Her Tree

This past year, my daughter was introduced to poetry.

She wrote a poem based on my tree painting 

(I wrote about here)  

For me, it was a self portrait of sorts... 

and, without me even knowing, she wrote this poem to go with it.  

This was her interpretation of my painting...

 I think it's pretty amazing. 

(I think SHE'S pretty amazing!) 

She gave me permission to share it with you here.  💓

                    Her Forest

Her forest was gone

Her world was destroyed 

She didn’t know what to do

Her friends were all lies 

Her friends ware all spies

To make sure she followed the rules

Those who she thought cared left her

Those who she thought wrong embraced her

Her world had burned up before her

But the rain fell as it always did 

To wash the ash away

To wash the fear away

To wash the doubt away

Her forest was gone

Her world was destroyed

But she was not confused

She now knew what to do

She may be burnt

But she’s not destroyed

No matter what they might think

No matter what they might say

She will stand for another day

The Interlude

I have a few things that have bumping around my head to write on.  

It's super fun - I find I'm seeing things differently now, and it's fun to get to communicate those things with you all!!

But, this week I took a break and painted another picture. 

This painting will be a gift.  

The Lord has planted me in a home on a lake.  

It's nice!  

But what is my favorite thing is the sunrises.   

I face due East and am treated often to the beauty of the sun rising over Mount Rainier. 

It is breath-taking.

Thing is, we don't see them very often.  In the summer, the sun is rising around 4/5am- ish ... and I am asleep.  In the winter (where the most colorful sunrises are), we rarely even SEE the sun.  

I live in the Pacific Northwest ... this year in particular has been DARK.  And It's not just ME!  We've actually broken all sorts of records for rainfall and gray skies.  

I chose to paint one of the sunrises we had here a little while back... well at least my take on it.

For years, these beautiful sunrises would lift my spirits early in the mornings as I got the children ready for school, prayed with them and read  with them.  Often, my nights were long -- caring for a child with nightmares or a sick child.  Mornings came FAST -💓 

...Keeping it simple with the signature  

Picking Up More Than Just the "Pen"

I've always been artistic.  

Always.  

From my earliest recollection I was doodling, studying, creating.

In high school, I was introduced to painting.  I took to it like a duck to water.  It was natural to me.  

Easy.  

Relaxing.  

Enjoyable.  

I took more classes in college, as well as other art classes.  
I also taught art (mainly stained glass) classes to help pay rent and for college courses.

I loved it.  

It was definitely a hobby (haha! ... ner' to become any sort of occupation)... but I loved it.

During my marriage, much of myself was lost... a little more with each passing year.  
But not only that, I was isolated -- so much so, those who knew me before, weren't given to even see me in the daily.  
And, if they did, they might not have recognized who this woman was, me, in front of them.

By the time the Lord woke me up to the abuse I had been enduring (and excusing), I was but a shadow of what I once was.  

Expressions of my being, which had been long gone, surprisingly began to rear their heads.  

In the past, I would see pictures in my head to paint, and would muse that I wished there was enough time.  I was too busy - and, truly, it seemed like EVERYBODY needed a piece of me.  I would say there was no money - no space... and, therefore, no real reason for it.  
My abuser was the brilliant, artistic leader -- not me -- so, I willingly bowed out and said "goodbye" to the favorite expressions of my heart....  

I would say, besides painting, I love gardening and fixing up my homes.  

I love gardens.  

I love flowers.  

I love all the things that go with the above... the smells, the work, the sounds, sharing with others.

As we moved around throughout our marriage, with each home, I lost a little more and a little more interest in gardening, creating, and personalizing my homes.  
The loss of desire to personalize the inside of the home was the last bit of me to go.  
After all, I could justify the living spaces as for the "good of the whole."

But the gardens lay dormant - overgrown with grass and weeds.  
And artistic displays of my being became less and less.  

And I missed it.  I missed being me.  I didn't know how to even address or describe what was going on inside me.  But one word comes to mind - death.

