In the dark.
With a sparkler.
Did I mention she's an artist?
I never would have come up with that in a hundred years.
Her husband sacrificed himself to take a picture of it ( he is the local favorite of the state bird - the mosquito - and reportedly came back in covered in welts - and followed by a flock of bloodthirsty skeeters that had to be hunted down and dispatched, one by one) The photo turned out worthy of his suffering - absolutely amazing! Her name is Kate Lehman and her blog is Letterplay. The pic of the sparkler writing is in her Flickr stream. Check it out - you'll be glad you did. The hubby who sacrificed himself is
She has graciously sent me a copy of the pic to share! Here it is:
Doesn't that make you smile?
I needed that. Cuz here, I'm in a blue funk. I can't sketch. I can't paint. I can't do much of anything useful at all right now - I've hit one of those disabling patches in my illness where pretty much all I can do is wait it out, I feel like a withered plant, a mildewed bucket of slime. OK, maybe that's a little dramatic, you get the idea.
Had a root canal a week ago, and haven't been able to get to my dentist to have it finished - and won't be for at least another week. And then it's another ride on the torture wheel, finishing the root canal and fixing two other cavities.
I really really really hate dental work. Because of the diabetes, the ph in my mouth is different, and cavities start easily. And the xylocaine they use doesn't work well and they have to stop because the pain is still full force and shoot all 3 shots all over again. Then they turn those razor sharp lights on me and poof! instant headache. It's such torture. I feel like I've been beat up in some alleyway and left for dead. And, if that weren't enough, it activates the pain in my muscles and joints. Blechhhh!
OK, Soapbox over with. Hopefully I got it out of my system, tho it still feels like it's hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles.
I'm really trying these days to concentrate on blessings instead of wrinkles in the sheets - and failing miserably! I keep a blessings/thanksgiving journal, the holy experience joy dare, 3 things to give thanks for per day - at the end of a year you have over 1000 things you've thanked God for. And I have no problem finding the 3 things - we have a God Who loves to bless us personally, with things that may not delight others, but set our hearts afire with it..
But the flies in my ointment of life seem to burst forth from my heart (thru my mouth and out into the cosmos) just as easily - murmur, murmur, murmur. I hate it. This is not me.
Yet all of a sudden, I find myself acting as if it is.
That soapbox somehow slithers over and under my feet and there I am again.
Why are they even a blip on my radar? Why can't I just shut up about it? If I look at the tiniest thing that Jesus went thru - or Paul - or John - my goodness! How do I dare to murmur?? I wonder how God keeps from saying "Enough! These humans take the cake! Game over!" And clap His hands, roll the universe up like a scroll, then tuck it under His arm and walk off without a backward glance -- and be done with us!. He's been enduring our murmuring and sinning and complaining and ungrateful hearts for thousands of years!
It must feel like having a faucet dripping for every single second of every one of those years.
Just think of it - somewhere in the world, every second of every everlasting day, someone is complaining about something. It's too hot. It's too cold. They hurt my feelings. He's a brat, She's nasty. I have a sore finger. My head hurts. My cat threw up. My dog pooped in the house. And on and on and on and on, never stopping.
How wonderful that some day the earth will be filled - FILLED the Word says - with the knowledge of the Lord. The whole world will be full of people praising and loving God!
Then, somehow even with the living Christ ruling and reigning and loving in Person, a generation arises that doesn't want Him telling them what to do, and it begins again: I don't want to be good anymore, He is too strict, He doesn't understand me, what I did isn't so bad...
Then, egged on by satan, they decide to stage a revolt. Hundreds - make that thousands - assemble to make war with Jesus.
In their orgy of resentment, satan somehow gets them to forget: this is God they are dealing with. He is ALL powerful - unlike their leader, who is severely limited in his power.
And with a single breath - a SINGLE breath - they are dead. The war is over. The evil one is locked up, never to be released again.
And God reigns a people who will never ever ever complain again.
I can't imagine the joy that would bring to my heart! To be free of this groaning in my soul! Instead of the greyness, only light - brilliant, dazzling light - would fill my spirit, my soul, my every cell, and I would only be capable of praise and blessing. We would be free, totally free from the knowledge of good and evil and would only and ever know good. Period.
Because, thru all my murmuring and falling and getting back up, I really do love my King and Lord. I really do want to live pleasing to Him. And I so often fail,
Correction: the Holy Spirit just bonked me on the head, reminding me that I can never fail to be pleasing to God - He only sees me in Christ, washed clean by His blood, pleasing to Him in every way. Every failing has been paid for. He only wants me to get up, dust off, and start again on the narrow path. Somehow, all my murmuring gets wiped away.
What is there to complain about?
Even so, come quickly Lord Jesus!!