knock. He will deliver. His hand will hold you. Though you can't always see Him, Feel Him. Know Him. Trust Him. His Spirit is with you always. He petitions His Father for you. He intercedes. He prays. For you. For you. He will fill your cup. Bring it, kneel before Him, praising Him for His goodness, His love, His prayers... For who He is.
I will praise you in all things. 
Hold my hand.
Lead me through.
Hug me when I weep.
And teach me when I'm confused.
This is my prayer.

Friday, August 24, 2012

Fer teh TAT

    My sister says canvas is very forgiving. I say, it may forgive, but it never forgets. Think about it. 
You make a mistake. You use lots and lots of paint to cover it up, and, you could say it "forgives" your mistake. 
But, if you take a sharp knife and chip at the paint, you'll find it comes off with very little effort. And there, under the forgiving paint, is that one little spot that you didn't like and had to cover up. Maybe it was outside 
what you had drawn. Maybe the color you used didn't match the rest of the picture. Maybe you decided that particular piece didn't need to be in the picture to define the subject matter.

    I say, maybe our lives are canvases. Maybe we paint our picture as we travel down this highway we call life. And each day, each step, each decision, is a brush stroke on our canvas. And the plans and goals we make are the lines, like in a coloring book. And one day, you realize that you have been painting outside the lines. You say "Man, I can't believe I did that! I'm gonna hafta fix this mistake!" When, in reality, the people who are looking at your canvas are saying, "Wow, I never would have thought to paint OUTSIDE the lines!", or "Man, that is one beautiful painting!" And then, you start to color over the top of that "mistake". And the people are like, "Wait! What are you doing? That was pretty! Let me tell you what I thought of it.", or "Hey, wait, let me show you. You don't have to cover it up. You can make something even better out of this 'mistake' that you thought was un-fixable.". Then they start to chip away at the paint you've tried so hard to cover that mistake with. And in the end, you have a glorious painting of your travels on life's highway. And all because someone chipped at your paint.

    But then, what if no one ever came along and started to chip at that paint that you tried so hard to cover up that "mistake" with? Would you ever look at your canvas and say, "I wonder if that spot that I thought looked bad was really the one place the canvas looked REAL?" Sometimes, I think we need those sharp knives that seem to hurt so badly at times. 
    We need those people who know that mistakes make us who we are. Those people who see past the layers of paint we've used to try and cover our little idiosyncrasies, our differences, our "mistakes". The people who see the real person inside this facade of paint and lies and secrets. And they don't seem to mind that there is that one spot inside us that doesn't match, or is outside the lines we have drawn for ourselves. They love us for who we are. 

So, yes, I would say that the canvas of our lives is forgiving, but it doesn't forget... and I don't think it needs to.

Just bored

Now I'm gonna feel odd posting completely un-serious things...

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that “cool” or “intellectual” book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest

"There was little flat land for farming when the holders came here, since the primary interest in Tillek was its sheltered harbor to the northwest of what is now the Hold. The holders gradually built terraces into the mountain that held the Hold, giving the broad farms a northeastern exposure. The roads leading to the Hold proper were also terraced, with ramps built for wagons along either side."
-The Dragon Lover's Guide to Pern, Jody Lynn Nye and Anne McCaffrey

Thursday, August 23, 2012


    There are lots of new things in my life... New state. New room. New authorities. New friends. New mentors. New schedule. New food. I'm adjusting. It's interesting, fun even. But every night I think "Tomorrow I can tell mom..." fill in the blanks. And then it hits me. Mom isn't in the next room. She isn't just down the hall. She isn't just away for a few days. This is kind of permanent. Yeah, sure I can call her or email or whatever, but it isn't the same.

    I think "I wish TAT were here. She could help me pick the right outfit to wear. She's always so empathetic. She would know how homesick I am and be able to help." but she's even farther away than mom. I miss C's wisdom. Anything I ask her, she has an answer, or can help me find one. But  the wise one is heading away from where I am at a rate I am not comfortable with. I think "I wish Brit could be here. We have so much fun. She is the funniest person." and I get even more lonely and homesick.

But, among the homesickness, there is a knock. A gaggle of giggling girls have seen my name on my door, noticed they haven't met me yet, and decided to introduce themselves. I smile, say "Hullo" and "No thanks" to the offer of snacks and pop. Back in my room, door closed, drying my hair, hearing another knock. I toss my towel on my bed and rush for the door, no use keeping them waiting, whoever it is. The RA, checking in, saying she doesn't mind if we circulate after "lights out" this first night.

    Sweet. Caring. Accepting. Introducing. Loving.

    And something else hits me. Yeah, I'm a long way from home, in a new environment. I may be nervous, and maybe a bit scared. But they care here. They know it's new and frightening and they do their best to alleviate that. So you aren't overwhelmed. So you can learn and meet and change and grow in a safe, loving place.

    So, sure, I'm scared and nervous and homesick. But I know these people care. And more importantly, God cares.

Mom... Don't worry too much. I'm all right. I'll grow. I'll change. And I'll know you guys will always be there for me.