Standing on the promises…Still.

“He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters….He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.” 2 Samuel 22:17, 20 (NIV)

I delivered this painting to a friend yesterday. It was both a relief and a release to hand it over to her. She teared up…and named the bird “Sam” even before she took him home to roost somewhere in her house. She says he’s her favorite kind of bird and she seemed genuinely excited to get him. That’s a pretty satisfying response for an artist of any kind.

When we had lunch two weeks ago, I knew I was going to paint “Sam” even before our lunch date was over. As much as I had needed this time with my friend, I now desperately needed to get home and start painting. Part prayer, part testimony, part reminder of who God says He is and what we so often need from Him. I needed to paint this rough and wild looking bird looking back out over the deep waters. She needed to see it. We both needed this crazy-looking bird.

As a creative, you’re never really sure when and where the next inspiration will appear, but it’s a sure bet that surrounding yourself with people who inspire you is a fine place to start. My friend Kelley is a constant blessing even though our contact is more sporadic than the depth of our connection would indicate on the surface. She is a championship-level encourager to every person she knows and, because of that, she has always been a blessing and a LOT of fun to have as a friend. We are connected by God and history, but since we don’t live in the same place, we usually just see each other for our annual lunch date in a nearby town where neither of us lives. Although we most often keep in touch through public social media and the occasional text or call for prayer, we have that blessing of being able to instantly reconnect and share all kinds of personal news…and then we shop—something I rarely do even by myself. Kelley is probably my only “semi-regular” (once a year! Ha!) shopping friend just because she is so much fun to be with that I manage to overlook the fact that I am actually out and in a store without a list or agenda.

While we worked our way through delicious crepes, we caught up and shared many things, including some of the heaviest of losses of the past year and how we are/aren’t yet through dealing with them. We stopped to pray for each other several times as we worked our way through the particularly rough spots. I tell you that is the very best way to share and catch up with a friend. You should try it.

During our shopping time afterward, I noticed that we were both being drawn to birds. Neither of us bought a single one, but we both stopped to admire, comment on, or reached to touch most of the bird-items we saw that day. As the idea for this painting popped into my head, I instantly knew it was necessary for me to paint it for her. Before the basecoat had even dried, I remembered the verse that this painting would represent. It was a confirmation even before I had done more than start to prep the canvas. 2 Samuel 22:17 (NIV) says, “He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters.” That’s the verse I wanted to put on canvas for my friend…and for myself.

If you look closely, you might notice that this bird looks a little rough around the edges–as though it’s been through a storm. The feathers are ruffled and slightly out of place. “Sam” has not had a smooth and easy adventure or a time of resting on the beach vacation-day. This bird has been through the wringer, survived, and been rescued to try again.

As I painted and prayed my way through this one, I also read further into Chapter 22. In it, as I usually do, I found comfort in the reading of God’s Word and a reminder I thought you might need as much as my friend and I do. Verse 20 says, in part, “…he rescued me because he delighted in me.”

Did you see that? Read it again. Don’t miss it! God cannot be less than the Rescuer He is or love us less than He has promised. These words say that He rescues us from the hard places of life because He delights in us. HE DELIGHTS IN US—even when we find ourselves in deep and difficult places we can’t rescue or return from on our own. By its very definition a rescue is necessary when we cannot make our own way out of whatever trouble we’re experiencing. It is then that we need to know that God delights in us more than at any other time, because it is THEN that we feel it the least. That knowledge is power. It is strength. It can give us the ability to hold on until the rescue is completed.

 I don’t know of anyone who has managed to get through life without losing something or someone. The last several years have been particularly brutal in this regard for most of the people I know. Most of us lost more than just one thing and more than just one someone. Loss and grief take their time in healing and if you’re already over yours, then I will stop and praise God with you for that right now. As for me, quite honestly, I’m not there yet and there are days when I wonder if it will ever happen.

I needed to do this painting in order to read this promise of God’s faithfulness again and be reminded of it. Maybe, I needed to write this post so YOU could read this again and know it, too. For sure and for certain, I needed to share it. May the God of all Hope be visible to you in your places of pain and hardship. May you look for Him and call on Him when—and even before!—you “need” Him. He delights in us. Let’s choose to delight in Him, as well, as we await the day of our rescue and find the strength to trust Him for the rescue of those we love, as well.

Grace and Peace—from God, Kelley, me…and “Sam”

Role Models

 We’ve had two sets of three cats over the course of our marriage. The first time, we had 3 girls. Two were litter mates and the third, several years later, was a rescue-gift from God. The two litter mates lived the longest and were just shy of their 16^th birthday when they left us.

