The calendar wisdom!

This is wisdom straight from my Badass 2022 desk flip calendar. I love everything about this. I can relate. It is how I view life.

Mini Makin'

These are just a few of the little paintings I’ve done in the last few days. They are 3x5 or smaller. I’m versatile for sure. I like and paint many different styles.

"Badass?" you ask?

This is an art piece my niece, Jane, did for me while I was in the hospital. I’ll explain below.

You may recognize this image. It was made from the picture taken before dinner with friends. My niece made this for me and attached the phrase as an encouragement in the hospital. I had been thinking for years, after experiencing an empty nest, that I had kind of lost some of my substance and grit and some of who I was. I wondered if I could do hard things. I ran and hiked and painted and organized, but could I do really hard things? That is what I wondered. I found out after having a drain installed in my head without anesthesia that I was tough. Tough wasn’t a big enough word. It didn’t say what I felt and experienced. I realized after coming out of that procedure where they drilled into my head, that I was indeed tough, but more importantly I was a "baddass”. I was on no filter medicines galore, so I used the word with confidence. I had no trouble calling myself a “badass”. I had experienced a week of “hard” things, so I felt worthy of the title. That’s why Jane created the image. It was framed and was displayed in my hospital and rehab rooms. My surgeon even took s picture with his own phone. I’m assuming he shows it to patients with negative attitudes. Attitude its everything where I’ve been!

Thank you!

About a week ago, Jack and I headed back up to Roan Mountain. I just love that place. We hadn’t been there since my surgery and we both felt like going. Roan is a bit like the beach for me. I felt like I needed to go say thank you. Not to the mountain, but to God at the mountain. I feel His presence there. Some people call it a thin space, where heaven and earth meet. I’ve hiked there many times. I feel different after every time. I hiked that day. I used hiking poles for security, which was hard for me. But I did hike less than thirty days from ditching the walker. It was beautiful, as it always is. I felt different, as I always do.

The day my smile left and my joy returned.

We went to dinner with friends. It was a normal dinner catching up. We had recently gotten an apartment in Franklin to get back to what we knew, old friends and our kids, or so we thought. Little did we know that we would “need” that apartment for months to come. Well, I “knew”. I knew I wasn’t 100 Percent, but I wasn’t interested in finding out what was wrong. I chalked it up to getting older and the repercussions of an empty nest. We had moved to a new place, and then the pandemic hit. So many reasons for me to be out of sorts, down and missing the familiar. When the empty nest hits a stay at home mom, the effects can be great. I was thankful to get back to the familiar, especially that night—chatting, laughing, communing, connecting.

My eyes were acting up at dinner. I tried to downplay what was happening, so no one would notice. I thought I did well. We said goodbye to our friends and headed back to the apartment. When we got back to the apartment, I could hardly walk. My legs wouldn’t work. I got into the apartment and threw myself on the floor because my neck hurt so bad. I got sick to my stomach shortly after, I knew at that moment that I had no choice but to go to the emegrency room. I was scared, but oddly at peace.

I had an MRI because of my symptoms. The doctor came in, pulled up a stool and confirmed what I knew deep down—that I had a tumor in my brain a bit bigger than an egg, larger than they tend to see. I wasn’t shocked. I was calm, but I called and informed my prayer warriors and loved ones. I was whisked to Vanderbilt unsure of what was next. It was one in the morning. It was unsure if I would have surgery that night or some other time.

It was determined by my team of doctors at Vandy that I would wait seven days in the hospital in order for the fluid in my brain to be drained and healed before they attempted any surgery.

A drain was “installed”in my head. I was put on steroids, and I waited.. My sister, Anne drove in from North Carolina to assist Jack with hospital watch duties. We watched Love Boat and Bob Newhart and Ted Lasso.

We talked. We laughed. And, Anne and I got closer than we have been in years. I had all sorts of friends visit. I wasn’t lonely. I felt loved and seen and taken care of. I surrendered. And, the joy bubbled up.

I had surgery on October 21st. It took the team of doctors 14 hours. The doctors were gentle, kind angels. I survived! I can honestly say I was sad to leave Vandy. I had fabulous nurses and great food. There is something to be said for that. I was off to rehab with my walker as my friend.

I called this blog post “The day my smile left, but my joy returned” because the day I had surgery I did literal lose my ability to smile. They removed that facial nerve with the tumor. I was of course ok with that. It has been an adjustment looking in the mirror, but hopefully future surgeries will help me with smiling again however. I’m grateful. I’m thankful and my joy has truly, honestly returned with a vengeance.

Now and then!

This is a pic of what I look like now after brain and eye surgery and a fall. It’s the best I’ve got to show until I have my next surgery and my eye heals from a fall and all of its swelling.

This is me about a week from the emergency room visit. We were heading out to eat dinner with friends. I felt pretty and that was saying a lot because I hadn’t for a while. I have my sunglasses on because I was having eye problems and the glasses concealed it all (my eye was turning in). I’m wearing a new dress and I was carrying my new backpack that I was so excited about.

Back at the writing thing after a long break.

The above description is exactly how I was feeling before I went to the emergency room on October 15th. I new I had things that were not working “right”, but it was a lot off things and I thought it was just part of getting older. Oh well, I thought wrong. Imagine that! More on that in a bit.

Back to the Mountains

Sometimes you’ve just got to get back to walking, hiking or just plain climbing to follow in your parents’ footprints, both physically and spiritual. That is what was confirmed to me back up on the mountain two days ago. I’m just going to share a whole long string of photos that mean something to me and that’s all, well and a little poem..

What a day In His Studio! Thanks for the lessons!

Masterpiece!

If you know me very well, you know why this song and video I saw tonight made a difference in my night. If not, you at least know I love art. I used to know Danny back in Nashville. I also love the scripture Eph 2:10.

An Additional Garden Lesson

I am sure that some of you more experienced gardeners reading yesterday’s post might have observed the dry crusty leaves, absence of cages, “branches” that needed pruning, and the fruit that needed picking from my last shared pics. I just wanted to share an updated picture from today.