While this was happening -- toward the beginning of the end - I could feel something was greatly missing.  .

It was through  prayer that I attribute my awakening.  
Though, the final "wake-up!" was not on my end (but rather violent physical abuse at the hands of the abuser).  
I began to see that the person I was created to be had been lost.  
But not lost in a way like "I need find myself".  
I KNEW who I was, and it mourned me that so much had been given for what? - to the point of myself not existing anymore - to what gain?  To WHOSE gain? (nothing and nobody's)

Anyway, long story short, I woke up to the abuse in my marriage.  

The betrayal and the lies.  

This wasn't a slow unfolding.  

No. 

It was like a 2x4 to the back of my head.

WAKE UP!!

The Lord gave me a choice... to choose complacency, stay and serve man... OR to stand, take up my mat and follow HIM.  
As I wrote about in "Pick Up Your Mat and WALK" and in other posts, you know I chose to follow the Lord.

This set off a massive chain reaction.  One that could only be compared - in my head - to an atomic bomb... or a RAGING wildfire... regardless, it destroyed EVERYTHING I had come to identify as my "world."  

Complete Destruction.

I had been given pictures in my mind in the past, and still reflect on them.  But this time, all the excuses were gone -- gone in the destruction.

I tried to say there was no space - there was no equipment - there was no time - there was no SKILL.

But the arguments, along with the phony reality and glass house I had been led to believe was mine ... they were suddenly GONE!!

I saw that, in actuality, there WAS time.  An hour here and a half hour there.  A Saturday and maybe a few late nights... the time, indeed, DID exist.

There was plenty of space as I rearranged and cleared out the clutter!

And then the equipment came just as miraculously as the time and space. 

Easel... gorgeous - check!  

Canvases ... check!  

Brushes and Paints ... check... check!!

So, I set it up -- and guess what?!

I STARED AT AN EMPTY CANVAS FOR WEEKS.  

Yup ... I was scared.  

Scared to fail.  

What would happen if what I saw in my head -- if I couldn't translate that on canvas??  

Everything had been stripped -- and, yes the Lord was/is rebuilding me -- but, there WAS the day that saw I stood with only ONE friend.  

ALL ELSE HAD BEEN TAKEN.... DESTROYED.

And, while that should be more than enough for anybody -- I was still scared.

I have received countless threats because I am speaking as to the Truth of my life.  The gossip and lies some days are just too much.  The pure wickedness that comes at me from the most (formerly) trusted of people is enough to paralyze anybody.  And the meanness... inconceivable!

And I'll say it again -- INCONCEIVABLE!! (read that again in your best "Princess Bride" voice 😀)

But the day came I KNEW it was time.  

(That's a reoccurring phrase in my life these days -- "It's time"... but that's for another day)

So, I began mixing colors.  

I picked up my brush...

And I started.

There's a LOT I have to still learn.  Even this time, I found myself reacquainting with brushes, techniques and all that stuff.

Regardless, I started!... It had been nearly 20 YEARS since I had sat in front of a canvas with a brush in hand... and a vague knowledge of what belonged on that blank canvas... But I began.

All I knew about this first painting was that the background was a completely decimated forest.  EVERYTHING was to be destroyed -- burned (by fire or blast, dunno).  
Everything.

Dark.

The picture was to be ... Dark.

The skies were to be gray and stormy.

And there was to be rain... lots of rain.

However, there was to be, in the center, one tree... seemingly dead and burned up.  

As this rain fell on the scorched earth, it began to wash off the trees around it ... only to further display the complete destruction of all that had been living. 

But there was to stand the one tree.

As the rain hits the branches, the soot and dirt from the flames begin to wash off.  The injuries and hurts begin to heal.  The formerly dead branches begin to com back to life... little by little.

That was it.  That was all I knew would be on the canvas.  But, as I began to paint, the Lord began to teach and tell me more about what HE had shown me.

The fire was what happened to me.  

There was death before the fire... and, frankly the fire had been burning for a VERY long time.  

