For a few months, the symbolism of sails and sail-ships have been ever prominent in my mind and inner visual processing and listening. The Lord has given me so many guideposts along the way in this thread of thought - a sail-ship in a vintage magazine, a sermon with the theme of sailing, a major rush of His Spirit through song and word of knowledge, songs and poems that surprise me out of the blue, and gifts of sail-ships by my sweet husband who sails with my heart in ways that mirror my little-girl heart hope dreams. 
God, teach me lessons for living
so I can stay the course.
Give me insight so I can do what you tell me—
my whole life one long, obedient response. ~Psalm 119:33-34
As I sketched this morning, a beautiful thing happened.... one of those little visual messages from my Creator Papa. Searching Him out was in my head and in my tight hands. Pen to paper... drawing lines, bearing down on solid spheres, trying to find expansion in the open circles, flowing into unexplainable morphing shapes... searching... no... HUNTING for the connection to His heart... the refuge place... the answer place. So much going on in my head - pondering, needing direction, listening.
As I moved the paper to get a different direction with the color, suddenly the light coming from the shutters cast a perfect doorway into my journey. The brilliant door was so obvious. “Come up here... I will show you...”
So I shadowed around the door with color, capturing the visual imagery of the spiritual message. He has made every doorway of understanding we have need of. He sets the passages in line for our sailing... we just have to apply ourselves to the searching it out. Like a treasure in a field, I will search for Him.
“LORD, you alone are my portion...” - Psalm 16:5
Jesus, I come to you this morning with no preconceptions of who I think you are. Will you give me fresh vision today of You? The aching of a soul for a Savior - a busy one hunting for a resting place. I need you, Sanctuary... for you are my Portion.
What does it mean for the Lord to be our sole Portion?
In my life, I often find that I’m trying to take all the parts of my life and make sense of them... seems I would grow out of this but isn’t it what we all do? I try to look at all the compartments, the jobs, the hats I wear, the people in my life, all my random thoughts and dreams and problems.... and I try to put it all into a composition that is lovely... I work the puzzle continually as the image changes and changes and is forever morphing into something else. All these parts - these portions are life... my life.
Last night at the studio I painted a huge oil painting. On the four ft. square canvas I applied rows and rows of random colors straight onto the canvas from the tubes... I new the mixing would come together because the oils stay open for so long. I had no apprehension about just throwing the colors on. This canvas is so large I could be in the painting... feel the colors and lines and blendings wrapping me as I painted. The colors morphed and changed becoming messy in places and lovely in places. I moved with it, through the frustrations and the little pleasing joys. As I dragged the brush through the four ft. mass of paint, a simple line would reveal many colors. It was like a rainbow line of promise, that through every undercolor and every space I passed through, beauty would be revealed in some way. Life is like that... through the messy and the busy and the frustrating and the nice places - as we begin to just move with it - through it - it reveals an unexpected beauty in the midst of chaos. The parts do mesh.
The painting rests on the easel in my studio... still very chaotic and random. As I painted last night, I kept trying to bring the random colors, the mass of lines, the almost gaudy forms into a whole... to force the portions into a lovely whole. It didn’t work and I realized near midnight that if I kept doing that to those sensitive oils then I would only have a mess. I had to walk away from it. The medium is teaching me patience.
So in my calm waking this morning my one narrow road of thought is to have Jesus Only. Oh how I complicate things... He is my Portion... the only One allotment I need to bring everything else into a beautiful composition. I am no longer mine. It is not I who live. My parts are nothing compared to even a glimpse of His Wholeness. It is Christ who now lives. To grasp that... everyday... every moment... Every thing to equal the One Thing - that I may gaze upon His Beauty. That to know Him may be the one sum of all my parts.
When dreams die where are they buried?
When a dream dies where does it go?
Is it in the caverns of our soul -
forever deep
tucked away
untouchable?
Spirit move.
Blow through the dry land and...
cause a sandstorm.
Change the landscape of my heart -
may one dune become flat,
and another mountain rise up.
With Your Breath comes the water
bringing forth life again.
Brittle caverns...
with one Breath of Your Wind
become moist,
alive
shapeable.
I... gasp... at the Beauty of Your Breath...
And now the heat...
The heat of Your Whisper...
burns out
the dead places.
Where is the dream?
The one long-forgotten?
The one I had strongly in my imagination when I was five years old.
Spirit touch.
Remove the veil
and touch.
Remove the dross
and touch.
Remove the rigid place
and touch.
Holy Spirit keep moving through
until You find the tiny stone
that once lived in my imagination as a great big dream.
Hold.
Hold.
Hold that dream again.
Rise it up again
into my heart -
my mind -
my spirit.
Breathe Your Life...
in it -
and around it -
and through it.
Set it aflame.
Burn away the outer shell
so that the living thing
inside...
the nucleus
may be
spontaneously lit
with
Your Vision.
Where does a dream go when it dies?
Into a tomb... that resurrection my rise.
‘Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’ ~ Jeremiah 33:3
“See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands...”
Father, you say that you hold me in your hands... even in Your Word, you say, “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands...” (Isaiah 49:16) How can it be that You God, in your great vastness.... see me... that you hold me in your hands. Though I cannot totally comprehend it, I listen and hear you speak it to my heart.... a weary heart that has been rushing along trying to keep up with all I feel need to accomplish. Give me grace to rest in all that you have unfolded for me... your Grace truly is sufficient.
Yesterday, I walked on the nature trail at our local park, and as I walked around the lake, taking in all the beauty... it was such a Place of Worship. At one point, I placed my phone in the shoulder of my blouse and turned my worship music on so it would play right into my ear... and I walked on. Though I was totally engaged with the world around me... seeing all the activity around, hearing all the natural sounds and playful sounds of a world enjoying a weekend, and having good conversation with my husband as we walked... for a brief moment... I was captured away with my Papa. I looked up into the trees above, the sun coming through and for a moment, I heard His heart for me, “I love to capture you away with me.” For that brief moment, I heard in a way that was different than the natural sounds around me... it was His Breath and it was the most precious moment of the day. It was mere seconds... just gazing at the branches, natural wind on my face, ears attuned to His Wind. Oh what manner of love is this that He would capture me away from His everywhere beauty and take me into His Deep Beauty? To grasp that... every day.... my prayer. I think of that old hymn. “I need you every hour...”
So in that moment, I felt the Lord hold me in the palms of His hands. It was a beautiful day. I didn’t need a rescue... but yet He captured me anyway... in an already beautiful moment. How awesome is a God like that? His heart is the most beautiful place.
The scripture from Isaiah, “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands...” was a reassurance to Israel of the Lord’s commitment to them... that He had not forgotten them. The word engraved literally means “to cut.” Oh how Jesus loves us that He literally, on the cross, had us cut into His innocent hands. I’ve experienced those hands holding me when I felt forgotten. I’ve felt them wrap me when I could not go on. I’ve felt those hands on my shoulders encouraging me to keep moving... and like in the moment yesterday, I’ve experienced Him holding me there in His hands... captured away with Him... just because He loves to bring me close to His heart. He wants the same for us all. See?
