Southern Lights {...things that twinkle on a Wednesday night...}

I suppose I may stand amazed at the aurora borealis someday.  But until that day comes, east Tennessee fireflies will do just fine.

Summer fireflies, and summer stars.

(photo by my Preacher, Tim Atchley)

The June night was bracing cool like October, but without the promise of painted leaves.  June's exclusive rare and separate beauty is the firefly's staccato glow.  That's what we turned aside to see, my Preacher and me;  bushes burning with gentle tempered specks of flame.

We were parked in the wilderness of our national park, glad to be where neon is not normal, and all was unopposed, purple dusk.

I felt staggered by the glory of what must have been a million fireflies, each one lit from within by some sort of genius that is wholly something otherworldly.  The tall grasses, the fence line, the trees, the entire horizon glittered and blinked.  All the night was filled with darting gleam and moving shimmer.

It wasn't splendor, it was sparkle, which is splendor's lingering train.  Sparkle is like the backside of a beauty so bright, we best only focus on the leftover glow.  This side of heaven, sparkle is what you get to look at, when you say to God, "Show me Your glory!"

I looked and looked for a long time - and then I looked up.

Unhindered starlight.  Never had I ever seen a night sky like this - remember I said the night was bracing cool?  There wan't even a smidge of humidity to un-crisp this sight.

I looked and looked for a long time - and then chose to lay right down on the concrete, because I wanted to look all night.  The Preacher lay down beside me.

I lay prone on the sun-warmed slab, bad back be danged, and star gazed.  Every now and then I thought I saw a shooting star, but it was actually a firefly high in the sky.  The thought occurred to me that this was the first time since I was a little girl that I simply and singularly enjoyed the stars.  As a teenager, I was too busy to fling myself down and see stars.  As a young mom, I star gazed with my children, and loved every moment...but was too busy teaching about stars.  I was preoccupied with making sure my little ones saw stars.

Not this night.  This night, there was full-on wonder.  This night, there was flat-out, flat-on-my-back fascination.  It was then that I really did see a shooting star.  It was like all heaven was high-fiving the revelation that worship is wonder, plain and simple.

When surrounded by sparkle, face-up prone is greater than prostrate, and all is worshipful still astonishment.

As I head outside tonight, smack-dab in the city, my home a stone's throw away from a pawn shop and the sound of motorcycles, I plan on seeing fireflies and summer stars.

(photography by Tim Atchley)

I plan on being just as amazed.


"And God said, "Let there be light!"  And there was light."  ~Genesis 1









May Flowers


The unofficial start of summer is here, friends.  (School's out, here in Knox county...woohoo!  So glad my son-in-law, an algebra teacher at a local high school, can begin his summer break soon...after teaching a bit of summer school.)

This video isn't at all instructional.  It's just three minutes long.  It's just happy.  Pour yourself some iced tea and enjoy...

...and happy summer!


Birds of a Feather Flock Together {...the lost art of imitating the right people...}

It has been said, and I know it to be true, because I saw it in the mountains this afternoon, from about 3 o'clock to almost sundown:

"Birds of a feather flock together."



See, there's this question of authentic progress.  There's this nagging question as to how high and far you can really fly, if you are a bluebird flying alone...

....or if you are a bluebird from Tennessee who imitates a crow from Nebraska.

"Remember your leaders, those who have spoken God's word to you.  Think about the impact of their lives, and imitate their faith."  (Hebrews)

You will never fly high and long by imitating the flight patterns of a bird you honestly can't see, who isn't right in front of you.

You will never innovate (create something that is uniquely your own) until you imitate.  This is true in art, this is true in cookery - thus, grandma's biscuit recipe.  It is true for learning how to walk, talk, and use a spoon.  The necessity of imitation is hard-wired into all sentient creatures.

Be careful, therefore, who and what you imitate.  Bluebirds make strange crows.

There are 3 criteria that should be applied, when choosing who you imitate:

1.  Their outcome needs to be that which you want to see manifested in your own life.

2.  They need to be outspoken leaders.  (If they haven't said anything to you that ruffled your feathers, you will not make rapid shifts or big progress imitating their tactful timidity.)

3.  They need to be "YOURS".  

They need to be, to some degree, physically accessible to you.  "Remember YOUR leaders."

