Hello and a Brilliant good morning to you! I thought I'd post this unfinished painting. I'll re post when it's done. I've already redone it twice before and I have no idea what it's going to become. It's sort of annoying, and yet intriguing too. I say this in introduction to what I am writing today. So here goes.

April 23/10

Dearest Father,
Reading, reading, reading - so much stuff! I know much of it and it is only difficult in the grasp and implementation. It's like trying to learn how to play the violin by reading a book. I need living, lessons, examples. I need hands on, voice on, love on instruction. Otherwise, even books filled with words designed to free me up, make me feel more frustrated and tied up. Like reading a car repair manual and having to understand something. AH!
God, I'm the car that needs repair, the manual only makes me feel despair. it's the Writer of the manual that gives me hope. When He opens the hood and expertly tunes me up. Ah, I run better. Sometimes it's a very minor adjustment, and in my mind I thought it was running so rough, it needed a full engine replacement.
He is the Brilliant One and it's OK to be His dependant. To realize that you really aren't smart enough or talented enough to be AMAZING all the time. You don't need His job. It's not something we are fit to do and it is far better to just be His kid, His friend, His.
Why do we have to be so amazingly and perfectly capable anyways? There is a way that God sees us, that we ARE, and it is really not at all like we think. Some people are acutely aware of their imperfections, though they may not admit them to others. Even then, they don't even see all their own. It's too dark in that room.
I'm a person like this. In my life I play the violin, and it is an instrument that requires a "good ear". I just happened to be born that way. So I can hear notes slightly off, whether I want to or not. I'm like this with myself inside too. You better know how much I appreciate grace, because I really do!
Here's a picture, a story, an experience to illustrate a staggering grace.

I found myself walking with Jesus, on a path, coming out through some woods, to the edge of a large body of water. He and I sat down on a stone bench. It was substantial, with a seat and back and at each end, there were built in flat places, wide enough to set a coffee cup. It was all one piece, like it was cut out of one big rock.
We sit down. It's almost dark, it's dusky. The upper sky is black with stars and the horizon, far out over the water is barely lit, a deep navy blue. It's a clear, clear night.
I look over at Jesus and He hands me a big container of popcorn and a glass of ginger ale. We sit side by side and He begins to toss popcorn in the air and catch it with His mouth. He makes me feel all at home, where I belong, though I am reeling at the way His casualness is talking to my soul. I set the ginger ale down on that stone side arm and after some munching together, and just soaking in being there, in that setting, we begin a conversation.
We were both looking up at the stars, and I said something to Him about how amazing they were, and that He knew them all. He told me how He could see every star, every molecule, every bit of everything, far beyond my vision, or the vision of any telescope. Then, tossing up another piece of popcorn and catching it in His mouth, He turned to me and said, "That's because I'm God." He said it so matter of factly. Makes me smile to remember.
Then, those eyes, in That face, looked in at me. Knowing He could see everything, I mean everything, He said the most remarkable thing.
"I can see everything Maureen, and I see no flaw in you."
It took me by such a surprise, I burst out crying. In it knowing He spoke the TRUTH, yet, what???
What eyes He has to see us,
Finished,
Beautiful,
Redeemed,
Done.
It was like there was a sudden, gymnastic movement of epic proportions in my inner person. To know Truth Himself, would speak so calmly, so audaciously, what no one else would say and no one else could see.
I felt - free
And, remembering it now makes me love Him even more.
I pray for eyes, like His, to see you with my friend
That Blood of His made you a new creation
A radically different being
A person forgiven so ridiculously, and so transformed,
Altered, made new,
We need Him to read us to ourselves.

So, He knows what our unfinished person really is, unlike me, who doesn't know what my unfinished painting is yet. He knows that too:)

The Sounds of Silence, or, Does a tree, when it falls in the woods, make a sound, when there is no one to hear it?

It's still not time to cut the grass for the first time, up here at the farm. This week starts the major work. Sometimes it's so quiet up here, that I can almost hear the grass "squeak" as it's growing. I can definitely hear the slight white noise, inside my own ears. It's amazing how much quiet I get to enjoy. I actually really crave it, but not ALL the time.
I play the violin, which anyone that knows me, knows I do. I can play it outside, on my porch, out by the pond, on a box, with sox, with a fox, you get the story, Sam I am:) I don't believe anyone can hear me. My son and two nephews have a band, that practices in our barn, when it's warm enough, loudly, which is only right. We have never had any complaints, because, no one can hear them either.
Strangely enough, one time, on a dark night, in the pouring rain, the sheriff came while the guys were practicing. They were playing for a few family members, and someone finally realized that they heard someone knocking on the door of the barn. (The guys practice on the second floor) So, my sister went and answered the door. Apparently, someone complained about our dogs barking. Which, a)they weren't doing and b)why would someone complain about dogs, when there was actually a really loud rock and roll band practicing?
The sheriff actually apologized, and after chatting for a bit, left. We stood, in the rain, scratching our heads. This same sheriff had no problem with the loud "sound of music" for which there was no complaint, and who actually in all the years he'd been sheriffing had only been up to our remote place only one other time. Apparently, someone was hearing other dogs, somewhere else, or maybe, they had been driving by, and were still mad at our furball dogs, for their real crime, CHASING CARS!

