Thank You, Jeanne Oliver {...my trip to Colorado...}

Mostly, you don't know how someplace has changed you until you leave that place.

 You can't understand the way an experience has transformed the way you are in the world until you've had time to synthesize and transmute that exposure to something new...to translate what you saw, into an awareness of just how it has changed you.  It takes time for the adventure to catalyze itself into the venture.

Three weeks ago, I flew to Colorado and stayed in the home of my sweet friend Jeanne Oliver.  She had invited me months before to be her special guest for the very first art workshop in her brand new studio, on the grounds of her brand new home in Castle Rock.

It has taken me this long to write about it, because I've been processing all of it deeply.  More deeply than I ever expected, to be honest.

I knew how that being in the physical presence of an artist whose work you admire, even taking one lesson from that artist, live and in person, can change your own art forever - but it takes time to see the incremental changes.

What I didn't realize - or to be more accurate, what I had forgotten - is how being in the presence of a friend who simply bears witness to who you really are, can change who you are forever.

That weekend, I got both.  I was in the presence of both friend and artist.

That entire weekend, my friend Jeanne was crazy-busy.  I can't imagine putting the finishing touches on an entire 1,100+ square foot teaching studio a mere day before a major workshop, then hosting an entire workshop while hosting a visiting friend.  But that's what she did...

...and so, what I'm saying is that she didn't have much time to consciously "bear witness" of me, or be profound with me or try to change me.  What I'm saying is that who she is, is so authentic, that it simply is.  And you impart who  you are, not what you think you want to teach others.

I caught such an impartation to dream and to believe yet more in a good, good God.  I was reminded that who I have been, in secret, for many years, is of infinite value - because to live life beautifully and soulfully is never - ever - a wasted effort.  In fact, it is the only way any of us can give away inspiration.  You can never just up and decide you are going to inspire someone.  No.  You have to live in an inspired way, alongside your spouse or your whole family, on a thousand Monday mornings, when the dailyness of the daily can become monotony - when no one is around to see the peaches you put in your oatmeal, when there is no one there but you and your loves to smell your scented candles.

After years of this, you can then impart powerfully.  (So start today!)

While I was there, in that beautiful studio, I enjoyed the company of other women, and participated in the art exercises.  But I didn't, at that moment, see one single change in my art.  (I didn't expect to - and neither should you.  These things take time.)

I've had three weeks to process, and suddenly, this week, art has come pouring out of me:

Art that isn't Jeanne.  It is art that is me, with elements of things I saw in her workshop - things that I consciously remember, and some that I'm sure are unconscious.

It's those unconscious influences that are the juju...

...they are the weighty, compelling imprint that changes you.

I don't want this post to seem, in any way, like a "you-scratch-my-back-I'll-scratch-yours" advertisement for my friend, telling you to take a Jeanne Oliver workshop.

Not even Jeanne would want that.

What she would say, and what I would say, is that you must hold who you are - or if you are an artist, you must hold your art and yourself in high esteem - such high esteem that you trust the process of investment.  

Invest in you.

Remembering that the results take time.

But the rewards are permanent.
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A Different Perspective on the Existence of Evil

There is an enemy to human existence.  There is an enemy unleashed in the earth, who is hostile to the image of God - malignant towards the image of God that walks about upon the face of it. 

Sometimes, this enemy co-opts for its own evil designs the very human beings created to bear their Maker's image.  And that is the sad, sad part.  That is the ultimate degradation of imago Dei and the ultimate insult to the Creator.  

Though evil sometimes wears a human face, though it has often worn a human face for thousands of years or more, our battle is not with flesh and blood.  

Evil can seem to lurk large, even dwarfing the delight we feel in God.

But without this delight, without an unshakeable, unbendable, stubborn willing of our inmost being to be happy in all God is, all He gives, all He does - without inner delight dwarfing outside evil - joy dissipates.

Where joy is in absentia - (known to exist, but not present within) - strength is also absent.

It is time to put evil in perspective.  I tremble to write these words, because we all hope against what feel to be overwhelming odds.  But I will write it:

Evil has its limits.

Though the pain of evil scrapes out the interior of our hearts, leaving us feeling wounded and thin and without strong walls of defense, the weeping endures for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

At the end of the day, at the close of your day-to-day fight to delight in God, you have a promise:  evil is only sufficient for a day.

"Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof."  Matthew 6:34

I've heard it said that God operates out of abundance, the enemy operates out of a budget.   I know this is an unexpected perspective on Matthew 6:34, but I believe it is Biblical.

The enemy is the one on a budget.  You are limitlessly resourced.  Joy comes in the morning, no matter what this day brings.  Your God is all-sufficient, and your sufficiency is of Him.

Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God

Evil has a short shelf life.  On this we can depend.  On this we can hope.  

On this we can act:  we can live and love and dream big dreams and look far beyond today with a hopeful heart.  We can plant trees, literally and metaphorically.  We can build houses and inhabit them and plant gardens and eat the fruit of them, even when all around us we see nothing but death and captivity.

Our sufficiency is from God.

(another great explanation of Imago Dei is found here) 

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.