Liberty Bell

Bells chime; Christmastime,

 

 

- crack the casing, let it ring-

 

 

we are free.

 

 

Galatians 6:14-16

"For my part, I am going to boast about nothing but the Cross of our Master, Jesus Christ. Because of that Cross, I have been crucified in relation to the world, set free from the stifling atmosphere of pleasing others and fitting into the little patterns that they dictate. Can’t you see the central issue in all this? It is not what you and I do—submit to circumcision, reject circumcision. It is what God is doing, and he is creating something totally new, a free life! All who walk by this standard are the true Israel of God—his chosen people. Peace and mercy on them!"

What To Do?

 

What is there to do

when you find yourself

groping,

without realizing,

until the Voice on the still wind,

(the overcharged, stale air) 

leads you to find

the words of the prophet

that say we all do this,

"We grope along the wall like blind men,
We grope like those who have no eyes;
We stumble at midday as in the twilight,"

and you let out a sweet breath of release.

At the end there is hope,

a covenant that won't depart.



What do you do

and how do you begin

to live again

when you realize

that it is guilt,

it is shame,

that are the wrong ways,

the harmful rays

that need to go away;

NOT you,

or your life.

What do you do

when down is up

and up is down,

and you realize

what you have always really wanted to do

is slide down waterfalls

and drink rainbows,

happily -

and

happy -

that is what you have

always wanted

to be.
 



Adding this Sara Groves song, after realizing the words
"Sometimes this has left me groping in the darkness,

hoping in the darkness, I will run into you again,"

were contained in it.

"So I'll turn my back to the black and fall;

and pray for the mystery to rise up and meet me..."

Canticle of Creation

It's been fun going on outings that provide opportunity to experience life in fullness, such as Loch Lomond and Sunday worship.  My sister & I had such a good time at the Black Maria Film Festival, and met up again for an art gallery reception at Traillworks. 

It was wonderful meeting other artists, taking part in the creation of a Handala, talking with studio owner - artist Jennie Traill Schaeffer, local artist Joanne Wells Greenbaum, and viewing a large, three-dimensional clay piece by Earthsongs artist Linda Vonderschmidt-LaStella.

That piece, entitled Canticle of Creation, was based on a song of praise by Saint Francis of Assisi.  He wrote it during a difficult time in his life.  As written on the Sisters of St. Francis website, "Francis saw God in everything and so do we.  We look upon the earth with humility and with an open and grateful heart, aware of the divine goodness in all things."  Here's his canticle:

CANTICLE OF CREATION

Saint Francis of Assisi, 1225 A.D.

Be praised Good Lord for Brother Sun

who brings us each new day.

Be praised for Sister Moon: white

beauty bright and fair, with wandering

stars she moves through the night.

Be praised my Lord for Brother Wind,

for air and clouds and the skies of every season.

Be praised for Sister Water: humble,

helpful, precious, pure; she cleanses

us in rivers and renews us in rain.

Be praised my Lord for Brother fire:

he purifies and enlightens us.

Be praised my Lord for Mother Earth:

abundant source, all life sustaining;

she feeds us bread and fruit and gives us flowers.

Be praised my Lord for the gift of life;

for changing dusk and dawn; for touch

and scent and song.

Be praised my Lord for those who

pardon one another for love of thee,

and endure sickness and tribulation.

Blessed are they who shall endure it in

peace, for they shall be crowned by Thee.

Be praised Good Lord for sister Death

who welcomes us in loving embrace.

Be praised my Lord for all your

creation serving you joyfully.

Linda Vonderschmidt-LaStella has been creating art to represent the Canticle of Creation for years, I discovered, as I searched online for a picture of her current piece that I saw at Traillworks.  The art pictured above is located at Neumann University, created by Linda and Sister Christopher Marie Wagner in 1990.  "The artists' inspiration for the Canticle mural came from the beautiful hymn written by St. Francis is of Assisi in the twelth century - The Canticle of Creatures. This hymn celebrates the beauty, diversity and power of God's creation. Written at the end of his life, the work captures the Franciscan celebration of God's majesty.
   The mural is lcoated in the Rocco A. Abessinio Bulding. It reflects healing symbols by use of water and fire as well as emotional and spiritual healing through reconciliation."