And while you are remembering, remember this:  If your leader carefully guards his or her time, that does not make them inaccessible.  That makes them productive, which makes them worth imitating.

We "remember" - we think about, sometimes even obsess over, and chase down -  remote teachers. Everyone wants Bill Johnson for their pastor.  (Good luck with that...I like him too, but he wouldn't have lunch with me if I asked him, not even next YEAR.  He probably would not personally answer an email from me.)

We imitate the faith of a YouTube prophet, and wonder why we don't see the personal growth we long to see.  We wonder why our lives always feel like two steps forward, three back.

Two steps forward, three back is what happens without the impartation that comes with the imitation of what is yours.

"Think about the impact of their lives...".  I challenge you to do something I bet you have never done before:  spend a few minutes each week, thinking about the impact of the life of YOUR leader.  I guarantee he or she has been up to way more than you know about, and their impact goes farther and deeper than you have actively considered.

Don't let familiarity rob you of yet another season of advancement!  You cannot make headway, you will not expand, by imitating the Internet Famous, or seeking the stamp of approval of a professional credentialist.

It never ceases to amaze me and stump my logic, the way people will set out on an absolute tangent, pouring their time talent and treasure into imitating someone they met six months ago, or imitating someone who wants to sell them an idea or a product or a book.  If the person you are imitating, profits directly from your interest in them, then frankly all you are is a feather in their cap.

You can keep imitating that awesome, remote person.  I'm not the boss of you.  But.  Be prepared to risk making huge progress...in the wrong direction!  And that is worse than no progress, because that pseudo progress will deceive the daylight out of you.

You need to reaquaint yourself with that seemingly ordinary man or woman who tells it like it is, and who clearly is "yours".  You know who they are - they are the ones you've been attempting to avoid, while you've been trying to get the attention of that cool, charismatic crow in Nebraska.  They are the ones who lead, irrespective of your criticism or reward.

I'm all about my book learning.  Some of my best mentors have taught me from their graves, through their books.  But something was always missing.  Always.  This is my confession.

See...I've never made the sort of progress from a book, that I've made from imitating the faith of someone who God placed very physically and directly in my life.  Someone who spoke the word of the Lord into my situation.  Someone who I can watch her do her life.

Proximity does matter.  God has localized this whole process, because that's how He wanted it done.

I believe with my whole heart, if you yield to God's plan of imitating what is YOURS, you will see a lot of authentic progress, and a heavy load will lift from off your spirit...

you will...

feel light...

as a feather.













3 Steps To Mid-Life Self-Care

I've studied mid-life issues for over a decade, now.  I've read so many great books, I have lost count.  If it is true that the status of "master" or "expert" is achieved after 10,000 hours of devoted practice and study...then, it is time for me to own the title of reluctant expert.  Not a medical expert, mind you - just a reluctant expert on things middling.




One thing I know for certain is that our end is designed and defined by how well we navigate our middle.  And the middle is the quitting-place.  All manner of quitting disguised as mid-life course correction happens between the ages of 45 to 55.  The middle is precisely the point where many women (and men) choose change for the sake of change.  The middle is when we are all tempted to reverse or change course on a journey that should be seen through to completion by faith.  The goal is not to alter the destination or abandon the path.

Everything in the middle is more difficult.  And to stay in integrity, to be strong and courageous, to resist idolatry, and refuse selling your soul for security or money or personal peace and affluence feels far harder than it did when you were young and all your prospects in front of you.  In the middle, it is easier to see the doctor, to see the obstacles, to change things up instead of clean things out, to buy new cars and expensive remedies and better clothes instead of investing in friends and faith and contentment.  It is easier to make excuses than it is to create beauty in the life and relationships we already have.

Before you decide to commit to your fear, or pledge yourself to pain so that change for the sake of change seems justified - here are three steps, three principles governing mid-life self-care that I've never heard anyone talk about, but I challenge you to live into:

1.  Rest.  Rest from your own efforts to feel more secure.  Free-fall into everlasting arms, and make the grace of God the great passion of your middle soul.  Read Galatians as if your life depended on it.

