Do Not Be Discouraged...

14 x 24

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Joshua 1:9 Do not be discouraged, for the Lord you God will be with you wherever you go.

Hen Party

8 x 10

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Philippians 4:2 ...agree with each other in the Lord

Wait for the Lord

16 x 16

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Psalm 27:14 Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.

Red Airplane

SoldEphesians 2:6 And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus.

Time Out Chair

15 x 24

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Hebrews 12:5-6 My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes everyone he accepts as a son.

I have had several requests to do another "Time Out Chair" since I kept the first one, so here it is pictured above. To read the thoughts behind this painting, please see the post labeled "Time Out Chair" from earlier in the year.

Under HIs Wings

SoldPsalm 91:4 He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge...

Peace I Leave With You

12 x 12

Available for Sale

$250
John 14:27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

Garments of Salvation

8 x 13"

Available for Sale

$175

Isaiah 61:10 I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God. For He has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness...

The Gift of Nora

Ephesians 3:20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine...

Growing up, I had the privilege of being raised in a family that stressed the importance of spending time with family. My mother's two sisters, who each had three children, lived within a couple of miles of us. There are 11 of us who are all first cousins, 8 of us who were all within 4 years of age of each other, and were raised alongside each other. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and my aunts and cousins were part of the "village" that raised me.

My grandfather, my mother's father, was a man who encouraged deep loyalty to family and family tradition. He gathered the boys together on Saturday mornings for pancake breakfasts, and all of us convened for hamburgers on Sunday nights whenever we were able. We spent Thanksgiving holidays together quail hunting in Cordele, Ga, learning to ride horses, searching for arrowheads, climbing trees, and eating good old fashioned southern cooking. We hunted Easter eggs together, traveled to the beach together, went to Braves games together, went to school together, and in general, spent the majority of our childhood together.

I cannot imagine the chaos that ensued for my mother and my aunts when all 8 children were under the age of five staying under one roof for the weekend. It occurred to me recently that it may not have been quite as much fun for them as it was for us, but I am so thankful they gave us all those memories together and the opportunity for each of us to really know and grow close to one another. Pictured below is a photo from 1978 of the eight of us who were born in the 70's.

(Left to right: Frank Prince, Gunby Garrard, Rachael Peek, Frank Garrard, Stuart Prince, Gardiner Garrard, John Waldrop, Helen Brooks)

(My three younger siblings are not pictured because they were not yet born, but they are, of course, equally as special to me!)

When we all grew older and began to go our separate ways, my grandfather encouraged all of us to stay in touch. He gathered all of our addresses and sent each one of us a list of them along with a letter encouraging us to write to one another. He spoke of the importance of family and staying connected. I cannot say that I have lived up to the challenges in that letter the way that I intended to, but I was reminded of his words while I was working on this painting for one of those cousins. Although distance and the busyness of life seems to keep us from gathering as often as we once did, I am so thankful for each one of them and the place they have each had in my life.

This painting was commissioned by my aunt for her son, my first cousin, Gunby, and his wife, Claudia for their daughter's first birthday. They have four precious boys, one of whom they lost during his wife's ninth month of pregnancy. Although nothing could erase the loss of their third son, God not only blessed them with another boy, but also gave them a daughter named Nora. When I first heard the news that Claudia was going to welcome a girl into her household full of boys, Ephesians 3:20 immediately came to mind, "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to the power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus..." When I see little Nora, I am reminded of just that, that God is good, and that He is "able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine," and that everything he gives us is to cause us to lift our eyes to him and give him thanks and praise.

In the painting above, each chicken represents a member of Gunby and Claudia's family. The white chicken in the painting represents their precious baby who is now at home with his heavenly father, and of course, the pink chicken represents God's sweet gift of baby Nora. I am thankful for her life and thankful that our Lord is always "able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine." Father, thank you for family and thank you for the gift of Nora.

The Fruit of the Spirit

24 x 24

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Galatians 5:22-23 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.

Carry Each Other's Burdens

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Galatians 6:1-5 Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently. But watch yourself, or you may be tempted. Carry each other's burdens, and this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. If anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, he deceives himself. Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else, for each one should carry his own load.

Every summer my family travels to Ponte Vedra Beach outside of Jacksonville, Florida, where we have vacationed for as long as I can remember. My children enjoy it as much as I did as a child, and are making their own memories on the same beach that I have always loved so dearly.

Although it is great fun to experience the beach with my children, I have found that "vacation" at the beach seems to be just a tiny bit more like work, now that we have three young girls in tow. There are bodies to lather with sunscreen, diapers to change, eyes full of sand to wipe clean, and not to mention, the feat of transporting everything on and off the beach. Beach chairs, buckets, shovels, umbrellas, and a two year old to carry does not make for an easy climb up and down the sand dunes.

One summer, we purchased a wagon to make our task of traveling back and forth over the dunes easier. We loaded it with all of our equipment and pulled it back and forth to the beach each day. Unfortunately, the wheels on the wagon were too narrow, and as we pulled all of the equipment back and forth, the wheels turned sideways or simply sank in the sand making it difficult to pull the wagon off the dunes at the end of the day. Once we moved over the hill it rolled with ease, but the trip up was not easy and we wondered if the wagon was worth it at all. Eventually, we abandoned the wagon and went back to carrying all of the equipment ourselves.

In Galatians 6, Paul tells us to carry each other's burdens, and in so doing, we will fulfill the law of Christ. In my limited understanding, that verse has always carried connotations of helping others through illness, death, tragedy, etc... As I painted and meditated on this verse, God began to show me a much different picture of this verse. Certainly, we are called to help each other through deaths, illnesses, and tragedy, and all the difficult circumstances of life, but one of the implications of this particular verse seems to be referring to the burden of our sin.