Today I spent time removing many of the dried, dead leaves, the broken “branches” and the ripe fruit. See, I waited until today because there was so much fruit that needed picking, first. All other times I or Jack attempted plant cleanup or fruit pickin’, unripe fruit or entire vines would fall to the ground. Today, I removed all of the ripe fruit and then, tidied these little guys up. Remember, I’m the Gardener for these particular plants. I know what I’ve tried or what my husband the occasional waterer has tried to do before that has lead to weakness and destruction and had I done anything sooner, it would have led to a far smaller harvest. Lesson—As onlookers, or observers it is real easy to judge what needs to happen in someone else’s garden. The issue is sure we might know how to grow tomatoes, but every type of soil has a slightly different make up. The weather in each area is a little bit different. The weather and wind can even be different from one yard to the yard right next door, and those conditions can affect plants of the same variety in completely different ways. One variety or one individual tomato plant just might need a little bit more care and concern. I think it is best to just trust the Gardener with the garden he’s tending! That’s MY lesson anyway!

Lesson from the Garden!

John 15:4—”Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me.”

The above image is the type of image I have always seen attached to this verse. Every study on the verse or sermon or book always shows these incredibly beautiful, healthy grapes, always grapes. The sun is often shown to help create the scene. I get that. I also get why we want the pictures we use to be the best and the cleanest and the prettiest. It is called marketing. But marketing is a business term and marketing isn’t always honest or truthful. When the Bible was written, there were no photos. I know there was art though. Concepts were taught visually sometimes, but they were mostly taught by speaking and learning was by hearing and seeing real situations, like in nature. Farming was a way of life and understood by most everyone. It was their way of life. They experienced it, so these concepts were real life scenarios that people were all familiar with. Today, many many people are not farmers and have no clue about any of it’s concepts, but we are inundated with pictures, lots and lots of pictures. I think it is time we start sharing different pictures to explain time- tested, life- giving truths to replace outdated unrealistic visuals and I am not talking about magazine covers in the world, but in the church too. Well, I think I need to. I take pictures. I can do that. And I’m writing here today to share something I’ve learned and something I think just might give a different visual to the above verses. The verse is a very helpful truth to someone who understands it and understands it in a way that is beneficial to their life and struggle, etc.

I am so downplaying it. What makes me sad it that sometimes in today’s world the verse doesn’t make sense to a lot of people for reasons I have already mentioned. I grew up in the church. I am familiar with scripture and these types of pictures never diid explain it in a way that was helpful for me. I like beauty, but I like honesty a whole lot more. These pictures seem like dishonest representations of a very real concept. For me, these type of images have always helped play into my tendency toward perfectionism. I thought it was possible to be a perfect grape or tomato if all I did was stick to the vine. Someone reading this might still think this is possible. Maybe it is under the most perfect conditions, however I am going to share a more realistic visaual of what abiding and bearing fruit just might look like. I think there are a whole lot of people “trying” to bear fruit and “trying” to make it look beautiful and perfect.

During the lockdown, I bought seeds and started them. As a result, I have had my very first garden this summer. I grew my very own kale and arugula and celery and peppers and tomatoes. I understand that tomatoes and grapes are different. I also know that tomatoes grow on plants, but they do also grow on vines. There are apparently two types of tomato plants. I am sharing a perfect official image of vine ripened tomatoes below, so my visual comparisons match.

So, now we have two perfectly beautiful images of the best versions of fruit on the vines. Just take a look at the two pictures again. Scroll back up and look at them. What are they? They are perfect examples of fruit growing on vines. Well, let me tell you what I learned in my garden. My lesson is stretching visually because I do not have vine tomatoes in my garden. Mine are of the plant variety and I researched the name, but I’m not going to use the term here to try to impress you. The point is that I am sharing a lesson I learned in my garden and with my tomatoes to give a perhaps more realistic view of what it might look like to abide and bear fruit.

This picture and the one above are of larger Cherokee Purples.

These are my little cherry tomatoes. the next two photos are the photos of the plants of both types.

The above pictures are a much more honest view for me of what abiding looks like or can look like. I am aware that I just might be able to find a perfect plant that produces perfect fruit and that the plant looks no different after producing fruit than it did before. I could probably do the research and grow something like that in my garden next year. And then I could have perfect pictures to visually explain a verse the way it always has been shown, at least to me. But, this year I grew these little precious baby tomatoes and they taught me a very big lesson. I thought beautiful fruit came from genetically “perfect” plants and all it really depended on was the love and care provided by the Farmer or Gardener. At the beginning of the season, I was armed with these beliefs and serious about learning to garden and help these little seeds make it to maturity, and I hoped they would produce some yummy fruit that we could enjoy. Sure, I understood that it rains and that it needed to rain for the benefit of the plants. I knew that there would be storms and insects and that the plants needed to be supported and sometimes might even need “cages”. I learned from experts that I needed to remove the "suckers”. I moved the seedlings inside when the temps were still too cool, I transplanted the plants when they got too big for the little containers they were in. I watered them when it didn’t rain. I used organic fertilizer to give them extra nutrition to insure their success. I did everything I could to help these plants succeed and do what they needed to do to produce fruit. And, produce fruit they did. Here is where the lesson is big for me. Do you see the condition of the plants in the above pictures? I had no idea that the tomato plants would look like this when they were bearing fruit. I had never seen or at least never noticed tomato plants this time of year when they were producing. I guess I always just focused on the fruit. That is their purpose, right? These plants are far from perfect looking, but they are still producing fruit. It is yummy fruit, but not evey piece is perfect. Some of the pieces have scars or ridges. I had no idea that plants that produced fruit this good could look like these guys do. They are wilted and sagging and dry and bent and scarred and battered and bruised. And they still produce amazing, usable, nutritious fruit! They sure don’t look like they could. If I hadn’t seen the fruit for myself attached to the vine, no one could have convinced me that they actually had. The thing here is that I was the Gardener. I know what I did. I know I took care of those plants. I see what they are producing. I do not care what they look like as long as they are doing what I put them in my yard to do. So the lesson I learned In the garden is that it doesn’t take a perfect plant to produce a great piece of fruit and the process that a plant goes through to produce fruit isn’t always pretty. Sometimes they need help and support to make it through the storms to keep their branches attached so that they can produce fruit. The Gardner can do everything He can to help the plant produce that fruit, but it is the plant that has got to to do the work and the growing and it may not always be pretty!