2.  Resonate.  To borrow a worn-out, kind of new-agey term, I have to tell you:  heaven has a resonance.  That resonance is faith.  Begin to believe God again, dear one.  Change for the sake of change is not healthy.  But to step out and do something you couldn't do before, for reasons far bigger than your own personal peace, is the healthiest thing you could imagine doing.  Pray in the Spirit.  Sing in the Spirit.  Soak your soul in worship.  Devote yourself to the community of your local church.  Come under healthy leadership and government.  These things will raise your resonance, both instantly and over time, to match heaven's vibration.  You will begin to walk super-naturally as a rule, and chasing natural remedy won't be as necessary.

3.  Respond.  Respond - not to your fears.  Stop designing a life around prevention and fear.  Rather, respond to your creative longings.  Nine times out of ten, those creative longings were placed there by the Masterpiece Maker.  The designer of your unique soul has infused your being with a message that needs proclaiming.  He's made it so that your gifts are the mechanism of proclamation.  He has surrounded you with people who need convincing.  Respond to all these sign-posts, and your midlife journey will take on beautiful texture and significance.

My Story Matters {...and so does yours...}


I’m a grandmother now.  A Mimi, to be precise.  Before I know it, this one (in the picture below) will get married and have her first baby, and I will be a great-grandmother.  



I’m old enough today, to be carrying several versions of myself inside me, like Russian dolls. 







I'll be 50 years old this November.  Turning 50 is like having my 21-year-old self still inside me - the one who had just given birth to identical twin girls and who consequently never slept my 21st year.  I have inside me the 31-year-old version of myself - the one who was a pastor’s wife, who made Sloppy Joe lentils for her family, and ate everything whole food and low fat. 

I even have the 41-year-old Sheila still inside me, now.  The one who was trying to raise children who would live right and have no regrets - the 41-year-old momma who home educated all four, who had run hard and long and who had her finish line in sight,  whose job was almost done, and whose heart was on the cusp of being shattered in a million pieces.

Boyhood goes from this...



...to this...



From this...






...to this...



I suspected, but didn't know for sure when I was 41, that the "boys of summer" were about to be gone forever.  Boyhood innocence sometimes vanishes
in ways we hoped it wouldn't.

Children grow up.  They all do.  




Yeah.  I was a "basketball mom".  Whose son was headed for university.




If I'd known then, on that very day right up there, if I'd known then what I know now...

...I would still have done it.  All of it.


The overall story of my life has one theme:


The supremacy of Christ in all of life.  

Christ in my life as a teenage girl who overcame being told by classmates grade after grade, year after year that she was ugly, but who placed third in the Junior Miss Pageant - and scored the top score of all contestants in a category called poise and appearance.  

Christ the source of joy as a young bride - when I found out that married love was profound and beautiful, but Jesus was even better.  

Christ, the giver of peace when my nest suddenly emptied as two beautiful capable daughters married Godly men (see here and here and here), 

and two sons went temporarily AWOL, becoming prodigals…and I coped with feeling like the enemy of my soul had won.  

Christ, my all-in-all as a grandmother whose first grandchild, a boy named after my husband, lived with us for almost three years, along with his parents, while his momma  and daddy saved up for a house.  A house that, little did we know, would be the house next door.   




Christ, the giver of grace upon grace upon grace as my other twin daughter and her husband bought the other house next door, and two of my granddaughters moved all their pink tiaras and dolls and shiny shoes into those rooms.



Christ, who redeems every situation, as my oldest son became a first-time dad...







My story is His story. My life has but one context: the sacred-beautiful transforming power of grace, as found in the Gospel of the finished work of Christ.

All my stories find their significance in the One story of who God is. So tell your stories, too. My stories are not about me. Sure, I am the main character in my life story, that's how God made things to be, but the story itself is a manifesto of Him who made me.

What have you been a witness of? Bear witness, sister! 

Bearing witness isn't always quoting scripture. It is the telling of story. We....WE are His letters, His workmanship.

A Free Art Tutorial {...my VERY FIRST "talk-to-you-while-I-work" video!}

(next in my sketchbook series "A More Beautiful Question".  This one is entitled "What Are You Waiting For?")


This may be my last free art video for awhile.

I say it is the last, at least for now, because the time has come for me to choose a platform (something very simple, as I am not looking to form my own social community - I ultimately want my work to focus on the making of art, not the editing of video or the management of a large website) and start filming a paid class.