Part of carrying each other's burdens is helping each other find freedom from the sinful patterns of our flesh. I am so thankful to be part of an amazing Christian community who has often picked up their wagons and helped me carry my own burdens. It is truly a joy to carry each other's burdens, but like pulling a wagon through the sand, it is not always easy, especially when we cannot understand the temptations others are struggling with and the battles they are fighting.

When "restoring others", Galatians 6:1 says to watch yourself or you also may be tempted. Immediately following Paul's command to carry each other's burdens, he states "If anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, he deceives himself." When faced with the sins of others, especially when their sin directly affects us, I think our greatest temptation is pride, and we can easily lose sight of the depth of our own sin.

When our brothers are struggling with temptations or sinful patterns that we do not understand or have not experienced, we are tempted to stand at the top of the sand dune and look down on our fellow man, adding a heaping burden to his or her wagon. Not only are we not fulfilling the law of Christ, but Paul tells us that we are deceiving ourselves in those moments. We are believing the lie that we are something when God says we are nothing without Him.

Paul also tells us in Romans 12:3, "Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment." In those moments where we lose sight of the truth, we are called to "carry our own loads" by falling on our knees before our Father and repenting of our attempt to take his place as judge. Through repenting and believing the truth, God brings us from a place of looking down from the top of the sand dune to a place where he enables us to fulfill the law of Christ by picking up our wagon and carrying each other’s burdens to Jesus, the true bearer of our burdens.

In our own struggles with sin, the world often tells us that the sand is too deep and the wagon is too heavy. “Its not worth it”, the world says, “Its too hard for God. Abandon your wagon. You cannot get free. The dune is too steep. People do not change.” But the God who has removed our sin as far as the east is from the west says that it is for freedom that I have set you free, and I have made you a new creation. This was finished when my Son died on the cross and I am able to do far more than you can ask or imagine. There may be moments where your wagon gets stuck and the burden feels too heavy, but no sand is too deep, no wagon is too heavy, and no dune is too steep when you come to me in repentance and believe the words I have spoken to you.

When our “brother” is “caught in a sin,” I pray that we would restore him gently and be there to remind him of the words that Christ spoke to us. I pray that instead of abandoning our wagons because we fancy the sand too deep, we would abandon our position at the top of the sand dune, walk along beside those God puts in our path, pick up our wagons, and pull with all the strength God has given us, to help them carry their burdens to Jesus, the only One who can truly carry them away.

Even as I am writing this, I am incredibly convicted of my own weakness in this area, but pray that God would continue to speak truth to my own heart. Let us fulfill His law by thinking of ourselves with sober judgment and carrying each other’s burdens.

Be still and know that I am God

Psalm 46:10 Be still and know that I am God.

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

Psalm 139:14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

Plant Gardens

Jeremiah 29:5 "Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce."

This is a painting of my precious nephew, Ford, picking vegetables out of his grandfather's garden. His grandfather, my father, has always had a love for planting and gardening, and each year he blesses us with his vegetables and my favorite, his silverqueen corn, homegrown from his garden. My father is not what you would call a minimalist, and anything he does, he does in a grand way. His garden this year could have fed half of Harris County, so he had plenty of veggies to share with family and friends.

While my father was in the process of planting his garden this year, I called to tell him the girls wanted to come help him plant. He had already planted most of it, so he dug up one whole row of potatoes so they could replant them and feel a part of his garden. The girls loved planting the potatoes and seeds, and they had so much fun seeing the finished product of those seeds.

Picking time was so much fun. I loved watching the girls reach down in the ground and pull out a potato where only a month or so earlier, there had only been a hole in the ground. I didn't have the pleasure of picking with my sweet nephew, Ford, but when I saw this photo of him on his mother's blog and the scripture that she had put with it, I just had to paint it. It is such a picture of my children's and my brothers' children time with their grandfather.

The majority of my father's free time is spent improving the land that he lives on. He has always had an appreciation for nature and most of my memories with him are riding in the woods learning about the names of trees or different types of birds. Although I still fail at remembering the names of the trees he has taught me so many times, he instilled in me a love for the outdoors and the unnoticed miracles of nature. Although we are not able to get to his home as often as we would like, it is such a blessing to have a place to take our children, where they can spend hours fishing and learning about the outdoors.

My father carries the grandchildren around in his motorized cart showing them all of the things he has planted in the previous weeks or months. They love picking apples off the trees, and tasting of strange fruits so that they can giggle with granddaddy as they spit them out. Each child has their own birdhouse which he strategically placed throughout the farm and had them each write their name on them. He drives them to each house, and they hop down from the cart to check to see if a bird has built a nest or laid eggs in their very own house.

His duck boxes are filled with eggs each spring and the children delight in peeking in the houses to discover the beginnings of a nest or eggs where weeks earlier there had been none.

I have always loved hearing my fathers odd facts about trees, insects, and animals, learning about the different types of birds that laid the eggs he has collected and why they build their nests the way they do. God's world and his creations have always fascinated me, and my father's passion for those things has had more of an influence in my life than he most likely knows. I pray that my father is with us long enough to teach my children and all of my nieces and nephews all of the same things he taught me about God's amazing creatures and the beauty of the land and nature.

Thank you Dad for all the cart rides, "nature lessons", and for allowing us the opportunity to enjoy your beautiful land that you have worked so hard for. Thank you for your garden and the baskets of vegetables you leave at our door, and most of all for the experiences you have given us. I love you and am thankful for you.

By the way, I may not remember the names of those trees, but at least I knew that a baby eagle is an eaglet! :) -which the word eagle just reminded me of you in your Eagle station wagon and gave me a really good laugh! I love you.

