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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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How many times do I have to tell you…? Sound like echoes from your mother or father? How about your heavenly father? Well, don’t know about you, but God still has to remind me of some things over and over. Recently (and for the fifth time), I was locked out of my own website. Frustrated and angry, I slammed close my computer, got up, and paced the floor wondering if my computer problems would ever cease. After my husband and I battled numerous health issues for a year, the tech problems that kept piling on, were adding insult to injury. “I just don’t get it Lord!” shot out of my mouth. Be thankful whispered back. I stopped short, with realization hitting hard. I hadn‘t remembered to “praise God in all things (I Thess. 5:18).” Never mind He’d taught me that lesson many times before, I hadn’t taken my own advice, or as they say, practiced what I’d preached to audiences. It hit me with a stinging blow. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to be grateful in the bad—again.

I’ve often heard people say: “Satan must be really worried about the work you’re doing for God, and that’s why you are having so many troubles.” I wasn’t buying that. Then again, I couldn’t help thinking it was technology demons that were snacking on every aspect of my life. Of course, I knew annoying technology problems weren’t unusual, but ours had been a relentless barrage of issues—computer malware (4 experts to fix), loss of all my photos, and now I was locked out of my own website. AGAIN! Then there’s the other kind of tech problems we’d had— a broken ice maker (needed for icing husband’s post-surgery & my painful arthritic big toe). Oh, and did I mention not having cable TV or Wi Fi service for a month as we recovered and couldn’t do much else? I was going bananas. And the cherry on top came when I’d tried to print 100 copies of our Christmas letter and without internet, the printer had shut down. I’d been forced to make photocopies of a less than perfect version. 

Now, three weeks later and into the new year, tech problems were still plaguing us, so another cable guy was coming to fix the TV/Wifi problem. And that’s when it finally dawned on me— I hadn’t thanked God for our recent problems. So, I bowed my head the morning of this next appointment and thanked God for all of them (including the cable and internet issues). Then I prayed: “Lord, if there is something you want us to do or say to be a light to this next cable guy, use us for your purposes.”

You’ll never guess what happened next.

That afternoon, when the cable guy arrived, both my husband and I sensed something was a little off with him. We calmly explained what the problem was, then let him get to work. A short while later he proudly announced he’d figured out what the cause was and had fixed it. I suggested we go into our home office to be sure the internet service was working now too. Sure enough, all seemed to be operating again. Then, as if proving it, the printer suddenly kicked-in and started printing out the 100 copies I’d initiated three weeks earlier. Talk about timing.

“Guess you’ll just have to make 50 new friends.” Cable guy joked and we all laughed. 

“Here,” I said, handing one of the letters to him, “this one’s for you!”

He began reading then asked: “Did you write this?”

“Yes. It was our Christmas letter.” I told him with a smile.

He read a little further then asked: “Where do you go to church? I’ve been looking for one.”

We told him. Then, to our amazement, he started telling us about his struggles, what he was going through and how God had been working in his life. “I finally realized that I needed to let God be in charge,” he admitted, “because I don’t got it!” 

We listened graciously, then I told him about the prayer I’d made for him that very morning.

“This was a divine appointment!” He declared with a broadening smile.

“Yes. It truly was.” I agreed. Needless-to-say, I was giddy with joy at how God had used gratefulness in the midst of our troubles to minister to someone else in the middle of theirs. (Not to mention our TV and internet service was restored). Another lesson well learned. Hopefully God won’t have to remind me again to Praise Him in “All things.”

It’s easy to thank God for the good things that happen, but not so easy when everything seems to be going wrong. Yet, more and more I’ve come to realize that being grateful in ALL THINGS, gives wings to God’s blessings and purposes. Do you have a “thankful in the bad” story? Tell me about it in the comments on this blog page. 

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Have you ever wondered if God has a sense of humor? I believe He does. Solomon once wrote: “A merry heart makes a cheerful countenance,” (Proverbs 15:13). I’ve always loved a good joke and with this current environment of Covid and political stress we can all use a little comic relief. 