Some thoughts on worship.

I wanted to write something about worship. I read some things the other day on facebook and it's been bugging me since then. Then this morning as I struggled, again, in my own soul, making my coffee and forcing myself to sit outside on this splendid morning, I was reminded that worship is an important part of just being.
So, as I sat down, outside, took my first sip of substandard coffee, and just paid attention to the surroundings, worship happened without thought.

excerpt from journal, April 16th 2010:
Dearest Father,
Your artistry is so fabulous and so splendid, in sound and smell and size and sight in breeze and light and temperature and colour oh the Glory in it! What a wonder You are!
......Sitting outside in the morning, on the back deck of my old farmhouse. Just now sheltered in shade by a massive maple, yet with leaf unfurled, early spring. I look up a gentle hill, and see a rock garden, just starting again with it's perennials. A green lawn slopes up to an iris bed. Those irises are just barely creeping up green fronds, yet the daffodils in their midst are joy, so brilliantly displaying themselves. I hear the light sounds of wind chimes in their midst.

Oh the sounds of spring,
A robin foraging,
A thousand frogs, occasionally break in,
Birds I don't recognize the songs of
Flies buzzing
Hawks and eagles-crying high above,
Light winds,
The earth is kissed with love,
You'd have to be blind not to see,
Life pushes up, it springs forth,
God's glory is obvious,
obvious,
obvious.

If you falter in worship, in buildings made with hands, and forget how to connect or even if you can. I invite you to come out to my land and sit and be and see if your soul remembers worship again. For the glory of our Creator cannot fail at last to make us soften in the wonder of His beautiful art. Life.
If it's hard to worship. It may be that you have lost touch with the One who loves you.
It is not a mechanical action, a force of the will, like paying your taxes in April.
When was the last time an exclamation came out of your mouth, as natural as breathing, to praise something?
Wow, this is delicious!
That is absolutely amazing!

You've got to find a way for your heart to see and have this be real, true towards Him. If it isn't seek to see again, for your soul has become blind. It's "taste buds" as it were have lost their ability to enjoy the wealth of gourmet delights.
If this is the case, your life is heading in a terrible way for your soul and you need love, poured out, because when you can enjoy His works, worship flows easily, naturally, steadily, strongly, purely, deeply, ah!
There is no way it's real worship without some kind of connection and I say to you, your connections within are broken like rail road tracks twisted and missing. It is unsafe for travel. It is wisdom to not ignore the signs of broken-ness. Denial doesn't fix these broken tracks.
But somehow,
Remembering Him, truly does.
We are reconnected in worship and we realize that the One we worship, that Supreme God, that Jesus - Him, He adores us. He misses our touch, He loves us. When you are receiving His love, you are being restored and it is a worship an action that far surpasses anything else.
Worship is not singing 10 songs with gusto and passion (though in the midst many may actually be really worshipping). Worship is when something really connects.
Better than an exclamation for food, that can't talk back, Praise to God, about Him, opens up a mutual flow of love.
Food nourishes us and we become satisfied, for a bit. We will keep coming back to that favourite restaurant, and pay high prices too:) (If we can)
Worship is a bit like that
Only it has to be real.
I am in wonder as I soak in my outdoor masterpiece.
It talks to me, from the heart of it's Maker, it's Beauty breaks down my barriers and I LET it. I LET it!

Find that place to reconnect your soul, with it's Maker.
Like finding the most amazing restaurant.
And let Him love you, as your love for Him starts to become real again. Real love, real worship, real connection, real relationship, unshakable,
Beautiful Home, Him.

The Effects of Living in the Middle of Nowhere

Welcome to my blog, on it's first day. I have wanted to do this for a long time.
I am not kidding when I tell you I live in the middle of nowhere, but I don't mean it in a negative way, except, well, in the middle of winter.
There has been an exceptional amount of time, alone, in quiet, to think, to hear and to ponder. I think my soul has been the thing most "farmed" around here. I'm not completely alone though, children are here, one mainly still at home, my beautiful Katie. My husband is home most weekends. Friends occasionally venture out here, but mostly it's my car that's getting the wear and tear of many miles on rough dirt roads. It's amazing how well a little Honda Civic holds up.
In the winter, no traffic goes by, except the snow plow, which turns around at the end of our property up the road. We live at the place where it is only seasonally maintained. The rest of the year, if ten vehicles go by during a day, that's a big day.
This naturally leads me to mention my dogs, because they like the excitement of chasing the few cars that go by. One of them lost a leg to this activity, but is AMAZING on three legs. He lost it in the fall of the year, and by the next summer, when we spend so much time swimming in our pond, we were wondering how he'd handle the loss of his swimming passion. Surprisingly, he doesn't realize that swimming with only one leg in the front might be impossible. So, "Mickey" still swims, though at first, when he would try shaking off the water, he'd knock himself off his feet. Now, I don't see him limited at all. He is a picture of happy, all the time. He happily sleeps in the middle of a snow storm, in deeply accumulating snow, unfazed and happy, goofy happy. His brother Shadow doesn't enjoy swimming, but is almost as happy as his sibling, except when his bro gets more attention than him. These two furballs collect carrion, left over from hunting season, and there is never any telling what kinds of things they find to chew on, and give me to trip over.