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Morass is a word you don’t hear often. A friend used it in a sentence the other day and I teased her. She’s got a situation at work that she described as a “morass”, which according to google means “a complicated or confusing situation” or an area of “muddy ground”.

I’m a fan of reality tv shows and recently got hooked on “Farmer Wants a Wife”. (Why seemingly sweet girls think dating a guy on television with multiple other women is a good idea, is beyond me; but I do find the girl drama entertaining) On the show last week the girls on one farm were wading through muck in a pasture up to their knees to pour dark brown liquid in a large tub. It looked disgusting on every level until I realized the liquid was sweet molasses. I love molasses! Ginger cookies and homemade gingerbread are Yum!!! and they require molasses.

Lately I’ve been stuck in the muck of life. Grief has been thick, and made it hard to function. Much like trying to walk through thigh high mud, my steps have felt heavy each day. Painting has helped me cope.

So this weekend in the studio, I added another rooster to my portfolio, and named him Mr. Bed Head. My husband, Brent, took the reference photo for me at a local feed store. He’s a therapy rooster. I didn’t even know that was a thing! Polish roosters crack me up with their mop of feathers that wave back and forth. I think God smiled when he created them. They are just so funny. What looks like crazy hair was part of His design, perhaps just to make us smile too no matter what else is going on.

In the midst of the muck of life it can feel like there’s no reason to smile and everything stinks, quite literally like muck in a pasture. In my daily meditation on the calm app today, the narrator used an interesting quote, “no mud, no lotus”. Apparently, the lotus flower needs mud to grow. She likened this to challenges in our life and how they can help us grow. It made me think of my friend and her morass, or my grief…

Fortunately sometimes what is a morass can actually be used for good. God can do miracles, turning things upside down or inside out and bringing good where we can only see bad.

One day in reading 1 Peter chapter 1, I realized that the value I place on hard circumstances and God’s valuation are different. The text says, “In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith-of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire- may result in praise when Jesus Christ is revealed” (1 Peter 1:6-7).

Faith in God’s economy is worth more than gold, and comfort is not. If I’m absolutely honest, for me comfort feels more valuable than the faith that hard circumstances can help grow. At least that’s how I act. I was touched this week by the prodigal son’s story and that it was when he was “in deep need” (Luke 15:14) that his life began to change for the better. When we are in deep need, our desperation can be the beginning of our faith growing deeper.

Desperation feels like a morass, but God says it’s sweet like molasses. He can fill our neediness when we’re aware of it. This is not comfortable, and can burn like the fire that refines gold. In the midst of my grief, I’m seeking Him each day, and He is meeting me here. Life still hurts, but in His hands even this can be used to bring about growth.

Friend, if you too are deeply hurting, may it be a catalyst to reach for the One who can truly help heal your spirit. He promises that when we call, He’ll answer. I’m so grateful He’s always listening, caring, and coming after us with compassion. When we head towards Him, just like the prodigal son’s father -He runs to meet us (Luke 15:20). May we both feel the depth of His love today, no matter how much life hurts.

Spring is around the corner, and I can’t wait. The grey days of winter seem so long after the holidays. The daffodils have begun blooming, bringing bursts of yellow to our soggy yard. White Cala lilies are trying to defy the final freezing temperatures, and always remind me Easter is coming.

Easter speaks hope to my soul. Literally God took the worst of circumstances and did a miracle. Fulfilling the promise of Rom 8:28, “And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him.” I can’t imagine how excruciating it must have been for God the Father to watch His beloved Son suffer unjustly the death of a criminal, and wait to save the day until Sunday morning. The resurrection means that nothing is too hard for God to overcome- not my sin, or death.

There’s a common phrase used often these days, and many have used it with me post cancer. It’s some version of, you deserve____, because of all you’ve been through. It always makes me uncomfortable, because it doesn’t fit with my world view.

Grace means “undeserved favor”. This is what God gives to me. In spite of my sin, He forgives. In spite of my desire for independence from Him, He reaches in and lifts me up and brings me close, and gives wonderful gifts including grace.