Our second go-round was 3 boys. Two were litter mates and the third, several years later, was a rescue-gift from God. Once again, the oldest made it to almost 15 years of age. The vet told us that boy cats would be easier than girl cats. He was right in many ways, but they were all loved.

As we introduced the youngest cats, each time we went through a period of adjustment. The girls seemed to accept their new little sibling quicker. Well, at least quicker than one of the boys, anyway.

When we found Lewis on a busy bridge, he fit in the palm of my hand. He curled up next to my neck and dug in like he was never going to move again. He was scrawny, flea-infested, and too young to bring home right away. He purred like a diesel engine when he was held and wanted nothing more than to be held tightly, but we headed to the vet who told us he was too young to be tested for anything that might endanger our other two boys just yet. That meant Lewis stayed at the vet for awhile and when we bought him home, we saw two entirely different reactions.

Smokey, our big gray and white tuxedo cat, took one look at Lewis and just walked away, pausing only long enough to look over his shoulder at us as if to say, “What HAVE you done now?! This is a mistake and it is ALL on you.”

Lewis promptly hid in the bookshelf, squeezing himself into an impossibly small hold on top of a stack of books.

Jack, our black and white tuxedo cat, simply sat and stared at Lewis for the longest time before he moved slowly forward to investigate the new arrival. After some initial hissing and spitting from the new guy and a little bit more hiding, Jack backed off and took up his post to just watch and see what would happen next.

It took several days for Lewis to settle in and get used to being off the bridge. He loved to cuddle and he often made his way up to my husband’s neck to snuggle in as soon as he settled into his chair. I guess he felt he was extra safe there. Jack and Smokey tended to hang out in my lap. Smokey made a profession out of ignoring the newcomer. Jack just watched and waited for him to get comfortable.

Jack, it seemed, had decided that HE had a new job. He was going to teach Lewis how to be a cat in our house—and he was WONDERFUL at doing so!

To put things into perspective, I had been home with Jack and Smokey for their whole lives. That meant I had a good bit of time to spend with them and be consistent about the routines I wanted them to have. They knew which tables they could jump on and which ones were off limits, what times they oculd expect to be let out of the laundry room in the morning, and that it would NEVER be acceptable for them to be on a kitchen counter. When it was time to go to bed, I stood up and said, “It’s bedtime!” at which point they got up and we all headed for the laundry room like they were little ducks following their mama. My friends marveled that you could, indeed, train cats.

Jack instantly knew that Lewis would need to be trained to the house standard. Smokey did not care…at all. He simply kept his distance, followed the house rules, and hissed or growled a little if the new guy got a little closer than he thought was necessary.

Jack took his cues from me. If Lewis started to do something or go somewhere Jack knew wasn’t a good idea, he stopped him, redirected him, or—if that failed—he simply just popped the stew out of him to get his attention. Lewis was smart. He picked on Jack’s system pretty quickly. It didn’t mean Lewis didn’t try new things; he just kept an eye out for Jack before he tried some ideas. Jack, of course, knew all the great hiding spots and he would come racing out to stop Lewis before he went too far down the wrong path. If all else failed, Jack would simply sit on Lewis until he came around to Jack’s way of thinking.

One day, I heard a tiny, tiny squeal. I knew, of course, that it was Lewis, so I went looking for him. I looked high and low for that cat. I searched the whole house at least twice until I finally tracked the noise down to the office. I looked around, but there was absolutely no sign of Lewis…until I noticed that Jack was stretched out in the chair beside the desk and the computer cables that went behind it. It was THEN I noticed that Jack had two tails.

I’ll never know for sure, but I’m guessing that Lewis had decided to play with the cords and Jack had simply had enough. As I made Jack move so I could check on Lewis, Jack looked at me much the way Smokey had on the initial meeting. He had it handled, thank you very much, and I was interfering in the training exercises.

Smokey and Lewis eventually grew to love each other, but given his choice, Lewis always slept with Jack. I believe he knew Jack cared enough to discipline him and was actually looking out for his well-being from the very beginning.

I’ve thought and laughed about that story many times over the years. I’ve also seen God use some of the same blessings of discipline on me. He’s sent sisters to teach me the standards of the House, to redirect me when I went down a path they didn’t think was a good one, and to, occasionally, sit on me (metaphorically, of course! Grin) when they’d had enough or thought I had crossed a line. I didn’t always appreciate it in the moment, but over time I’ve generally grown to appreciate the reasons they did so.

Who or what is God using as a role model for you today AND, (This is CRITICAL!) who is watching you and counting on you to be their role model? Trust me, someone is watching. Are you comfortable about your role and what you’re teaching them today?

“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my concerns. See if there is any offensive way in me; lead me in the everlasting way.” Psalm 139:23-24 (CSB)

Typical behavior. Wonder what Lewis was getting instructions about then?! (LOL)