Paul did this painting plein air at the Parley Lake Winery in 2014. This was time when his outdoor painting was in full force. It was a beautiful location. I went along and watched as he and other artists set their easels and filled their pallets. The contrast in this painting is obvious – just as they are in every day of our lives. Last night Paul was honored by the Seasons Gallery of Hudson, WI, along with fellow artist, Tom Dimok, who both passed away this year. They were both part of the founding of the plein air event that goes on for over a decade.
The blending of positive and negative space,
Mixed with a spattering of color here and there,
Together they become united, apart they fall,
Wouldn’t it be grand if humanity could take off the blinders,
Throw away their bias and indifference towards one another,
To become blind to the variety of colors in the races,
To see each other as part of a huge tapestry,
Of interwoven threads,
Each an integral part of the greater picture,
The one which unfolds each day,
With people unconcerned about skin tones,
Simply working together to create a beautiful piece of art called life,
There are so many roads to follow. We’re often beckoned by the sights ahead. Those paths may lead to something even more beautiful than we imagined or to a dark place that sickens us. I think I would choose the first road. How about you? God invites us to follow Him through the deserts of life – the battering winds – the storms – the challenges we face every day. His road always leads us in the right direction, giving us hope for tomorrow. As we start a new week, remember that He is the same today as he was yesterday and will be tomorrow. This world is filled with chaos and confusion. Walking with our Savior, God, will only bring peace and comfort.
A road can lead to nowhere as we travel through this life,
Our minds submit to evil, our hearts endure much strife,
But when we follow Jesus, the road is always clear,
Our final destination is not one we should fear,
He takes our hand and leads us through peril and through strife,
He’s always there beside us, He guides us through this life.
When we can go no further, He lifts us with His power,
Defending us, protecting from those who would devour,
He lays the bridge before us, He is that bridge you see,
He suffered and was crucified to set our spirits free,
The path has now been cleared, there is no obstacle,
For we have been redeemed by Him, He paid the debt in full.
Just before the sun rises, there’s an eerie cloud of gloom that lingers. Shapes and patterns begin to come into formation. Just prior to that, we might feel that the murkiness enveloping us – inviting us to enter into a deep, dark rabbit hole. Paul loved chasing the light. Even in this pencil drawing, we can see the shadows, the highlights, the depth and transporting of different shades of black. There is something alluring about darkness. It beckons, lures, entices, but eventually the light will shine through it. It is when the light appears that the scene becomes one of a smorgasbord of brilliant hues which are so much more appealing. Follow the light.
As I travel through life’s darkest moments,
When all around me is unfamiliar ground,
When the sound of silence engulfs me.
and pierces the everyday sound,
There in the midst of it all,
There with wings unfurled,
With pinions uncut,
With strength and dominion,
He will lift me out of the darkness,
He will protect me from the dangers of life,
He will cover me with His power, strength and love,
A very loud thunderclap, proceeded by many more was my wake-up call during last night. It seemed almost like a chorus of tympany drums pounding one after the other. My nights are almost always filled with uninterrupted sleep, but this storm kicked me in the eardrums and made me sit straight up at attention. There are daily storms that interrupt our daily walk with God. We count on Him to lead us through them. He leads us to a peace reserved just for us. That peace comes from Christ alone.
In solitude we sometimes find ourselves – we need some time alone,
A quiet place where life stands still – an instant safety zone,
Where waters blue surround us, where peace is everywhere,
Where you can hear the voice of God, in quiet, thoughtful prayer,
He may not give us answers that we would like to hear,
But in the sweet serenity, He holds us ever near,
The beauty of those moments, renew – refresh – restore,
“In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8
I remember my grandma telling me not to make funny faces or my face would stay that way. She was probably right, because my face has a road map of lines across it. Each of those lines can probably tell a story, but I like to think of them as a result of laughter. I’ve often found laughter to be the best medicine. Theres a ten month little boy in my life now. He is my great grandson. He is just beginning to form words that are familiar to him. I can’t wait to hear what he’ll have to say in a few months.
Kids are well known for saying things that make us laugh. For example:
On the topic of Moses:
His real name was Charlton Heston.
He led the Israel lights out of Egypt because of the bad Pharaoh.