We have a beautiful rose garden, because my husband puts in the effort to help them grow in our Sebastopol sandy soil. Many of our roses have fun names and we purchased them as gifts to commemorate special events.

When I went for a mid-treatment mammogram and sonogram, the medical team couldn’t find Mervin the tumor. We were overjoyed and went shopping for a rose. We found a pink one, called “State of Grace.” As a breast cancer survivor, pink has special significance. I wore a pink wig to medical appointments during my fight, to hide my baldness and show my spirit. So when we saw a beautiful pink bloom, with this name we knew it was the one to celebrate this milestone.

This week I had a checkup with my oncologist. I’m already more than two years post treatment, and she threw the word “cured” into our conversation re my progress. We were shocked. She’s not an optimist so it felt very significant that she would use that word. I celebrated by eating amazing chocolate cake a friend made, and painting 😁

I painted pink roses, and named it “State of Grace.” I am living in a state of grace on so many levels. I don’t deserve to be cancer free. I have many people I love fighting metastatic cancer. They don’t deserve to be in a battle for their lives. We all are experiencing the brokenness of this world, and some of us have it affecting our bodies each day in the form of life threatening disease.

As we look towards spring, and Easter, may each new flower blooming speak to us of the promise of Grace. Instead of expecting something easier, better, more fun- may we reach for the gifts God offers in the midst: grace, strength, joy, peace, compassion…

As you look towards Spring & Easter comes, may it be a reminder that God can bring victory into anything- even the most excruciating of circumstances. I pray that you will experience joy that defies hurt. Grace that sustains you and redeems you and whatever you or someone you love are facing.

I love to swim. I try to get to a community pool near us at least a couple times a week. Swimming is wonderful exercise and it always resets my attitude with the endorphins gained by moving and being in and near water. There’s a slogan at the pool “water is life”. Yes we need it to drink… but my life is also enriched by being in water regularly ☺️

The habit of swimming started when I could hardly walk. At 18 a horse put all its weight on my right foot. This resulted in life long damage to that foot. Later on, as the mother of a 4 and 6 year old I had a surgery to remove a bone spur that was one of the results of the accident. I wanted to walk better as I raised my kids! Instead a pain condition set in post surgery and even walking across a room became difficult.

I went to see a pain specialist and she asked me a painfully obvious question, “Do you want to walk?” Can you guess my answer?? “Yes!”She said, “then you must start swimming” and handed me a flyer for an aqua therapy program at our community pool.

Motivated by seeking to keep my mobility, I swam. A kind student recognized the depression on my face as I struggled to move in spite of the pain and to make it to class, he encouraged me, “just keep coming- it will get better.” And it did.

I couldn’t swim through some of my cancer treatment. I was too weak or I had had a surgery, but as soon as I was able, I got back to it. It’s been a tremendous part of regaining my stamina and is always a boost to my mental health. I’m not a great swimmer. My right foot is still weak from soft tissue damage, and the peripheral neuropathy from chemotherapy is still subsiding, but 25 minutes of moving in water is life giving.

I was surprised this week while swimming laps, when someone two lanes over yelled at me. Once he got my attention he gave me unwanted feedback on my stroke. It was a rainy day, an emotional day where for many reasons it’d been hard to get myself to the pool. He thought he was being helpful, I guess, but I just wanted to scream at him that he had no idea how hard it was for me to just move- pretty or not.

Words are so powerful. Unfortunately we use them all day long. In my Bible reading this week I was reminded, “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouth, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen”(Eph 4:29).

Sometimes we think we are being helpful when we aren’t. On vacation last week my husband saw a T shirt that said something like- everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. As I share about my cancer story, I’m constantly shocked by how many others have fought cancer too or have someone they love who either lost the fight or is in a fight. It reminds me to treat everyone with kindness. I want my words to benefit those around me, not hurt them.