I think that viewing Linda's sacred work is a holy experience, and the mirror elements in the piece I saw at Traillworks remain with me as symbols worthy of further contemplation.  I interacted with Louise Nevelson's work at the Locks Gallery which included mirror elements and will take time next week to consider that experience more fully through a blog post. 

For now, I praise my Lord, as St. Francis of Assisi did, for all Creation serving Him joyfully.

Sunday Hearts

It's Sunday morning and I'm driving to the Book Sale, listening to The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks on audio CD.  I pass the big church and its full parking lot as I listen to the part of the book where Ronnie reads the last letter that her dad wrote to her, and my eyes are tearing as I think about love and grace and forgiveness, and I feel my heart changing.  It's church in my car this morning.

Slowing down at the book sale, I graze tables of books, finding many to bring home to my family. No one wanted to join me, so it's my own adventure today. I talk to a couple ladies about the Holocaust as I make my purchase, supporting the library, because I bought a copy of Anne Frank's Diary
just in case I didn't still have mine. We share our amazement at the strength of the Jewish people who have survived so much.  Through the years and the persecution, the culture reigns strong. It says a lot, we all agree, as we talk about other books we've read (Sarah's Key , The Inextinguishable Symphony, Night, Things We Couldn't Say), share stories about people we've known, and I think about my own ancestors who were able to escape to America.

Upon leaving, I slow down once again, to park and walk towards a sign I need to photograph.

If it weren't for Clytie's Random Hearts, I probably wouldn't have thought twice about it.

My beyond walls worship experience continues as I find refuge in moments of peace found in a hidden little luxury full of wildflowers, birds in trees, ladybugs on leaves, butterflies fluttering and water flowing, by the place I've parked my car in order to photograph these spray painted peace hearts.

I thank God for His guidance and His presence in my life as I sit here thinking about how it'll be just fine to continue this adventure today, for a little while.

I continue listening to The Last Song, and am again teary-eyed about Ronnie finishing the composition of her father's piano piece by overlaying her notes within it, and her dad's quote,“Life, he realize, was much like a song. In the beginning there is mystery, in the end there is confirmation, but it's in the middle where all the emotion resides to make the whole thing worthwhile.”  ― Nicholas Sparks, The Last Song

At the old mill, the wheels are turning continuously, keeping the water flowing, and I breathe in the trustworthy smell of old must as the wheels in my head perpetuate too.

The writing on the wall says "free love, man", and I hear on the radio later about God's love being free and being for everybody and crossing boundaries, and again I thank Him.

For life's sermons today, I thank Him.

Linking up with these authentic online communities:

Thank you, Clytie for featuring this, too!

Surrender

As I sculpt wire words for dear friends and family, I get just as much out of it as I am putting in.  Their words speak to me, deepening my journey.  The words coincide with my pursuit this year, for freedom.  Surrender is a word chosen by a dear friend of mine who I admire for her strength, her courage, her faith...  just her choice to pick "surrender" speaks profoundly my friend's intense faith.

Then I took part in an Art Card Swap recently, and was paired with this wonderful artist, Edie, whose word for the year is "Release".  Above is a photo of the art card collage I made for her, to encourage her on her journey.  In return, I received a beautiful "Freedom" tag painted on front and back, the word freedom stenciled on, and a bird on one side, a butterfly on the other.  I put this in my Freedom Journal.  As I pondered release, which has so much to do with freedom, here is a poem I came up with, and wrote on the back of the art card:

"Release is a sweet surrender

in which inhibitions are unleashed,

the fragrant beauty of your soul is set free

and you sing."  ~Brianne, 4/16/12

This post would not be complete without the song "Remember Surrender" by Sara Groves.  Some of the lyrics replayed in my head this week, as I thought about "sweet surrender" and release and freedom.  And some of the lyrics are particularly poignant, as my family & I have just lost a cousin of my husband's whom both he & I were very close to and love dearly.  She was young, and this came suddenly and unexpectedly.  We prayed and waited expectantly for a miracle that wasn't in the plan.  These lyrics in bold speak to me especially: 