God sent ten plagues on the Egyptians. Some of the plagues were mice, frogs, bugs, lice and no cable.
Every day in the desert, God fed the Israel lights some manicotti.
He gave them His “Top Ten” commandments. They were things like: don’t lie, don’t cheat, don’t dance, don’t smoke, don’t covet your neighbor’s stuff (whatever that means).
He also told them to humor their fathers and mothers.”
When my third child was born (named Joy) and I brought her home from the hospital with a tiny little stub of a belly button, my son thought we were singing about her at church services. You may have heard the hymn about Joy full of cord.
The Bible reminds us to have a glad heart and a cheerful face, in Proverbs. There are so many things in this world that distract us from what is really important; things that bring us down and cause us to feel helpless and even hope. I think God has a sense of humor and loves to laugh with us. Life is too short to forget about the funny things in life.
There are times we just want to hide from everyone and everything. We retreat to a room, a park, a forest, a closet, a beautiful scene in nature. “We want to be alone,” as Marlene Dietrich once said. She didn’t like the notoriety that came with her career as an actress. When photographers would approach her for another close up, she’d say this very thing.
The painting for today might have something hidden. Paul would often create paintings that had people, critters or things hiding somewhere within. Maybe you can fine something in this one. We can hide from the people or situations we don’t want to face. We can run to a sanctuary – a place – a closet – a forest that will shield us from others, but there is no hiding from our Creator, Omnipresent, God. He will find us even when we endeavor to go somewhere else for refuge. We’re reminded of this in the book of Hebrews 4:13 (ESV)
“And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account.”
Those are hefty words, which remind us of our obligation to confess our sins to God daily. Nothing is hidden from Him, but He demands that we come to Him, rather than hiding. He is our refuge, our strength, our mainstay in all situations. He loves it when we come to Him.
A hiding place where no one knows or sees or hears the truth,
A place where you can tuck away the trespasses of youth,
When hearts submit to God’s sweet call to come and be with Him,
Those sins will soon be washed away and we can dwell within,
For God is our true shelter, He loves us as we are,
When hidden in His sacrifice, we won’t stray very far,
Our sins have been forgiven, Our path has been made clear,
The Lord of Heaven saved us, with His own Son, most dear.
Don’t try to hide from Jesus, He’ll never let you go,
He loves and understands you, He dwelt with men you know,
He knows our every problem, He feels our every pain,
But through His sweet compassion, His loss was for our gain.
Yesterday was the first day back in my garden for quite a while. The weeds are thriving with all the rain, humidity and steamy air, so it was a full day of pulling weeds. I grew up in the city – an apartment dweller for most of those years. The only flowers were those brought home by dad for mom on Mother’s Day, Valentines Day, or their anniversary. There may have been a scraggly houseplant here and there, but never a full-sized garden. The things we thought we’d never do, may change over time. Those alterations tend to shape us.
I never dreamed I’d write poetry someday. I didn’t realize I could be a good mother. I wasn’t confident in speaking one on one with others. I struggled at being a good wife. We all have things that we feel we’re not good at or capable of doing. I’ve learned in many years of living, that if we don’t try, we’ll never know if we can or cannot do anything. Traveling through life we learn many lessons. God provides challenges for us. If we can overcome the little things, we move on to bigger obstacles. It’s all part of the growing up process which I hope I never do.
Being in my garden is therapeutic for me. It is time when I can hear the voice of God all around me – in the songs of the birds, the smell of newly mown grass, the discovery of an ant colony that busily works together. I can see His handiwork throughout the entire process. When seeds grow into flowers, new life comes with it. Pulling weeds can be like yanking out some of the ickiness of a bad day. Search for your gifts. You may be surprised that even those things that you thought were liabilities can be useful. You have so much to give this world. We need people like you to shape the future. You can do so by using your gifts for the benefit of others.
That first glimmer of light at dawn – when God kisses the mountain tops,
Waking the life from pleasant sleep, refreshing with morning dew drops,
The stillness of morning’s first light, explodes like a heavenly sight,
The sky turns to glorious shades of blue, as daylight replaces the night.
Reflections of His perfect world, are seen in that early sunrise,
Creation sings at His command, becoming a sight for the eyes,
He captures the light of the sun, brings warmth to the earth with His breath,
He fulfills every earthly need, He protects us even after death.