But, somehow, some way, there was one tree... with DEEP roots.  

A stubborn little bugger.  While the bark burned, the inner heart of this tree kept (though slowly) beating.

And, while nothing else was able to survive the disaster that ravaged -- this little tree actually began to come to life.

It sprouts.

And, one day, it will bloom again. 

Oh, there's more to this picture... and my kids tell me I should do a series.

But the truth is, this tree is me.

I didn't know that when I started painting.  But I do now.

You see, even if you have not withstood the furnace -- the blaze -- or the blast yet, one day you will.  And the only thing that will sustain you are those roots ...

I pray this would be your story, too.

... the tree that would one day bloom again,

.... And now... as Spring is here ... the GARDEN awaits!  😊

Five - One Dollar Bills

You know, every once in awhile you find yourself in a situation that leaves you reeling.  You can hardly believe what is happening and it feels as if the lights went out, and the Lord has left you dangling on a cliff.   It's a terrifying position - where time itself seems to stop or at least slow down.  Have you ever felt that way?  I have.  

Let me tell you a little story of a (recent) time I felt this way -- and the incredible show of the Lord ... how HE lit up my step... just ... enough... to take me to the next plain.

I sat there alone on a Saturday.  My husband was recently removed from the house - resulting in a painful separation.  It had been a couple weeks since I had been to church, I couldn't go back from where I came, and my soul just LONGED for worship... for fellowship.  Ok, well maybe not fellowship, I just couldn't tell the story - I just couldn't tell it to another person.  It was too painful, and I felt the betrayal of trust at the deepest level in my soul... time seemed to be standing still.  Darkness.  Unknown.  Hopelessness.

I asked the Lord where should I go?  And immediately, a local church popped into my mind.  I had friends I trusted there, and I had been wanting to visit this Body of Believers for some time.  So, I decided we would go there the next morning.

Morning came, and, emotionally limping, I gathered everybody up and we headed out to church.  The church met in a local high school - so we entered and went into the main room for the church service.  I don't think I was the only person in our group feeling wounded and isolated in the darkness of pain and the unknown future.  I think we all felt that way.

Worship started .. and I could feel the Lord's presence just embrace me and hold me.  I've often told people that "Worship IS Warfare"... and, at that time I believed it more than ever.  Even with the dark unknown, I knew the Lord was with me.  He would help me... but, then my gaze fell to the little children worshiping alongside me, and I felt my heart sink.  

Suddenly, a wave of words and emotions overcame me:  

Sadness.  Wounded.  Misfit.  Betrayed.  Foolish.... and more.

Tears fell -- Hands lifted.

"Lord, help me.  This is not from YOU!"

And, my thoughts pushed back to the worship - the melodies of God's Truth ... combatting the words of darkness.

It was a wonderful, blessed time.  

We then did the whole "welcome" thing where you shake hands around you.  Normally, I dislike those times, but this time, I met some really amazing brothers and sisters in Christ.  The service went on and we were blessed.  However, that was not all the Lord had for us...

At the end of the service, an elderly man came up to me.  He reached out to me and handed me a small roll of bills.  Not quite understanding what was going on, I looked at him curiously.  He was not a man of wealth... and it was apparent his wife was not in good health.  Regardless, he pushed the roll into my hands.  I looked more closely at it and saw dollar bills.  I forced a smile and said thank you.... and he looked at me and said --"Take your kids to get some ice cream."

I just about lost it... it took everything in me to hold back the tears.  You see, what that man didn't know was, when the separation took place, the family bank accounts were drained by the one departing.  At that exact moment, the children and I were looking at an unknown future ... not knowing the path to take - or how to take it ... we did not know where our support would come from - or when it would come. 

I unrolled the money and saw five, well-worn $1 bills.  I showed the children the gift.  And we all stood in awe.  This man could not have known what those five one-dollar bills would mean to this small, broken, family.  How could he?   How could he have known it would give a hurting mother - me - hope?  How could he have known this small act would serve as a testimony of obedience and the Lord's providence to a clan of confused children?  