The Father's House (It's a Long One! Don't bother if you can't make it to the end.)

I tried dividing this into several posts, but for now it is just long and I am sorry. My editing and culling skills are weak and diminished at the moment. Read on if you can forgive me.

We had a house painter salesman come to our house today to get estimates on projects that are just too tall for us to tackle. I always feel a bit guilty for things like this because I want projects around the house done for which I will explain in a bit, and Jack is almost always willing and capable to help me do the things that I cannot do myself. I have some very crazy experiences of when we have asked for assistance like painting, plumbing, etc. Almost every time something very insane and unprofessional takes place (yesterday we had an air conditioner replaced and the guys left the old unit in the attic, for example) and I am left with a way bigger problem than any chipped paint or cracked grout ever was. I have forever analyzed this because that is the person I am. I analyze situations for lessons and destructive patterns or beliefs so that they may be changed. It has been a year since we moved into this house. Moving in at our ages and by ourselves made the move harder than any others we’ve ever done. It has taken a while to think about moving or repainting anything. We finally reached a point in the last couple of weeks to at least begin getting estimates for work we would like to have done. I think those in my life and especially those that are very different from me have always seen my organized, clean and art-filled house as just a place in which I focus an obsession or that I’m just a perfectionist, or that I have way too much time on my hands. I have certainly operated as a perfectionist in my life and in my house before for sure, but it is not that way anymore. As I mentioned in the last post I reached a point in the last several weeks where the pain of being misunderstood or just brushed off for being some wealthy, painting, spoiled, housewife who has been hurt by the church. I couldn’t take it anymore. If you could have a conversation with God, I can guarantee you that he would confirm this creative, feeling soul has spent countless hours and years painting and reading scripture and reading hundreds and hundreds of other books and laying face down on the floor crying out for answers for loneliness and rejection and misunderstood perfectionism and for confronting tough situations as being critical. In my immaturity, I certainly have not approached everything with grace and mercy and sometimes have avoided confrontation all together. It has always been easier to just take the pain of what I want to say to help others or to take the words I want to use to just speak up for myself and stuff it back inside and risk being misunderstood as quiet, shy, unconfrontational, boring, picky, judgmental or running from my problems. I have left friends and family that I saw hurting or that hurt me because I couldn’t speak up. (And I have to admit I have stuck by and walked through very tough situations with some people and spoken into the lives of others that have been healing and transformational.) Part of the issues with having contractors in my home have to do with this. I would be blown away by their disregard and disrespect for our home. It was not tiny things I was obnoxious about. It was things that other people would refuse to take or accept. I would quietly ask Jack to go say what he knows to do well—be direct, and “ask for what you need”. For some reason I have never had a problem going to God in prayer for the help, for clarity, or for direction. And because I believe we have that kind of relationship and because I spend lots of time listening and worshipping, He has always answered. The problems I have felt lately with rejection and disrespect and disregard have been a whole other story. I knew I was asking God for things I had to deal with. I had wrong beliefs, not about God, but beliefs about life and people and expectations and gifts He had given me. I realized I see things differently. I experience things differently. I understand everyone is different and they do things differently. I’m talking about something even bigger than that. These are things that cause me to carry burdens that are not mine. I would carry away things that other people would never carry away from a conversation or an event or an interaction. Now, I’m not talking about some psychic weird stuff. I would worry about a person’s situation and stress that I couldn’t do anything to help. And, here is the problem. I knew exactly how I could help, but I couldn’t speak up to share the solution or offer my assistance. However, if they had a mess they wanted to organize I was the first to offer my house cleaning or organizing skills. In fact, I would wear myself out as a volunteer to help them tidy up any space they might have had while talking about the symbolism of clutter in a home and clutter in a mind, heart or soul. That made sense to me. They were open and I felt like it was one area where I was as close of an expert as I could be. With these gifts, I have considered being a professional organizer or a counselor. And I have considered going back to school for both. However, they either seemed superficial or earthly or too medical and removed from faith. And, I also knew that I am not really called to those things.