As I excited the pool, I resisted the urge to lambast the other “helpful” swimmer by filling him in on my story. I sought to be proud of myself for getting to the pool and moving. Then I was shocked by who came into the locker room as I got ready to go home. A doctor from 20 years ago whose words had changed my life by encouraging me to swim.

I thought about just smiling to myself and leaving but instead I stopped and made sure it was her. She remembered me. We’ve seen each other at the community pool before, but it’s been about 10 years since then. She smiled and said she had just recently encouraged someone else with my story.

I was surprised and pleased that she was using my swimming success to encourage others. She thanked me for saying hello and I could tell my current health and her part in that, was uplifting for her to see. I went home with a full heart.

Today we’ll use words. We’ll talk, text, write emails, and maybe even talk on the phone. Let’s remember to be kind. Let’s pause before we react in anger or frustration. In doing so, may our hearts fill with joy as our words bring life to others.

As 2024 begins, I’ve been thinking a lot about light… I’m realizing as I grow as an artist that a painting isn’t believable until it accurately captures the light in the scene. I painted a still life of pears in November, and capturing them got me thinking.

In defining light, appropriate shadows get added. Different objects cast shadows that vary in length or depth of intensity. Isn’t that just like life? Different experiences cast shadows that vary in intensity of experience. One commonality is that the shadow is darkest the closer you are to an object. This makes me consider the old saying, “time heals all wounds”.

Thankfully as time marches on the intensity of our reaction lessens to negative experiences, and we may even begin to be able to see things from a new perspective. Thankfully shadows are only present because light is shining. Light is always shining, we just have to look for it.

There’s always a lighter side to an object. The dark helps define the light. It’s tempting to want life to be all sunshine and pleasant experiences, but isn’t it true, for example, that vacation only really has meaning as a break from hard work? And sunshine feels brightest after grey stormy days?

There is also reflective light on objects. This reminds me of the unexpected good things that happen amidst the hard. As I fought cancer, relationships deepened as friends “showed up” in unexpected ways. The gratitude I feel now each new morning has deepened because of its juxtaposition to the possibility of my number of days being cut short.

I’m expressing this gratitude in bright colors as I paint. Others in my class painted pears too- no one else felt the need to capture the turquoise plate they were on. Several of my classmates painted moody pears that could have been in candlelight. I couldn’t not paint the bright plate. It felt like it was singing to me about the joy found in color.

As a middle and high school student I participated in speech competitions. There was a poem that many students memorized to recite about the tapestry of life and how the dark threads were there so the light ones would stand out. As I stood back and looked at my pears they were missing the lightest detail. My instructor helped me see where to place a spark of light on each pear.

Don’t we all need the perspective of others to see things clearly? May we be someone who points out to others things we can rejoice in together. Joy is multiplied when shared.

As we begin 2024 may we have the sight to see Light in every experience. May we have the wisdom to understand that shadows won’t stay intense forever, and the dark helps us feel grateful for the light. There might be someone around us who needs our perspective to see the highlights in their life more clearly. Let’s help them celebrate.

Breathe, just breathe. The breath is so easy to take for granted, but each intake is a gift. Did you know you can control your heart rate by how fast or slow your breathing is? If holiday panic is setting in, stop and breathe slowly to calm your spirit 😉

The holidays are “supposed” to be glorious but there’s a lot of internal & external expectations around trying to make it so. This can mean exhaustion- there is just so much to do to keep up with celebrations and preparation for your own family & friends’ get togethers. Stack grief, work, illness, or anything else on top of it and one can feel buried under the weight of it all instead of joyful.

Sunday, my pastor preached on 2 Timothy 1:6-7 and fanning into flame our spiritual gift or passion (v6). He reminded us that fire needs oxygen. This made me remember that when I was a kid, my dad had a bellows by the fireplace that he’d use to blow life into the spark and get the paper to crackle and the kindling to light. Often this was at Christmas so we could sit by a fire and open our gifts.