This watercolor painting could’ve been done along the St. Croix River. It may have been near the rocky cliffs that line the Mississippi River. It could be on the North Shore of Minnesota. Cliffs are a dramatic demonstration of erosion. Waves crashing against rock eventually causes these breath-taking formations.
Most of the weekly television shows are designed to draw the viewer back for the next episode. In the early days of silent movies, this type of writing seemed to thrive. There was often a “cliff hanger” at the end to encourage the viewer to return. An example would be Sweet Polly Purebred tied to the railroad tracks with a train on the way. Suddenly the words, THEEND would appear, leaving the audience wanting more.
For us, each day brings a new beginning. A story unfolds. There’s a specific pattern that follows. At the end of the day, we aren’t always sure where the next one will lead us. When our direction shifts and we follow a different path, it can also leave us on edge. When we put our trust in God, there is no question as to the outcome. We are His handiwork, His creation, those whom He loves unconditionally. He will not leave us hanging. His promises are always kept. They are always intended for our good. Tomorrow is another day. Thank Him for all of them.
It was at the height of it’s opulence, a city from of old, It commanded respect and attention, its streets were paved with gold, It shone like the brilliant sun in the sky, reflecting its bright rays, Within the dark shadows secrets survived, infecting all the days.
The brilliance soon disappeared from all sight, as darkness slithered in, No one realized what was happening, knew nothing of this sin, The ominous shadows penetrated the brilliance of the day, Corruption and greed encapsulated and sent the good away.
That once shining and glorious city, no longer casts its light, What remains are shards of days long ago, decay, great loss and blight, If only the fire had been overseen, by those within her gate, Perhaps a flame would rise from the embers, and new life would create.
We should learn from our own sweet history, but we often fail the test, We think that we have the perfect answers, we think that we know best, Instead of trusting our almighty God, we struggle and we fall, Still patience abides in His gracious love, His love is meant for all.
The watercolor painting I’m sharing today was done at the Coon Rapids Dam. I live in one of the first towns established in Minnesota. It’s the birthplace of Garrison Keillor. Born on August 7, 1942, in Anoka, Minnesota, he became a familiar radio voice on “A Prairie Home Companion.” The beauty of this area is that it doesn’t take long to get from place to place. There are a number of historic sites around us. You can take a drive and soon find yourself in farm country with houses few and far between. I love this painting, because it shows that mankind can restrain waters from flooding by using dams, but they didn’t create those waters. We can try to hold back tears, but they will come in buckets at times. God, in all His glory, created this and every planet with just a word. Dams will need repair from time to time in order to work properly. Our hearts need to be repaired too, but only God can do that.
You speak, Lord and the mountains listen, You open your hand and the power of rushing water jets from their walls, The cliffs bow down to you, How majestic is your name in all the world, Within your fingers you carve the granite into flowage for water, With one word, you contain those rushing rivers into glasslike lakes, Your voice holds majesty and steadfastness and all the angels praise your holy name, With your breath, we are inspired, Your eyes survey your creation, What once was good is now spoiled, But still you maintain control over it, Not a word or action goes unnoticed, Not a prayer goes unheard, Your ever presence comforts and protects us, The mountains lay low at the sound of your voice, You command water to spring from barren land, And it heeds, You say the word and your will is done, In spite of us, Where can we hide from you? Why would we try? Let me run to you instead of away, Lead my steps straight to your waiting arms, Let me rest in your unfailing love.
Dear, Creator, God, You know this world and all its faults. In spite of that you love us. You look at us and see your Son, Jesus and the price he paid for our redemption. Soothe the hearts of those who mourn – of those in pain – of those caring for the sick and dying – for the weak and weary – for those who don’t yet know you – and bring us peace. Amen!
ART FROM THE SKETCH BOOK OF PAUL BOECHER – FICTION BY KATHY BOECHER
This story is a result of sitting in front of my computer screen and trying to fill my time.