Thinking back, I remember one time when God revealed His sense of humor to me. It was a surprising moment that I wrote about in my book “Fresh Eyes: Seeing God in the Unexpected,” and happened on my way out of church one Sunday morning. Just minutes before, I’d been ruminating on the size of the congregation at our new place of worship. Having just transitioned from a small church to one with an attendance in the thousands had been quite an adjustment for me. The throngs of people that morning overwhelmed me with a sense of insignificance, even loneliness. Despite God’s clear leading to this new community of believers, my struggle with the mass of people that day, evoked an examining conversation with God. I told Him: I really love it here, but I just don’t know if I can get used to all these people. That was the moment when I heard Him say (not audibly), Then, what are you going to do when you get to heaven?  “Oh!” I declared, looking upward, and laughing at God’s unexpected and humorous response. I knew, then, that He would carry me through this rough patch. And shortly after, I did find great fellowship there.

Not too many years later, God delivered another funny moment but this time the joke wasn’t on me. We had begun seeing a new chiropractor who was a fun guy with a fondness for Hawaii and all things tropical. His office décor along with the Hawaiian shirts he always wore, made that clear the minute you entered his practice. After learning he had a Christian up-bringing, yet didn’t attend a church, I invited him to visit ours. To my surprise, he walked into our church’s service one Sunday morning. I barely recognized him as he strolled in wearing a nice suit and tie. I watched as he slid into a row of seats with shocking surprise quickly spreading across his face— practically everyone else was dressed in Hawaiian style clothing. Ironically the day he’d chosen to attend was the one and only time that had been dubbed “Aloha Sunday.” I’m not so sure he found it as funny as I did, but I could barely stop laughing. For me it was another example of Genesis 21:6 (NKJ), “God has made me laugh.” Have a short humorous story you’d like to share? I’d love to hear it in the comments.

I awoke this morning to a cloudy day. Our So. Cal. town had finally gotten some much needed rain and while I was glad for it, the gloomy mood it set was anything but bright. Pondering what to have for breakfast and needing a lift before the darkness could settle in led to a favorite first from my early childhood—peanut butter on toast. “Why, I wondered do tastes and smells linger in our memories and sometimes comfort us?”

Having this yummy treat meant generously spreading a lightly toasted piece of bread with peanut butter, preferably chunky, folding it in half and dipping it into a hot cup of sweetened and creamed coffee. It was a breakfast I’d learned the morning of my very first sleepover with my first girlfriend, JoAnne Freeman. I was only 3 or 4 years old, living in Georgia, and it was my first taste of coffee, (though heavily blended with milk and sugar) and my first taste of “chunky” peanut butter. Now, to this day, it has been my go-to breakfast for a quick pick me up and it always makes me think of my first friend—JoAnne, though I’ve long forgotten many other friends along life’s way. 

Studies I’ve read reveal that the part of the brain that stores memories is in very close proximity to the portion of our brain that recognizes taste and smell. That’s why losing your sense of smell and taste is one symptom that often occurs alongside memory loss as an early sign of dementia. But, aside from the physical reasons for those associations, I believe that our creator designed our brain that way for our comfort and help in time of trouble or sorrow. The taste and smell of good food that triggers early memories also takes us back to those good times and in turn, that encourages our heart. Maybe that’s why I still remember my first friend’s name and think about her every time I have a toasted peanut butter sandwich.  

The good Lord often used food and drink to help us remember events, especially important firsts of His integral relationship with us. Just take a quick look at stories like the Exodus when God provided Manna and quail to feed the hungry Israelites on their journey away from slavery in Egypt. Or the time right before Jesus was arrested and crucified when he used the Passover wine and bread as an iconic symbol to remind us of His sweet sacrifice. It was a moment in history, marked in our memories by food and drink, that tied the Old Covenant of the Jewish people to the New Covenant for all people—the past to the future. It was a comforting reminder of God’s love that would be stirred up over, and over again, through taste and smell as an evidential testimony that brings us comfort and affirmation of His love. He knew it was a powerful means of making a memory stick with us for thousands of generations— and it wasn’t even sticky peanut butter that did it. 

And speaking of firsts, I hope you got a chance to watch my first Zoom interview (posted right before this). Do you have a favorite holiday beverage or food memory? Hmmm, maybe when you watch my interview, you should have a cup of your favorite beverage as you watch. Then let me know if something in it sticks with you.