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We all know the saying “that’s how the cookie crumbles” but do we know how we can stop it from crumbling? Or, in the case of actual cookies, how we can make dry cookies come back to life with soft freshly baked moisture? If you know me, you’d probably guess that one of my favorite cookie flavors is peanut butter. Problem is most peanut butter cookies get dry very quickly and that’s not good.

But it turns out, I have a really, good trick for putting moisture back into cookies, whether they’re home baked or store bought? And if you try my tip, you might say that’s how the cookie doesn’t crumble. At least not as easily. But before I tell you what the trick is, I want to talk a little bit about that whole metaphor thing that’s baked into the statement.

The actor Jim Carey made us all laugh in the movie, Bruce Almighty, as a television news reporter who always wrapped up his report with, “And that’s how the cookie crumbles.” But you don’t have to be a celebrity or even a smart cookie to understand this metaphor applies to just about any kind of life issue. You might be talking about an investment that didn’t pan out, a project that failed, or even a serious matter that you’re trying to make light of. Whatever the case, we use this flippant comment to ease our disappointments when something doesn’t work out as sweet as we’d hoped. As a way of easing the pain of disillusionment by laughing it off. But whether you laugh so hard you cry or weep with sobs of anguish, tears can help you contend with what went wrong. 

Studies have shown that crying can help you heal when you’re going through emotional trauma, because they release toxins that build up within you. The Bible often talks about tears and crying including the shortest verse: “Jesus wept.” We also read about a woman named Mary who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears. I think my favorite verse about tears is Psalm 30:5, “Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.” It’s one I often count on.

So, you may be asking, what’s that got to do with cookies? Well, that’s where my trick comes in. 

Here’s the trick: #1 Put a slice of bread on top of a plate of cookies, #2 wrap the cookies with plastic wrap leaving the bread on top of the cookies and #3 give them 10 to 30 minutes. #4 Take off the bread (now very dry) and Waah-La! You’ll have soft moist cookies. (The time varies with different kinds of cookies). You may even see good results with as little as five minutes, or you may have to leave them overnight. Either way, you will realize that the process of osmosis took place by drawing all the moisture out of the bread and placing it into the cookies. 

Getting back to metaphors, Jesus often used bread in a metaphoric way. Not long after he miraculously multiplied two fish, five loaves of bread, and fed a crowd of 5,000, he said, “My Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is He who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” (John 6:32b-33). Then he reiterated it later by saying, “I am the bread of life.” (John 6:48) 

Applying this profound analogy to something we commonly eat, one might say that Jesus is the only moisturizing bread that can truly bring life into our dry spirits. When we let Him come into our hearts by believing in Him and his sacrificial love for us, He pours His spirit into us with a supernatural osmosis. We are born again with fresh life and a sweetness that lasts forever. However, we are like fragile cookies living in a world of crushing disappointments and crumbling disasters. And sometimes our half-baked faith allows His living water to seep out or we fill ourselves with things that don’t fit His recipe for goodness. So, we need to keep coming to Him for a filling of His Holy Spirit every day. We need to lay Jesus, the Bread of life, on our cracked and dry souls.

And that’s how our spiritual cookie doesn’t crumble.

If your’e going through a tough time I hope you will let your tears flow and ask Jesus to fill you with His hope and strength. Let me know in the comments here, if I can pray for you in some way.

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How’s your blood pressure? Not sure about my own, but chances are my numbers are up. Probably just need a retreat. Oh, that’s right, I just got back from one a few weeks ago and it was relaxing, inspirational, and wonderful. 

It was held high up on Palomar Mountain and was a Christian Writer’s Retreat. Driving up the mountain by myself was a challenge that made me nervous. Especially since I’d never been there before. Part of my concern was my history of altitude sickness and part of it my propensity towards car sickness on winding roads. Ironically, about a year earlier, I had written a scene about a character who had faced the scary challenge of driving up a tall mountain by herself. So as my anxiety about the drive grew, I couldn’t help thinking about it. And you guessed it, the story I’d written long before this test, spoke to my own spirit with encouragement. Even my husband commented that “If your character can do it, you can.” 