He couldn't have known - nobody did ... but he did what the Lord put on his heart.  He obeyed.  I'm sure it was uncomfortable for him.  I have to admit, it was different for me!  But pride melted away... there is no room for pride when you're hanging in the dark - praying for light.  This small, kind gesture was the Lord's way of showing me that, as I listen to, seek, and walk with Him, He will care for us.  It may be modest and may be unexpected (actually most likely will be both), but the Lord will care for us.

Never underestimate the power a small act of obedience has.  

Never let a self-conscious, proud spirit get in the way of obedience.  

And never underestimate the ministry of an obedient Church Body... Never.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since that time, our finances have somewhat balanced out.  
We are still a separated, broken and hurting family, but the Lord is at work.  
This church- in that moment of worship .. in that act of kindness and obedience - has had an immeasurable effect on the faith and hope of this small family.

Thank you, Redeem Church of Pierce County!  

I am SOOOO encouraged, blessed and thankful for all my brothers and sisters out there -- living and sharing Christ's love with the hurting around them!!

The Garden - A Story

Once upon a time, there was a wonderfully kind woman.  She LOVED the Lord and lived her life in discipline to obey Christ in everything.  She would sing and dance in worship to her Creator.   
Life was SO very good.  

The husband was a strong man - both temperamentally and physically.  She loved him with everything in her.  She loved him so much, it didn't bother her much when he would plan everything in her life.  After all, he was outgoing, funny, much more "worldly" than she, and had better ideas than her.  
Their times together were good.

This woman loved plants and all things nature - that is where she met with God.  But, as the years wore on, her garden began to die.  The flowers didn't bloom like they used to.  Weeds choked them out.  Her husband would help, and care for the garden.  
It seemed good.

There were years the woman was exceptionally weary.  She struggled to care for the garden.  Instead of leaning on the Creator - the Master Gardener - for help, she leaned on her husband.  She would still spend time with and talk to the Master Gardener, but the husband kept the garden for her during these times.  
This was not good.

Years passed, the woman became comfortable with relying on the husband to tend her garden - a plot intended for her and her Lord.   She never noticed her the husband was, in actuality, weeding out her flowers.  He was neglecting the care of the soil - which became sterile and toxic to the flowers fighting to bloom.  Instead, grew the weeds he cultivated.  
This was bad.

The woman, loving her husband, convinced herself that weeds are beautiful, too.  Look how they twisted around her lone flower left in the garden!  She would tilt her head and admire their thick tendrils and strong thorns.  This was not surprising.  Because of her kindness, she could see beauty in nearly everything the Lord created.  
This perspective was good. 

She knew in her heart that her husband's well tended weeds were choking out the one flower which had survived the years.  The woman didn't know what to do.  There were too many weeds.   So much time had passed - she had excused and trusted.  ... She looked at God's garden again... so many weeds!  The weeds were all that could be seen as far as her eye could see.  
This was bad.  

The woman turned to study the soil.  This was difficult - the weeds were so thick, she had to cut holes through the thorny vines to see.  You see, she also possessed knowledge.  She knew that healthy soil is necessary for healthy plants.  Her heart broke at what she saw.  The ground had sat uncultivated for so long - it was as hard as stone.  The weeds had taken all the nutrients out of the soil for the beautiful garden.  
This was really bad.

She had never spoken up to instruct her husband as to the garden.  She knew what it took to keep the soil fertile and what was needed for the garden to flourish.  Why had she never spoken up?  Why had she excused and even encouraged these errant practices?  
This was bad.

Suddenly, she was gripped with fear.  It felt just like those vines around the one flower.... the last flower.  It wrapped around her legs, and crippled her. The weeds stole the woman's will and courage as she gazed, distracted and searching for beauty.  
This was terrifyingly bad.

