Simple Gifts

The older and busier I get, the more I treasure moments of simplicity. It is one of the reasons I love being a nanny - it reminds me that some of the greatest joys are in the simplest things, and they are not to be overlooked. It is easy to be busy, jaded, and selfish, but taking in the simple moments is humbling and refreshing. Tonight I was stressing about the direction in my life after college and upset over some of the ways people treat each other when I heard the kids out in the back yard. I went downstairs to check it out and saw Adam, Rachel and the kids making s'mores. They invited me to join them, which of course I eagerly did. My phone was upstairs, so there was no distraction or intrusion of the outside world on our little gathering. We sat out there making s'mores and talking about the stars and the way fire works. Ramona and I did shadow puppets with the flashlights and we looked at the moon. Milo kept looking up at the sky saying "More..stars?" I feel so blessed to have these kids and this family in my life at this point in my life to remind me that really, love and wonder are really all you need, and so long as you don't forget to enjoy little things, you are never far from contentment and joy in the exact moment you are in.



This is one of my favorite songs, and it has been haunting me a lot this semester. It is the kind of song I hope for my life to sound like as it echos through eternity. 

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free, 
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be, 
And when we find ourselves in the place just right, 
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight. 
When true simplicity is gain'd, 
To bow and to bend we will not be asham'd, 
To turn, turn will be our delight, 
Till by turning, turning we come round right.


And my favorite verse - whirling and turning.

Psalm 30:11-12You did it: you changed wild lament
    into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band
    and decked me with wildflowers.
I’m about to burst with song;
    I can’t keep quiet about you.
God, my God,
    I can’t thank you enough.

Metals Class

 I was thinking about this in metals the other day- the way we shine and form our metal pieces isn't through gentle coaxing or rubbing them with plush cloths. We saw them apart, nearly melt them with heat, and bang on them with hammers. Then, to add insult to injury (or beauty to form) we sit there and make thousands of scratches on the surface with files and sandpaper and pushing hard on them with any abrasive thing we can find. But once you buff it, all that abuse and all those scratches turn info the most beautiful mirrored shine you've ever seen.  And it got me to thinking about trusting in God's plan and purpose - He knows the end result He wants and is forming us for before He even begins, and all those dings and bangs and scratches not only make us shine and more beautiful, they also make us mirror Him.

"There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears." Phil 1:6, The Message 

A Genesis Day

Today is one of those days when multiple tangents of thought keep converging back to a common theme. For me, it was a Genesis day. In Plowing in Hope, it talks a lot about Genesis, and what it means for culture  as a whole and our individual work. But I am getting ahead of myself...

At the start of my day I reveled in the glory of an Autumn morning, as I pulled on my suede fringe boots.Fall is my favorite season, because to me, it is more of a rebirth and opening of new opportunity than Spring. I think of the years in terms of school years, and always feel the last one lingers until you start a new one.

I went to the Cooper Young Farmers Market, and delighted in the bounty of the land that these farmers brought into my concrete side of town. It made me think about the time and care that these people put into their craft of growing. I have an undefinable respect for farmers. In many ways, I feel that the Farmer and the Artist are alike - you put in work, you take a leap of faith, you hope something beautiful grows, and then you hope that someone will love the fruits of your labors in equal proportion to the love you put into them. It also made me think about the fact that farming was man's first occupation, and how far most of us have gotten away from it. As a poor college student, I eat a great number of things that come from boxes and are cooked in the microwave. How strange is that ? That we are so far from our food that we only know it by the packages we put it in? But that is another ramble, and something I hope to get better about once I have a real income.

After I got home I ate some of the bread I bought, and sat on the porch watching the light on the plants and listening to the breeze. And I thought about how much time I spend on my iPhone, rather that looking at what is going on in the real world.

I climbed out on the roof, and watched the kids play and worked in my sketchbook, just drawing to draw. And I remembered why I love creating - because that moment, and this day, will forever be etched in my mind because I have recorded it to the page.

Later, I buckled down and worked on what I was supposed to be doing - character and style development sketches. There I met another Genesis thought, as I encountered Toil. Though many people think of art as a product of "talent" or a "gift", or as "something the artist does because they just love it and if they don't create they will explode!"....it is actually about 90% pushing through toil. And the reason you push through that toil is for that 10% moments of pure creation; wanting to express a thought, and for the love of it. But mostly, it is toiling through the curse of the fall, where your work is doing everything BUT what you want it to. I know what I want this to look like. I see other people do it! But for some reason, it is fighting me today. (So now I'm blogging before picking up my pen to do battle once more.)

