A Wander by Water

Visual Prayer Journal image: assorted papers, 

acrylic, ink, original art prints, and photos.

It could be a steadily streaming creek bed, pulsing white frothed waves, or the glassy mirrored surface of a shore bound lake. 

Water draws me to its banks in all its lulling variations: coursing under bridges, spilling down rocky falls, undulating in rolls against the sand.

Trees forest its banks. Wildlife populate its shores and depths. Humanity casts fishlines, feeds ducks, spreads picnics, and stroll along its banks. A rippled pattern of reflected light in liquid hues of blues, greens, grays, changing with the hour, the season, and the temperament of the sky. An ever morphing panoramic pallet. 

Christine Valters Paintner writes about contemplative walking as “listening to what God has to say to me”. Soulfully “trying to be present to life as it is and respond to the call of the world to your heart”, such that the journey essentially becomes a “mini-pilgrimage”.

A lifetime of walking roads that circle lakes, paths that follow rivers, beaches that edge the ocean’s shores, trails that meander ravines of rocky creeks. Walks charted across every region, strewn across memory, laced together in the continuous sense of sacred presence in the midst of a divinely created world.

Quotations taken from Eyes of the Heart by C. V. Painter

~

Linking with Give Me Grace, Coffee for the Heart, Let Us Grow, Simple Tuesday.

Jeweled Leaves

The jeweled leaves scattered like gems spilling from a chest of treasure, reflected the setting rays of light. How does one see that and not be drawn to kneel low to view so much momentary beauty.

Crawling low to frame the image and catch the light’s stream across the park’s wide yard, clicking repeatedly as the sun slid steadily beyond the horizon. Leaves casting transparent color and curving form against emerald grasses.

In the grass, seated on that carpet of verdant green; how long had it been since I last felt the surface of soft living turf… countless times; walking by this miniature world raising spires of green praise to the sun, to Creator God… me, passing it by without a thought. 

Barbara Brown Taylor writes in An Altar in the World, of Jesus’ walking into the countryside, by the sea, into the desert, and from town to town. This gave Him time to move slowly, to notice the vineyards, to look up into the sycamores, to see the people, the sparrows, the lilies of the field, the bushes seeming to burn brightly, and to hear God’s voice. 

A slower pace can become an act of reverence.

An appreciation of minute details heightens a sense of sacred design and holy presence.

“Remove the sandals from your feet, 

for the place you are standing is holy ground.” 

Exodus 3:5 

Linking with Weekend Whispers, Monday's Musings, and Coffee for Your Heart.

Untethered: One More Gate to Heaven

The first leaves loose their moorings, sailing gracefully from above.

Slowly, they spiral and slightly tilt. 

Cast off from the tethers of elm or oak, pecan or maple, released in a brief and dazzling flight. Spread wide, kite-like, captured in a crosswind, they sweep back and forth. 

Occasionally lifted by an updraft, tossed in a swirl of crimson, mustard, and bronze ultimately falling as gravity draws them ever downward. Destined to assemble as a mosaic, carpeting vast spaces. 

In delight I revel in the glory of color cascading from the boughs and wonder at the bounty that has hung far overhead all summer long. Souls touched by such wonders whisper prayers, knowing the whole world is the house of God. 

“ The whole world is the house of God…

I can stop …long enough to see where I am…

I can flag one more gate to heaven, 

one more patch of ordinary earth with ladder marks on it, 

where the divine traffic is heavy…

instead of walking right past it… 

say a blessing before I move on to wherever I am due next.” 

  An Altar in the World, Barbara Taylor Brown

*  *   *

Linking with these communities of writers sharing thoughts on faith: Weekend Whispers, Still Saturday, Coffee for Your Heart

September Memories

Brilliance and creativity arrive on my screen throughout the month. Some really talented folks creating gorgeous posts and some really smart folks sharing their expertise. Here are a few that lit up my heart this September.

~ Got inspired to transition the house to fall decor after watching these home tours, "Finding Fall Home Tours",  inspired by BHG. Which home is your favorite?
http://jeanneoliverdesigns.com/blog/2015/09/18/finding-fall-home-tour-with-better-homes-and-gardens/

~  Prose that reads as poetry. A beautifully written post honoring September memories.  http://ripplespeak.com/2015/09/september-singing/

~ Thought I was Word Wise, not so much. Confounded hard word usage article that husband and I used to test-ourselves. Yeah. Missed nearly half of these.
http://mentalfloss.com/article/65217/20-word-usage-mistakes-even-smart-people-make

~ Sang loudly in the car, with this song by Jordan Feliz. Favorite verse,"YOU WILL BE CHANGED!"