Pretty funny isn’t it? 

So, up the mountain I went, and the retreat was a blessing. New friends, lots of fellowship, and a view from the top that gave a fresh perspective—literally and spiritually. Naturally, that had been the moral of the story for my character too. 

We’ve all done it— a summer camp, women’s retreat, or couple’s getaway, that took us away from our work-day-world. For a brief time, our souls were refreshed, and our bodies loosed from stress. The inspiration, fun, and a deep breathing of God’s Spirit, refreshed and relaxed us like nothing else.  

Then, we went back down. 

At first, I hit the ground running with revived energy. Of course, like housework, the work I’d put on hold was still waiting for me and the pile of chores were higher than when I’d left.  At least I had gained some new tools for tackling my next big author equipping event—a Christian Writer’s Conference. A writer’s conference differs from a retreat as it offers all kinds of sessions, information, and opportunities that equip writers in their endeavors to become successful published authors. 

Knowing this next adventure in authorship equipping was going to occur in just a few weeks, I dove right into the prep for it. I needed to be ready for an appointment with a literary agent, something that’s a must for anyone who wants to be traditionally published as opposed to self-published. 

Thus, the current rise in my blood pressure.  

So, I sat and took some deep breaths. Closing my eyes and listening to the messages from the retreat that still rang in the ears of my heart, I heard the honest tales of other authors that had inspired me. Authors, who had traveled up scary mountain roads paved with obstacles and insecurities towards their traditional publishing goals. They had spoken candidly of their own pitfalls and successes, but mostly how keeping their eyes fixed on the Lord, instead of their fears and failures, had given them a steadfast strength for the journey. 

My stomach settled, nerves calmed, and a healing balm soothed my sin-sick soul. Whatever happens next on my writing road is in the hands of the best travel guide ever—the Lord. 

Are you currently on a rocky road up a mountain that seems too high to conquer? Tell me about it on the comments here. 

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For many years, I’ve enjoyed the solitude of walking my dog in the cool of the evening or the dewy wet sparkle of a crisp morning. It is often a time of inspiration and introspection for me. But tonight as I walked, my heart was ladened with another kind of dampening—news of another school shooting. And contemplation of this current horrific event reminded me of another such day about twelve years ago. At that time our country was reeling from the Sandy Hook elementary school shooting where 6 adults and 20 children died.

I remembered how it had been a cool winter morning when I was out walking and praying with a heavy heart about the Sandy Hook shooting. I had stopped short at a neighbor’s driveway as she was returning home. She was about to drive up her steep driveway, but stopped abruptly, reversed her car, and set the brakes so she could retrieve the newspaper. Then she noticed me. Leaning out the car window for a chat, we began sharing our thoughts on the terrible event of that day. Although we rarely had the opportunity to visit, it had been a rough week for her and the accurate timing of being at her driveway at that moment seemed to be ordained. My neighbor, who has two small children, was especially feeling the burden of that tragedy. Added to it was an extra dose of sadness with the loss of her dog that week. I was glad for the opportunity to be a shoulder of comfort at that moment. After talking for about fifteen minutes, we said our goodbyes and I started to recommence my walk. 

“Are you going to walk behind my car?” she halted me. “You should probably wait” she said “ as sometimes the car rolls down a bit before going up this steep driveway.” 

I had already considered being cautious while walking behind the vehicle, but hadn’t thought it a danger since she was well aware of my presence. However, I decided to heed her warning and waited for her car to go up the hill first. It was a good thing I did, as it turned out her large SUV was still in reverse and when she hit the gas to go up, the car went careening DOWN into the street. If I had walked behind her car, both my dog and I would have suffered severe injury and possibly death.  