In case you’re picturing a moment from a Norman Rockwell painting- fun fact, my oldest brother had dropped his very fashionable (late 70’s) back pocket comb into the vents of our fireplace. So for years our ambience always came with an aroma of plastic 🤣

This week as I considered how to fan my spiritual flame, I realized fear was trying to starve me of oxygen. The next verse, 2 Tim 1:7, really encouraged me, “God did not give us a spirit of timidity (of cowardice, of craven, and fawning fear), but [He has given us a spirit] of power, and love and of calm and well-balanced mind and discipline and self control (Amplified).”

Last week I was given a tremendous privilege- to hang my art in my friend’s restaurant in Santa Rosa, Brother’s Cafe. Then the very next day, he and his brother asked me to fill with art the walls of the coffee shop they had just purchased, Avid Coffee in Sebastopol.

I am so excited to have these opportunities. I hope people will see the joy in my paintings and be encouraged to celebrate the gift of each day we are given. It also feels a bit overwhelming. Fear sought to creep in and steal my oxygen. Shallow breathing commenced. Negative thoughts abounded. Thankfully I have a choice about what I allow myself to believe but it takes effort to live in truth vs. fearful lies.

So I’m trying to be intentional about blowing air into my soul. Last night, I enjoyed painting because when I paint I slow down and breathe. It is a gift that fills my lungs and renews my spirit. Today I read God’s truth, spent some time being grateful, and exercised because those things also rejuvenate me. There are also things clamoring for attention-friends who are ill, presents to wrap, bills to pay, and labels to create for paintings, prints to order etc.

In the midst of business, I want to slow down and breathe. Choose to celebrate the opportunities God has brought my way and enjoy them with the spirit of power, love and discipline that He gives me. In the process, hopefully others will be warmed by His flame that burns within my heart.

Hope Valley is a real place. I can’t believe I just learned about it. It a gorgeous meadow in the Sierras where hwy 89 meets hwy 88. We heard about it from a website publishing where to go in CA to see fall colors. There are lots of aspen trees there & if you hit it just right- you find gold. Twirling, swirling, yellow, orange & gold leaves turning to caramel before they stop their quaking & flutter to the ground so the trees can winter.

Its been a couple of weeks since I came home from a trip to GA to see family, and meet little Wonder Woman (mentioned in the last post). God gave me strength for the travel and I’m grateful for the memories we created. It’s not easy to grieve. Everyone does it in our own way and it’s a complicated, multi-faceted process not always approved by our culture. I’m grateful I got to spend this anniversary of my sister’s passing, being with her daughter, Madison, and her sweet family. We even accomplished handprint art with very active kiddos 😆

Grief feels multiplied by global events. Today, I was encouraged by Jer 31:13 & 17, both for myself and for our world, especially Israel, “I will turn their morning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow… so there is hope for your future.“ These words were meant for Israel initially and only come to me through my grafted in status through faith. They bring me hope in the midst of grief.

In my ladies Bible study we recently studied the miracle of the resurrection of Lazarus (John 11). Both of his sisters felt that Jesus was a bit behind schedule when he arrived a few days after their brother had died. They said to Him essentially, if you had been here this would not have been the outcome. They didn’t see the option that a different miracle was on the agenda.

I’ve spent a lot of time wondering about an impossible question to answer- what did Lazarus think about being called back from heaven after four days in Paradise? I think it’s been on my mind so much because I, like Mary and Martha, begged for a miracle while my sister was on the ventilator with covid in fall of 2021 while I went through chemotherapy. But instead, God took her to heaven & kept her there. Conversely, He answered my prayers to rid my body of cancer & giving me a 2nd lease on life, and here I am.

This brings me to my second question about Lazarus- how did he spend those additional years on earth he was given? I bet it looked different than before his death. He must have lived in such close relationship with God after seeing Him face to face for a few days. I’m sure he saw each day as having an eternal purpose. So how did he spend his time?

I find myself asking that question to myself, how shall I spend this time that I’ve been given? I don’t want to spend it afraid. I want to live in Hope Valley where I may not be able to see what’s around the bend, but I know Who can. Psalm 23:4, is such a comfort, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” I’ve heard it said that the rod protects and the staff guides.

