I can draw, I can draw, I can draw!

Check it out! I can draw!!! I've never been able to draw anything more than a stick man in my whole life. but I sat down and used the advice of a friend, and this came out! It's not the most fabulous thing by any means, but hey, it looks like a human being!!! Zounds.

What is it about the sun?

What is it about the sun? I can be out for a walk, reading a good book, and the sun always interrupts me. Its rusty orange light on my gloved hands makes me stop and wonder how the sun can be so powerful, so pervasive, and yet so delightful and simple. Even on a brisk evening, it casts its glow over the houses, creating shadows that create a fascinating interplay with the sunbeams. Like a crackling fire on a snowy day, it lifts and warms my heart, making me feel like my emotions have been dormant, and are just now taking their first wakeful breaths of life. Even when the sun is gone, its light reflects off the clouds, creating an incredible symphony of colors in the sky. But the clouds don't stay for long - they chase the sun over the horizon, leaving me wishing I could follow so that my emotions could again rise up and breath in unfiltered joy.

What is it about the sun? Maybe it reminds me of God. He is powerful and pervasive, yet delightful and simple. Even when I'm not aware of His presence, He is there, casting His glow on my life, waiting for me to stop and take notice. He warms my heart, even when I didn't notice its slow slip into dormancy. He opens up doors of creativity that have been long forgotten, doors He built in the first place.

My heart wants to be a cloud: ever changing, yet always present in the sunshine, always radiating His color, chasing Him over the horizon toward joy.

Renew me, O Eternal Light,

And let my heart and soul be bright,

Illumined with the light of grace

That issues from Thy holy face.

- Johann F. Ruopp

Pictures!

Here's some pics from the wedding of my friends Heidi and Nathaniel!

... my first illustrious job


... the happy bride and groom

... sneaking a taste of wedding cake

... me and my fellow guest-booker, Karen

... side profile of Karen

... wedding bells are a'chiming

... Karen, Heather, and I deciding our pose

... giving bridesmaid Heather a noogie :)

... the aftermath

Part 2

God keeps delighting the forever part of me with dainty morsels that point to Himself.

He is like freshly fallen snow. The kind that shimmers in the sun and makes your eyes burn with the beauty of it. Snow that is at once fairer than an unfurling lily, yet dazzles your senses with colors almost beyond the capacity of the human eye to behold. Reflections of red dance in my vision, reminiscent of the wine served at Christ's last meal. Orange obliterates my mind, allowing me to behold the beauty in my soul without analysis. Yellow sunbeams reflect off the diamonds, reminding me of yesterday's joys. A garland of green dances its way into the gentle tango of colors, showing me the path to the life yet to be lived. The breath of God gently persuades itself to be made known thru the tranquil blue that meets my eye. And the passion of the dance exudes from the purple lights that flash in and amongst its counterparts.

He is the purity of fresh snow falling on a perfect Sunday. Yet He is the wildness of the dance of a million colors, sashaying past my line of vision in radiant gowns. The purity of the color white is a combination of all the other wavelengths, allowing Him to be both.

But not everyone can see Him. You have to look. It's easy to miss the colors amidst the distractions. Even amidst the white that shines so beguilingly into your face. You have to open your eyes, and let the colors of God dance through your vision.

And at once the beauty is shattered by life on earth. A friend has been rushed into emergency. Are you still out there, in the diamonds that lie outside my window?

Who is God?

I see myself, standing with arms outstretched, face tilted upward. I am surrounded by mists, swirling around my body, in a place out of time, where the spiritual world is visible. But then I see that the mists are not water, they are flames. Not flames resembling a person standing in a fire, but independent flames, swirling around feet, legs, torso, head, and outstretched arms. They started as a small flame over my head1 and have gradually engulfed my body. I have been baptized with fire.2 The flames lick in and out of my body, seeing all. The flames are God. They hem me in - behind and before.3 The flames engulf my being - yet I am not God. He lives within me.4 The flames see my dark places,5 perceive my thoughts,6 and know my deepest emotions. Nothing is hidden.7

The flames are holy. They devour the evil that is present in my heart.8 They are refining flames, removing the impurities from my life.9 They are a jealous, consuming fire,10 reserving me for naught but one fire - the fire of the Spirit.

The flames have a voice, but no face.11 They speak to me of love, of grace and mercy, of faithfulness. They provide a light that the darkness cannot overcome,12 a light that I can follow when the night is dark.13 The fire radiates from within me to provide a beacon for others drifting in the dark of night.14

I have been baptized with fire.12 This is GOD.


1: Acts 2:3
2: Matthew 3:11
3: Psalm 139:5a
4: Galatians 2:20
5: Psalm 139:1
6: Psalm 139:2
7: Psalm 139:11
8: Isaiah 4:4
9: Isaiah 10:17, Zechariah 13:9, 1 Peter 1:7
10: Deut 4:24
11: Deut 4:12
12: Psalm 139:12
13: Exodus 13:21
14: Daniel 12:3, Phil 2:13
15: Luke 3:16

Your hand of blessing is on my head

Touching someone's head is one of the most intimate, yet innocent, connections. Mother's touch their children's heads constantly, and I always thought it odd. Yet I find myself doing the same thing with greater frequency, mostly with the youngest children or with those I know fairly well. A touch on the head, a smoothing of the hair, conveys much more than "boy, your mom forgot about THAT cowlick today." It can be sign of blessing and affection, but it can also remind a wayward child that yes, you are still in the room. Smoothing back the hair from the eyes of a little girl can be comforting when she looks lost and alone. Patting a head can be a sign of approval, or a small nudge in the appropriate direction. Yet sometimes I wonder if the children even notice. Perhaps they are so used to it - it's just another adult playing with their hair. But as adults, we don't get to use our sense of touch very often anymore, at least not as platonic people-touching. When I touch a child's head, I feel more connected to them. This evening I discovered why. In Psalm 139, David says of God that His "hand of blessing is upon my head." Perhaps when I touch a child's head, I feel a little of what God feels everyday towards us. When I touch a child's head, I experience a tiny dewdrop of God's unconditional love for me. His hand of blessing is on my head, and He delights over me with singing. And when I pass that on through a hand of blessing on a child's head, I get a glimpse into the heart of God. Reaching, yet not demanding a response. His hand of blessing is on my head, and He loves me with an everlasting love.