The small town was filled with a putrid smoke. It lingered in the air for more than a week. The sounds of death resounded from the quaint village of Murphy’s Valley. Time stood still for a while as bodies were transported in a hearse that might not endure the journey to the cemetery. Tears were not lacking. Life was taking a vacation while this untimely virus invaded city after city. It wasn’t long before the disease was referred to as an epidemic. People were required to quarantine. Memories of a past plague poured into the minds of each surviving citizen. Maybe someone had committed a grave sin causing the germs to merged into the homes of the unsuspecting. This unexplainable hazard was different than the last somehow. Each breath was met by a mask. It had been five years since they last had to do that. Many refused as others accpted the requirement.
The air remained stiff and unmovable into the next month. Fifteen more had their lives taken from them. There were some who had not even begun to live. Seven children, two teens and six adults was the latest count in this town with a population of 536. It was dropping further each day.
John and Mary McDermott had just become husband and wife a week before this demon reared its ugly head. Mary couldn’t endure the toxic air and fell victim to its long spindly arms as they choked the life from her. John was beside himself. He had waited for 35 years to find the right woman to marry and now she was gone. It was probably the shortest marriage on record for Murphy’s Valley.
Each of the stories connected to these events were carved like chiseled scars into a tree. Sapping the life from each and leaving behind emptiness unknown to them. The virus didn’t discriminate. The young and old were affected. Those they left behind would face years of grieving over a brand new form of death.
Jay Barber walked from his home to the town hall in hopes of receiving a vaccination to fight against the disease. He was told they had not discovered any kind of treatment for this horror. Sally Harmon, drove around town trying to locate masks for her family. Others stocked up on essentials that would get them through the next month. The shelves were almost empty and no shipments were expected for another few weeks. It was a grave reminder of five years ago as goods were stockpiled for the COVID19 Apocalypse.
The familiar, broken down hearse from Jennings Funeral Home, made its way up the hill to everyone’s surprise. This would add to the population adjustment.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. No word of a cure. People grew tired of staying inside. They needed face to face contact again. They needed to see body language and hear real words spoken. Phones and pagers were discarded. Computer screens went black. This wasn’t going to be a rerun of five years ago. Determination and grit became the words of the day as people tempted their own destiny by reaching out to others. The single church in the center of town was filling up, even though they weren’t supposed to gather. People hugged. They cried. They sang hymns of praised and prayed long hard prayers. They slept in the church that night.
The sun began to burn off the everpresent haze. Death stopped as new life was invigorated into the people. The virus was unworldly. No one had ever experienced this horrid disease that knew no boundaries. Maybe it wasn’t a virus at all.
Today’s watercolor shows the bend of a river as it flows gently through a treed landscape. It gives me a sense of comfort, as all of Paul’s art does. Focusing on the beauty in life is not only helpful, but it also becomes a necessity as daily problems arise. Those issues don’t give us warning. They just happen. You park your car on the street and get sideswiped. The damage is minimal, but the driver’s door refuses to unlock or open. You must rely on others to get you where you need to go. You hear in the Sunday sermon about the treasure of heaven and not placing your trust in things of this world as your bank account is slowly draining. You try to keep busy, but the air outside won’t allow you to because of smoke drifting in from Canada. There are chores to be done inside, but you’d much rather be working in your garden. You feel alone, even though you aren’t. You wander through each day, trying to cope but you don’t. You could easily fall into depression, but God tells you not to.
Each of these scenarios could sap your energy to the point of giving up, but your mind drifts back to your younger days, when mom always had the right words.
My mother was a wonderful lady who had to endure so much loss and pain in her life. She was sister to seven others and lost five of them in her lifetime to tragic accidents or terminal disease. Her father suffered terrible strokes. Her mother wore out and gave up life at 76. Her husband died at 61 of cancer. He hung on for two years of chemotherapy and unbearable pain. She married again and had to endure the death of that husband as well. She always maintained a positive attitude in all her circumstances and was a great role model for my sister and I. When she finally faced her last hours, she was ready to die, but she still clung to it until the very end. I still miss her every day.
There is great comfort in having someone special to go to when things just aren’t going the way they should. Now that I’m having to rely on myself to make the right decisions, I would just love to have one more conversation with mom. I know that God will be there too, but there’s something about talking face to face with someone.
I wonder what my mom would say if she could see our world today.
She wouldn’t fret or cry or sweat. She’d say, “Some things you must forget.