Thank you God for my precious nephew, Ford, and all of my nieces and nephews and the joy that they bring to my life. I pray that we will have many years of planting and picking gardens together!

God Himself Will Provide the Lamb

Genesis 22:8 "...God himself will provide the lamb…”

In the account of Genesis, Abraham and Sarah desired to have a child. God had promised the couple that their descendants would be as numerous as the stars in the sky, but as Abraham neared the ripe old age of one hundred, Sarah had yet to give birth to a child.

God, in his sovereignty, allowed Sarah to wait until He brought her a child in his perfect timing. She tried everything to no avail, even allowing Abraham to have a child with her maidservant so that she could build a family through her.

Eventually, God opened Sarah’s womb, giving her a son named Isaac. She named him Isaac, because “Isaac” means laughter. Sarah, when discovering that she was pregnant in her old age, said, ”God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me. And she added, “Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.”(Genesis 21:6-7) So after years and years of waiting, God gave Sarah a child.

Later in Genesis 22, God tells Abraham, “Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about. “ Because Abraham loved God, even in his pain and anguish, he obeyed God and took his son to the mountain God told him to, and prepared to sacrifice his one and only son, whom he loved so much.

On the way up the mountain, Isaac, not knowing what his father was preparing to do, said to his father, “The fire and wood are here, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” Abraham answered, “God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.”

When they reached the top of the mountain, Abraham laid Isaac on the altar, bound him, and prepared to kill him. But an angel of the Lord called out to him and said, “Do not lay a hand on the boy,” he said. “Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son.” Then Abraham looked in the thicket and saw a ram caught by its horns, so he sacrificed the ram as a burnt offering to the Lord instead of his son. Genesis 22:14 says, “So Abraham called that place The Lord Will Provide. And to this day it is said, “On the mountain of the Lord, it will be provided.”

My Aunt Nora, more commonly known by her grandchildren as “Granny”, purchased this painting for her granddaughter, Frances Garrard. Frances is the daughter of Frank and Betsy, my first cousin and his wife. One year ago today, Frances Garrard came into the world. Like Isaac’s birth, the birth of Frances, their first and only daughter, was an event that had been anticipated for a long time. Betsy was told she probably would not be able to have children, but like Sarah, she waited for many years until God, in his love and mercy, gave her Frances. When her friends and family heard of her pregnancy, we, like Sarah and Abraham's friends and family, laughed with joy and surprise, and thanked God for the gift God had given her.

Shortly after Frances’s birth, Frances contracted Pertussis, more commonly known as whooping cough. Frances was hospitalized, and daily her condition grew worse. She was resuscitated over and over, and each night Betsy and Frank wondered if their precious daughter would make it to the next morning.

After receiving the news from the doctor that Frances only had a ten percent chance of surviving, Betsy continued to pray for her child. Betsy’s grandmother often read her bible stories when she was young. The story of Abraham taking his only son to the mountain to sacrifice him came to her mind. She remembered that Abraham, after waiting for years and years to have a child, had been asked to sacrifice his one and only son. Betsy feared she might be asked to do the same. Like Abraham, even in her pain and anguish, she told God that even if Frances did not live, she would still love Him, but continued to pray that God would heal Frances and allow them to keep their child. So like Abraham, Betsy put her child on the altar, entrusting her to her creator, and agreed to love God whether the outcome was what she desired or not.

Hundreds of people in Frank and Betsy’s hometowns lifted up sweet Frances in prayer. Bible study groups gathered in prayer, and friends and family knelt and pleaded for her life. We rushed to our computers early in the morning hoping to hear reports that she had survived the previous night. Day by day, she began to heal. In his time, God healed her little lungs, and today Frances is turning one year old.

God provided the ram for the sacrifice on top of that mountain so that Isaac could live. Many years later, God provided his only son, his lamb, the “Lamb of God”, as a sacrifice so that we would never have to die but live in eternity with him. Instead of sacrificing us on the altar, he placed his son on the cross.

1 Peter 2:24 says, “…by his wounds, you have been healed.” Psalm 103 says, “Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits-who forgives all your sins, and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things…’ God healed Frances and satisfied the desires of her loving parents.

We do not always see physical healing in this lifetime, sometimes even when we fervently pray. Even then, we are called to love God, give him praise, and trust that He is working all things out for our good. (Romans 8:28) When we do see his healing touch, we are called to lift our arms to the God of the universe and give thanks and praise for the sacrifice of God’s lamb, his one and only son, who was bound to the cross and died for the forgiveness of our sins and the healing of our bodies. Praise you Father for your "benefits" of healing, and most of all for the provision of the sacrifice of your son. Thank you for being with Frank and Betsy and their families on the mountain that Abraham called “The Lord Will Provide.” Thank you for providing the sacrifice of your lamb, and thank you for allowing Betsy and Frank to keep theirs. Happy Birthday Frances!

“...God himself will provide the lamb…” (Genesis 22:8)

In Jesus Name. Amen

Zinnias from Mom

16 x 16Romans 12:4-6 Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ, we who are many form one body and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us.

My mother lives next door to me in the home in which I grew up. She has a beautiful garden, in which, every summer, she grows different varieties of zinnias. My mother inherited my grandmother's love for flowers, and she is very talented at arranging them.

When I was a child, she often placed small arrangements of dafodils or camelias from the yard in small vases on my nightstand. I probably rarely thanked her for those flowers, but they always let me know she was thinking of me. Recently, when one of my children was ill, and I had been homebound for longer than I desired, she stopped by with a beautiful vase of zinnias. While the children napped, I painted the beautiful arrangement that she had put together. While I painted her kind gift, I thought of her and the ways she encouraged me growing up.