Back to the guy at the house today. He mentioned several faith related things and I was a little confused as to how he might have a clue in our interactions up to that point that we might have a faith at all. Then, he mentioned the music I had playing in almost every room. It was worship music and after inviting him in, I forgot it was even on. It is not the only music I listen to because I believe God can speak through any lyric. It was my music of choice this morning, however. I mentioned in the last post that I had recently gotten off of a fast. Yesterday was the crash and the excruciating breakthrough part of the fast. It had been two days since I had broken the fast, but I had the most horrific headache and was vomiting every couple of hours. I know that is too much information, but it is part of my point. I have spent years seeking answers for things. I’ve tried it all. I knew, after the spiritual time I had during the lockdown that all I had prayed about for years required things from me and not God. I resorted to a fast to determine what my part was. I had no idea starting out just how many days it might take. It took 66 hours to get clarity and redirection, then two days of normalcy to have the strength for the real breakthroughs to occur. I desperately wanted to alleviate the pain and move on. But, I didn’t want to miss one single lesson. I needed adjustments and it took a difficult day for all the wrong beliefs to be pointed out and for me to do the letting go and the releasing that was needed. Here is where I am passionate and where I have been hurt in the Church and where you may have noticed lots of what may have read like judgement of the Church in several of my last posts. I am passionate about breakthrough and real freedom and real peace and real joy. As much time as I spend reading and studying and listening, I still had hurt and pain that I needed to let go of. As gifted as I might have ever felt to discern pain and hurt and disfunction and crazy beliefs and fear in other people’s lives, I had ways of managing and doing life and speaking up and running from my gifts that caused me to be rejected or judged or ignored by the very people I was always trying to help. And, I found a description to define my gift more than discerner or exhorter and that was “empath”. I wrote a whole post about that, so I’m not here to keep going on trying to explain that. It basically means that a person has empathy. The issue is that they feel it way more than most people that care. They would rather adjust themselves than speak up and risk hurting others. It wasn’t always obvious that I was doing that to me or to others. At times, it even looked the opposite just because I didn’t know what to say or more times than not, they were not ready to heal or hear anything from me, so I remained quiet which could have seemed cold or uncaring. I am not in any way saying I am all knowing or some freak, but I do know that I am sensitive and I’ve got a whole lot of time to pray and that is what I do. I read, pray, paint and clean. Call me up anytime and 99 percent of the time those are the answers you will get for what I’m doing. The one thing I learned about the descriptions of an empath is that their houses are sanctuaries or retreats or safe places for the empath. That answered something I’ve questioned for years. I do see my house this way. I see it certainly as a place I can retreat to for safety and rest and peace. I have always wanted it organized and clean, not because I’m a perfectionist but because I function better that way. I have more energy and resources for others when “my work is done”. I see my home as a refuge to offer others as well. I don’t want company to just come over for coming over. People can go to a restaurant for that. I want to offer them an experience of peace and joy and safety and help and attention and relaxation. I have always cringed at the thought of cooking while I have company. I want to give my guests my undivided attention. I want to sit with them, look them in the eyes, and really find out how they are because they are finally in the flesh in my space. If you have ever been to our house, you have seen Jack do almost all of the cooking or I have completely prepared things ahead of time. I never want to appear distracted or too busy for others. People may think I’m lazy or spoiled and that I just let my husband do the work. You might not have seen the hours of cleaning or the hour of setting the mood by turning on music and lighting candles and setting things out we may need or the prayer and nap I took before even having company to ensure the company feels loved, welcomed and that I might be undistracted and sensitive to hear anything that might give me an opening into how I might help someone or offer hope or offer a quote or a book suggestion or a listening ear that just might help them on their journey. Have I always opened the door ready to help? No. I have been pressured into having company. They have been early. Or oftentimes I can sense pain I want to address and for many reasons cannot. So, what do I do? Well, I might seem closed off or shy or I may just be awkward and engage in surface level conversation when I want to either be vulnerable or ask vulnerable questions. And I am not saying I want my company to always be prepared to be open and vulnerable and ready for a counseling session. Of course not. I am saying that I want our home to be a non-judgemtnal home where guests feel loved and safe to share and no need to hide hurt or pain or stress. I am never going to be the person that says “you know that is sin. Give it to Jesus. He is your only hope.” Do I think that is true? Sure. On a side note—Do I think the only sins are the biggy moral ones that make the headlines? Absolutely not. That is why I have been hurt by the Church, meaning the big box that is religion. We just moved from Nashville, which I will argue until the cows come home, is the Christian version of LA. The creativity and the drive and the egoes are strong. Do I think God moves there just like anywhere else, of course I do. But I do believe we must examine things for what they are and not just assume that because a person writes a book or a song or has a podcast or writes a blog he/she is automatically a mature believer with no faults or pride or hurts and that we do not just put them on a pedestal for mentioning the LORD or Jesus. The world is looking at the Church, as a building, an authority and at its people who are supposed to be living differently. And when I say differently I do not mean not drinking or not having affairs or not cheating on their taxes. Are the people (we) in the church helping hurting people? Are we living with freedom and peace? Is our joy different? Is our love unconditional? Do we have any grace. Do we even understand grace? Do we know or understand mercy? Are we going around only concerned about politics and the election and what we can or can’t try to do to stop it, whatever “it” is? Or are we so filled with love for others that fear doesn't have a place and do we know that no matter what happens we are gonna be ok? Is that the message the church is giving? It isn’t the one I’ve heard in years. I think part of the problem here is that the voices that are the loudest are the most famous and often times the very young with not much life experience. Has the church forgotten about the older, wiser been there done that faith-filled men and women in the pews or chairs who quietly live out their faith? Do we even let their voices be heard or do we even listen if they try to share? Are they even part of the churches we attend?

And again, back to the guy at our house today. He asked us where we have been going to church. We shared that the one we were going to is closed now, so we are just doing our thing on Sunday mornings. We told him we have a worship playlist we turn on each Sunday morning, and we both read as we do every morning. It hasn’t devastated me. Sure I need and miss community. But I’ve also been learning that I’m not that great at it, so I’ve tried to learn what I can during this time away. The man mentioned that he usually listens to church online. But, then he said, “I have no idea what God is doing. How can Christians keep being ok without church? “ And he said that the enemy must really be getting his way. At least that is what I heard. I didn’t know the guy, but things bubbled up. I felt an explosion of an explanation, then looked at Jack and quietly said, “Oh I think I know exactly what He is doing.” No I don’t know exactly, but I know what He has taught me and how he has made me that continually confirms what the point of this Covid virus house bound thing just might be. And I’m not saying I know what the reasoning is because I’m better or wiser or all knowing. I just have spent the time asking and listening. And running and listening and painting. I haven’t been an essential worker for life in Tennessee, but I know I have been an essential worker for the Kingdom and my family whether they know it or not.

This seems like the perfect time to share something I have wanted to share for some time. Hang with me. I will try to make it make sense to be included her. We had precious friends from long ago swing through town about a month ago. We met them for ice cream. The husband shared that he had prayed and prayed for years for a different house. He said he had designated, special scriptures that he used. He said he felt a little bad about praying for a house with character when their house was fine. He continued none the less for years waiting for the perfect answer. I completely understood because I felt the same way for years living in Nashville. So, my heart was tender already because I knew I was sitting across from a kindred spirit. I knew he knew what it was tlike to take not only life stuff to a God in prayer, but he knew he was taking his deepest desires and dreams to a Friend in prayer . Anyway, his wife pulled up the photos and she handed me her phone. As I took the phone and saw the first picture, I started crying. If we had not been in a public place it would have been a sob. Here is the first picture I saw.