The world will always be this way. Tomorrow is another day.”
She’d talk of days of long ago and how they were the same, you know.
She’d say, “It’s best to look ahead instead of crying for the dead.
We still are living, breathing souls – we must go on amidst all foes.
Our Savior will protect us!”
I’m 83 years old. I still want my mommy. I feel alone. I trust in God’s constant attention to my needs and life. I will wait on the LORD. He will calm my fears. He will help me focus on the good things He has given me. Many of those who have influenced my journey are now in heaven, but I know that I am not alone.
The number of excuses for not attending church is unending.
Everyone acts one way in church and another every other day of the week.
I’ve got a meal to prepare.
I don’t have time.
Church makes me feel uncomfortable about myself.
I don’t like all the formality of worship.
I can worship anywhere.
It’s a beautiful day and I’ve already booked my tee time.
I deserve one day to sleep in.
Add these
I study my Bible every day.
I don’t need to make an outward show of my beliefs on Sunday.
I have accepted Jesus, I don’t have to do anything else.
I lead a good life.
I don’t need to hear how bad I am.
Church is filled with hypocrites.
It’s too ritualistic.
I can watch the service online when I have time.
When we try to come up with reasons why we should be there, it’s more difficult.
Start with this one
I want to thank God for getting me through another week.
I want to praise Him for helping me through difficult times.
I want to be with others who believe what I do so we can encourage each other.
My life is packed with so many things to do, I should be able to give my God at least an hour of my time. ‘
When we turn things back to God, rather than ourselves, it’s easy to see why we should be in His house.
He loved us so much that He gave His Son to carry the sting of death which we should have endured. The least we can do is give Him one day. Praise Him, thank Him, ask for His blessings on your week, share your love for your fellow believers, encourage each other, lift others in prayer –WORSHIP!
“Come to me you who are heavy laden and I will give you rest.”
This painting was done during the plein air competition in Hudson, WI several years ago. It reminds me of the days we visited this lovely area on the St. Croix River. There was so much to paint – beautiful scenes like the one pictured – original buildings made of brick and mortar and still standing tall – people enjoying the beauty of the water. This competition continues every year in Hudson. This year, Paul will not be painting. He’s busy consulting with the angels on the shades of the rainbow. Two of his past paintings will be on display, along with another artist who passed away this year. Tom Dimock and Paul Boecher were part of the original founding group of four when it first began. Pat Undis and Susan McLean Keeney comprised the rest of the team. I feel he would be very honored and humbled to be part of this show again.
A couple years ago, Paul was determined. His German heritage made him more so. His eyesight was beginning to fail as macular degeneration closed in. His paintings were becoming muddied. The brilliant colors of past works were diminishing. Still, there was no stopping him. He set up his easel near the water. There was a class of young sailors just entering the harbor. They noticed Paul and immediately gathered around and watched as he laid colors on the canvas and talked about his younger years, sailing on the water. He could strike up a conversation with everyone he met – whether he knew them or not.
The 2025 Plein Air in Hudson will hold the Awards Reception at the Seasons Gallery, Monday, August 11, 6:30pm-8:30pm – 401 Second Street – Hudson, WI.
OUR ROAD TOGETHER
Sun slowly sets, leaving glistening rays upon the still water,
We hold hands and think about tomorrow,
We plan,
We dream,
We pray for answers,
For wisdom, discernment, dependence on our God,
Some days we seem to approach a wilderness,
No plans,
Shattered dreams
Seemingly unanswered prayers
It appears that God is no where to be found,
But then the glow of His presence is felt in the skies,
THIS IS A TRUE STORY – I’M NOT SAYING I’M PROUD OF MYSELF – BUT HERE GOES.
Funny things happen to me all the time. Either that or I’m not all there and everything just seems funny.
My youngest daughter brought an assignment home to finish for her art class. It was made of paper mâché and when it dried completely, she was able to paint it. She was very proud of her work. She put extra effort into making it extra special. It was worthy of a good grade.
Everyone turned in for the night and the little paper mâché dog sculpture sat unconcerned on the kitchen counter. It was one of those nights when I semi-woke up and wandered aimlessly into the kitchen. I wasn’t fully conscious. This wasn’t unusual since I was often found sleepwalking. The house was dark. There wasn’t a sound to be heard except the growling coming from my stomach. Even though I was in a dream state, I felt the pangs of hunger.