Since I can remember, I have always loved a creative project. My mom used to take me to buy acrylic boxes and paint pens so that I could make gifts for friends and family. I found one of them, recently, which my mom had saved all these years, a mothers day gift, I believe. I remember being so proud of that acrylic box and thinking that it was quite cute, but when I recently found it, I was shocked that it was actually rather plain and not really very cute at all. My mother made me feel like it was a masterpiece, though, so I was convinced that it was.

There has always been something in me that has desired to create. My mother recognized that desire in me and encouraged that desire in so many ways. She taught me to sew and needlepoint and always provided the supplies for me when I set out on a new venture. She seemed to know the directions in which to push me that would encourage my passions. When applying for colleges, she begged me to look at small liberal arts schools, so like a typical 17 year old, I applied only to two large state schools. Since I chose the University of Georgia, she suggested that I, at least, major in journalism and minor in art, so I decided to listen and started out in those schools.

Shortly afterwards, though, I switched my major to, of all things not suited for me, risk management and insurance, because I thought I could land a more steady job upon exiting college. My mother encouraged me not to change it, but of course, I refused to listen and graduated from the risk management and insurance program of the UGA business school and gave up four years of painting and writing. Ugh. It is painful to even type that. While in college and thereafter, I still attempted to teach myself how to paint from books and wrote in personal journals whenever I could find the time.

Several years after graduating from college, my mom encouraged me to take some art classes at the local college. Together, we took an oil painting class, and have painted together on and off throughout the last several years. I have often taken breaks from it because of the demands of young children, but my mother has always encouraged me to return to it. I am so thankful for her influence in that. She had a knack for knowing the things I had a passion for and for pushing me towards the things that she knew would bring me joy.

I chose the scripture above for this painting because God gives us each gifts that are meant to build up and encourage the body of Christ, the church, as we call it. If we are part of the body of Christ, each of us belongs to God and to the other members of the body, so that other members of the body can be built up by our gifts. My mother encouraged the gifts she saw in me, which in turn, I pray he will use to build up the body of Christ and encourage others.

My prayer is that God would give me direction and wisdom when guiding my own children towards their God given talents and purposes, not so that I can feel like a successful parent or my children can overflow with self esteem, but so that they would find their passions and purposes and use those things to build up the body of Christ. Our gifts are not for us but for the other members of the body.

I am thankful that my mother has encouraged me to perservere. It is truly a gift to have a mother that encourages their children in their passions and gifts. My mother is a gifted artist, and I am thankful for the bond that we share through painting together. Praise God for mothers and for His gifts.

Mom, thank you for the zinnias and, most of all, for your encouragement. Keep painting. I love you.

And He will lift you up

1 Peter 5:6 Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.

James 4:10 Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.

Often, while I am preparing dinner, my husband takes our three girls outside to the driveway to ride bikes and play basketball. Our youngest daughter, Jordan, thinks it is great fun to be lifted up by her daddy to hang on the basketball rim. One afternoon, before my husband arrived home from work, I took the girls outside to play. Jordan, age two, stood at the bottom of the basketball goal, stretching her arms up in a futile attempt to hang on the rim. Over and over, she jumped as hard as she could. She crouched down as low as she could, then propelled herself upward in an attempt to reach the goal. Her little feet never left the ground, but she remained convinced that she could reach that goal by herself. She carried on this way for several minutes, until my husband pulled into the driveway, walked over to her, and lifted her up with ease so that she could hang on the rim. She squealed with delight as her lifted her up and laughed hysterically while her daddy held her up to hang on the rim.

As I observed my daughter's actions, I saw a picture of myself in my relationship with God. Most of my life, I believed that if I just worked hard enough at anything, then I could achieve what I had set out to do. If I wanted to make good grades, then I studied hard to reach my goals. If I wanted to be a good tennis player, then I practiced a lot so that I could succeed. "If at first you don't succeed, try try again." And that is a great lesson when it comes to earthly principles. Unfortunately, though, when it comes to God saving us and changing our hearts, this principle no longer applies.

In my early twenties, when I began to seek God and study his word, I would certainly have told you that I was a Christian. After all, I was pretty good. I did nice things for people and believed that God made the world and that Jesus was a real person who walked this earth. But I had never visited the cross myself. Although I had heard the gospel many times, I did not understand what it truly meant to be a christian. I had never confronted the depth of my own sin and the darkness in my own heart. Therefore, I really had no need for a savior.

When the Holy Spirit began to confront me with my own sin, it was painful. Over time though, I learned that I would no more find salvation as a result of my own efforts and goodness, than my two year old would jump up and reach that basketball goal on her own. I would only find salvation through God allowing me to see the fallen nature of my own heart, and humbling myself by recognizing that only through the sacrifice of Christ could I be lifted up into God's kingdom and made a new creation.

The same principles have applied to the process of God sanctifying me and molding me into his likeness. He reminds me daily that only He can mold my heart and make me more like Christ. I did not save myself by my efforts, and I will not change myself by those efforts. In actuality, the more I strive to be better, the farther I will move away from God. I only see change when I humble myself under God's mighty hand, so that He can then take that same hand and lift me up in his palm. True change has only come from seeing how far I fall from his standards of holiness, forcing me to cling to him and depend on him more. If my two year old daughter had an accurate understanding of how far she really was from the rim of that goal, she would cease striving and depend solely on her father to lift her up. I am called to do the same.