Before the weeds had taken over the land, the woman was free to move.  That fear was more subtle... more excusable.  Occasionally, she would trip.   Fortunately, her husband had created winding paths for her to stay on.  As long as she stood on the path, she would be fine.  There were times she would try to pull the weeds, they would prick and fill her with more fear. Disheartened she would slide back onto the dictated path, and back into gazing and searching for beauty in the garden.... the Lord's garden.  
Was this good?

As the weeds grew and the paths were rerouted, the woman was unable to reach her flower.  The last of the Lord's garden.  She summoned up the courage to go to the flower.  Through the weeds, the thorns, the thick briars -- she reached the flower and held it.  It was never supposed to be this way.  The garden was never meant to grow this way - die this way?  She couldn't even remember how long it had been or how the garden had come to this point.  
This was heartbreakingly bad.

She cried and held the lone flower. But now, the weeds wrapped tightly around her torso.  They dug into her skin... causing her to bleed.  Fear.  They tightened and grew in strength at her defiance in not staying on the path made.  Tighter.  Fear.  Tighter.  But she held the flower - knowing that it should have never been this way.  
This was terribly bad.

The woman called out for her husband.  "HELP!  You are my trusted protector and friend!"  No answer.  She cried out again.  This time she saw her husband watering the weeds - watching her.  As their eyes locked - hers in fear, his in anger - He yanked the vines, tightening their grip even more.  She bled.  She was injured.  She sat crying.  Why?  
This was ... never meant to be... bad.

She fell to her knees - flower in hand. Broken.  Sad.  And with all the breath left in her, she called out to the Lord -- the Creator of the garden.  The Master Gardener.  With one look, He pulled her to her feet.  Gently twisted the vines off her.  And asked her to release her grip on the flower.  She did.  
This was good.

The Master Gardener then asked her if she would trust Him.  The woman looked around and wept as she explained there was nobody else to trust.  She had been deceived - had allowed fear to destroy the garden that was theirs.  She could not go back to her husband's path.  She had to come face to face with the truth of the ugliness of the vines ... the death they brought ... the complacency she allowed ... the fear she fed.  
This was hard - but good.

He began to clear the ground.  As the Lord - the Master Gardener - began to to a mighty work, she saw that many were on her husband's paths following.  They were angry she had left their path.  They didn't understand and were cruel.  They were never there to see the flower or the garden.  They didn't see.  It was as if they didn't even recognize her - friends, family.   She realized they did not come meet with God as she had.  They simply followed.  This broke her heart.  
This was not good.

The Lord continued to clear the ground.  Uproot and destroy the vines - throwing them into the fire.  The path walkers screamed and hurled insult - their anger bubbled out.  They could not contain the anger they felt at the husband's work being destroyed.  They wrongly thought the weeds were his great work.  This was not true.  He was not meant to garden this plot.  And this was not how the garden was meant to be.  
The change was painful - but good.

The husband was so sad about his weeds.  But was he?  She did not know.  She saw him nurture and then yank the vines to injure her.  He had promised to protect her.  He sobbed... the vines -- HIS vines.  
He felt this was bad.

The Lord continued the good work.  The sobs of the husband turned into rage.  How DARE his vines be taken.  How dare his paths be ruined!  LOOK at all the followers following his paths!!!  Where will they follow now?!  
The Master Gardener continued ... HIS work was was good.

As the Lord touched the ground, it became rich and fruitful... the woman cried tears of joy and sang praises.  She found a voice she had forgotten she had been given.  She watched  the Master Gardener planting new flowers in the ground.  Not yet grown, she knew they would be even more beautiful than before.  
This is wonderfully good!

Today, the woman sits with her Lord in the garden.  It's a bit empty, as the seeds are just growing.  But she knows something new is coming - something beautiful.  She and her Creator talk and wait.  He tells her of the trees and fruit - the colorful flowers and glorious scent.  She is healing.  Her master Gardener is healing her as they wait together.  
This is very, very good.

The Master Gardener is also working on the husband... though the woman cannot see.  But she trusts her Lord.  
This.  Is.  Good!