This is their kitchen! They turned a church that was for sale and getting worse and worse from wear with each passing day into a home. I cried not because I was jealous of this fantastic magazine worthy picture, but by the fact that this is the only picture I have ever encountered that pictured how I view the secular and sacred or the spiritual and the everyday. I cried because he was sharing a beautiful visual answer to his very personal prayer. I get that. That is how I see each painting I paint and I share them just as if I’m sharing a personal picture of an answered prayer. Every house has a kitchen and most people spend a part of each day in a kitchen. They are symbolically very secular. But theirs was a former church and a constant reminder. That is obviously spiritual. Well someone looking from the outside without the story might just think this house is sacrilegious. But I knew this was an answer to his years of prayer and it was beautiful. This church was forced to be offered for sale because of its elderly dwindling congregation. Our friends saw it as a chance to restore something beautiful. Also, I cried because this is how I see my house and my bathroom and my garage and my back porch, but I just do not have any stained glass windows to make it look that way. My house is sacred ground. Not because we are special or that we do anything special in it, but because I do meet God here. It is where I thank Him and listen and pray and worship. And my taking care of it is a respect thing. I see it as a gift with a purpose that is meant to be taken care of and used. That is why I get sad and angry if workers treat it like people treat the restroom at a gas station or if visitors disregard my requests for their kids to not run up and down the stairs with dog poop on their shoes or if my own children get angry if I ask them to pick up after themselves. And if I would have spoken to the guy in my house today about his concern. I would have shared that. And by that I mean that our own houses can be considered sacred too. Our time can be sacred, as well. God is everywhere! He’s not just in a church building on Sunday morning or Sunday and Wednesday and Sunday night, but also in our own homes or next to a homeless person on a sidewalk. I know some do not believe that statement, but I do. I don’t believe we have to call and invite Him everywhere. I think that is what omnipresent means. And I do not think he only goes where humans have determined are sacred or free of “sin” or only in the homes of believers. I think that is the Covid lesson. Just because church is closed is God concerned? Is He worried about what will happen or how we will survive?. No. Is he in control? Sure! Do we need to seek Him even when the doors of a building are closed? Of course! Can making breakfast alone in a kitchen be spiritual? You better bet it can? Can we learn lessons even if we aren’t in church? I’m hear to say yes we can! But, you have got to want to learn them, you might need to change the things you believe in that are keeping you stuck, and your eyes must be open and so must your ears. Some churches have changed themselves for Seekers. And people have criticized them for it. I’m hear to say that we must all be seekers and teachable and listening and it would be amazing if the mature and the wise and the righteous also see themselves as seekers as well. We must remain like children, right? Aren’t they the best questioners and seekers around? I understand that not everyone wants to be or has the time to be. Discussing that sideswipes the issue. I think Covid isn’t just a virus to fear or a time in a weird year that screwed up everything or a weird scheme to adjust the population or the conspiracy of a political party, but a chance for the church, for the people that go to church and call Jesus their Savior to have the time to listen and to seek and to renew their minds and to let go and release things that keep them caught up, weighed down, and looking no different than the rest of the hurting world, so that they can be free and at peace and full of joy with energy and compassion enough to actually make a difference in the world. I think that is a pretty good idea of the concept of The Great Commission because it would mean the people sharing and helping would have been on a journey with a God who had changed them too, not just a person telling someone to join a club that they belong to that doesn’t really change them or their lives more than to fill their weekly calendars. We must be called higher! And I’m here to say it is has been my lesson and it is my passion and dare I say gift that tends to see things that need a fixin’ and a cleanin’. And I’m sharing what I’ve learned and what I see.

I am also sharing two songs that have really come to my attention this week. The first one is the title of the blog. And I know some people may think it is sacrilegious, but I’m printing these lyrics to post in our home. It is how I want people to feel in our home and at church these days and it is a newer song. The other is one is an “oldie” someone sent me the lyrics to the other day knowing what I was going through. Both might have something to say to someone who might be reading. They both have references to art, course. I know they meant something to me! Enjoy!

Some Beautiful Scenery!

I’m not very gifted at culling photographs. I took so many, but I’m going to share just a few. Yes this is just a few compared to all the ones I took.

Yes, they are all very similar. I still love each one I chose for a different reason.

This trip the other night was a much needed trip back to nature. It was magical and special and I learned a lot on the mountain that night with this sunset and in the dark afterwards. If you think these are just another set of pics online to brag about where I’ve been or about what I’ve done, you probably don’t know me or who I am and you may not want to read any more if you don’t care. I am an empath (a Christian empath for those that might be afraid of the word) (I just figured this out today after fasting for exactly 66 hours and not a minute longer a few days ago) who paints and cares and shares the lessons I learn from painting and in nature, to connect and to hopefully give hope and joy and beauty to people through what I do! I paint because I like it and because I have a degree in art history and it is just nice to be on the other side. I paint because it helps me handle all of the pain and hurt I see and feel in the world. Painting is worshipful and therapeutic and prayerful for me. My paintings are abstract because I did my time learning and recreating what God has already done. My paintings are abstract prayers and songs and poems. They are stories and lyrics and words of encouragement I wish I could say. I just use paint when words don’t do the trick or when I know that colors and paint would say it better and clearer and might just be “heard” better and because sometimes for an empath like me, it is just much easier than saying words at all. I use words and photographs too sometimes. That is why this studio website has this blog feature, as well. I made it private the other day thinking that it would be best because so many people I long to connect with or the one’s I long to want to get to know me better or to understand me more weren’t reading it or the ones that were reading weren’t acknowledging that they had read it. I knew that that reaction was centered and focused on me. I understood that. I have since realized that some people do read it and the hard things I feel that I need to say just need to be said and whether or not people like what I paint or like what I do or what I say can no longer determine whether I do what I was born to do. No one would ever tell someone born to be a doctor to not be a doctor or for a teacher not to teach. Why should I let the actions of others make me doubt if I should do what I was born to do? So, I’m going to keep doing me and being the empath painter that I am. And I know myself well enough to put these words together now. They matter and they go together. And they are what give me the motivation and clarity and purpose to keep going whether anyone reads my words or buys my paintings or writes a comment. I gotta do what I gotta do. I changed the name of the page like a restaurant changes its name or like a company rebrands. This painting thing never came into my life to make Mandy Miller a famous artist. It has always had a bigger purpose. I understand that completely now. I was just reminded of a dream long ago that I have documented and a whole album on my computer of pictures of the craziest collection of baby e’s and a collection of puzzle pieces that have continued to lead me along on a journey that has looked weird and wild and crazy to a disconnected onlooker, but that have kept guiding and leading me to follow my passions and to use my gifts the way they were always meant to be used. The new name for the site is the '“e” Path studio (“The ‘e’mpath Studio”). I actually renamed it the “e”mpath Studio, but the computer would not let me type it that way. I think that is because it always has been all about the ‘e’s and the puzzle pieces and the journey has always felt like a path following someone and these things were my breadcrumbs and I was meant to be reminded of that. And I have to point out that empath does start with an ”e” and paths are one of my favorite things to photograph. Maybe just maybe the “e”s had a purpose. And maybe I was following God and Holy Spirit. I’m being funny here. I’ve always known they did and I have always known I was. It was what always kept me going. My faithful parents and a precious 23 year old girl, that is not even related to me, and my loving grace-filled husband have encouraged me to keep doing what I’ve been doing ‘cause they will keep reading and appreciating what I share and they know like me, it is what I’m meant to do. And the truth is even if they didn’t, for the first time ever, I know and accept myself for who I am, for the gifts I have, and for the unique way I see and express myself in this world and I’m going to confidently keep on doing it and posting it on here. Here’s to a new chapter!

