As we are creative beings, our lives become our work of art. (p. xxvi)

So I search for words
In the crinkle of newspaper
Igniting pinecones into
Flame

Blue-white wisps coaxed to
Dance

In swirling orange
Skirts
Wide in the wind

Art is born in attention. Its midwife is detail. (p. 21)

And I listen for words
In the sizzle of chicken,
The chopping of carrots,
The simmering of stock
For soup

Waiting for them to
Rise with the dough,
Steep with the tea,

Crumble
A bumper crop of
Cones
Into ash

…the singular image is what haunts us and becomes art (p. 21)

Tiny golden flecks
Glinting in
Green eyes

Soft spring rain
Nourishing tender
Roots
One fat drop
At a time

Ideas, like
Heat-cracked crusts,
Cooling on the counter,
Steam rising

The artist brain is
• sight and sound, smell and taste, touch (p. 21)
• sensual, a language of felt experience (p. 21)
• reached through rhythm – through rhyme, not reason (p. 21)
• triggered by images (p. 23)

Seeking art in every breath,
Swallow
Action

Cotton floating soft
Against bare skin

Vapors of
Heat rising
Hypnotic,
Altering the way we
See

Words pouring
Across days
Like slow molasses

Flitting in,
Swooping out

As we blink
Capture
Recognize
Record

Become the art

Noticing
Seeking

Because creativity
Is not
A luxury

But inherently
Who we are

Fearfully and
Wonderfully
Made

By Him who
Spun the cosmos
And separated the seas

Who,
In mystery,
Created

You and me.

*Join us here and see what others are saying about The Artist’s Way:

Brown leather cut wide
Across bare feet

Cool tea in glass bottles
~ never sweet ~

And heavy cream
Conversations

You can sink your teeth into
Plain maybe, but

Real
Not brave

Just longing for a
Few

To plumb the depths
And drink the nectar of her

Soul
Skip the whipped and waxy

Words of discontent
To breathe

The heady scarlet
Thread of

Sacrifice
And joy alighting at the

Edge
As she swoops and swallows

The night
Inviting me to

Breathe the rhythm
Of her life.

*Inspired by Michelle Rinaldi Ortega who encouraged me to respond to this week’s prompt at Three From Here and There.

And linking with dVerse Poets where words spill and poets speak.

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them….God saw all that he had made and it was very good. ~ Genesis 1:27, 31

A letter to my daughters, my sisters, my friends, myself:

I want you to know, today and everyday: You are beautiful – body, mind and soul – not because you’re model perfect, but because you’re the exquisite workmanship of God.

Society advertises a narrow standard of physical beauty – one size, one shape, one height, color, hair, eyes, brows – and we wax and pluck and color and shave and dye and perm and straighten and strive to fit that mold. And sometimes we do, but it comes at a cost, and not just to us.

We were created to fit together into the mosaic of creation, each of us unique and perfectly fitted to complete the whole. When I strive to be you, two of us struggle to fit into a space created for one, and another space, mine, is left empty, a gaping hole I was specially fitted to fill.

Just as no two snow flakes are ever the same, we weren’t meant to be identical either. Think about the immensity of God’s creation – a seemingly infinite variety of colors and shapes, sizes and patterns and dimensions – from velvety roses to giant sequoias, gentle-winged butterflies to steel-taloned eagles, little brown bats to great white whales. God’s creation is vast and varied and immensely different – on purpose.

Can you even imagine life with only one kind of flower, just big, white daisies sprouting from every garden, every yard, every vase, held in bouquet of every bride? Soon we’d stop noticing them altogether and none would be special, because they’d all be identical, exactly the same.

We weren’t meant to be one color, one shape, one size, but a vast array, the full spectrum of God’s infinite beauty, each soul reflecting bits and pieces of God’s own character, creativity, and diversity.

We were meant, as my cousin says, “to embrace the curl,” to embrace who we are, who God created us to be, instead of hiding and blending and covering and shaping and forcing our uniqueness into society’s one acceptable form of “beautiful.”