My hands reached out in the darkness and landed on the dog art. Slowly I lifted the innocent victim to my lips. I opened my mouth. It looked like dark chocolate, but it didn’t smell like it. It didn’t smell like anything. My pearly whites wrapped themselves around the morsel and bit down.
It was one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever tasted. I immediately woke up, spit the tidbit into the garbage, rinsed my mouth out with water and went back to bed. Remember this. I was not aware of any wrongdoing.
The next morning, I was sharply awakened by screams coming from my youngest child. I ran to see what happened and there she was with the decapitated dog in her hand. She was devastated. Suddenly, the events of the night before began to unfold before my eyes. I couldn’t do anything but confess my guilt.
I had a hard time explaining the truth to my family and to her teacher that I had eaten her homework, but looking back, it was one of those funny things that stays with you for the rest of your life. Finding humor in unlikely situations can make you look like a real idiot, or it can help you keep your sanity. Or both!
This piece of pastel art expresses the light at the end of our suffering. For those who are going through the grieving process, it doesn’t seem you’ll ever get better. Your memories are sustaining you. Your family and friends are checking in on you. Those you associate with you are giving you encouragement. Most of all, God has been through the entire process with you; covering you with His mighty wings; rebuilding the losses you’ve endured; guiding you through each day; making your own path to heaven possible.
Jacob is a good example of this. In the book of Genesis, we read how he physically wrestled with God. He had a life of struggle, but he usually wound up on top. The problem is that he was a con man and used untruths to get ahead. His time in the desert led to meeting God in the darkness of night, wrestling with Him, eventually surrendering but not without injury. In the process of grieving, we too are in a battle with God. It’s not easy to surrender, but a necessary part of the process. During Paul’s final year of living, we talked a lot about turning things over to God, and how our pride and sinful nature lead us to think we can control our destiny. The ability to let go, be still and know that He IS God and capable of anything, is that final test which will give us eternal peace
When we reach this stage, we’ve decided to stop feeling sorry for ourselves. We determine to believe our circumstances are real and begin to live with them. Not everyone will go through these steps of the grieving process, but one thing we must learn from any kind of loss is that we’re not alone in our struggle. The scars from grief are many. Eventually they will fade away. Our memories will keep our loved one alive until we join them in eternity.
GOD HAS THIS!
When bruised and injured we do fall, before our Father’s throne And look upon the lamb once slain for all sins to atone, Our pain is nothing next to His, our wounds are all but naught. The blood He shed, His torturous death were all with insult fraught,
But still the Son of God went forth in dignity and strength, He took our place and bore the cross until His dying breath, Three days went by. He shunned the grave and rose to life again. He did this so I too could claim a life in heaven with Him.
Sweet Jesus you have walked the road that I deserved to go.You did this oh so willingly, You knew just what to do. So, when I’m feeling battered and pulled in many ways. Remind me of the walk you took and please accept my praise.
When fears and worries are so real, We sometimes wonder why we feel, The pangs of deep depression.
The weight’s extreme – we lose all hope, Our hearts grow sad – for strength we grope, To lighten this progression.
We look within and try to cope There are no answers in our scope It now becomes oppression.
We try so hard to rise above, We search in vain for any love. To deal with this obsession.
We cannot do it on our own, We need one advocate alone, To bring our full confession.
God takes our hand and leads us out, Relieves our pain – our fear – our doubt. He is our best possession.
His love is great – it sees us through When there is nothing we can do. Our words hold no expression.
He lifts us from the pit of death. He died for us to give us breath. To wipe out our transgression.
When we lose someone to death, there’s an immediate sadness. We worry how we’ll survive, how we’ll pay for funeral expenses, how we’ll live without the deceased. In this situation we all could use a big hug, but even that doesn’t make the pain go away. We must keep ourselves occupied, busy and in some sort of state of normalcy. One of the signs of depression is escaping into the world of sleep. This place of refuge seems the most logical, because for the most part sleep eats up time that we would normally be using to mourn. With sleep dreams come. They may be about the departed. They may leave you even more depressed. So, how does one escape this downward spiral. It becomes a dark rabbit hole that could ultimately lead to suicidal thoughts. If you thought you were vulnerable at the beginning of this process, it appears even worse as time goes by.
