Monday, December 5, 2011

barefooted :: painted one {191-199}

{via pinterest}
there are times when i feel like my life is a painting. strokes on a canvas, some soft and some harsh. like standing back as i watch the artist compose the piece in front of my eyes, unable to see the final product until i touch the shoulder of the concentrating painter, and ask

show me what you see. 

this has been a brushstroke canvas week for me. i've felt peace and war, even at the same time, pressing me inside and outside. this has been a week full of laughter, oh, so much laughter until my eyes streamed and my sides ached for mirth. 

and then there were the moments where the floor and i were companions, fingers curled to my palms as tears coursed their way down my cheeks in unison with the silent sobs where no voice could give way to the

why // why // why?

this is why i love my God. because there was always joy. always eucharisteo found in the midst of the sobs. because of Him. this grace, this promise. 

  • 191. His grace which is sufficient. His promises which are never returned void. 
    {via pinterest}
  • 192. music. that kind that makes you leap and spin and toss your hair until you drown in melody
  • 193. blackberry merlot and the company that comes alongside as you sip and laugh and confide and plan and grieve and exchange those knowing looks. 
  • 194. raspberry tea and Adele beside the flickering Christmas tree
  • 195. this expectation, this anticipation for this coming Salvation. 
  • 196. counting down the days like an eager child. we're down to twenty now.
  • 197. strawberry Nerds and a tow-headed lad of barely six years giggling, "you're a silly nerd, sister!"
  • 198. these brothers and sisters, not by blood but by love.
  • 199. the picture of freedom in a day-old baby girl, the symbol of freedom between two freed ones. even her name echos with life: ariadne grace {very holy one with grace}
i have much. i am flooded with His brushstrokes, from head to toe with the soul unforgotten. 

oh, my God holds me close. His arms are sanctuary, His blood is life. 

i cannot rise from this bare-footed hallowed ground. this burning bush of surrender and gratitude and sacred.

barefooted and paint-streaked at His feet. 

{linking with Ann, sharing my gifts as they grow}


  1. beautiful. by the way, i just now discovered that you and alexandria, two of my favorite blog authors, share a blog. duh.

  2. really, sometimes i feel the only way to describe your posts are simply "beautiful". i read your posts like i would read a devotion, finding the LORD in your posts. your writing is elegant and i find comfort and love in it. this week has been one of laughter and sobbing for me as well, as another week slips by and my baby brother is seven days closer to death. but the LORD is holding us. and so, despite this shadow, i am thankful.

  3. o wow. def LOVING this post!!

  4. Oh it's been war for me this week. Wounds. Tears. But yes--eucharisteo


I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know there's nothing but light when I see you. :: Shinji Moon