No matter how deep the valley, we never have to be alone. We also have the privilege of taking hold of our Good Shepherd’s hand and knowing He will protect and lead. In a previous post, “At the Table” I shared some thoughts on Psalm 23:5 and what it can mean to sit at the banquet table with Jesus. “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.“

When I picture sitting down to the banquet table, I see fear cowering beneath it. As I consider having hope for the future, I find myself asking lots of questions about what, how, when. Maybe you do in your circumstances too. Last night as I tried to quiet my mind, I saw Jesus sitting at the table with me and spreading out a treasure map before us. It included lots of hills & valleys, complete with obstacles as every good treasure map does. He assured me that He knows the way and where the treasure is. I just need to follow His lead.

Last week we discovered gold in Hope Valley. I’m not sure what this week holds, but I’m grateful I know Who will help me see the next step. May we have joy in the journey 💗

I can’t believe it’s already mid September. Can you? The trees around our place are starting to turn wonderful colors and falling leaves crunch under foot. Stomping on leaves makes me feel like a kid again! Warm days continue to ripen blackberries and pears. I find myself wanting to hold onto summertime for longer.

As part of my health journey I’ve been using the tool of meditation. In doing so I learned the word equanimity- learning to live in the moment and be ok with how things are instead of always wanting something to be different. As I walked around the property this morning I thought of that in relation to enjoying the beauty of trees turning color instead of bemoaning summer coming to an end.

Each day brings new gifts. Trees in riotous color, or sweet blackberries on the vine. Hugs from loved ones, or a phone call from someone far away who wants to connect. Usually the important gifts aren’t monetarily expensive but can be costly as they involve a piece of our heart.

One of the sweetest gifts is authenticity. Connecting seems easier than ever before with social media but it’s not often on a deep level. It’s also always tempting to pretend things are all ok even when they’re not. I appreciated the honesty in a fellow survivor’s recent Instagram post.

She posted a series of slides with words, and the first one said, “Everyone thinks that cancer is over once you are in remission, but it’s not that simple…” I’m living this reality right now. It’s amazing to be cancer free but my entire life has changed because of cancer. I resonated with one of the readers’ comments on that post- “so grateful, but so tired.”

Life has new poignancy. I’m incredibly grateful to be alive, and aware that each moment given is a precious gift. I also live with the tension of new realities, like the conflicting emotions of being a survivor when everyone doesn’t get that gift, and the possibility of reoccurrence. It’s concerning to have my medical professionals take me so seriously when I sense a change in my body, and then there’s the side effects of treatment that may be here to stay. I find myself feeling like I walked through a portal and nothing is the same on the other side.

In the midst of these feelings I am so grateful for my supportive community. One of the important components of that community are the ladies I meet with to pray, study the Bible, and walk through life together. They were by my side through the thick of the cancer battle and we continue to get together, and grow because of the real conversations we have about how we’re doing. I hope you have people like that in your life who demonstrate God’s love to you in practical ways. They are truly, “Jesus with skin on”, and I hope I am to them too 💗

I’ve been working on memorizing Ps 33:18-22 to be able to hold its encouragement close to my heart, because God’s unfailing love is a gift that makes my heart rejoice:

“But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those who hope in His unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine. We wait in hope for the Lord. He is our help and our shield. In Him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in His holy name. May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in you.”

I’ve realized that fear chokes joy in my life. It’s like the weeds in our garden that if left unchecked steal all the water and sunshine from our tomatoes. I don’t want to live in the stranglehold of fear, but in hope.

It matters what I’m focused on. When my eyes are focused on God who inspires respectful fear, there are positive effects in my life. Maybe you feel it too. When you look up, you can feel the comforting blanket of unfailing love rest upon your shoulders because you are choosing where to put your hope. May this perspective shift bring us both daily joy as the season changes.

Coming soon… a store to sell my art on the blog site ☺️