That has been the "good news" in my life, that my heart is desperately sinful apart from Christ, but through God revealing that to me and humbling myself before him, He and only He is able to lift me up. It did not feel like "good news" in the beginning, because, like my two year old, the phrase, "I can do it all by myself," goes through my mind constantly, and the process of humbling myself was and still is painful and scary, but the ride up to that rim in the palm of his hand is filled with joy and delight, and there is incredible joy in hanging out there. I cannot hang on by myself, so I must trust him to hold me there. When I cease trusting and start striving, I tend to focus more on the weight of my own sin pulling me down than his hand lifting me up. I sink back down into old ways and habits, and forget the joy that is at the top, but He is always faithful, when I humble myself and ask him, to lift me back up in the palm of his hand. "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time." 1 Peter 5:6

Walking in the Truth

3 John 1:4 I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

A few months ago, I "commissioned" my four year old daughter, Virginia, to paint a picture of a church for me. She picked up her paintbrush and painted a small rectangle with a cross on top and then placed different splats of color all around the little church she had created. When I asked her what the splats of color were, she replied, "Those are the footprints of all the people coming to church." Then she looked at me, rather indignantly, to let me know that I should certainly have known that without having to ask.

The painting above was a commission done for a loving young mother of two girls whose desire was to incorporate her children's footprints and the verse, 3 John 1:4 into a painting for her girl's room. When she presented the idea to me, Virginia's painting immediately came to mind. Inspired by my four year old's painting, I painted a church and the children's footprints walking toward the church to represent that this young mother will "hear of [her] children walking in the truth." I pray that every step of their lives would draw these young girls closer and closer to our loving God.

Pictured below is the real masterpiece signed by my sweet Virginia.

Time Out Chair

12 x 24Hebrews 12:5-6 "My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you because the Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes those he accepts as a son."

This is a painting of my children's time out chair. I could not bring myself to sell this one, so I hung it in front of the time out chair that sits in our hallway so that my girls will have a visual reminder that our discipline of them is about love.

One of my children, in particular, has a tendency to "lose heart" when she is confronted with discipline. Like most of us, she has trouble facing her failures and weaknesses and has a desire to get things right. Her first response is to deny and make excuses. Then, she moves into a place of anger toward herself , and eventually, after she moves through her self pity, she can bring herself to apologize. It makes me so sad when I see her that way, because I know in my heart that the discipline is for her good. My desire is to teach her, train her, and protect her from her own folly, but she becomes so focused on her failure that she loses sight of the fact that the discipline is for her good.

I have often responded the same way when I have been faced with discipline from my heavenly Father. When I use the word discipline, I am not implying that God sends tragic things in our lives to discipline us. When I speak of discipline, I am speaking of God bringing conviction of sin in my life. Jeremiah 17:9 tells us that our hearts are deceitful above all things and beyond cure. David says to the Lord in Psalm 16:2, "You are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing." Although there is something in me that inherently wants to believe that my heart is good apart from Christ, the bible tells me the exact opposite.

It was God, in his love, revealing to me the dark condition of my own heart that drove me to the cross at salvation, and it is, now, his continued discipline that keeps me at the foot of the cross daily. I have numerous blind spots, sinful patterns that I am not aware of, and when God sheds light on those and begins to reveal them to me, it is certainly painful.

Like my young daughter, I have often lost heart when my loving Father has disciplined me. I have to believe the reason He tells us in Hebrews not to "lose heart" is that he knows of our tendency to do so. In those moments, where I feel crushed under the weight of my own sins and weaknesses, the holy spirit gently reminds me of God's words in Hebrews 12: "Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best, but God disciplines us for our good, that we share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. 'Make level paths for your feet,' so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed."

He lovingly reminds me that the discipline is for my good, but it is not for my glory. He disciplines me so that my life would bring glory to the God of the universe, by loving others more like Christ would love them. His desire is that I would share in His holiness and show the love of Christ to those he puts in my path.

Often, I have prayed for God to work in my children's lives, and instead of God changing them, He brings discipline in my own life, to change my heart so that I can love them in a more Christlike way. God always works in ways that I do not expect, and following Him is never as easy as I imagine that it will be, but I am so thankful that he loves my children and I enough to discipline me for my good and for his glory, so that my children and others would feel the love of Christ flow through me.

Father, strengthen my feeble arms and week knees when you discipline me. Make level paths for my feet so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed. Let my children and I stay focused on the truth that your discipline is proof that you love us and that we are your children. In Jesus Name. Amen.

Note: The time out chair in the picture above is simply a symbol of discipline. It is not a commentary on what I believe to be the right or wrong forms of discipline.

From Beginning to End

9 x 9

Ecclesiastes 3:11 He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

Sometimes when I paint, I will have a rather clear picture of what I would desire the finished product to be. Often, once I put the brush to wood, it goes an entirely different direction than I had intended. This is one of those paintings. The color scheme I had envisioned was different and the overall composition was not exactly as I had planned. I almost gave up in the middle of this painting because it wasn't heading in the direction I had intended. It was taking much longer than I had anticipated, and I was tempted to abandon it. It felt as if I was making one "mistake" after another. Something in me though said to keep going, so I continued to paint and lay colors over the "mistakes" in an effort to make it "beautiful". As I continued to paint over the parts that were not desirable, an interesting texture developed and the "mistakes" in color and composition actually began to add character and interest to the painting.

As I finished this painting, Ecclesiastes 3:11 came to mind. When you look at this painting, you only see the finished product. But underneath the image are layers upon layers of mistakes and changes. You cannot "fathom" what was done from beginning to end. My walk with Christ has been so similar to the process I went through in this painting.

Daily, I ask God to make me into a more Christlike person, to free me from the sinful patterns that I see in my life, but I seem to want the finished product right away. I don't desire the layers of change and the pain that often comes along with it. At times, I lose heart when I see that I am not turning out quite as I had envisioned. The image I had in my mind of a strong mature christian is often not what I am seeing painted on the canvas of my life. "Did I take a wrong turn somewhere in this christian experience? Where is the painting that I envisioned?" I ask Him. Thankfully, he whispers, "No, you did not take a wrong turn. You are exactly where I want you." He reminds me that those mistakes and failures that I lose heart over are actually the very things that he is using to draw me closer to him. The very thing I have feared the most, facing my weaknesses and failures, is actually the very thing he has used to remind me that apart from him I can do nothing.