I stood there in awe of my Lord’s protective mercies. He had clearly spoken through my neighbor who is a believer as well. 

We never know when or where peril may lie for any of us and it’s hard to fathom the evil that leads someone to take the lives of little children. But Proverbs 2:7-8 promises that our God “guards the paths of the just and protects those who are faithful to him.”

If your heart is ladened with sorrow of any kind, I encourage you to take a stroll in the cool of the summer evening and let God fill you with the sweet breath of His word, love, and care no matter what you’re going through. You might want to also meditate on Psalm 119:105, which says: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light unto my path.” If you have a prayer request that you’d like me to bring to God, please let me know in simple terms in the comments here.         

How many times have you ordered a wonderful entrée at a restaurant, then as the waitress pivots to walk away you add: “and a little Ranch on the side, please,” or_______ (fill in the blank)? I wonder if sometimes I treat my daily walk of faith a little like that. Instead of savoring a hearty spiritual meal of quality time with the Lord that will sustain me throughout my day, I order my day by diving into my chores first. Then, sometime later, when a problem comes along, I tack on a quick prayer like a side-dish, hoping it’ll make the mess I’ve created, taste more palatable. Yet, we scratch our heads and wonder why our day went so badly—why we didn’t accomplish anything of eternal value? Greater still, is the frightening possibility of coming to the end of our days with a life that was mostly void of true spiritual fruit. 

I’ve always thought one of the hardest scriptures to swallow comes in Matthew 7:21-23 where Jesus says, “…Many will say to me in that day, ‘Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name, cast out demons in Your name, and done many wonders in Your name?’ And I will say to them. I never knew you, depart from me.” Whoa! There’s a bone to choke on. Just think! Jesus was talking about people who were doing amazing miracles in His name, yet He said He never knew them. It has me examining my own life. Could I possibly be one of those people? Just to be clear, I read further in the text looking at the verses before and after it and I see some clarification. In the verse before it, Jesus says: “Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father in heaven.”  And reading afterwards in verse 24 it says, “Therefore whoever hears these sayings of Mine, and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house on the rock. 

Whew! I relax a bit now. I see that He’s saying that a true believer is one who not only claims to be Christian they live-out their faith by doing what God’s word instructs. They apply God’s word to their life and actions in every way which produces spiritual fruit. Or as it also says in verse 20, “therefore by their fruits you will know them.” However, after a brief sigh of relief, contemplation returns with new heartfelt palpitations for its’ application. Maybe, just maybe, Jesus is reminding me to give Him more of myself each day. Then He will know me as a friend knows another friend, because we will share our Spirits intimately with one another. 

Being someone who claims Jesus as my savior, yet many times only lets Him have a small portion of me, or a little Jesus on the side, hits hard with conviction. Time to fall on my knees.

No matter how we slice the sweet pie of God’s word, it often includes an intriguing ingredient that stirs our hearts to dig deeper into our own soul. But, like that tasty side dish, when we slather the sweet presence of God over the entire main course of our day, and life, instead of a little on the side, everything does become more palatable.  And as is says in Psalm 34:8, “…Taste and see that the Lord is good…”

Do you have a verse that stirs you to ponder it deeply? Tell me about it in the comments here.

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Did you ever have a creative inspiration for something that is so clear and urgent you can hardly get to it fast enough? That’s what I was sensing one Good Friday morning a few years ago. It was mostly an inkling of a picture in my mind at first, but there was an excitement brewing under the surface of a nudge inside of me. So, I began.  

I started sketching it with loose strokes in pastel paint on paper first but quickly stopped. A sudden and sure confidence, for the image that I knew I was supposed to paint, had entered in. Grabbing a large canvas on hand, I switched the medium from pastel to oil and began laying in bright colors. A mood quickly spoke into the piece with joy that permeated my inner prompting. This was clearly going to be another one of a handful of paintings that were inspired by God. 

