What makes pumpkins rot?
Why do kids want to touch everything?
How can a spider hang upside down from my ceiling?
Where do fruit flies come from?
How do I get paint on me and I wasn't even painting?
What makes a sweet potato sprout?
Where does stubbornness come from?
How do you laugh it off?
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Saturday, October 4, 2008
All the right answers
As I walked through the last two years, I have experienced many things I was taught could be healed through repentance and a greater devotion to God. For example, depression is a sin issue. You are thinking too much about yourself. Confess and get busy serving. And of course, panic attacks are a sign that worry has built a stronghold in your heart. Confess it and memorize a few verses. Prior to walking through these valleys myself, I would have used that exact counsel for others. Funny how an unexpected journey into depression and panic attacks can change one's perspective.
Last night I was reading a rough draft of a friend's book on pain. He shares some of his journey through Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but then the preacher in him comes out. He holds out all the right answers for pain. Do this and God will do this. Believe this and you will be rewarded with this. I know that his faith is woven in a multicolored tapestry, but his answers read as just that. Answers.
In my own pain, my own valleys, I can't stomach someone with all the answers. I am drawn to those who will walk beside me living out the journey with me. Christians are not a lucky minority who happen to hold all the answers. Jesus is not a panacea for our pain. There are no magic pills to dull life's pain. But there is great comfort and strength in companionship, both earthly and heavenly.
Last night I was reading a rough draft of a friend's book on pain. He shares some of his journey through Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but then the preacher in him comes out. He holds out all the right answers for pain. Do this and God will do this. Believe this and you will be rewarded with this. I know that his faith is woven in a multicolored tapestry, but his answers read as just that. Answers.
In my own pain, my own valleys, I can't stomach someone with all the answers. I am drawn to those who will walk beside me living out the journey with me. Christians are not a lucky minority who happen to hold all the answers. Jesus is not a panacea for our pain. There are no magic pills to dull life's pain. But there is great comfort and strength in companionship, both earthly and heavenly.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Progress
There's something about putting my fears out there that shrinks them down somewhat. My studio is clean - or rather cleaner/neater than it was. I began cutting apart old sweaters
and sewing the scraps together. I actually am liking the crazy quilt pattern more than I thought I would. Last night, I fell asleep dreaming of ways to incorporate this piece into a twin size quilt. How would I back it? What would I back it with? Batting?
I did find a monster in my studio, just as I feared. It reared its ugly head when I came across some artwork from college with my professor's comments. "You don't try hard enough. You are satisfied with the first solution." And I remembered. . . all the times the direction were handed out on a half sheet of paper, read to us, any questions were discussed and then the professor would leave the room. Occasionally, he would come back lean over my shoulder and grunt "interesting." That enigmatic word. Early in my studies I would ask what that meant. It was never defined. Did it mean good? bad? mediocre? Yes, I needed to try harder - but I also needed someone to set an example for me. I needed someone to stretch me. I needed someone to teach me to think.......to think with me, not think for me.
and sewing the scraps together. I actually am liking the crazy quilt pattern more than I thought I would. Last night, I fell asleep dreaming of ways to incorporate this piece into a twin size quilt. How would I back it? What would I back it with? Batting?I did find a monster in my studio, just as I feared. It reared its ugly head when I came across some artwork from college with my professor's comments. "You don't try hard enough. You are satisfied with the first solution." And I remembered. . . all the times the direction were handed out on a half sheet of paper, read to us, any questions were discussed and then the professor would leave the room. Occasionally, he would come back lean over my shoulder and grunt "interesting." That enigmatic word. Early in my studies I would ask what that meant. It was never defined. Did it mean good? bad? mediocre? Yes, I needed to try harder - but I also needed someone to set an example for me. I needed someone to stretch me. I needed someone to teach me to think.......to think with me, not think for me.
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