"Remember surrender • Remember the rest • Remember that weight lifting off of your chest • And realizing that it's not up to you and it never was • • Remember surrender • Remember relief • Remember how tears rolled down both of your cheeks • As the warmth of a heavenly father came closing in • • I want to do that again • Why can't I live there • And make my home • In sweet surrender • I want to do so much more than remember • • Remember surrender • Remember peace • Remember how soundly you fell fast asleep • In the face of your troubles your future still shone like the morning sun • • Remember surrender • Remember that sound • Of all of those voices dying down • But one who speaks clearly of helping and healing you deep within • • I want to do that again • Why can't I live there • And make my home • In sweet surrender • I want to do so much more than remember • • Remember • Oh surrender • • I want to do that again • Oh why can't I live there and make my home • In sweet surrender • I want to do so much more than remember • • Remember • • Remember surrender • Remember the rest • Remember that weight lifting off of your chest • And realizing that it's not up to you and it never was • •"

and I breathe a deep and grateful, long hallelujah....

The Infinitesimal, Part 2

It's the infinitesimal; can you see it?  I hold a piece of it in the palm of my hand.  My daughter, she sees it, glittering on the bathroom floor.   "Mommy, there's something shiny on the floor." "Oh, do you want to pick it up?"  She does,  and she gives it to me.  My gosh, how did she even notice this tiny thing.  It's transparent; it must've glinted as light refracted off it and she caught the glimpse.  Can you believe it?  I am touched deeply.

The infinitesimal is defined* as "taking on values arbitrarily close to but greater than zero; immeasurably or incalcuably small."  At its base is infinite:  "extending beyond, lying beyond, or being greater than any preassigned finite value however large; extending to infinity."  There is finite:  "having definite or definable limits."  The meaning is pieced together: in the word infinitesimal, it fits. 

The value of the tiny stitches, as shown here, add up immeasurably.  Within our definable limits, there is infinite greatness.  It could be glistening on the bathroom floor, even.   Is there math to describe this?

My son said it about his sea creature collage once, explaining how "the small things, they're so cool, but it's like no one even pays attention to them."  But we're learning of their importance, and to look and see.  To wonder in awe and reverence at the snowflakes, sand grains and amoebas. 

"As for me, I would seek God and inquire of and require Him, and to God would I commit my cause--
Who does great things and unsearchable, marvelous things without number..." (Job 5:8-9), as I meditate upon the meaning that the infinitesimal is producing

...continuously...

*(all definitions from Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, 10th ed.)

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The Glory of the Cross

It had never occurred to me to piece the words "cross" and "glory" together in a sentence until I found this amazing painting last year around this time by Thai artist Sawai Chinnawong, whose belief "is that Jesus did not choose just one people to hear his Word, but chose to make his home in every human heart. And just as his Word may be spoken in every language, so the visual message can be shared in the beauty of the many styles of artistry around the world." 

Since then, whenever I meditate on the cross,

this image comes to mind and I want to look deeper

into the meaning and the glory of it all. 

Whenever I look at this, I'm speechless.  To have the vision of the cross in all its glory and be able to represent it by painting this image is such a gift.  I am thankful for Sawai Chinnawong's ability to be able to transfer all that this artwork encompasses into an image that can be shared.  It says so much, too much to wrap words around.  I think I'm going to give up trying and just let it be. 

I printed out a copy of this painting from my computer, cut it out and pasted it in my Freedom Journal.  I wrote "to set me free" around it, along with other words - some were there already (one of my favorite verses, from Habakkuk), while others are words describing what I see in Chinnawong's painting, which I wrote down, cut out, and pasted onto the page. 

"His glory covered the heavens
and the earth was full of His praise.

   And His brightness was like the sunlight;

rays streamed from His hand,
and there [in the sunlike splendor]
was the hiding place of His power." 
(Habakkuk 3:3-4)

From Galatians 3:11-12 (The Message),

"Habakkuk had it right:

"The person who believes God, is set right by God—

and that's the real life."

The death and resurrection of Christ that my faith hinges on is the magnificence of what has been accomplished through God's plan.  My salvation is, as I read here, "one part of a much greater plan," which revolves "around the 'solar system' of God's eternal, cosmic plan." 

