nature

Hope in a Love Language

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On this blog, I have mentioned the importance of my deck. Because I love nature and the fresh beauty of the outdoors, my deck becomes a sanctuary – the place where I most often meet with God.20141002_182454

On my deck, cardinals chirp a chorus from their beautiful repertoire. Blue jays squawk while squirrels run across the deck railing and try to steal food from the feeder. I study the clouds and the way the sun outlines their fluffy exteriors at dusk. On my glider, I rock back and forth in time to the songs I sing to the Creator of everything I see and hear.

But the past couple of years, my sanctuary has been marred by the weathering of nature. I wondered how long my deck would last when the next winter blasted through our Kansas heartland. Never treated, the wood showed wear and made me worry about the dollars and time involved to fix it. I didn’t know how to deal with it, and I had little time to Google “deck staining.”

Then one weekend in September, a most marvelous occurrence took that worry away. Two deacons from my church and my wonderful son stained my deck. I had no idea that a stain could be so beautiful. Sienna brown was the color. Fantastic was my adjective.

These three men worked all day and made sure that every part was sufficiently covered. As I surveyed the finished results, I was amazed at how the color added richness to my terracotta pots yet contrasted splendidly with the creamy yellow of my home’s siding.

My primary love language is acts of service, and lately – I have felt the depletion of my soul’s resources. I knew I needed some TLC – somehow. In this act of service, this staining of a single mom’s deck, these men provided that care and helped to once again fill up my love tank.

I worship God for the way these men underscored what the church is supposed to be as we help each other with practical needs. And in my sanctuary of the outdoors, I thank God for the kindness offered me on one Saturday in September.

©2014 RJ Thesman – “Intermission for Reverend G” – http://amzn.to/1l4oGoo

Taking Myself on an Artist Date

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In her book, “The Artist’s Way,” Julia Cameron encourages creatives to schedule a regular artist date. The idea is to do something creative that is not your usual medium so that you can return to your own art, refreshed and renewed.

It had been several weeks since my last artist date, so I looked forward to attending the Prairie Village Art Fair and reveling in the creative spirit of other artists.20140531_105757

As I roamed among the booths, I was astounded by the various ways to express art. Woodworking, ceramics, blown glass, water colors, oils, leather as well as the more unusual yard art and even sequins carefully nailed on boards to create portraits.

A few art forms made me wish I had about $2300 extra to purchase something special for my living room wall. Others I just passed by, not attracted to cartooning or jewelry made out of only black and white beads.

As I walked by some of the booths, I thought – how like writing. Just as I rejected certain art forms that didn’t appeal to me or fit my décor, so publishers sometimes reject my words because they don’t fit their needs. I didn’t reject these artists themselves, just their work.

I need to remember that nugget of truth the next time an editor writes those dreaded words, “Sorry, this story doesn’t fit our current needs.”

The art that attracted me most was a photograph of lily pads, caught within the warm colors of a sunset. “That photo helps me feel at peace,” I told the artist. He smiled.

Other art forms I liked included outdoor scenes, a photo of a barn door with an inlay of actual barn siding, a grove of trees with a few real twigs inserted. It was the art that represented nature that appealed most to me because it reminded me of the country, of the colors and textures I love most.

Then I realized an additional value of my artist date – to help me underscore how I worship God best – within the palettes of nature, the turquoise of a Kansas sky, the chestnut bark on my willow tree, the purple clematis that climbs my back fence. These are the pastels and oils of my life, these art forms that have been created to glorify the Almighty and give me joy.

So I left the art fair and drove home to sit on my deck and enjoy the art of God.

©2014 RJ Thesman – Finding Hope When Life Unravels – “Intermission for Reverend G” – http://amzn.to/1l4oGoo

Trappings of Junk

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20140516_095511A plastic bag is stuck in my elm tree. It’s too high for me to reach it, and I’m way past the days when I shinnied up the bark of my favorite tree and journaled while talking to the birds. I’m not climbing up there to pull it down.

I don’t know how to get this nasty old plastic bag out of my tree, so I’ll have to just wait until another Kansas storm blows through and somehow unfastens it from that particular branch.

But I hate how it spoils the beauty of nature – that white plastic in the middle of all those beautiful green leaves and the occasional crimson of my cardinals. I hate how the manufacturing of our plastic world has ruined nature’s purity.

I wonder if God also hates how we have ruined his lovely world. Black smoke pours from factory chimneys and discolors his turquoise sky. Tin cans litter mountain streams. Junk food clogs up the arteries of his most prized creation, the ones he created on the sixth day and declared that we were, “Very good.”

The junk of our sins that we so easily invite into our lives destroys trust in relationships and casts dark shadows on generations of children. Addictions, murder, gossip – all these and more create a blight on the purity of God’s plan and keep us from living the abundant life our souls crave.

Yet we can’t seem to do anything about it. Just like the plastic bag in my tree. Our cruelties to each other and our weaknesses within ourselves keep waving at us a reminder that nature and life is not as it should be.

We wait for the next storm and hope it will somehow release us and make everything all right again.

Sometimes I grow so tired of all the trappings of junk. It’s easy to lose hope when I recognize the root of evil traipsing across my television and spot it in myself as well. There but for the grace of God go I.

Reverend G reminds us how fragile life is and how quickly it can change. “All human beings live with the same predicament. We occupy our bodies, our workplace and our homes until God says, ‘Time’s up. Come home.’ Then a bullet rings out or cancer swallows the last healthy cell or a blood clot races to the heart and we’re done.

“The only way to focus on life and not lose hope is to remember that each day matters. Live in the current moment, which occupies an undetermined number of minutes. Smile, hug our loved ones and bless God by serving him every day. Then when that bullet, that cancer cell or that blood clot knocks on the door—we’re ready to leave.”

So I guess that’s the answer to my plastic sack problem and all the impurities of our world. Trust God to make it right some day, to blow through our world with his powerful grace and purify everything.

But in the meantime, do my best to keep my corner of the world clean, to serve God every day and bless others by sharing the hope he shares with me.

©2014 RJ Thesman – “Intermission for Reverend G” – http://amzn.to/1l4oGoo