~ Getting past seasons of chaos; who doesn't need insight on that from time to time. Thoughts shared by Seth Haines.
http://sethhaines.com/recovery-room/4669/

~ Read these words on intercessory prayer;  pondered them for days and imagined God dispatching angels in a collective response of His will and the believer's faith.

Gathering the beautiful, the inspired, the faith filled...punctuates my days with encouragement and blessings. What shined brightly for you in September?

Intercessory Prayer

Many hours of this week were punctuated by thoughts, sorrow, and intercessory prayer for those both near and far, who are suffering.  Sorrow for grave illness, heartbreaking loss for those in my closer sphere and concern for the terrified surge of humanity seeking survival overseas sends me searching through scriptures to pair a message with a photo for each personal need, to portray heartfelt concern. Calls, posts, or mail all enlisted to communicate loving support and to share God's promises of presence and protection. For after we have walked out all earthly responsibilities for the care and wellbeing of others, there comes the essential action of prayer.

"Prayer is a participation in willing God's will. While God's ultimate will cannot be thwarted, the strategy God uses to reach that goal may be infinitely variable. The prayers of committed people become part of the cosmic reality God has to work with. [As Douglass V. Steere] suggests, God can use them to "tip the balance" and change the shape of distorted realities in the world. It is not stretching the truth to say that God needs our prayers. Such is the dignity and purpose we have been given in his divine [plan]." Marjorie J. Thompson, Soul Feast, "Communicating and Communion with God" p. 41

Claiming significance as a daughter of God, 
claiming the attention of His hearing to ask for His holy work in every need known to me, 
emboldens me to pray the 91st Psalm 
and to say to others:

For He will give His angels charge over you 

to accompany and defend 

and preserve you in all your ways.

 Psalm 91:11, AMP

Let Words Spill

Let words spill even if they must be covered up.

Occasionally a writer approaches the journal with a full heart 

and a mind turbulent with words to stream.

Yet the pencil, poised over the page, is frozen there. 

There are words of the heart that feel far too tender, 

far too skittish of white page exposure to be released in script. Though these are the very thoughts that a prayer journal has pages to receive and the power to sooth.

Let words spill even if they must be covered up. 

Let that pencil stream, dripping words of struggle across the lines, 

venting whatever there is, 

that is squeezing the life out of a heart. 

Let the pencil go to a nub releasing the soul’s troubles. 

And when interior struggles are too grey to remain in the light, 

sometimes its best to wash color right over it. 

Cover it with pattern and silhouettes of hope. 

Cover it with prayer and offer it to God’s abiding and tender care.

“Let us have confidence, then, to approach God’s throne, where there is grace. 

There we will receive mercy and find grace to help us just when we need it.” 

Hebrews 4: 16

~

{Writing in a journal or on a blog has scientifically been shown to have strong physical and mental health benefits. Read more here.}

Linking to Still Saturday Sunday Stillness, and Weekend Brew, join us! 

Art & Spiritual Vitality

Faith filled living, for some of us, includes the visual arts. 

Images in every medium speak deeply to the soul, often in surprising ways 

as understandings are revealed to the conscious mind that might have been inaccessible through any other exploration.

Whether it includes enjoying the breathtaking beauty of church sanctuaries, gazing intently at creation’s many majesties, studying the composition of stunning art forms, or numerous other modalities; vision and visual art forms have long been a means of spiritual  contemplation. For myself, in recent years, that inclination has been expanded to embrace creating visual images through photography, painting, and visual journaling as a faith practice. In tandem with a slow progression into the arts I searched for writings about this realm of contemplative practice, arriving, in part, to the works of those quoted here.

“In an aesthetic experience, in the creation or the contemplation of a work of art, the psychological conscience is able to attain some of its highest and most perfect fulfillments. Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time. The mind  that responds to the intellectual and spiritual values that lie hidden in a poem, a painting, or a piece of music, discovers a spiritual vitality that lifts it above itself, takes it out of itself, and makes it present to itself on a level of being that it did not know it could ever achieve.” p. 34, No Man Is an Island written by Thomas Merton, Trappist Monk.

Merton so aptly describes what I have so often experienced myself, how an experience with art, in a multitude of formats, can lead one to a heightened sense of faith and closeness to God. Photography too, offers precious opportunities for walking more intimately with God, as writer Christine Valters Paintner describes in Eyes of the Heart: Photography as a Christian Contemplative Practice …

“… one of the wonders of photography [is] to be able to frame a moment in time and, within my gazing absolute presence in that particular moment, discover holiness.” (p.5)… Photography can be an act of silent worship. When we see the world with “eyes of the heart”, we can engage in an act of both reverence and self-expression. We can discover how the living Spirit is being revealed in the world.” p.8

Paintner borrows the lyrical phrase “eyes of the heart” from Ephesians 1:18. It is a phrase that Paul uses in his letter to the people of Ephesus. Paul tells the people that he prays for them, in part, so that they will “have the eyes of their hearts enlightened” by the wisdom of the Spirit and the power of God. 

