speaking of art

Here are a few pieces I'm all gushing and googly-eyed for.

Each night at bedtime, Judah looks up from his crib and says, "Sing? Sun!" Of course, asking me to sing "You are My Sunshine" to him as he sweetly sings along.

(katie daisy)

You may have to enlarge this one to see the beauty of the sweet details. I just love the reminder, that no matter who we encounter (even those that frustrate or even...annoy us...) each one is a magnificent creation fashioned by a magnificent Creator, and should valued and treated as such. I have visions of hanging this in a someday playroom, or wouldn't it be cool if you walked into your child's classroom and saw this hanging on the wall! It a society that worships physical beauty and bestows intrinsic value based on how an individual nears 'perfection', what a refreshing proclamation that we all are magnificent creatures!

(katie daisy)

Birch coasters, laser engraved, by a husband/wife design duo from Indiana.

(uncommon)

What's catching your eye lately?

ejk

Sweet Peas

So incredibly thankful that my sweet peas would have it no other way than to be in the same pod.

Notice how blurry the photo is? They both lay sleeping, right arms positioned identically above their heads, and I found it so adorable, it seemed worth the risk to snap a picture. I turned the flash off, but still the noise of the aperture closing startled them both. In perfect unison they together turned from their matching sleeping pose to their left side, as if synchronized swimming...or synchronized sleeping? My one shot caught them directly at the startle as they started the immediate turn; I bolted for the door. And I am happy to report, they are still sleeping!

Off to my tasks...

ejk

embrace the mess

creativity is not efficient; it frustrates the perfectionist.

but it shimmers and shines with the radiance of the intangible.

it beckons in aches and urges,

haunts in inspiration and compulsion

to make something

beautiful.

it awakens our senses to a world unseen

but more real than we can even understand, as we are, wrapped in flesh.

an ear pressed hard against it can make out the sound of eternity,

and a beating heart aligns, if only momentarily, to the cadence of the universe pulsing.

its value can't be measured in cents and minutes,

nor in messes made or moments lost.

there is more to the art, more to the artist,

than the canvas on which he creates.

his work emanates with the brilliance of a creator God

all wrapped in light and fire and unapproachable brilliance.

your art, simple and imperfect as it is,

joins all created world,

to display the glory of a God unimaginable.

we are his handiwork, and we are made in his own image.

created to relate, created to create.

so whatever it is you do

write, paint, bake, play, decorate, sing, sew, carve, imagine, sculpt, garden

embrace the interruption, the inefficiency of art

and tell His story.

its written in the stars and carved on your heart.

you are evidence

of the divine.

create on.

ejk

when it rains

Strumming a melody that lifts my eyes from discouragement and despair,

Husband has carved out a beautiful proclamation from Phillipians.

And as he sings,

"For I have learned to be content

In every circumstance.

I have learned to trust your Word.

I'll put into practice all I have heard."

I find myself soaking in the contentment of this moment.

He has moved on to another song,

Each one comes in its own way.

Sometimes in waves, and as inspiration rushes in,

Truth resonates in the soul and escapes in meter and melody.

And I know it is the Spirit whispering in his ear.

The rain falls, and it shows no signs of relenting.

But today, we worship. Today, we sabbath.

Today, we find life, joy, and hope

Even in the downpour.

I can't explain it, other than the miracle of Christ indwelling.

He ushers in peace, whispers love, fulfills promises.

He is the good shepherd, and he leads us beside still waters.

My thirsty soul is drinking deep.

ejk

Bicycle, Bicycle, Bicycle (ding, ding)

ejk

On horseplay, Tiger play, and puppy dogs

*BEFORE you partake*

1. Be sure to pause "I love you by and by" video (a few posts below). Otherwise, its going to sound a little chaotic with two videos playing at once. I can't figure out how to stop the videos from playing automatically...sorry!

2. I do dress my children. Unfortunately, they undress themselves...several times a day, and I usually find them playing half clothed between costumes.

3. Let me set up the final scene, lest any of you watch in horror and disbelief at our table manners. The four of us sat eating quite normally around the dinner table, when Judah, with a twinkle in his eye, grabs his toast, tosses it on the floor, and scurries down. It took us a minute to figure out what was going on, but we quickly realized Judah wanted to play puppy dog. And of course, puppy dogs eat their dinner off the floor. Listen for his cute puppy squeaks and panting.