For me, personally, I have felt this way from time to time. I can usually overcome feelings of depression by finding something to keep me busy. Lately, I’ve been going through the motions of living. I rise early in the morning. I do all the necessary things to get ready for the day. I sit down in front of my computer and think about what to write for my daily blog. Most of my morning is spent doing household chores. The afternoons have been swallowed up lately with dangerous air quality. My breathing issues make it almost impossible to go outside, so I stay in trying to keep my mind occupied with menial tasks. After dinner, I retreat to my chair and watch television until it’s time to go to bed. I think this step is probably the hardest because I begin to feel alone, even though I have my grandson living with me. For these many past months there has been a plethora of activity. Now there is none. This is the time to set aside those lonely feelings and reach out to those who care about you. You may think you can handle everything on your own, but you can’t.
God has been with you during this entire time. He will continue to walk with you and guide you through the plan He has designed for your life. Don’t ever forget that. Also, this is the time to reach out to those closest to you. Your family and friends can be a great source of encouragement. Don’t let your mind shift into dark places. The Light of the World is your best friend. He will never let you go.
Several years ago, Paul went on a retreat with one of his old high school buddies in Wisconsin. This was a time of fellowship, renewing old memories and painting plein air. The artists were asked to paint various elements of nature. The first day – sky, Day 2 – land, Day 3 – water and on the 4th day they would paint all the elements together. These were painted on window shades, so the size and majesty of each painting was evident.Paul’s work always inspires me. I know he was in love with God. His work shows that. He knew he was forgiven and he would be with His savior forever. How can I feel guilty about that?
The third step in the grieving process is bargaining and guilt. When our loved ones are at death’s door, do we bargain with God? Do we pray for easing of pain and suffering and even sometimes ask for God to take that person home to heaven? Do we wish that it had been us instead of them? Do we feel guilty for thinking that way? Guilt is hard to admit. We have, however, been forgiven from all our sins. Because of our gratitude for God’s greatest gift, the rest of our days should be spent thanking and praising Him. Each Sunday we confess our sins. We repent. We receive God’s forgiveness. Our guilt acts as a reminder of the necessity to put God first in our lives. It also shows us our need for a Savior. The beauty of being sanctified comes by continuing to live life with a purpose. To serve Him, to care for others, to pray for them, to share your love of God with them and to reach out with the good news to everyone you meet.
The second step in the grieving process is anger. Anger is an almost uncontrollable emotion. It can eat away at our very souls and destroy us if we let it. Most of the time it will cause us to become anxious or depressed. Maybe this step is the hardest one for me. I haven’t really experienced it yet. Yes, I am angry that Paul isn’t here to help me through some difficult decisions. I’m angry that I wasn’t the first to find peace in heaven. I’m angry that my husband will not be here to see his grandchildren marry and have children. I’m angry that he isn’t here to make me laugh when I want to cry – encourage me when I feel I’ve failed – inspire me to do the best I can. He was my soulmate. I loved him with all my heart. It might not seem fair. I may want to blame someone. I could even believe that God is testing me again. I guess I have experienced it. Like I said yesterday, each one of us will go through this grieving process in a different way and even on a different time line.
In the watercolor painting today, we see three bison on the edge of the cliff. They look down and see the end of their lives awaiting them. A whole herd of bison are running behind them, there is nowhere else to go. Maybe this is the anger we experience when someone we love dies. It may seem that life will end for us soon. It may be that the weight of the world will finally be conquered. Instead of anger, I think what I’ve experienced is frustration. Yet, even in those darker days of resentment and anxiety, there is the assurance that we are not alone.
Through the darkness and the shadows, God is with me all the way,
Even when the road is cluttered, with the cares of every day,
When I’m lonely or downhearted, fears surround on every side,
When the path is filled with danger, He will always be my guide.
The world attacks and arrows pierce, death will overtake and win
Still the breath of life will conquer, Jesus washed away my sin,
Here on earth there will be trouble, but in heaven no more fear,
Still He watches and protects me, grace He adds to every year.