The world tells us in whispers and shouts how we should dress and walk and talk, where we should live and eat and work and sit, what we should drive, how we should look and think and feel. But too often the world is wrong, and the voice we hear isn’t God’s.

When God created us He said it was good. That’s what makes us beautiful, His character sewn into our souls, His Spirit living inside us, His love poured out over us again and again. We’re beautiful simply because we are His, treasured and sacred and absolutely loved.

So be who you are. Embrace your curl! Shine bright! Because this world needs you. It needs me. And it’s why He created us – exactly as we are – to complete creation’s mosaic – an exquisite reflection of God spread across the entire spectrum of creation in all His infinite glory!

He will take great delight in you; He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing. ~ Zephaniah 3:17b

*Written for the beautiful women of We Used to Be You Ministries — sharing life experience, providing wise biblical counsel, and sharing the love of Christ with girls and young women.

Words thrum through the air
And stick in my heart

As I absorb them
One by one

Like a pin cushion
Till the pain seeps

Through the cracks
Spilling down my cheeks

Splashing across the backs
of my hands

Pooling at my feet
As I pray

Oh, God,
I am not enough…

Fibers rend
Flesh from flesh

As I begin to see that
I simply cannot love

Enough
For two

Cannot will my son to
LIVE

To breathe,
To hope

I can only
Release

And trust
Relinquish my son

To the One
Who never fails

No matter how this ends
Because somehow

In this upside down
Inside out

Live to die
Die to live

Faith
There is Love

Immeasurable
Pulsing within my own soul

Bursting, splitting,
Rending my very self

But it costs
Cutting deeper

Than I ever dreamed
Possible

As I slowly tear open
Tear-soaked fingers

Surrendering heart and soul
And self

~ me ~
As a living sacrifice

Not once
But again and again

And again
Deeper

Relinquishing every want
Hope, dream

All
For Him

To receive
The whole measure

Of the fullness of Christ
Emmanuel

God with us!
Grace

Abundant
Poured out

Spilled over
Because

He is Love
and

Love.
Never.
Fails.

Linking with the beautiful community at Graceful:

For the past four weeks we’ve been studying 1 Corinthians 13 in church. For the past ten weeks, we’ve been experiencing one of the toughest parenting cliffs of our lives. Together they’ve spilled out into this, One Love, because God is good. All the time. And though today I know only in part, one day I “shall know fully, even as I am known.” Joy in the midst of hard! Love that conquers all!

Sharing also with Laura at the Wellspring:

And with DversePoets, where words spill and poets speak.

Peace is a journey of a thousand miles
and it must be taken one step at a time. ~ Lyndon B. Johnson

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. ~ John 14:27

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. ~ Mother Teresa

May the stirrings of God
draw you into His holy Presence,
His peace gently washing
over your soul in a flood of
tender, healing mercy.

Sweet Saturday blessings to you, friends!

Sharing with the beautiful community of Still Saturday:

Pounded and stirred,
Strained fine as light

Through scarlet mesh
Translucent

Open
To become,

Yielding
To receive,

Cupped to be
Intimately filled

Spirit oozing through this
Heart so delicately spun

It seems a voice
Will shatter it

To dust,
From which it’s claimed,

Scooped and pounded and
Stirred by Him

Who hovered over the deep,
Speaking order into Life

Mosaic of creation
Wild imagination!

Each a necessary piece of all,
Yet incomplete

Until He comes again,
Fullness of GOD

Without whom

I.
Am.
Nothing.

Formless and void
Unable to absorb

Living water
Or light

Till He hovers,
Breathing life

Bleeding grace
Spilling Love

Across this barren heart,
Cupped to receive

Life…
To the full

Not meant for one,
But all

To draw this thirsty,
Wayward world

HOME.

Sharing at DversePoets, where words spill and poets speak.

Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves is heard in our land.
~ Song of Songs 2:12

Mourning doves coos soft
in morning mist,
Slow, gentle light
rises in the east,

Sabbath sunrise,
Taste of joy,
Promise of hope,
Wake of brand new day!
~ Cindee Snider Re

Today, savor the moment,
Soak in the beauty around you,
Breathe deeply and
Simply know that
He is God!

Sharing with sweet Sandy on Saturday:

And with Deidra on Sunday:

Wrapped in promise and bright hope

Seven thousand days
Filled with laughter and little feet,
Five moves,
Two apartments, three houses,
And more work than I can remember

Through job loss
And relocation
Packing, painting,
Planting, tearing out,
Illness and accidents…

And eight pets that somehow
All arrived in pairs.

Love is day and night,
Bright and deep,
Shadow and light,

And never enough…

On it’s own

Only when it’s God’s –
Infused marrow and bone
Fiber and soul
Into every breath and heartbeat

Can Love survive
Our very human selves

Through hundreds of months and weeks,
Thousands of days,

Millions of minutes
Married to the man I love…

Learning to lean
Hard
On the One who is —

word and breath
and blood and death
and life —

L O V E

Bleeding in and coursing through

Always protecting, hoping, trusting,
Always persevering

Through ten million minutes

Because only God’s love,
God’s way,
Never ever fails.

Happy, Happy 20th Anniversary, Tony!

I love you more today than I ever dreamed possible ten million minutes ago!

Twenty years ago we stood before family and friends and God, hand in hand, speaking these words to each other’s hearts, and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat!

Cindee’s Vows
Only once comes true love. Only once comes a feeling so strong and sure that you know it will last for a lifetime. Through you, true love has come to me.

I have chosen you as my partner for life, and now, before God, family and friends, I make that commitment permanent.

Tony’s Vows
I take your hand in mine. This symbolizes friendship and I promise now to be your true and faithful friend.

I take your hand in mine – for this hour, for this day, for this lifetime.

WHAT JOY!

The most precious jewels are not made of stone,
but of flesh.
– Robert Ludlum

Arise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.
– Isaiah 60:1

It’s each moment
strung like crystal beads
onto scarlet thread

unquenchable love
into the fullness of a life
Headed HOME.
– Cindee Snider Re

Sharing with sweet Sandy on Saturday:

And with Deidra and Katie and Ryan on Sunday:

Freshly Brewed Sundays

And we love the outdoors – love to open the windows wide and invite the breezes in to play, to walk through the yard and welcome each new season. But this year spring quietly slipped through the gate while I wasn’t looking, sprouted lush and green as I clung to the edge of a cliff, hanging by a thread to two of my five kids, one breath, one look away from…

suicide…

and addiction.

Cliffs I never expected to climb. Not me. Not my kids. They’re good kids. Both. Baptized. Confirmed. Love the Lord. Go to church. Serve Him here and overseas. Know the Word. Read it. Sing it. Play it. Hear it by choice.

And yet here we are.

We talk. A lot. Every day. Deeply. About almost everything. We laugh. I know these kids. I bore them, taught them, love them, and always will. No matter what.

Yet here we are.

In this place. Hovering at the edge. Hanging on by a thread.

And it’s humbling because not everyone understands, even inside the church, fearing addiction like a contagion. And if I’m totally honest, I understand, for I felt the same, before it was me, my kid, this cliff. Before we were here. Hanging on by a thread.

And it’s hard. And somehow good. Because we talk. Still. A lot. And laugh. And cry. And pray, sometimes simply, “Father, ohhhh…Father…no words, just I love you.”

And I hug these hurting, growing-up kids a little harder, a little longer. Thankful for another minute, one more chance to love, to give, to share this day, my heart. Clinging close. Breathing in His Presence.

And maybe it’s enough. For now. For today.

Maybe forever. Because maybe this is what it means to live in the moment. Present. Right here. Right now. On these twin peaks where self crumples to my feet in a heap, and I cling to the Rock, knowing we are His and He loves us. Always. No matter what.

“I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed….Nothing will be impossible for you.” — Matthew 17:20