Then, in that moment, I experienced the Genesis feeling that I hate the most: Loneliness. It is not good for man to be alone, and I find myself there a lot more than I care to admit most of the time. Especially after spending time in the company of my family and friends, I find those moments even a bit more achy. It isn't for anything more than having a companion to share life with. In this case, I found myself once again wishing for a dog, partly because I know a dog will never be too busy for me, and will live with me. Milton is a cool cat, and has been hanging out with me some today, but that is mostly because my windows are open and he likes my bed. We have an interesting relationship...

All of this to say, it is a funny world we live in. It fills your soul with the glimpses of the way things were to be in nature and people in harmony with it, and breaks your heart by throwing you into the gap between where you are, and where your soul longs to go. But to stop toiling, or hoping, or looking, or loving (even if it is only to a grumpy old kitty), is a fate far worse than the struggle.

So I'm going to go cook my sweet potatoes I bought from the farmers, snuggle with Milton, and get back to my sketchbook.

Thoughts on The Hunger Games

I just finished the 3rd book of the Hunger Game series, "Mockingjay"....these are the thoughts I was left with. Discussion is welcome, please comment.

Social-economic districts. Excessive and highly entertained upper class Capitol. Starving citizens. Brutality, carnage, lives destroyed for the sake of entertainment. The Hunger Games....or us?

As I read all three books, I was plagued with a deep sense of wrong that any person, particularly a child, could be subjected to such horrible acts of violence as entertainment. I increasingly became sickened and angered that these people who so eagerly watched the games, betting on who would win, glued to their tv's for more, awaiting what shock and horror would come next, year after year.......and then I read the books ravenously, pulling for my favorites, wanting to know what horror awaited next, eager to see what would happen.

How does this make me any different than the people of the Capitol? How is my being glued to these books any different than their desire to see what would happen? Isn't the spectacle of the games, which the theme of these books seems to over and over condemn, what fuels the Hunger Games mania??

The thing that haunts me the most is how much we as Americans are like the capitol in our consuming love of entertainment. We are so consumed with who is dating, what they are wearing, where they are going in our over embellished, opulent, consumerist society that we completely miss what is happening in the "Districts" of our world...we call them 3rd World Countries here. We obsess, mourn, and honor a singer or entertainer for weeks, but fail to even notice a mass genocide in Africa.We have so much food that we are literally killing ourselves with over indulgence, while much of the world doesn't even have access to clean drinking water. We over stuff ourselves on food and entertainment, watching and reading about brutality of body and heart, in our "reality" tv and scary movies. It is true, we ourselves do not send our children into a fight to the death. But we avidly consume it, which means we are not so horrified as we claim to be...

Reading is useful for providing both enlightenment and entertainment.....

But the problem is, I can't figure out which Hunger Games was more of. 

Six Bucks and a Sandwich Bag

This is a true story of something awesome that happened while I was at Passion.

I'm a kind of a control freak. I like to know whats going to happen, and how. If I'm on a team, I like to be in charge. I'm a natural planner. Like a next-3-years-planned-by-month type planner. So acting in faith when it doesn't make sense is hard for me. I like to do things in my own strength, and get my own glory. But that is not what I was made for. So, this is a story of how I laid aside my calculations, and just trusted.

My card was declined.
This had never happened to me before. I immediately began freaking out in my head.
Wait...what? I put $ in before I left, and I havent spent any thing since....Wha?
The Target employee wasnt happy. I tried again. Still declined. Thankfully, my dad was there, so he covered me. Even as I was walking out of the store, I pulled up my banking on my iphone and tried to figure out what happened. I had missed a small charge, (like a dollar!) and overdrafted. I was not a happy camper. But my parents calmed me down, and told me it'd be fine, because my automatic transfer would go in the following day. They were getting ready to drop me off at Passion, so they gave me a $20 bill to eat that night. But in all the hurry, I ended up just getting a Coke and snacking when I got back to the room that night.