 The real question is how to pick, from all the ideas I have in my head, what should be my first - very own - paid art class? I have ideas ranging from...

 ...nevermind. I think I have my very first copycat out there (no - it isn't you) and so my business mentors teach me to keep a little more to myself than I have before. My tendency is to share in detail, and that isn't always necessary or beneficial.

Suffice it to say that my teaching style tends to blend art instruction with Bible teaching with stand up comedy....(it's the alcohol...just kidding!)   In short, anything can and usually does happen when I strap on a mic.

Here's a behind-the-scenes look at last night's shoot:



I'm nothing if not cutting-edge, as you can see.




Above, you see those drawers you'll hear open/close/open/close all throughout the tutorial.




To say that I'm visually inspired might be an understatement.  And I can't wait to finish re-decorating this entire studio.  The blue walls are about to get a one-way-ticket to...

...nevermind.  I'm not going to say what I'm thinking.


Above is the easel that, in the video, I promised you a picture of.  All that yummy dried paint.  I can't throw it away.

So here's my last free video offering for a little while.  I apologize ahead of time because this video is well over an hour.  For your convenience, I chose to divide it into seven parts.

I realize it is a lot of information.  A long lesson.  But when I filmed this last night...

(I know.  The worst time to shoot video.  But The Preacher was at the church late, I had the house to myself, and I'm alone far less than you might think.  I can't get all my imaginary friends to go home.)

...I decided I was going for it.  I decided I was going to put my very first "talk while I work" video out into the world.

Yeah.  This is the first time I talk to all of you while I work.  (I told you I can't get my imaginary friends to leave.  What were y'all doing still in my studio at 10 PM last night?!)  And consequently, I made up my mind that I was going to stick with this, forge through, power through, and, as Seth Godin says, "SHIP."  Even if the resulting image was crap.

(I'll leave it for you to decide, as to the finished image...but you may not make fun of my accent...)

;)



 


































For the Love of My Scruffy Little City {....Knoxville, TN}



Lately, I've had a desire to sketch and paint local, urban subject matter.  In the past, every time The Preacher and I took a Monday Funday day-or-half-day off, we'd take a trip to the Smokies.  He'd haul his huge Nikon, and I'd drag along my portable studio...(an art bag filled with "just the essentials".  Only - the essentials keep multiplying.  hashtag Ihaveanaddictiontoartsupplies.)

After years of this personal art practice, after years of taking off on the occasional but pretty consistent Monday (I wish it was every Monday) I now have whole sketch books full of mountain and meadow scenes.

And suddenly, this week, I told The Preacher I want to tackle my town.

So we went and shot Knoxville all up this evening.  Since sunrise or sunset or overcast are really the only times sane photogs shoot, we checked our local weather and saw that today or tomorrow would be peak time, this week.

Tip:  You can only get to so many places during said peak time, when the light is luscious.  We will have to do this again.  And again.  Looks like my Mondays are all planned out for the foreseeable future.

You know I hate that.  Especially when it involves dinner out.

 (today's menu)



 (bathroom selfie - because you can't not.)




Disclaimer:  every shot here was taken with my iPhone 6 - not my big girl camera.  I just wanted shots for sketches and paintings today - The Preacher took the "real" photographs.

My town used to be called the "Scruffy Little City" a few generations ago.  Today, it is beginning to rival Nashville when it comes to music and art.

My town has the iconic:



...and the weirdly iconic:




And if you watch closely, especially on any foreseeable Monday, you might see a preacher shooting up the city, all dressed in Volunteer Orange:



(His wife will probably be in a random bathroom, taking a selfie.  Don't watch for her.)



This scene stopped me in my tracks, quite literally.  Not the one above, of the cute preacher shooting the town - the one below.

The Preacher kept walking darn near a block before he realized he had lost me to this:



Isn't that dreamy?  Now I have to go back and eat there.  Right there.  Nothing less will do.


The Preacher had to screech to a halt, and then sigh while making a U-turn on a sketchy side street, because I begged to be able to grab this shot out the truck passenger side window:


Stay tuned this upcoming Monday...

I will be out of the house and roaming my city.