Working with inks, papers, paints, digital photography 

and the printed Word; 

is practicing the spiritual discipline of seeking enlightenment 

through God’s power and the Spirit’s sacred wisdom.

*  *  *  *  *

This post is linked with the online communities of Still Saturday, Weekend Brew, and Playdates With God. Join us for more thoughts on the pursuit of Sabbath and the experience of God moments in daily living. 

Enter Silence

When life is heavy and hard to take, 

go off by yourself. 

Enter into silence. 

Bow in prayer. 

Wait for hope to appear. 

Lamentation 3:28 MSG

Richard Foster writes on the Discipline of Solitude 

and the gifts that this practice offers to the searching heart: 

“There is the freedom to be alone, 

not in order to be away from other people 

but in order to hear the divine Whisper better.” *

Further in the discussion of solitude Foster adds:

“The dark night (of the soul) is one of the ways God brings us to hush, 

a stillness so that He may work an inner transformation upon the soul.” *

Settle into silence,

still enough,

to capture a universe of watery orbs spilled across a single blossom. 

Such moments welcome the Holy whispers of wisdom.

*Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster.

Posting with Still Saturday, The Weekend Brew, Tell His Story, and Unforced Rhythms. 

Follow these writing communities by clicking on their links, listed below.

He Heard My Voice

I love the Lord,

for he heard my voice;

he heard my cry for mercy.

Because he turned his ear to me, 

I will call on him as long as I live.

Psalm 116:1-2

~

"How does the Lord turn His ear to me?", one might ask.

The ways are countless and the occurrences numerous. Perhaps such 

would be seen in the kindness offered by a passing stranger, in the assurance heard in sacred 

hymns and songs of praise, in the scripture passage that shines brighter than every other word 

on the page, in the mental image that suddenly emerges {from where, you may wonder},  

or in the words of surprising wisdom from a child or your loved one. He has been refining 

your attentiveness to these mercies ever since his spirit first entered your heart. Remain alert. 

Engage the Lord's presence through prayerful intent throughout your days. Notice how He 

turns His ear to your praise and faithfulness.

~

Today's photo is shared with the writers over at 

Still Saturday and The Sunday Community. 

Their buttons are below. 

Select one and click to wander among the beautiful images and sacred verses shared over there.

The Hushed Voice, The Gentle Whisper

A spirit glided past my face, 

and the hair on my body stood on end. 

It stopped,

but I could not tell what it was.

A form stood before my eyes,

and I heard a hushed voice...

Job 4:15-16

~

After the earthquake came a fire, 

but the Lord was not in the fire.

And after the fire came a gentle whisper.

When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face 

and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

1 Kings 19; 12-13

~

From L.B. Cowman’s Streams in the Desert, A.B. Simpson writes on June 30...

“This ‘gentle whisper’ became for me the voice of prayer, wisdom, and service. No longer did I need to work so hard to think, pray, or trust, because the Holy Spirit’s ‘gentle whisper’ in my heart was God’s prayer in the secret places of my soul. It was his answer to all my questions, and His life and strength for my soul and body. His voice became the essence of all knowledge, prayer, and blessings, for it was the living God Himself as my life and my all.” 

Fall Fresh On Me

Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on me.

Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on me.

Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me.

Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on me.

Daniel Iverson

~

Eyes seek the canopy overhead.

It shimmers with transparent green.

Branching limbs reach heavenward, 

botanical veins silhouetted against the sky.

Airy currents softly brush leaves and skin,

both uplifted to face the light.

The unique brilliance of overcast skies

intermingles with layers of deep shade.

In the whispers of His forest sanctuary

a grateful voice praises,

a longing soul listens,

a believers heart worships.

~

Hoping you find His Spirit 

in your quiet places this weekend.

Lisa

Pray in that Secret Place

Framed in creamy painted wood, 

delicate lace curtains hung behind an old four pane window 

that had that aged bubbled character of old glass.  

The space on the other side unknown, 

but perhaps small, lit with the filtered shadows of lacy forms. 

Perhaps if the window is open, a gentle breeze whispers across 

a simple desk or a carved rocker situated in it’s quiet corner 

inviting a momentary retreat, a stilling pause. 