At times, I'll begin to see victory in areas of my life, only to see those old sinful patterns emerge again. "This is too hard" , I think, "why don't I just abandon ship and put down this paintbrush? This is not worth the fight." What I seem to hear God saying is that the very thing I want to run from, the fight or the battle, is exactly what he is using to mold me into his likeness. I want the finished product, not the battle. I lose sight of what God is "doing from beginning to end" and only see the circumstances in front of me. He reminds me over and over, that my weaknesses and failures and the battle to overcome those are the things from which we learn the most and from which we gain the most wisdom. They are the layers upon layers of paint that build into something interesting and full of life and character.

As I fall short daily, I see so clearly that I am truly hopeless without Him, and through that humbling revelation, He gradually molds me and changes my heart, making me more "beautiful". It is not beauty as the world defines it, but beauty as God defines it. Although, I cannot fathom what God is doing from the beginning to the end of my life, I know that with every layer of change, and every layer of paint he applies to my life, His hand will be molding me, making me more "beautiful," more like his Son. But it will be in his time, not mine. "He has made everything beautiful in its time."

Freedom

9 x 9

Galatians 5:1 It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.

Sing to the Lord a New Song

24 x 24

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Psalm 96:1 Sing to the Lord a new song

Psalm 40:1-3 I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.

The Sun and the Rain and the Appleseed

20 x 28

Not for sale

"Oh, the Lord's been good to me, and so I thank the Lord, for giving me the things I need, the sun, and the rain, and the appleseed. The Lord's been good to me." Amen

My seven year old daughter, Mary Helen, and I painted this painting together. Whenever I am able to have lunch with her at school, I love to watch the children sing this blessing together. It is an incredibly heart warming sight to see a group of children singing and thanking God for their blessings.

Come Together in My Name

12 x 24Matthew 18:19-20 "Again, I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them."

Gentle Leader

24 x 24

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Isaiah 40:11 He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; He gently leads those that have young.

Unless you have read the thoughts behind the painting, "Let your light shine before men", this post may not make sense to you so take a minute to read it to understand the whole story.

My girls love for me to read to them the thoughts that I have written about each painting, so a few nights ago, I had plans to read them the story about my grandmother's treasure box. That evening, we let the girls stay up late to catch fireflies, so I thought that would be a great night to share the story with them since it was about letting our lights shine. We got sort of carried away with our firefly hunting and stayed out much later than intended, so we put the story aside to read to them the following night.

The next night, as we were getting ready for bed, it began to thunder outside. For some reason, the power seems to go out with the slightest bit of wind near our home, so my girls decided to prepare themselves just in case of a power outage. Never have they done this before, but as soon as the girls heard the thunder, they each ran to grab a flash light to take to bed with them.

I printed off the story I had written, and we headed back to bed to read. My husband wasn't home so all four of us piled in my bed to read the story together. Virginia (4) fidgeted through most of it, and I wasn't sure that she heard a word, but Mary Helen(7) hung on every word I read. She has always loved a good story, especially ones from our childhood. Jordan (2) played with her flashlight and every five seconds, tried to pull the paper away from me. Virginia interrupted with questions like "Mom, who made that bed post?" and "Can we go to the pool tomorrow?" while Mary Helen just kept saying, "Be quiet, I am trying to listen!"

It seemed as if we would never reach the end of the story, and I began to question why I had even attempted this. Reading the story was beginning to feel as large a feet as rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem, but like Nehemiah, I persevered, and by some miracle, they quieted down by the time I reached the end of the story. Then to my amazement, my oldest two screamed, "Read it again. Read it again". I was encouraged that maybe they heard something that I had read, so I proceeded to read it again while they listened somewhat quietly.

Mary Helen then asked with hopeful anticipation, "Do you still have that box?" When I affirmed that we did indeed still have the box, both of their eyes filled with disbelief and joy, and they jumped off the bed to go look for it. I sent them to the library to remove it from the shelf. They tiptoed as they carried it and held it out away from their bodies as if they were carrying the ark of the covenant. Mary Helen kept telling Virginia to be careful because this box was "very, very special" and that she was probably way too young to carry something so valuable. They were still in utter shock that it actually still existed.

The "let your light shine before men" card was still at the front of the box where I had taken it off the toilet and returned it to its home. We pulled it out so that Mary Helen could read the scripture to us. "Let your light shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your father which is in heaven." She smiled from ear to ear as she read it.

After she finished reading, I glanced down and noticed that the girls still had their flashlights. We turned out the lights, and I was reminded of the song, "This little light of mine", so we sat with our flashlights and sang the old bible song together. Then we talked about not hiding our lights under bushels, and they giggled and hid their flashlights under pillows and then pulled them out to demonstrate. Then, we talked about the fireflies from the night before, and how fireflies were a beautiful example of not hiding their lights.

Before being tucked into bed, the girls asked if we could keep the treasure box on our kitchen table, and my first thought was "sure, we'll put it on the cupboard next to the table so the baby won't get into it." We kept it there a few days until I realized that the lazy susan crayon holder that sits in the middle of our kitchen table was scratching our table, so the middle of our table was left looking lonely and empty. I took my grandmother's treasure box and placed it in the middle of our table and every morning, the girls take turns pulling out the same scripture cards that my grandmother read to her children. As I clean the kitchen, I see Mary Helen out of the corner of my eye thumbing through the scripture cards arranging and rearranging them as I did as a young child.

