Photo copyright © Mary Ann Sullivan.
Photo copyright © Mary Ann Sullivan.
by Artist Eye
One summer night when I was a child I made a wish. I desperately wanted my life to change. I wanted to live in a “free” country. I can’t honestly claim that this was any kind of a prayer. As I remember that night it was definitely in the: “wish I may, wish I might” category. I guess I’d be the first person to explain to a child that wishes and prayers are very different entities but the other night as I watched another summer night sky fill up with stars I was grateful that the unequivocal desires of my heart were heard up in heaven.
by Artist Eye
O taste and see that the Lord is good; Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!
Psalm 34:8
by Artist Eye
Listening to the rain pattering off the trees reminded me of summer camp in the mountains. Nothing between us and the rain but a cabin screen; bundled up in sweatshirts as the late August air rapidly released the swelter of its heat; happily marooned with fellow cabin mates—our family unit for the summer.
I learned a lot about myself in the casual acceptance of total strangers. Slipped from the moorings of whatever it was that I thought my family expected of me, I tried out new ways of being myself. I saw the world with different eyes. I know I was lucky; I know I was loved; and I don’t take for granted the work that it took to build an environment for kids that was that safe and that sound.
by Artist Eye
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. Hebrews12:1
Sometimes when I struggle with myself I am motivated by a picture of a crowd of watchers peering down from heaven, their smiling faces ranged around a balustrade. On a good day I imagine both the strangers and the dear departed friends cheering and laughing good naturedly. And on the bad days? Well, then I guess their faces are more earnest and intent, and perhaps some of them let their exasperation with their charge show in their faces.
by Artist Eye
I have a friend who refers to mistakes and failures as “course corrections. ” Myself, I pretty much go down for the count when I mess up. After apologizing for the third time in one day for dropping the ball on a job (you understand — that’s three separate drops, three separate apologies, three separate nose dives.) I was considering the whole course correction idea. The key to this enlightened philosophy is knowing one’s destination.
Saint Augustine, who apparently knew all about being wrong, famously said, ” You made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” Remembering my destination is my best hope for standing up and setting out again.
by Artist Eye
I was recently in the right place at the right time to see some Bog Coppers enjoying their brief season in the sun. Unlike their ubiquitous cousins, the American Coppers, these dark beauties only breed once and are usually only seen for a few weeks of the summer. Tiny transient out-pourings of God’s extravagance.
The fourth century writer known as Pseudo-Dionysius, referring to God as the Beautiful, wrote: “Beauty is the great creating cause which bestirs the world and holds all things in existence. . . . [It] is the Cause toward which all things move, since it is the longing for beauty which brings them into existence.”
by Artist Eye
My Godmother was the most creative person I knew when I was a kid. Handmade, never before imagined, uniquely crafted items arrived in the mail for Christmas and birthdays. A visit to her home always included a tour of the latest renovation, remodeling, or re-purposing she had dreamed up. No wall was too sacred to demolish, no paint color too outrageous to try, and no material too unfamiliar to hazard. She was not, as it happened, a Christian. I have often thought that God knew that that department of my little life was well in hand and so He gave me something else He knew I needed. My Aunt Dorcas had an eye for beauty and life. She was not about the status quo or worrying about what the whole neighborhood thought. She was what I now think of as a model of the “courage to create.” Being creative can sometimes seem like a dicey business so I thank God for those people I’ve known who were willing to run the risk.