Beginning at the top of the canvas I laid in some bright coral color and then streaked through it with a wide brush, loaded with white paint. Pulling the brushstrokes in a slanted angle downward, I created the effect of light shining on something. That “something” quickly took the form of a cross that was revealed with colors around every part of its shape. Instead of painting the cross, I painted the angles and soft lines of the outside of the form revealing the cross shape with the white of the canvas. I would paint the cross afterwards. It’s what is called painting the negative shape. Then I lightly filled-in the color of the cross with a very pale shade of yellowish white giving the edges an impressionistic softness. I let the wet paint set a minute. It was about then when a special creative force took over. It’s something that has happened to me only a few times in all the years of my painting. 

It’s hard to explain, but for a few rare instances, this has happened and when it does, I can barely keep up with what the Spirit is telling me to paint. Working as fast as I could, wasn’t fast enough for the inspiration that was driving me. Each brushstroke seemed to direct me ahead of time as to what it would be and where it would go in the design. It seemed that the painting was directing me to do what it wanted to do. I started placing bright colored shapes in different sizes of pinks, reds, blues, and yellows all around the lower part of the canvas and up near the cross shape.

Before I knew it the 30” X 40” canvas was filled with a glorious image of a white cross, surrounded by an array of colorful tulips and daisies. I stood back and drank in the image, contemplating whether-or-not it needed something else. It took only a brief moment to know what to do next. I painted the cross with a sheer white paint on top of the semi-dry pale yellow, creating a translucent and almost ethereal effect. Then I put subtle little white flowers on top of the arms and center of the cross letting them overflow into the colorful pink, red, blue, and yellow flowers that surrounded it. But something was missing. 

I stood back again and considered the overall balance, composition, colors and meaning that was before my eyes. With so many different flowers springing forth from my imagination onto the canvas, just one more was needed—an Iris flower. Adding a purple and yellow Iris, my namesake, I painted it in the only place it rightfully belonged—at the foot of the cross.  

Standing back for my final critique, I raised my brush-filled-hands in praise to the one who inspired it, then contemplated what the title should be. Noting once more how the little white flowers seemingly flowed out of the cross, I felt the painting’s message was that the spirit of the cross was becoming new life. Thus the title, “Spirit of the Cross”

Now, as another Easter draws near, I find myself thinking about what the image means to me and what the cross means to all who seek redemption. I pray that all of you will let God’s Holy Spirit fill you with His light and life wherever you are in your journey of faith.

Please share your Easter praises in a comment on this page.

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Beginnings— So important! How many of them do we get in life? For some it may feel like they’ve only had a few, at least when it comes to good beginnings. Or perhaps they had some good starts, but each time it felt that way, something pulled the rug out from under them and they either started all over again or gave up. 

Recently I had the blessing of teaching an art class to a few ladies at a transitional home where many of the residents have had terrible beginnings in every way possible. Most have struggled through recent trials that brought homelessness. Whatever their case, these ladies are strong and courageous in so many ways and with the help of the wonderful people at Gabriel’s House, they find strength, encouragement, help and hope for a better more stable beginning to life. So, teaching a few of them how to paint—though minuscule compared to the many hours of love and work the staff pours into them— was a blessing and a new beginning for me too. 

Several months before I began the class, God had nudged me with a phrase I’d heard that caught my ear and heart—”you can’t erase crayon”. (You may have read my blog with that title a few months ago). When I got a call from my friend Yvonne Nobblit asking if I’d be interested in teaching an art class to some of the ladies at Gabriel’s House, I was overjoyed with the opportunity to use my gifts for God’s purposes. And with that call, I knew immediately why that phrase had caught my attention. It was because the phrase is such a profound metaphor for all the things that get colored into our hearts—good things and not so good things, colorful things and dark terrible things that don’t go away. But it was especially about the things that can be embedded onto a young child’s heart. Those things are hard to erase. They never go away.