There have been many seasons, in which, although I have known God was with me in parenting my children, I have not sensed his presence. The night that they sat on my bed singing and playing with their flashlights was one of those moments where I knew, without a doubt, that He was there with me teaching my children about Himself. It was not me or my creative thoughts, but it was Him gently leading me as a parent. One night, he gave us fireflies while, the next night, He gave us flashlights to demonstrate his Word to his children.

The task of teaching my children about God and the gospel is incredibly intimidating to me. I have so much to learn about the gospel myself, and to be quite honest, I have no idea what I am doing most of the time. The one thing that I sense God impressing upon my heart is that the gospel is everywhere around us if we will only open our eyes and ask God to show it to us. In this instance, the gospel was in a painting, a firefly, a flashlight, and an old wooden box.

He has given us the tools, and He is gently leading us. Matthew 13:16 says, "Blessed are your eyes because they see and your ears because they hear." Father, open my eyes and ears to see what you are doing in my children's lives. Then, invite me to join in your work. If it was up to me, I would fall on my face in the midst of this crazy thing called parenting, but Lord, I am thankful that you are here gently leading my children closer to you. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your work. Amen

For those of you who read this blog, and picture my life being one giant sing along of "this little light of mine", let me just remind you that some of these stories are the highlights of my life as a parent, not the norm. Let me comfort you by sharing with you a more typical parenting moment in my life:

Went to the pool the other night for a relaxing night by the pool. Was functioning on little sleep. Got everybody to the pool after breaking into a complete sweat. Got to the pool and forgot swim diaper. Went back home to get swim diaper and then back to pool. All the kids jumped in the pool and the lifeguard blew the whistle for break time. Kids got out of pool. Baby scraped on old wound and bled profusely all over the side of the pool and on the table where we were about to eat. Cleaned up blood with baby's socks because I couldn't find the wipes. Lifeguard brought a band aid which baby mistook for a torture device and let out one of those screams where she doesn't breathe for 2 minutes. Baby cried for next 15 minutes. Break time finally ends, so the kids jump in the pool. Began to thunder so lifeguard told kids to get out of pool. Time to eat supper. Waitress brought out food, and I realized I had only ordered my own food and had forgotten to order my children's food. Children shocked and in disbelief that their mother would forget their food. Waitress also in disbelief . Me too. Began to wish the drain in the middle of the pool would swallow me up. Waited 30 more minutes for kids food while the baby uses my body as a jungle gym. One of the meals never came. Swam for fifteen minutes in which it was all I could do to keep my fully skirted Lands End tankini on with the kids hanging on my bathing suit straps. Called it a day and went home.

Needless to say, after moments like these, I am incredibly thankful when God gives me one of those sweet moments that I imagined parenting would be like before I had children. Thank you, Father, that even in the midst of all the chaos, and even in my failures and weaknesses, you are still there guiding me and carrying my children.

Let your light so shine before men...

24 x 24Matthew 5:16 Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

My grandmother kept a small wooden box in the center of her kitchen table. It was called "God's Treasure Chest" and was filled with small colored cards that each had a different bible verse typed in an old timey typewriter font. When my father and his siblings were young, every morning, my grandmother reached into the treasure box and pulled out a scripture card to read to her young children. She often wept as she read them as she lost my grandfather at a very young age and was left to raise four young children alone.

There was a photo of my grandfather that hung on the wall in the room where I slept when I visited her. I can remember, after being tucked into bed, staring at his picture on the wall to see if maybe I could discover something about him, some insight into who he was, since I never had the privilege of knowing him. He stared back at me with the kindest eyes, and I knew he must have been a loving man. He was the pastor of the First Baptist Church when he died and was a deep lover of the word of God. I have been blessed enough in my adult life to hear his voice in tapes of his sermons and get a glimpse of his heart by reading his letters and teachings on the Word of God. All that to say, the Word of God was important to my grandparents and hence, "God's treasure chest" sat in the middle of the table where they gathered for home cooked meals.

Whenever I visited my grandmother's home, I used to love to thumb through that wooden box and read the worn and faded scripture cards. There was never a time when that box did not sit in the center of her table. There were not many things I asked for when my grandmother passed away many years ago, but I did ask for a few books that she had read to me often and the little wooden box. It seems as if it is always the simplest things from my childhood that bring back the sweetest memories. I can remember sitting in her small kitchen, with her tea pot whistling to let us know her water was ready for tea, while I sat quietly arranging and rearranging the cards in her treasure box. I remember the crocheted, afghan like cover that she kept over the extra role of toilet paper in her bathroom, and the candy bowl that always stayed full of toffee and butterscotch. I remember the set of bronze praying hands on her bookshelf and the piano where she taught me to play Silent Night.

Anyway, it was the small details that she probably never even thought about that I remember the most in her home. The treasure box was one of those simple things, and I don't really know why I had such an affection for the little wooden box, but I did. As a child, I certainly didn't understand the scriptures in it as they were all from the King James version; nevertheless, there was something about that box that was sacred to me. Upon her death, my dad and his siblings were gracious enough to allow me to be the guardian of "God's treasure chest" and it sits on the bookshelf in my library.

When I began the painting above, I knew I wanted the painting to be cheerful and bright, but I wasn't clear on a scripture for it. While in the midst of painting this, I was involved in a wonderful bible study called "Experiencing God" in which the lesson of the week was on walking in the light. That is one of those phrases that I've heard a million times but don't know that I've ever really taken the time to understand. My teacher had reminded us that morning of the bible school song, "This little light of mine." The song ran through my mind most of that morning and into the afternoon. I couldn't get it out of my mind even as I was playing with my children later that day.