Deer Day!

Yesterday was a deer day. I turned around as I made my toast and saw the first one nibbling on that beautiful monkey grass I talked about in a few posts back. The second one we saw on the way into the park at Roan Mountain.

I tried to slip outside for a better picture, but allI did was twist the lock to unlock it as quietly as I could and it started scurrying up the hill.

I know these are just deer. People have them eating flowers in their yards all the time. But to me, they are life—wild life and I love that. I refuse to take it for granted.

Trees

Yesterday I thought of this poem. It is one of my very favorites. I didn’t share it yesterday because I made reference in my post to thinking trees remind me of strong men. I’m sure this might frustrate the offendable. I am sorry. And today, I just couldn’t ignore the beauty of this poem as Kilmer refers to trees as females, so I decided to post it here. I agree with that too. ( I went to a Women’s College.) I love the imagery this poem creates. If you have never read it before I hope you enjoyed it. If you have, what stood out to you this time? I love the part about looking at God all day and the ”leafy arms that pray”. But, I really love the last two lines because “"‘Paintings’ are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree.” That is why I do not paint landscapes very often any more and that is one of my underlying life statements. This is also the reason why I didn’t paint at all during the lockdown month. I spent time each day posting older pics of my nature photography. I wanted people to “see the bigger picture” of life and to see the beauty created by the Creator and not me or my creations; not that I’m the only person to show “them”, but because some people are just too fearful or too busy to notice, especially during a pandemic. I understand that doesn’t work for everyone. Some people probably say it is putting too much focus on nature. I think that it is something tangible in our lives, something visible that reveals the unseen, in a way. Nature is filled with lessons and themes of seasons and their reasons, and restoration and renewal, and destruction with a purpose, and strength and power and provision and beauty and joy and hope. I don’t know about you, but I need that! People want to talk about how terrible the world is today. Sure, we can find things to be fearful of or concerned about or angry at or offended by. What good are those things? Why not focus on the Creator and His creation, the good things? Doing so sure does bring me joy. Nothing brings home the point of “not conforming to the pattern of this world and renewing the mind more than this.” I refuse to believe this scripture was only included to keep people from “sinning” and sleeping around or drinking until they are drunk. And that is always how and why I’ve heard it taught. And, on a side note I think it is high time we stop judging those things and maybe help people figure out how to deal with the pain that leads them to do those things in the first place. The world does this, but the Church rarely does and certainly does not do it well. Buried emotions of hurt and pain are always the cause. Religion wants to just tell people to stop. “Admit it, quit it and forget it.” It is always easier to focus on the stopping, rather than the why. This is not unlike a doctor telling a very obese person he/she just needs a knee replacement rather than a counselor, a trainer, and a dietician too. I know that is a controversial sentence. But I think it is very important and what I believe would help. However, it is why I find myself disappointed in people, at times. This is what makes ME sad and fearful. I long for people to speak about emotions and not just the physical and outward behavior. I understand why people don’t. Those things make people uncomfortable and the solution is not easy and it takes time to sort through and uncover the cause and we must be there for people while that happens. It is so much easier for the world’s approach to just “cut out the pain” rather than addressing it. The Church gives much of their support and attention to the physically sick. We must realize that there are a whole lot of people in the world that are “emotionally sick,” already “drunk” and “asleep” and they have no idea and some of those people are actually already in the Church. I understand that the Church is for the hurting and it should be that way. But so many people are hurting, but sometimes the last place to get hopeful, happy Good News is the Church. Should it be that way? No way! Being consumed by the world’s problems and ugliness and letting fear of the future consume our days is no way to live and no way to bring Heaven to Earth. There is so much beauty and hope to see here, today, in this moment. The problem is not all the bad in the world, it is where we place our focus. How can we ever be there for the hurting world and the people in it if we are angry at it, put off by it, distracted by it, or too consumed by judging it? The world is the world. I personally think God has beauty to show us and a new focus for us and therefore, a hopeful, joy-filled perspective to share. If anyone is reading this, you may disagree. That is ok. If you can disagree and still be filled with hope and joy and love for others, and dare I use the the word happiness here, so be it. If you cannot and this stirs up anger and hatred and concern and more judgment, just maybe there is an attitude adjustment or a change of perspective needed. Do not take it to me or from me, take it to God. Sit with it for a while. Listen. We can always benefit from listening. In the meantime, let’s find something that brings us joy and focus on that!. We are always happier and kinder and more sensitive when we do!

Nature's Display and Beauty--Please Don't Ignore It!

