Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother.
A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What’s that suppose to mean? In my heart it don’t mean a thing.”
~Toni Morrison, Beloved, 1987
Flight and the Truest Savior
I used to be a bird holding a helium balloon.
I trusted my own ability to compensate, to live, to fly on my own.
I am learning a new form of walking, breathing, and talking, living faith.
Balloons released to the sky.
I fly differently now.
What have you trusted besides God?
Do you have any balloons to release?
Bird Image by Marc Johns
Today’s dose of beauty, through a child’s eye.
“The true story of one woman’s struggles and battle with darkness–from abuse and rape, to addiction, prostitution, and death–and her soul’s awakening to light and meaning found in the One who gives life.”
Katie’s path is an important part of my life. God wove her into my journey many years ago when she was a vibrant and athletic high schooler. In order to prep our house for sale, I hired Katie to paint our tired old lath and plaster walls. One morning she was perched precariously, painting a high wall above the back stairs. In a grocery bag rush, I made a hasty entry through the back door and soundly crashed into her ladder. I nearly sent her sprawling down the stairs into the basement (it was only funny after our adrenalin levels settled down). Later, while standing on a safer ladder in my dining room, Katie handed me a small glimpse into her darkest secrets. She told me one part of her deepest pain. And at that moment, when I wasn’t looking, God sewed her into my heart.
We moved to Colorado a couple months after the ladder conversation and I lost contact with my wounded and artistic friend.
Years later, her journey curved and twisted back into mine. Next time I heard about Katie, she was in crisis. In a sense, pain had pushed through Katie’s back door and sent her into a spiraling and destructive freefall. Through a wild set of circumstances, (a long story for another time, maybe) I became a sort of long-distance advocate for Katie. Turns out, God had sewn her into my heart for a purpose. And now, even though she is miles away and we rarely speak, she has become a key part of my own story of recovery and healing.
Neither of us are afraid of the dark anymore. And that is honestly the mighty work of a saving God.
But I’m just one tiny piece of sand in this ocean of a story. Katie has impacted so many people, in far-reaching ways. And I know she’ll continue to do so … So I’m sharing her story with you.
Watch the video. It’ll be six minutes well spent.
[ Click the picture to watch Katie’s story. ]
- Kayla B.
I asked my friend, Kayla Bingham, to tell me her favorite dancing song from this past year. After hearing the lyrics, I thought the words would be a gift to several of you who have been in your own challenging seasons. So, I asked Kayla if we could do a little video project. She agreed.
Kayla is currently dancing with Odyssey Dance Theater in Utah, but when she was back in Colorado for Christmas, my son Isaac and I met her at Synergy Academy, a local dance studio. We filmed her interpretation of the song, “Madly in Love with You” by singer/songwriter, Sean McConnell.
(When you watch, if you look carefully on the left side of the mirror wall, you can see me laying on the floor and Isaac standing by a tripod. We are trying our best to be invisible.)
This is what the dancer said about the music:
“The song gets me. It reminds me of the times where God feels silent and you get desperate and would do just about anything to hear or see or understand. You know that feeling? When you’re almost frustrated and tears are welling up and you feel like you’re bursting at the seams, and all you want in the world is for God to feel close. That’s what this dance feels like to me.
” ..I know you wish you could hear me, sometimes it’s so hard to do…but every morning’s sunrise says: I’m madly in love with you”
Thanks, Kayla. We’ll be watching the sunrise differently …
I know you wish you could see me
That’s the way it has to be
Someday you’ll understand,
Don’t you lose your faith in me
I know you wish you could hear me
Sometimes it’s so hard to do
But every morning sunrise it says
I’m madly in love with you
Yes I’m madly in love with you
Sean Mcconnell, “Madly in Love with You“
(Song respectfully used with sole intent to generate inspiration not income. Please visit Sean McConnell’s website for more information about this talented artist.)
My husband, Steve, showed me this cool ball pendulum and pointed out a pattern.
Watch for the alternating waves of order and chaos, then order again.
I think this is a smaller image of the larger way life plays out. It’s hard to make sense of circumstances some days or seasons, and other times feel like a nicely patterned-groove. And the only best explanation for it all is a larger force at work.
Sharp needle stitches mend one to another.
Buttons return to their original fastening purpose. Patches lay down to hold the holes. Rips pull together like skin healed to itself.
The way a stinging needle can make you bleed, it’s tempting to entirely opt out of the process of repair — for clothes, relationships, or a soul.
I think pain and mending are bound together like needle and thread.
Cool blue ink drawing by my friend Adina, at Generous Art. She also creates art on an enormous scale, and does a wide variety of projects. I am a fan. Her blue inks are my favorite. Go visit her site.
This moving documentary describes the power of art in places of poverty.
Rent it if you get a chance.