This Burden Is Light

We all carry things, but some of them are heavy burdens. For some people it is the burden of a past they would rather not have had; for others it may the burden of failures and defeats, or bad choices and the shame they carry; for yet others it may be the burden of painful loss and grief. These can be heavy burdens indeed, and for some , can weigh heavy in the present. These burdens must be rolled onto someone big enough to carry, strong enough to heal, and powerful enough to fill with hope. Unless we get to a place of letting go of such burdens, we fail to move foward, or if we do, we limp, and know we are not really free.

However- there are other 'burdens' some of us are asked to carry, that were never meant to be 'cast off', for they are ours to carry as precious cargo. For me, it is having a child with special needs. These are our burdens that no one else can truly help us carry, although the One who gives us the priviledge to, is there to help us when we are tired and afraid and weary. And these burdens, although heavy, are also strangely light. Ask us would we want to trade our precious burden, and we would not hesitiate to answer no! No, we would not trade for another, easier one. Our burden becomes a thing of joy and delight to us. Rather than hold us back, it propels us forward- to a softer, bigger, more compassionate heart. Rather than cause us to stand still or hold back, our burden causes us to shake off pretense and the need for perfection. Our burden teaches us to be real and honest and accepting of people with all their failings and foibles. Our burden bend us, even break us at times, but in doing so, makes us useful to touch the hearts of others because we are just that- broken. No, this burden is heavy- but not too heavy- with God's help This Burden is Light.

She Carried Me

The story of "She Carried Me."

I was asked to paint for a friend who had 3 boys, but who had also gone through the pain of loosing babies. So, I prayed. “Father, what do you want me to paint? What will have the kiss of heaven on it? What will be more than a picture and say things so deep that words cannot? What will give a lifetime of pleasure and significance when looked at? What will represent this mother’s journey through all the years, not just right now?’ I knew right away that I was to paint a mother holding a child tenderly, closely. This was to be symbolic of all us mothers carrying our children- those we get to carry for a long time….and those we only carry for a very short time within us, but who do not know us carrying them in the world. If you have lost a child, this painting is to be for you, too. It is to be for all those children you have carried- those you carry with you through this life now, and those you only got to carry for a little while, but will forever carry in your heart.

Those children were carried.

Their testimony in heaven is “She carried me."

And you will always know that you carried them …..and it mattered. It is recorded in heaven that you carried them. This painting speaks to all of us mothers who know the closeness and intimacy of carrying a child. The cloth that covers both mother and child makes them appear as one….and isn’t that how it feels.? It’s hard to let go, however soon the parting comes between us and a child….but the blessing of motherhood is that we get to carry them forever- in our hearts.
May this painting bring you joy, hope and healing.

A Grandmother's Love

Minnesota State Fair Fine Art Show, 2008.

I painted this from a photo of my missionary friend, Keith Smith, who has spent many years in Burkina Faso. I think we have so much to learn from those who have so little- they are rich in ways we cannot fathom, and yet , in the western world, we have so much materially and are impoverished spiritually. I 've painted from a few of Keith's photographs in the hope that I, and anyone who sees the paintings, will pause and reflect a while.

Keith's blog

http://www.voiceinthedesert.org.uk/keith/

He Walks Alone

This is my son, Alex, walking at William O'Brien State Park, New Year's Day. Somehow, as I looked back at him in that moment as he walked steadfastly on, alone, it summed up so much of how things are for him. Alex has special needs and he has to work so much harder than most. In this picture, as he has his head down, looking at his feet, just plodding on, it is a picture of how most days are for him. He just has to get his head down, and plod on one step at a time. He is an amazing child- though few get the priviledge to see. It is not his doing- it is theirs. He is not like 'the others'. He does not 'fit the mold'....and so many days he must simply walk alone. How sad that often people cannot see beyond the conventional, because it is they who are missing out on walking beside a unique individual who has so much to teach them of the world. He sees things we miss. He notices things we don't. He brings joy and laughter ,and it saddens me that he should so often walk alone.

Remember Me

These hands that shake to hold this cup
Once baked and sewed and stroked and played
And taught you all that you now do.
Remember me then? Remember me now

These aged, weak arms once young and strong
Would sweep you up and hold you high
To make you laugh and help you fly.
Remember me then? Remember me now

These grey, old eyes once danced with light
And looked on you with pure delight
And you looked back and not away.
Remember me then? Remember me now

These frail, slow legs once strong and swift
Would run with you through fields of green
And kick a ball, and make me seem so tall to you.
Remember me then? Remember me now

These hands, these arms, theses eyes, these legs
are still mine, though changed and old.
I am still here.
I am not gone……….not quite..…...not yet……………
So please-
Touch me with your hands
Hold me with your arms
Love me with your eyes
Walk me to your home
And remember me then, but remember me now.

(Dec 2008)

Wet Paint, Dry Flower

Just finished this morning! At the end of the summer I saved some flowers from my garden and dried them. I love them even when they are crunchy! As I laid the flower down, some petals fell and looked so pretty against the cloth. And I ask myself " Is this flower less beautiful because it is old and dried? " It is very fragile now, but somehow that makes me appreciate it and care for it all the more. It requires me to be gentle. It gets me thinking about life again.- will I be less 'beautiful' when I am old and dried? Or will I be more cherished, and will those I love treat me gently? Selah!

A Well-Trod Path

New Year's day, William O'Brien State Park- one of our
favorite places to walk, camp and canoe as a family. In the
summer when we camped there, my boys woke me up just
as the sun was coming up, to rush me down to the river to
see how awesome it looked. I loved the fact that they were excited about nature and were enjoying the simplicity of just being there. Winter holds different treaures, and it is
inspiring in other ways. The colours look more intense to me when set off against the white snow.