Let’s pretend to chat over this cup of coffee. Ok, I’ll go first. I haven’t been on many adventures lately. In a way this makes me sad, but to be honest I just really haven’t wanted to go. This whole mask wearing, social distancing has officially taken a toll on this artistic introverted soul. I don’t think it is the cause though. What I think is that it has just gotten everyone quiet and isolated just long enough to reveal weaknesses—weaknesses in ourselves and in our little worlds. Social media has kept trucking along, however. I’m a huge fan of social media because I love to see pictures of friends around the world and it is how my son’s creativity was appreciated and discovered and encouraged. I don’t like it for oh so many reasons though. I will not get into those now because it would reveal too much of my weaknesses and unnecessary need for approval or encouragement. I go hot and cold about using it. People have suggested I use it for my art “business”. I try and it comes up empty. Art lovers tell me I just don’t have followers that care about the kind of art I do. “Find a new audience,” they say. “Yea the algorithm stinks. It has probably got something to do with that. People probably don’t see your posts. Just spend money to promote your posts” My response is always, “If they are my friends and family isn’t that supposed to be a supportive, cheering audience? If they don’t like what I post or care, do they even like me? Are we even really ‘friends’?” I will say that in today’s world it would be so easy to just lay this whole art dream down and God knows I have tried several times. At 50, it seems so goofy to have such a dream anyway. I’ve gone my whole life just admiring the accomplishments of others and just quietly doing my own thing until this art thing popped up in my life. As a mom and a person who focuses intently on one thing to do it well, I thought I couldn’t raise great kids and do other things. And I was blessed to be able to solely focus on them and to keep a clean house. So, I waited until they flew the nest to try exploring something else I love. It was never something I set out to do. I painted in oils for the first time in a friend’s painting class in 2012 and something inside me changed forever. When I share the pain of holding onto this dream with others, it is quickly just swept aside as a pipe dream or something silly a spoiled housewife would try and do in all her free time or I’m given the advice of just doing what I love and not worrying about others. Well, of course that is true. I totally understand that. That is how I’ve had to function for years. Moms get that! The problem is that if someone really understands creativity, they would understand that there is an aspect that requires feedback, acknowledgement, or a response. Those things are like other profession’s paychecks. Think of the end of a play or concert, a timely delivery of a joke, an emotionally delivered song, or the release of a novel. All of these things require vulnerability and a willingness to share. And the response is usually clapping, laughing, tears or purchasing a book, for example. Although I have a beautiful and supportive marriage, I struggle with sometimes feeling like I operate in a void or within an invisible force field that completely blocks me from any form of encouragement or feedback or general checking in, apart from my husband. I try to offer encouragement and concern and interest with others because I know what it feels like trying to do things without it. It has gotten so bad lately that when I text or email it is as if it gets lost in thin air. I get no response. I try to not take it personally and not let it bother me. I sometimes even delete the items from my phone so I’m not continually reminded how someone did not respond which is excruciatingly embarrassing. (not because it happens sometimes, but because it happens so often) But really, maybe I don’t deserve one. I understand that is a possibility. I could handle this with grace, I think, if we were not in the middle of a pandemic; if my nest were not empty; or if I was not trying to follow a dream of being an artist. Who knows what the cause is. Is it karma for something I did that I am unaware of and this is payback? Is it God saying that I am not gifted and not meant for this path? Is it some demonic force field of rejection or generational curse at play? Have I always been such a bad friend that I do not deserve encouragement for what I do or deserving of a text back or one to see how things are going? Is it that most people in my life don’t understand art and artists? Or are they all just too busy? Do I just paint things that aren’t any good or worthy of a response? Are people just too busy to care about something as trivial as a painting I create? Why couldn’t I have loved math or biology or law or physics? Do we just live in a world now that has everyone operating as “each man must look out for himself’? People tell me they are just not texters or social media isn’t for emotions or relationships or connecting and that people “just don’t comment as much or like Instagram posts or stories anymore”. Then, I’m going to need it to be renamed because I thought that was exactly what it is, a social network. And that is exactly what I need it to be in this no large social gatherings, all online, not connected, not personal automated, drive-through world we find ourselves in today—a SOCIAL NETWORK. As I have mentioned before, I have a degree in art history. I am keenly aware of the crazy emotional lives of artists. Wow! There are some crazy ones! I used to stand from afar and feel so emotionally moved by their stories filled with pain. Much has been written about the struggling artist. I became a painter 8 years ago, so maybe it has just now caught up with me —the paint fumes and all. HAHA! I would venture to guess that it has nothing to do with that. What I have seen during this pandemic with the house bound issues, especially with musicians and actors, is that these people are not crazy, but their life’s work deals with making the lives of others enhanced by laughter and beauty and story and song. We judge them for their antics or seeing their ‘need’ as whining for attention. But, the reality is that they ‘need’ that audience just like a doctor needs a patient or a teacher needs a student, or a pastor, a congregation or a missionary needing a mission. You can see it with their "at home” living room concerts and monologues and Tik-tok dances. It seems a bit desperate, but I think they are desperate. Their careers went on hold over night and some won’t fire back up again. I wrote on Instagram the other night about how we have made a huge point to thank the essential workers, but do we ever think of thanking the non-essentials ones, like artists in the world for what they do? The answer is “no” because often times the people I know are too busy and angry about “those peoples’ politics”. And they think they make too much money anyway. I think they think they kind of deserve it. I think that is where I too find myself—alone— creating things that may or may not ever get an audience or a viewer or a comment or a nod or a wall to hang on. Desperate. I understand. It is the given in the life of any artist. I was a stay at home mom for 20 years, so I get the working hard and the dirty work for no awards or promotions. I’m not some spoiled person who needs to be successful. I just would like to feel like what I do matters these days or that the beauty I’m trying to offer the world matters. And, I do understand that I paint abstracts and that there are just some people that will never be comfortable with abstract art. This is not a post to get comments. That feels nasty and wouldn’t be genuine if I got them. I’m writing a vulnerable post because the pain has got to come out. And although an illness would get far more attention. I do not want it to come to that. I’m not really worried about being embarrassed that people might read this because I have shared that I have been writing on here for months and have begged people to read, comment and interact with me some how. I know that my parents and maybe only two other people will ever even read it anyway. I guess it is just an online diary. So, if you have logged on and made it to the end, “Thank you! Your effort is much appreciated!” You have read more than most people take the time to do these days. I appreciate it with all that is in me! It is Sunday, so if church was actually open, maybe I wouldn’t have had to be so open on here. And believe me, the studio and the worship music has certainly been my church today!