There is great beauty and splendor in what the world considered shame.  The act of dying on the cross secured the praise and renown of which Jesus is worthy.  This occurrence is the height of achievement, the culmination of eternity come to earth for us to experience and know wholeheartedly.  This is for us, for our knowing, that our tears will be wiped away and there are promises of glory, of the old gone and the new to come. 

This is what I need to meditate upon until the truth of it seeps into my cells and my thoughts become the freedom I'm seeking, the freedom for which His life was given for me to receive.  Although I cannot say that I understand it fully, I can say that I believe that this is glory, of which Jesus, my Savior, is King.

Hallelujah

Akiane & Heaven is for Real

If you've already heard of Akiane, you know she is someone that you don't forget.  I was first introduced to Akiane through the book Heaven is for Real for Kids: A Little Boy's Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back, told by Colton Burpo and written by his dad, Todd Burpo.  I read the paperback version of the book, but the book I've linked to hear is actually a newer version of the story created especially for kids.  I'd like to purchase this, as I'd attempted explaining the story to my (almost) 8-year-old son but realize he would get much more meaning out of it from a version made just for kids.  (Here's the main website for this book.)

Colton Burpo visited Heaven while he was in surgery at a young age.  His parents received bits and pieces of his experience over the course of about a year, and those fragments are woven together by his father in the book, creativing a cohesive story.  While in Heaven, Colton saw Jesus.  He tried to explain what Jesus looked like and whenever he saw representations of Jesus on paintings, he would critique what was incorrect about the image... until he saw Akiane's painting of Jesus.

It is interesting to note that Akiane has no religious background and was not raised to believe in a specific faith.  She has had no formal artistic training.  This is her gift, her artistic ability.  She painted this picture of Jesus at age 8.  Akiane is now 17.  You have to see her gallery.  Really, her art speaks for itself.  She also pairs some pieces with poetry she's written, that you can read when you click on the image. 

What more can I say?  I'm cutting this short so you can take the time to visit her site and see for yourself.  Before I go, I'll just share about a couple of images that jump out at me as I view Akiane's gallery this morning.

Under "Age 13" is Akiane's painting of an eye...  When clicked on, the following words are included with this image:  "Each and every one of us is part of the infinite perspective seeing reality through our own individual awareness.  Without one of our views there wouldn't be absolute fulfillment and completeness."  ~Akiane

The thoughts Akiane shares about her "Search for the Truth" painting (under the age 12 tab) blow me away with their wisdom.  I could spend hours viewing her paintings.  I hope you enjoy them, too, and look forward to hearing about what you think.  Have you heard of Akiane before?  Do you agree that you will never forget her?  Which of her paintings do you find yourself attracted to?

Ephemeral

I have an affinity for the book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible.  It's a melancholy book indeed, and recently I read a note penned into one of my old journals that's being redeemed: "blessed with melancholy, I am."  I've long fought with God, "why have you made me this way!?" Oh yes, I have.  I have looked at others who always appear to be vibrantly happy and said, "see, why can't I just be like them!?"  I have questioned, "What is wrong with me?"  The answers I have found always lead me back to the same thing:  this is the way that God made me.  I'm a thinker who loves to philosophize.  My thoughts are like prisms; I must question and view from all angles.  But see, He reminds me, they are reflectors of hope, of rainbows...  My smiles do not always reflect my interior life, but I'm learning...  learning how to live in this skin and not fight it...  learning how to embrace the way that God has made me, and love it.   I'm learning how to make peace with myself, and in turn, make peace with my Maker.  I'm learning that I'm loved just as much as anyone else is.  And finally, finally, I think I've reached a place where I've accepted me as me.  And truly, I am happy.  It is a good place to be.

When I started this post this morning, I had no idea that all of the above was going to come out on the screen.  It started with the photos of this painting and the word "Ephemeral."  I got my dictionary and started to flip to where the word leads, and opened Biblegateway and Goodsearch to look for the verses that came to mind.  This is how words are composed into a thing of cohesion.  This is how one things leads to another...

 

Ephemeral:  a fancy way of saying that nothing lasts forever.  This painting, when I saw it, reminded me.  It's the first word that popped into my head as I viewed it, on a day that I sure needed to remember.  Other words I love are connected to it:  transient; evanescent; fleeting. 