Okay, now that I have that off my chest...enjoy!

when words just can't paint the beauty the heart longs to tell

*to catch a better view, click on the picture to enlarge

This world, fallen and expectant - awaiting redemption's final word, oh how it can squeeze, coiling around as it suffocates the life right from us. At least our joy and at most our passion, our will, our purpose - our communion with our God. This weekend we quieted ourselves to consider the greatest tragedy the universe has ever known; pondered with broken hearts and bowed heads a God sacrificed for our betrayal. A torn body, a torn veil - God and man in communion again. Oh, but at what great cost! We moved from sorrow to disbelief and on to utter gratitude as the reality of Sunday's empty tomb fills our lives with the fullness of the promises of a resurrected Saviour, a resurrected heart. A life laid down, crucified with Christ, and a life risen and bursting LIFE with the fullness of the Godhead living within. This the miracle of our Easter.

This the hope of my tiny children, my precious niece. With a world of evil and pain awaiting them, yet an eternity of glory expecting them. This my sacred calling; to help them understand. Even in simple ways, as much as a 4 year old can understand. I pray for the words. I pray for the authenticity. I pray they will understand - one day, and today the same.

But for now, I capture my little piece of Eden - life as it should be, if only in a few frames. The glory of the sun, telling a larger story of the glory of the true Son, who will one day very soon be our very light.

ejk

*Check out the full album on facebook to see the rest of the adorable shots of the littles. All 90 something of them. I tried to whittle the album down, but I just couldn't muster the strength to delete many of them!

Death in his grave

John Mark says what I could only hope to.

And in such a visceral way.

Enjoy.

It is a devastatingly good Friday, indeed.

May his sacrifice wreck you anew, and his gift wash over you afresh. Breathe it in. We were dead men, now alive, infused with the lifeblood of our King. Guilty men, now pardoned, and adopted - sons and daughters of the Most High. Clothed in His righteousness, called by His name.

Undeserving of a King like Jesus,

ejk

I love you by and by

ejk

Tonight

"Perspective can always adopt gratitude — and gratitude always parents joy."

Ann Voskamp, Holy Experience

Tonight, my heart is moved from frustration and despair to gratitude and joy. Perspective leads me there.

A safe home, a warm bed, food enough for tomorrow and the week ahead. This a Happily Ever After for most of the world. The children in Africa that walk miles each night to sleep in a lighted city street to avoid village abductions. Swept away and sold into slaves of lustful men, slaves of power hungry regimes. Babies, I tell you. How can I complain?

A husband sitting at our table, writing a song of worship tonight. A day worked, for us, for Him. A strong man who challenges me to lose what I cannot keep to gain what I cannot lose. Who chooses a life of purpose, of calling over a life of success, of possessions. Who loosens a little girl's braids and strokes her hair, whispering sweet nothings that tell of her beauty and her worth. A man who prepares a picnic dinner to usher us into the magic of evening falling, and brings along a soccer ball for his boy. Who chooses to love me when it would be easier to check out. Who forgives careless words and calloused heart alike. How can I complain?

A girl, so sick two weeks stacked, my worries mounting. And tonight she, happy and healthy, creating a card for her brother to keep at his side as the night hours pass, his body fighting a sickness of his own. Sweet boy, as sick as I've seen him, but he fights. And he is strong even as he wheezes and works so hard to breathe, a lion cub by destiny, a warrior by design. His days are ordained, and I can trust the Giver of this good gift of a son to see him through 'till the day our son is ushered into the presence of his Maker. How then, can I complain?

When nothing can separate us from the love of Christ, not trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or danger or nakedness or sword, how can I waste the life-breath within my lungs to complain? To despair? To fear? When in all these things we are more than conquerors through Christ who loved us and gave his life up for us to know the Father's joy, even while facing the trouble he promised we would encounter. When our Victorious King - the one who conquered death by death, chose it in will-bowed obedience to his Father - sits at the right hand of that same Father and intercedes on my behalf (yes, little ole' me - and little ole you too). He chose it for the joy set before him. You and I were on the line. And He. chose. us. Our restored relationship with Elohim the joy set before him. And because he humbled himself, became obedient to death, God lifted him up from the shame and the scorn, to the highest place giving him a name above every other name.

You and I have the honor to call upon that name. Jesus. To share in his suffering, share in his glory. His punishment brought up peace.

And tonight I chose that peace.

ejk