Up the Sunbeam

I haven't decided whether it was a good idea or not. I looked back through all of my posts for 2011. I want to hang my head and hide. Am I ashamed of the pictures I've taken or the words I've written? No. But I AM painfully ashamed that so little of what I have written has produced real change in me. Conviction is darned uncomfortable.  The Holy Spirit is doing His work to refine my stubborn heart, but oh how I squirm and chafe at the feel of it.  His quiet and steady hand is more gentle on the reins than I deserve.  I wanted to be better than this by this New Year's Day and it hurts and makes me sad and sorry and angry with myself for this disappointing result. Why is it so easy to know things and so hard to be changed by them? Where is the disconnect between what I deeply believe and what I actually do? Father, how do I take all the bits and pieces of truth, the collected lessons I've learned, written, tucked away and cataloged, and keep them...

When I was too little to know any better, my mother tells of her complete mortification when I would make loud slurping sounds as the tray of communion cups was passed in our little church. The sight of all those little me-sized cups of grape juice going by just out of reach was all I needed to notice how thirsty I was. Since I didn't have the words, I found another way to let it be known that I wanted something to drink. So it was, just about a month ago now, when Laura Boggess wrote about a new book she loved and was offering as a giveaway. As I followed her instructions to be entered, I found myself uncharacteristically REALLY hoping I would win. I never win these things, and don't often enter or think too much about them. There was something about the sight of that elegant cover, and the chance to see behind the scenes of L. L. Barkat's creativity that was like the tiny cups of juice that tempted that long-ago thirsty baby. I don't think I actually slurped, but ...

-- From the moment God put language in our mouths and made us people of words--created by and in the image of the pre-existent Logos, the Word --He made us people of symbols too.  For what are words but symbols?  Words represent, either audibly when spoken, or visually when written, an object, an idea or a piece of information. We use other things as symbols too--as for me, I have a little collection of frogs I'd like you to meet! This note I received from my parents several years ago is tacked up next to my computer monitor where I write: When I am tempted to get discouraged, my eyes are drawn to these amazingly affirming words, symbols in ink of a love I can only begin to fathom because I am a mother of two whom I also love to encourage!  My parents' words of encouragement accompanied one of the frogs in my collection--one of a number they have sent me over the years. I'll bet you're wondering, So Shaunie, what's the deal with the f rogs? And frog spit???...

-- My keyboard has been beckoning. I have been avoiding. My mind is a blank.  A void, empty, white page. The old fear oozes and drips from my workspace in the dining room and I recoil even as I am drawn close.  I deeply long to write, but . . . what if I've had my last idea worth writing for eyes other than my own?  What if I've already shown my last picture worth seeing?  What if my own limitations are all I have to draw from and all my ideas are exhausted? Fear notwithstanding, it is hope that drives me to sit once more, to finger-dance across the keys whose letters are wearing off, to haltingly put the spark of an idea into black-on-white.  It is hope that pulls me like a magnet to grab my camera and go in search of inspiration--IT always finds ME! Fear notwithstanding . . . because ultimately fear never can withstand HOPE. Hope--the silver lining that compels me to KNOW the sun is above and beyond the menacing cloud! Hope--the WILL to TRY befo...