Maureen Delaney, spontaneous violin

Hope you have a beautiful day, and come to know deeper and deeper, how perfectly He loves you.

Spontaneous, violin playing

I decided to put a bit of music online. I'm hoping to do this more regularly. Thanks for listening:)

Whistle

Yesterday, was a new kind of day for me. It was the first day I decided to take some paintings to a local gallery/store and get some input. I'd already shown my paintings to another gallery, from photos on my phone and though they were interested, they didn't have one square inch to hang anything new. The place yesterday, a favourite of mine, is a unique store called, "Limeberry". The owners are incredibly creative and interesting people who migrated from Durango, Colorado to Hammondsport, NY of all places. The long and short of it is, they only sell art, that they already own, which is considerable. Their shop is also crowded full. It's not a consignment type of place. They sell beautiful rugs, authentic, from buying trips to the far east. They loved my art and gave me some good advice and that's that about that, for now.

Now, onto something else, the real thing I wanted to get down today. (As quoted from my early morning, June 4/2010, writing to "Dearest Father")

".... I see as the years go by, how hard - how humiliating, it is to live with my own frail - stumbling. To self despise, with no mercy, the very smoking flax You don't quench. To demand more righteousness from myself, to not forgive myself, when my huge debt, in it's entirety is forgiven. This is harsh and imprisoning! To forgive because one has been given mercy, forgiven and declared innocent, fully, is the highest-order-of-pure-humility, that brings with it, the deepest, most fruitful joy.
Open my eyes to see how clean You really see me, for as clean as You see me, I surely am. Father, gather me in Your arms, for I would be held, would be gathered, would be loved, would be Yours. Call unto me, for Yours is the finest "whistle" in all of Creation, in all of time and for all of eternity.
Remembering my dad's loud whistle, when we were kids....It would bring my brother and sister and I, often from three different places, swiftly running home, for dinner, for anything! It was compelling, piercing through all the other sounds, for a few blocks. Our dad's whistle, I loved his whistle:)
Whistle for Your kids Father, that compelling call, impossible to ignore, that moves our feet, before our mind is sure. Release a sound, that does this in our souls, like a homing beacon, for we are designed with a homing hunger. We truly are!
Rejection has come to everyone and many times. Rejection makes us deaf and doubtful of our being desired, being wanted, being significant. This, song of rejection, like a siren song, has drowned us so often we think under the sea, is home.
What does adoption cry?
What does, "strong desire for" cry?
What does love sound like?
Let it through my violin, my voice, my pen, my hands, my art, my gardening, my everything I do. The cry of Your love's desiring you my friend, you stranger,
unending
unbroken
forever.
I want you
I love you
You area beautiful
You are MY treasure
You are Mine
I am for you
I am Yours,
You are loved,
You have a home,
You are important.

Oh God, release that whistle. Whistle for Your kids to come to that table You've prepared, in the presence of our enemies. Whistle, so clearly, we drop our baseball bats, and games, and toys, and sin and trauma, and fights and hopelessness and wrecked hearts, and run, all the way home with hope. In that whistle is love, is a compelling deep love.
My sheep hear my voice,
My children know My whistle:)
I can still hear my dad's whistle, and it brings a smile, with some tears. Only "his" kids ran home to his whistle, no one else's.