Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Falling Rains

Have you ever really thought about this verse? I've read it before but don't know that I had really dissected it until now. So what are the spring rains like where you live? Here in Arkansas we experience the gamut of differences in our spring rains.

At times I've happened to look out the window and notice that everything is wet--the soft, pitter patter of the gently falling droplets come into and out of my life with no sound at all.

At other times,  I hear the ping, ping of gently falling rain steadily making its presence known watering and feeding all within its reach.

I especially love the drumming of the steady, long term rain--the kind where I know I can reach for a good book, lay down on the sofa with my most comfy afghan, read a couple of hours and know that it will still be raining when I arise.

In this neck of the woods we also experience gale force winds that blow sheets of rain in an almost horizontal line--pounding, breaking, surging, engulfing everything in its path.

How has God come to you in the past?  Can you think of times when His love paralleled the rains I mentioned above?

How do you want Him to come to you today?

Father, come to each one of us as you see fit.  You know exactly just the 
kind of watering we need.


Studying Hosea with shereadtruth.com.  This verse was from our study--I combined my calligraphy with some Iphoneography for the piece of artwork above--

Monday, September 1, 2014

Texture Tuesday, A Beautiful Birch Tree

This week's picture for Texture Tuesday is a shot of a beautiful birch tree my husband and I saw today as we were walking by the Arkansas and Maumelle Rivers. It was edited in Lightroom then brought to Photoshop where it was textured with Kim Klassen's Vintage Peel, multiply mode at 46%. The rest of the pictures are not textured--just edited with my own presets in Lightroom.


I'm also connecting with Life Through the Lens--


Saturday, August 30, 2014

Weekend Worship

Hoping your weekend is filled with meaningful worship--sometimes the best kind is just being still and waiting before Him.

This morning when I was trying to put my thoughts and words away and let God speak to me, I found it hard but not impossible.  The result was a very precious time spent alone with Him--it didn't end up being as long as I wanted but the result might as well have been a day spent in His presence.

Sarah Young in Jesus Calling for August 29 describes it this way:

"By waiting with Me before you begin the day's activities, you proclaim the reality of My living Presence. This act of faith--waiting before working--is noted in the spirit world, where your demonstration of trust weakens principalities and powers of darkness..............As you look to me for guidance I enable you to do less but accomplish more."

I have been away from my watercolor painting for several months as the house has been in disarray while we have done some redecorating.

We got it back together about a month ago and I was wanting to get back to it so badly but every day seemed to present obstacles.

It was this morning that I realized the last sentence from the above quote had materialized in my life.

I did this 9" x 12" painting yesterday afternoon.  It is kinda rough--takes a little practice to get back into the groove of watercolor but I am pleased and excited and ready to get started again.

I painted it fairly loose and then took it into Photoshop where I added some more details and a few more reflections in the water--and yes, the birds--.

I hope it is not too much like hers to be called my own, but I did look at a landscape done by Pat Weaver at pat.weaver.net for inspiration.  I love her loose way of painting.

Have a wonderful weekend and a great Labor Day or non Labor Day!

Much love,


connecting with:

Friday, August 29, 2014

A Friday Find

Going through some very old files this morning, I found something I wrote about 35 years ago. Hopefully, it will still speak to someone.

 Recently, I had driven across town to Chandler Park where the city of Tulsa holds its annual baseball tournament.  There were five fields loaded with little boys of all ages.

There were big ones, little ones, freckled ones,  bespectacled ones, skinny ones, chubby ones, loud ones and quiet ones--

If you've never been the mother of a little leaguer, it might be quite hard for you to envision just how dirty a baseball cap can get over several months of steady baseball games and practices, not to mention the uniforms that have endured repeated washings with all kinds of stain removers added each time they went through the rough and tumble agitations of a filled to the brim, tired old washer.

Now with most every little guy there were a couple of parents, a set or two of grandparents, older and younger siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles.

Leading up to the playing field and surrounding the spectator's area are sidewalks bound on either side by ground covered with a limestone dust.

I have an aversion to being late so as I approached the fields I was surprised to hear the blaring sounds of the National Anthem already being played over the somewhat inadequate (but very loud) PA system.

"I have never experienced a scene that touched me more than seeing scores of little boys standing at attention with their dirty, grimy caps held proudly over their hearts.

As I stood there and took in the whole scenario of young, middle and very old-aged persons sharing a common bond, the bases of my mind were loaded and thoughts raced from one to another.

Thoughts of my father who loves baseball with a passion unequaled by anyone else I know--thoughts of him serving his country while in a strange and lonely faraway land during World War II--

Thoughts of how he would be there except for the fact he lived in another state--

Thoughts of all the women and men in uniform who sacrifice for us every day--

Suddenly a knot as big as a baseball that I cannot swallow, gorged my throat as "Old Glory" waved to us from the centerfield fence seeming to say--

"Yes, it is important that my colors fly over the capital of the United States and on the wings of Air Force One--and its wonderful that even the stars and space salute me as my banner floats on the moon--
But there is not a more important place on earth for me to fly my colors than over a little-league field.

For you see, there I say to everyone

'Drink your cokes, eat your hot dogs and chili, let the buttered popcorn melt in your mouth, combat the mosquitoes, let the little ones run over your toes playing tag and making trip after trip to the concession stand, yell for your sons, your grandsons, your nephews and brothers for this is what America stands for--this is what I truly represent--

Learning to win humbly, learning to lose graciously, sportsmanship and learning to work and play with others'--"

These thoughts come down hard as my son strikes out and with head bowed low passes the on-deck circle where his best friend reaches over and pats him on the back.

Thank you, God that I was born in America and thank you for using a simple thing like a baseball game to make me aware once more of your wonderful grace and mercy to America. 


I am so thankful for all the countries in the world that promulgate a free, democratic society.
This post is dedicated to all those people who are experiencing unparalleled torture and discrimination in countries who don't.

 My love, prayers and thoughts are with you today.

And to those who are parents of girls, I didn't mean to be partial to boys--
We had three sons of our own so that was where I was in life at the time of this writing.
We now have six granddaughters and two grandsons!


Kim Klassen dot Com
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...