The book of Ecclesiastes hosts some of the most pensive words that have ever been strung into phrases.  It actually brings me joy to read them this morning.  The words wholly juxtapose the eternal with the ephemeral, the finite with the infinite.  This is reality, isn't it? 

 

The words of Ecclesiastes... may they bring you joy when you read them, instead of heaping sorrow upon sorrow.  May you find in them, as I have, the joy and peace for which I believe they were intended...  Water to the soil of knowing that there's something better waiting on the other side of veil, and that in this life, we can know it; and this understanding is what will bring forth life - the promise of the eternal and infinite - as we live here in this skin, this finite existence. These seemingly strange juxtapositions live within us and we can birth them into the world as we encompass the truths that we read into our very being, "striving after the wind, and feeding on it."

 

Ecclesiastes 1:1-11
"These are the words of the Quester, David's son and king in Jerusalem.  Smoke, nothing but smoke. [That's what the Quester says.] There's nothing to anything—it's all smoke.
What's there to show for a lifetime of work,
a lifetime of working your fingers to the bone?
One generation goes its way, the next one arrives,
but nothing changes—
it's business as usual for old planet earth.
The sun comes up and the sun goes down,
then does it again, and again—the same old round.
The wind blows south, the wind blows north.
Around and around and around it blows,
blowing this way, then that—
the whirling, erratic wind.
All the rivers flow into the sea,
but the sea never fills up.
The rivers keep flowing to the same old place,
and then start all over and do it again.
Everything's boring, utterly boring—
no one can find any meaning in it.
Boring to the eye,
boring to the ear.
What was will be again,
what happened will happen again.
There's nothing new on this earth.
Year after year it's the same old thing.
Does someone call out, "Hey, this is new"?
Don't get excited—it's the same old story.
Nobody remembers what happened yesterday.
And the things that will happen tomorrow?
Nobody'll remember them either.
Don't count on being remembered."

Ecclesiastes 11:7-8
"Oh, how sweet the light of day,
And how wonderful to live in the sunshine!
Even if you live a long time,
don't take a single day for granted.
Take delight in each light-filled hour,
Remembering that there will also be many dark days
And that most of what comes your way is smoke."

...and smile, knowingly...

Prism Thoughts

Above my sink,

reflective surface,

light reflects refractions

through facets

of prism hung

to catch light waves

and deflect radiance

of color hidden

within invisible

streams of air.

Clear glass

cut, shaped

by grinding -

its capability

to be brilliant

dependant upon

the number of

plane surfaces

it's been given.

Thoughts are

contemplative

as the grime left behind

is cleansed, wiped,

washed with water

and sunk

below visibility.

Over my sink,

I place items

special to me,

reminders

of what I seek -

that throughout my days,

as I pause at this place,

I may absorb

transformation.

Prism thoughts

of how to be

a reflector

of the Light

that shines on me;

of immersion

with the Truth

that will enable me

to emit

crystal clear

transparency.

"You are the Sun" by Sara Groves:

Because everywhere He is, there is warmth and light.

Over my sink, there is warmth and light.

I keep turning my face to Him, because otherwise
what light can I reflect?

My prism reminds me of precisely this.

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                  and

Sustenance

There are red berries everywhere.

On the ground, and we eat them,

delicious winterberries we found.

And they hang from trees,

popping red against gray bricks,

bright with nourishment.

Holding within their tiny existence

food for the birds,

 unfettered and free,

that You so lovingly care for.

The berries are never all gone,

never demolished or ravenged

by fear, or greed, or over-indulgence.

I see them everywhere,

these reminders of Your goodness,

of Your sustenance,

supporting the resilience

of my body, soul, and mind

as surely as I glimpse them

out of corners of my eyes -

these bright red truths

to sustain and nourish
even me.

Job 12

The Message (MSG)

^7-12 "But ask the animals what they think—let them teach you;
let the birds tell you what's going on.
Put your ear to the earth—learn the basics.
Listen—the fish in the ocean will tell you their stories.
Isn't it clear that they all know and agree
that God is sovereign, that he holds all things in his hand—
Every living soul, yes,
every breathing creature?
Isn't this all just common sense,
as common as the sense of taste?
Do you think the elderly have a corner on wisdom,
that you have to grow old before you understand life?"