I began thinking about what it means to "let our lights shine" and not hide them under a "bushel" as the song says. I began thinking that maybe these paintings were a way of letting that light shine. While we were playing, I took a trip to the restroom, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw something sitting on the back of the toilet. I then recognized that it was one of my grandmother's scripture cards from the treasure chest. It was pink and worn and something had been spilled on it in its many years on the kitchen table. It read "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven." (pictured below)

I have no idea how the card got there. I suppose my children had discovered the box and pulled out a few of the cards, but I think the little hands that put it on the back of that toilet were guided by God so that I would see that scripture that day. It was one of those moments where I knew for certain He had something to say to me, a message to deliver.

I absolutely love the way God works and the way he speaks to his children. He speaks in unusual ways, and that day, he used a trip to the restroom and an old and worn scripture card on the back of a toilet seat to confirm his message to me. I immediately knew that the painting above would be about letting our lights shine before men.

At times, I am tempted to shrink back with these paintings and this blog and hide all of it under a "bushel"(what in the world is a bushel, anyway?). But this verse continues to ring in my ear: "Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven." I pray that somehow these paintings would be a way of letting the light of Jesus shine through my life and that these "good works" would glorify my Father in heaven. Amen.

Note: "Let your light shine before men" is written around the inside edge of the vase in the painting above.

Patience in Pots

24 x 24

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Psalm 27:14 Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.

Several years ago, my precious grandmother passed away, and after much prayer and consideration, we decided to move into the home in which she had lived for the latter part of her life. She built her house next door to the home where she had raised her children and where my mother now lives. One of my grandmother’s passions was gardening and flower arranging, so when she built the home, she built a beautiful rose garden right next to the pathway to our kitchen door. The iron plaque that sat at the entrance to her garden still sits there today. It reads, “Enrapt I sat in the quiet hour and found my soul in the heart of a flower.” She found so much joy in flowers and was incredibly talented in growing and arranging them.

I have always loved flowers and clearly see God’s love written all over them, but never have had much of a knack for growing them or caring for them. We tried caring for the roses for a while after she died, but the plants had gotten old and needed to be replaced. My husband loves the thought of farming, so we replaced the flowers with a vegetable garden in which my husband takes great pride in growing beautiful vegetables.

This spring, I was searching for an activity for my four year old, Virginia, so we went out to my grandmother’s green house where she stored lots of different size clay pots. We took out 9 or 10, found some leftover flower seeds from last year, and went about planting a miniature garden. Virginia loved poking the seeds down into the dirt and would have used every pot in the greenhouse if I had allowed her. She then took each of her pots, one by one, and placed them on the garden wall so that they could soak up the sun. She faithfully watered them every day with my grandmother’s old tin watering can. Within a day or two, they began to sprout. Every time a new one would peek its way out of the dirt, she would run inside to find me and shout that her pots had sprouted. Her eyes doubled in size at the sight of those sprouts, and I will never forget the smile that spread across her little face. You would have thought the resurrection had just occurred in our household. And in a sense it had. To a four year old and to me as well, a plant growing out of a seed is almost as much of a miracle as Jesus being raised from the dead. Einstein said that either everything is a miracle or nothing is a miracle, and in my four year olds opinion, a miracle had occurred in her miniature garden.

My older daughter, Mary Helen, saw what fun we were having with Virginia’s garden, so she had to have one as well. She found several pots and planted them with new seeds and set them out on the garden wall. She was very proud of her garden, which at the time was only dirt, but she showed it to all of her friends that came over to play and anyone who was willing to look. She watered it every day with the same tin watering can, but nothing happened. There were no sprouts, just dirt and a few weeds. She began to get discouraged, and I was tempted to switch out one of her pots for Virginia’s so that Mary Helen could at least have one bloom. But my spirit said no, that this was a wonderful exercise in patience.

We left for the beach with her garden having no blooms and fully expected to come back with pots full of blooms. I even arranged for it to be watered everyday while we were gone. When we pulled into the garage after our drive home from the beach, they both ran into the garden to check their plants. Virginia’s plants were a foot high, but Mary Helen still had none. Mary Helen looked crushed and confused. It didn’t make any sense to her. Why would Virginia’s bloom so quickly and hers take so long. Her father finally discovered that her pots had been placed in a spot that wasn’t getting enough sunlight.

Mary Helen has had to start all over, plant a new garden, and wait again for the first sign of a sprout. I know when it finally appears, the sight of that first plant will be so much sweeter than if it had come up the first day. Although Virginia’s joy was incredibly precious, I can only imagine what Mary Helen’s will be when those sprouts finally emerge.

Like Virginia’s pots, at times, I have prayed for things and see God work immediately. There is so much joy in seeing him work quickly, and God is so gracious in those moments. At times, though, I have prayed and seen nothing happen for so long that it begins to feels as if He will never come. But when He finally does, the victory is so much sweeter and the joy is so much greater.

I could have intervened by swapping one of Mary Helen’s pots with Virginia’s and she would have never known, but she would have missed the sweetest part, the lesson in patience. Just as Mary Helen couldn’t understand why Virginia’s pot bloomed and hers would not, aren’t we so often confused and crushed when God doesn’t do things in our timing. Sometimes I hear God saying that it’s not about the bloom or the victory, though He desires to give us those things, but it’s about the lessons and the things we learn in the process. He is equally as gracious to us in those moments where he requires us to wait. He is giving us a gift that we can’t buy in any store, the gift of his hand molding us and producing in us the fruit of patience. “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” (Psalm 27:14) He wants to give you the desires of your heart.

Note: I wrote this in memory of my late grandmother, Helen Jordan. I think of her often when we are in the garden, and I can still picture the beautiful flower arrangements that adorned her house and her church. I am thankful that my children are learning these amazing lessons about life, in the garden that she built. I still cannot call it my own, as it will always feel like hers to me. She was a special and dear lady whom I miss so much, but I pray she can look down from heaven and see my sweet children planting and growing in the space where she once did the same.