Also, if you know me at all, you know that everything is spiritual to me. So, I can usually find a spiritual lesson about anything I’m dealing with. I know that if I have any issue with this at all, maybe the Ultimate Creator, God himself might just ”feel” like I do. I’m not trying to put human concepts on God, but it makes me think. God’s creation is on display every day wherever we look. Do you/we take the time to thank him for the beauty he displays for us? Do you drive around with your mind on all the things you “have” to do and oblivious to all the beauty that surrounds us?  Do you take sunsets for granted? I mean, they happen every day whether we acknowledge them or not, right? Do the tomatoes growing on the vines in your yard blow you away as they grow and turn bright red and perfect for your picking? Do you take for granted those annuals that bloom in the heat of the summer because you had to plant them or do you forget to acknowledge God for those beautiful hummingbirds that visit the feeder that you have to refill with sugar water? I sure try not to ever take it for granted. The beauty and the eyes to see I am forever grateful for. May I never tire of thanking the Great Artist in my life for all the beauty and joy He shows me each and every day. I appreciate each display! Below are just a few not so great zoomed in photos I’ve captured lately of this beauty.

My first monarch of the season!

There are also things like this in the midst of all the beauty. People are so frightened by them. I understand the symbolism, but they are still part of God’s creation. We can learn lots from not writing off everything we think is scary and “wrong” and not right. “It” still belongs and has a purpose even when some people think it doesn’t.

Never seen monkey grass bloom like this! Or maybe I was too busy to notice before!

Oh the joy this pup found watching these fish eat their dinner! It was contagious!

A wee little man!

One of my favorite Bible stories is the one of Zacchaeus. Seeing this tree a few weeks back reminded me of that story. It was the best climbing tree I think I’ve ever seen. I took lots of pictures and I went up really close to see how weird this middle aged lady might look climbing on up in it. I wasn’t a huge tree climber as a kid. I was more of the outside kid that examined the bark and it’s texture and sat at the base of trees. I used them for shelter from the Texas heat. I built forts in the ones that had foliage that went all the way to the ground. Those were my favorites. I have always viewed trees as the regal gentlemen of nature. They withstand storms and ice and lightning. They hang on for dear life and seem to always come back from damage or pruning because they have deep roots. I understand why Zacchaeus did what he did. He was short. I get that. He also did whatever he had to do to see Jesus. Wonder if he needed help to get in his tree that day. Wonder if people made fun of him for having to get in the tree. He was already despised when he climbed in it. It was worth the effort and the mocking or the embarrassment because the teacher he longed to see and hear actually noticed him and spoke to him and went to his house that day! If you, like me, ever sang the song, is it in your head now? I took another picture of a girl lounging in this tree. My family wasn’t happy with me, but as usual I needed to capture the image to remind me of the lesson it taught me.

I like her pose. She is comfortable there and obviously not in a rush. She took the time to get up there. I’m not sure if she did it herself or if she needed a boost. I may be 50, but this had something to remind me—I’m still very much a kid inside. I remember days like this. They are always worth it. I never want to lose my love for nature and the outdoors. When nature offers you beauty or a resting spot. Take the time and effort to notice and take it all in! You may just find exactly what you were looking for or like Zacchaeus, way more!

One of those days in the studio

“Resonance” 22x28

I’m very much a lover of neutrals and black. My high school colors were black and gold and those colors run deep in me. So, every so many paintings I try to paint a neutral one in the mix of all of my fun bright colored pieces. It is a great lesson each time. I like the simple designs that these colors lend themselves to. They are elegant and look great in just about any interior space. If you think of bright colors as “speaking loudly” in a painting, like louder notes in a song or maybe even a drum beat, neutrals are quiet like whispers or subtle soft tunes. I like adding black too I guess similar to how a pianist or composer uses the ebony keys on a piano or keyboard. It is dramatic and makes a strong statement along side the subtleties of the whites and creams and silvers. The golds and coppers are essential for me also. Not sure I could sign my name to a piece without those details. They make each piece pop and come alive, in my opinion.

“Pastel Therapy” 16x20. I hashed out a lot of pain and frustrations with this piece. I do not usually do that. If I am frustrated, I do not paint. Today something happened in the middle of painting and things took a turn. I felt it was important to keep pressing in rather than to take a break. This piece seemed to be lost, but I love what it turned into. I always love taking the journey with a piece that seems to be a mess or a loss. This one already has a frame and a special place on our own wall. I don't usually gravitate towards these colors, but in this piece they seem to “say something” calm and sweet and gentle. Maybe they remind me of sherbet or sorbet which I loved when I was younger. It may look like chaos to someone who dislikes abstracts. I love the colors in paintings. They are what draws me into a piece. I also think that works of art carry emotion somehow, just like a song can. I like pieces that give me a certain feel. I love the feel I get when I look at this piece, and I’m the artist. That doesn’t usually happen. I’m usually far too critical. I just happen to love being surprised by something I create. Some pieces just seem to have a life of their own. Some pieces just paint themselves. I love that. I just hold the brush and pick the colors as I go along. It might be weird, but it is a process I’ve grown to love and not fear.

"Golden Hour in a Crowded Room"

This piece started out with a completely different plan. Sometimes things go that way. Paths are not always straight. Sometimes muted colors want to speak louder. Sometimes pieces tell more than one story. That is what my husband likes about this one. He feels it is telling multiple stories. And he’s right.

Don't Tire of Doing Good!

That is the title of this latest 48x48. It is by far the hardest thing I have ever painted. I’ve been painting for seven hours minus a quick stop for a sandwich for lunch at this point.

This is where I wanted to stop because I was exhausted. I kept going because I knew when I started this piece that it was an “all the way to the edge” piece.

This is a step back and see how it’s going picture. I have to do that every few minutes with any abstract, but especially with one this large.

These are just fun angled pics that I wanted to share.