I thought about how life is so like that at times. We may have some new colorful and joyful thing currently happening in our life, but the waxy injuries of some experiences stubbornly resist going away—refuse to be covered up or erased. No, they continue to bleed through even the brightest spots. And as an artist, I also knew that the waxy properties of crayon made it a medium that resists and repels just about any other kind of paint you try to put over it. It’s much like so many people whose emotional and physical pain in childhood continues to plague their hearts and lives, repelling even the good things when they do come along.

Thankfully my life has mostly been beautiful and blessed, so, I wondered why I was still thinking about this paradox three weeks after hearing it? Why was a gal like me, (one with a relatively easy life compared to so many), still thinking about not being able to erase crayon? More importantly, was God placing it in my heart for His good purposes?  I wondered. Then I got that call from Yvonne about teaching an art class at Gabriel’s House and I knew. 

I knew that maybe, just maybe, God wanted to use me to paint some new colors into the lives of women with waxy dark colors on their hearts. 

So, knowing they couldn’t afford to buy any art supplies, I began to gather some. I already had much of what I’d need and a couple of friends generously donated some paint and brushes too, but getting table easels was a challenge. An art store gave me a discount on a few supplies, but naturally didn’t offer any easels. The cheapest they had were priced at nearly $90 and I needed four or five. I prayed about it asking who else I should approach for that need. Then God nudged me to ask a nice gal named Alisa who owns the Frame Gallery in Agoura. Since she sold to lots of artists like me, I thought maybe she might know an artist that had easels they aren’t using anymore. Turns out she didn’t, but she herself had a bunch of them that had been given to her about 10 years ago and she was happy to let me have them all for the class.

Isn’t it amazing how God arranges things like that for us way-in-advance of when we need them? And as my Frame gallery friend, Alisa, said: “It was truly a God thing.”

After a few delays in starting the class, the day finally arrived. Just 3 students out of the 5 we’d planned on, but I was excited. The following weeks brought a few stops and starts to attendance and we all learned a little about keeping their attention over the five-week period. For some it was about learning commitment, and some just needed to let themself learn without expecting perfection. For others, a job called them away from the fun— a good thing. One of the gals seemed to enjoy every minute of it and she and I became quick friends sharing the blessings of creative inspirations.  

Using paintbrushes loaded with bright and beautiful colors—and sometimes a little too much paint— their attention to the picture they were painting became a new focus—a focus away from troubles. For a few hours on each of those Saturday afternoons, they began a new journey that had a new start on something that held promise. 

But here’s the most astonishing thing to me— when I chose the subject we’d paint, I truly hadn’t considered the deep symbolism that would be created. Believe it or not, it wasn’t until this very moment of writing this blog, 3/21/22, (two weeks after class ended), that it occurred to me how breathtakingly fitting that picture was for their lives. The picture I helped them paint was a scene of trees alongside a rugged road, with mountains in the distance. It was a clear metaphor that represented their lives. The deep purple and blue shadows that were cast across the road, were meaningful reminders of all the shadows on their rugged road through life, yet their dark contrast against the bright colors of the soft grasses in the foreground are beautiful brushstrokes of hope and promise. And the big mountains of trouble look small since they are in the distance and behind them now. And, ironically, until this moment I didn’t know WHY, I had decided, for the first time in my 40 years of painting, that we’d paint it in a style similar to that of Vincent Van Gogh— an artist who we know struggled much in his life. But I’m pretty sure God knew why. 

And much like learning to paint, creating a stable & happy life takes time, help from the Master Creator, help from the hands and feet of Jesus, and good tools. But mostly, it takes the promising hope of God’s word painted over waxy sins with the crimson color of Jesus’ sacrifice.  So, I pray that the time we had together painted some new and hopeful colors into their hearts. Bright colors that will last with brushstrokes that help bring a bright new beginning for those ladies. I know it did for me. 

Have you ever done something creative that was helpful to your emotions in a lasting and good way? Tell me about it in the comments here.

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