The next morning I got bfast and lunch free, so it wasnt until dinner I used my card again. I was nervous since it had been declined before. But I figured since my money went in, I'd be fine.
"Your card is expired."
I blinked. "Oh..."
Thankfully Matt and I had pre-decided that if my card messed up he'd cover me.

As we walked back to the Georgia Dome, realization set in.
$20...minus that $4 coke and that $10 cd....I have $6 left to feed me at least 3 meals... But all week (and all year really) I have been learning about surrender. Surrender in some things, like my unseen future, is a lot easier than surrender of my immediate finances. Still, I knew I'd be ok. We had breakfast and lunch covered the next day, and being a "starving artist", I know how to make the most of each meal. Still, there were going to be some hunger, or some bumming off friends. But I knew God would provide for me.

Later that night, I was hit by realization again. I havent given anything to Do Something Now, and all i have is six bucks. What now God? Do Something Now was the Passion conference place to donate to charities that are fighting Human Trafficking. I really wanted to give, but I was nervous. Yet, again, I had this peace that is totally not my nature come over me, reassuring me that I would be provided for, and that I should give the six bucks I still had. Standing in line to give, I tried not to think about what I was doing. My card didnt work, I didnt have my checkbook. Six bucks was all I had. So I gave it. I was worried that the volunteer to receive it would sneer at my small gift, but instead she was extremely up beat and joyful about it, treating me the same way as the person before me who gave much more.

After giving, I had that weird feeling you get after you get off a rollercoaster, when you are happy to have your feet on the ground, but still exhilarated from the ride. I knew I was going to be taken care of by my Father. I just didnt know how. And even if no way came, and I had to be a little hungry, I knew that the cause I was giving towards, and the obedient surrender that I found myself in, was worth any discomfort I might suffer.

I shared with my family group (Go Silver!) about how God was teaching me about living in surrender, and doing things through God's power, not mine. I told them about the financial faith I had just been through that day, and how good it felt to just trust it would be ok, instead of worrying about something silly like money in light of our great God. (or something like that....lol). I didnt say it to make myself look "good" or special or anything, I just wanted to share what God was teaching me.

Little did I know what a big lesson I was going to get.

The final morning, we packed our things and headed out to life groups. I still didnt know how I would eat on the way home, but I tried not to think about it too much and just focus on the last day of Passion. Once family groups started, two of my girls, Whitney and Melissa, told me they had something for me.
"We were so inspired by your surrender of all you had that we told your story to our college groups, and they wanted to help." Whitney pulled a sandwich bag from behind her back. In it i could see some change and a large wad of cash. "Here is $200 dollars. $15 of it is in quarters. It's for you."

I was stunned. I just kind of stared at her and the money, than immediatly began to laugh and cry, saying over and over, "Are you for real? What??" They were.

God had taken my meager offering, and little step of faith, and turned it around and shown me just how big He is, and how much He knows and loves me. His power, not mine. His plans, not mine.

That session I cried and sang a song of surrender, and a song of power. I sang with my arms high and heart abandoned. I wept at the amazing love of my fellow students generosity to me, someone they dont even know. I rejoiced in the knowledge that, though I may not always see them, I am not alone, but rather surrounded by a family tie stronger than color, or state, or economic class, or age. A family of believers, a body of Christ. I marveled at the greatness of a God who knew me enough to smack me in the face with His greatness in ways I cannot imagine. And I pondered what to do with the "more than enough" that had been given to me.

As we closed our session, I knew the money was not for me. It was there to show me something, but wasnt mine to keep. I slipped out enough $ for me to eat on the way home and pay back Matt, then put the rest back in my pocket. Louie explained that we were going to begin praying for Passion Vancouver, and that we could donate to help with sponsorships for students up there. Then I knew what I was to do.

You see, Jeff Philips, an amazing Pastor working in Vancouver now, had been a key part of my new path to surrender. Jeff and I had an instant connection at Beach Retreat in August because of the kind of people we are around. He encouraged me greatly, and I pray for him and his church often. The idea of students from Vancouver being able to experience what I had just experienced was thrilling. I also knew that the only reason I had been able to come to Passion was because of a generous sponsorship. I knew where the money needed to go.

Into the bucket went the sandwich bag with a happy thunk. Out of the Georgia Dome I went with a grateful, thankful, and utterly joyful heart.

God is Good.
All the time.

Completely.