~ 

“Without solitude it is virtually impossible to live a spiritual life. 

Solitude begins with a time and a place for God, and him alone.” {p.69}

“Although the discipline of solitude asks us to set aside time and space, 

what finally matters is that our hearts become like quiet cells 

where God can dwell wherever we are and whatever we do. 

The more we train ourselves to spend time with God and him alone, 

the more we will discover that God is with us at all times and in all places." {p.79}

"Through the discipline of solitude we discover space for God in our innermost being. ... 

It is in that divine space that God’s Spirit prays in us." {p.90}

~

Excerpts taken from:

Making All Things New by Henri  J. M. Nouwen.

I Fed You in the Land of Drought

It was I who fed you in the wilderness,
    in the land of drought.

Hosea 13:5

Across the landscape of living most of us tread across years of 

personal drought and seasons of personal wilderness. 

The scorched seasons of scarcity or trial 

or loss take different dimensions 

but all are no less filled with suffering. 

For we the faithful, it is not a solitary journey.

Woven through every portion of the searing experience, 

God’s presence shepherds, encouraging, and girds the heart.

The Creator gifted the desert plants with structures

that insure their survival in formidable seasons.

The gifts of the Holy Spirit strengthen our character 

to provide faithful endurance 

through our lean or burdened times. 

Thanks be to God, life’s periods of drought 

are followed by renewing rains, flowering bounty 

and wilderness regions eventually transform into 

productive and inhabitable territory.

~

A portion of today's gratitude list:

• the Lord’s provisions in all seasons
• Psalm 34:4 “...He delivered me from my fears”
• Hosea 13:5 “It was I who fed you in the wilderness ...”
• for those around us who serve as ‘angels’ for the Lord
• scripture’s guide and assurance through troubling hours
• Psalm 23 “...for thou art with me”
• prayer's relational power

The Bounty of the Lord: Gratitude

“Come, though font of every blessing,

tune my heart to sing thy grace;

streams of mercy, never ceasing,

call for songs of loudest praise.”

Nettleton

~

Quiet, deep attention these recent days. 

Quiet attention to God's streaming grace 

across the decades. 

Quiet attention as I walk, 

as I remember, as I bow.

Blessings past and present, 

so abundant every year. 

These, lifted in humble praise 

on the eve of the 60th birthday:

Tears in remembrance of God’s moments of powerful presence

Husbands joy as oncologists reports good health, hands held in shared prayer

Daughter’s shared gaze over the heads of beautiful grandsons

Toddler grandson’s volunteered hugs

Husband’s constant goodness

Father’s aging voice still placing long distance calls

Gratitude for those sent by the Lord to inspire and encourage my faith

Parents, family; the legacy

Health granted across these many decades

Amen, amen.

Lisa

North Woods Meets Prairies

Crimson red, Gerber Daisies cut from my garden in December.

The north woods 

and once-not-too-long-ago-Norwegian Minnesotans 

gave me life 

and shaped my traditions. 

Steeped in opening gifts Christmas eve, saying “Come Lord Jesus” grace, and dressing ‘in the bird’; this is what I knew.

Then choices, 

years, 

and an unfolding life 

took me due south 

where living takes place on the spacious grassland prairies of Texas. In the early years of living here it never felt like a good ‘fit’. I mean no disrespect to the land with its stunning sunsets and mild winters or to its legendary Lone Star history. But these blue eyes never became accustomed to the strength of its sun and my nature yearns for a crisp fall that arrives in September, open windows all summer, and cool grass with no chance of red ants. The possibility of Gerber Daisies and Begonias still blooming happily in mid-December significantly messed with my emotional transition to holiday cheer.

But then you see, as time went on, 

I came to know this deeply rooted Texas man. 

Then there was a Christmas when I was introduced to his deeply rooted Texas family. They welcomed me in a warm family way. Their traditions of laughter in the kitchen and worship in the sanctuary were dearly familiar and had a direct relationship to this man's impeccable character and kind heart. In one crystal clear, freeze-frame, moment-in-time during that Christmas I knew that here was a place, a family, and a man that I could call home. 

Winter on the southern prairie, like this year,

can mean daisies and begonias are still in bloom. 

That event still messes with my preferred notions of Christmas. 

Never the less, for 15 years this winter, the Texas man and I have made our home here. 
Our traditions found common ground. 

Truly, I prefer cornbread dressing. 

The Texas man knows the “Come Lord Jesus” grace. 

And, thankfully opening gifts Christmas eve was and remains, a shared family tradition. 


Linking with Emily for Tuesdays Unwrapped.