New Year's Resolutions

This was painted just a few days into 2009 after walking here, at Marine on St Croix ,just a few miles up the road from where we live. It was so refreshing to walk and talk and plan our goals for the year ahead. Maybe it's not so much New Year 'resolutions' we need, as New Year 'revolutions'?

It Took My Fancy

I saw this jug quite without looking- it took my fancy to buy, and it took my fancy to paint!

(painted Jan13, 2009)

My Chair

It waits for me, my special place
by the fire
In the chair that wraps around just perfectly.
As my eyes open, still heavy with sleep,
I hear the call
Quiet and persistent
“Come, sit a while.”
And so I say I will
And choose to think on all the times
I’ve gone early to my chair by the fire
Tea in hand
Bible on knee
Pen and journal ready.

And I recall the peace and wisdom gained there.

Then-

I hear that all-too-familiar
Grating, grinding voice
Demanding me to “do!” “go!” “rush!” “hurry!”
There is no time for tea or bible or journal today, it says.
There is much to do
And I must start early for it to be accomplished.

So now I must choose.
Which voice will have its way today?
How the day proceeds
The significance of my deeds
Depends on the answer.
And I know by now
(Oh, how long it has taken
And how easily I forget!)
That the quiet voice calling me
To my chair by the fire must prevail,
And that I should go there early , lest the deeds of the day
Swallow up that sacred time.
My heart tells me “Arise! There is work to be done!”
The work of rest.
The work of stillness.
The work of silence.
And as I sit in my chair by the fire
Tea in hand
Bible on lap
Pen and journal ready
I know it is going to be a GoOD day!

Empty

(Painted from a photograph by Keith Smith)

Keith's blog

http://www.voiceinthedesert.org.uk/keith/

The Time Keeper

There's nothing like starting a new year to focus your mind on time...and the passing of it! This piece came out of my reflections on time.

01/-5/09
The time keeper paused and glanced at His watch. It was gleaming gold and intricate beyond imagining. Although it was millennia old, it looked as new as the day He made it. He smiled and felt satisfied at the perfection of the watch. He had made it purposefully and carefully, for order, not chaos, were always part of His creations.
The people had watches, of course, and believed they held time in their own hands. But their watches were not like His. The Time Keeper’s watch was the watch of all watches. It never stopped. It never missed a beat. It neither sped up, nor slowed down. The rhythm had been set long before the people even were. It always had and always would keep perfect time…for this was the Time Keeper’s watch.
Even as He held Time in His hand, the Time Keeper could hear on this day, as on every day, the cries of people drifting up to His ears. He closed His eyes and listened very carefully. Yes, people were indeed crying again. These cries all sounded different, but His ear was sensitive and He could pick out every one. Some cries were a great lament for time and opportunities lost that could never be re-gained. Some were for the loss of loved ones and the time they had to face without them. Some were cries of desperation as time passed and answers seemed to fail to come. The Time Keeper heard other cries from the poor and persecuted- “How long must we wait before deliverance comes?” And then the Time Keeper winced as He heard cries of anger and accusation ,“How can you let such bad things happen?” And altogether they cried with one voice for Him to change the time, or let them hold the watch so they could bear what had to be born.
But the cries that pierced Him most of all, were from those who did not even know there was a Time Keeper at all; who believed they were lost and alone, and the time they spent living was meaningless.
And the Time Keeper listened …..and the Time Keeper heard…...and the Time Keeper wept.
He closed His ageless fingers around His watch held tightly in His hands. He was stirred by the cries, but He could not loose His grip on the watch. He could not change the time for the people; if He did, all hell and confusion would break loose. Silent tears dropped down the Time Keeper’s face as He knew they would never understand what He understood, see what He saw or know what He knew. For He held all time in His hands, and they did not see beyond their small world. He saw all that had been and all that would ever be; He knew the end from the beginning…..and He knew that one day He would wipe away every tear.
But not yet…..
And although the Time-Keeper knew all would be well in the end, He cared for those who cried in this little while. So keeping the watch firmly in His hand, He breathed on them. He breathed on them the wisdom of the eternal to put hope in their hearts and let them know that this was not the end. Those who were mourning felt His breath and the reassurance that the ones they loved would be with them again one day. Others who wept so bitterly over lost time felt the Time Keeper’s breath on them, and heard Him say “I am a restorer of the years the locusts have eaten.” The Time Keeper breathed, too, on the ones who were faint from crying out for answers that never seemed to come…and in a moment, as His breath touched them, rest settled on them. Some saw they had already received an answer, but had never noticed it because they had been expecting something different. Some found their clenched hands opening and releasing things they had held on to so tightly As they let go of anger, fear, resentment or regret, the Time Keeper released their answer. He had been waiting on them all along…but they had not wanted to let go until that moment in time. To the poor and persecuted He breathed endurance and grace to live through the pain, and He fed them with the hope that one day they would receive a reward, and what had seemed like an eternity of suffering would become but the blink of an eye. To all the Time Keeper masterfully and mysteriously stepped into their moment of time and need, and brought help and hope and healing….and along with it the promise whispered in their ears that though for now, they only understand in part, one day they would know fully; though now they only saw in part, one day He would show them fully.
And as they turned their faces and hearts to the Time Keeper, He opened up His huge and loving arms that had ached for them all along, and welcomed them in. The more they yielded to the Time Keeper and drew near, the more His eternal embrace enveloped them and gave them rest.
And the Time keeper watched….and the Time Keeper saw….and the Time Keeper smiled.
As His children rested their head on the Time Keepers shoulder, He spoke over them eternal words of destiny and purpose that caused them to catch just a tiny glimpse of the watch the Time Keeper held firmly in His hands.