Every day is such a blessing, when we walk with God’s own Son,
He brought peace to all the living, and in death our souls are won,
Thank you, Jesus for your passion, for your grace and love so true,
The gates of heaven now open, when we just believe in You.
If you’ve ever had to look at mug shots at a police office. let me tell you, it’s not an easy task. I had the experience when I was working for a loan company at the age of 21. This is a true story, but before I get into it, take a look at all the above studies of various animals and one fellow put in for good measure. Pretty easy to determine what’s what. Paul had a keen eye for creating paintings, sketches, watercolors and wood sculptures that looked pretty much like the real thing. He was a gifted artist who made a career through his art. It wasn’t a hobby for him, though in his later years, he spent almost every day with a paintbrush, pencil or chisel in his hand.
Now to my story. It was the end of the workday. I was excited for the day to end because I was going for a fitting of my wedding dress after work. I quickly tallied the contents of my cash drawer and locked it up and was about to add the checks to be deposited. Just as I heard the click of that key, a couple of men entered the office wearing face masks and carrying guns. They focused on me mainly, because I was closest to the cash drawers. They told the other two employees to get down on their knees close their eyes.
All kinds of thoughts went through my mind. I was supposed to get married in a few weeks. My life was just beginning. My early years rushed through my mind as I imagined I wasn’t long for this world. One of the men came to me and told me to open the drawer as the other held his gun on the others. I tried as hard as I could to open the drawer, but it wouldn’t open. The more I tried, the harder it seemed to resist. Finally, the man told me to get down on the floor and count my blessings. Then there was an eerie silence. It seemed like time stood still for a while. There was no sound – no movement – nothing. In those brief seconds, I prayed that God would spare us any injury or even death.
At last, one of the other employees spoke. “They’re gone! They went out the back door. Get up and someone call the cops.”
Apparently, the nightmare was over, but was it? The police dusted for fingerprints and interviewed me, since I was the only one to interact with the thieves. They said I’d have to come to the station and look at some mug shots. I wondered how that was going to help, since I saw neither of their faces. Still, I agreed. When I got there, I assumed it would be like those lineups on TV which show a few people under blinding lights, line up with no ability to see who was looking at them. The witness would look through a glass one way window to see if any of the people looked familiar. It wasn’t that way at all.
There was no way I could recognize either of these guys. They were all about the same size. There was no glass window, nothing separating me from them. When the lights went out, they all filed out, right in front of me.
I told the police the perps were wearing masks, but they said they were more interested in the body size, weight any tattoos, color of hair and things like that. It was impossible to imagine what they looked like under those face masks. One voice sounded like the manager of the bowling alley nearby. Not being sure about anything made me an unreliable witness, so they sent me home. The next day there was an article in the newspaper about the robbery – along with a photograph of me (that looked like one of those mugshots I had viewed) along with my address, age and name.
I had escaped death, by the grace of God. However, I still felt terribly vulnerable due to the fact that the robbers would most likely see my mugshot in the newspaper and come after me. My soon-to-be husband rescued me and took me to his family’s summer home where I stayed until the heat cooled off.
The robbery was unsuccessful so there was no more police involvement, but like most things that are done for personal gain, someone will be affected, and I was. It took a long time for me to go back to that job, but I did. Not to mention I’m still here to tell the tale.
The promises of streets of gold and no more tears to shed, Hope for peace and quiet times – no fear of falling dead, The feast that goes on day and night and never fails to please, A life of independence and of everlasting ease.
It has been almost seven complete months since my husband went to his heavenly home. During the early days of grieving, I was given many books to read about the process of facing death and what to expect with the outcome. It seems that everyone goes through this at different times and in different ways. This week, I’m going to delve into those steps each day and try to pass along what I’ve discovered along the way. The first step in the process of grieving is denial & isolation. Personally, my experience isn’t the same as everyone else’s. It doesn’t make sense to put people into pigeonholes, but sometimes it’s helpful to see how others deal with grief, so we know how to cope.
Denial & Isolation – When we first experience loss of any kind, we go through a period of denial. Losing someone dear to most isn’t easy. We don’t want to admit our feelings of loss, so we isolate ourselves from others and pull deeper within. We don’t want to listen to the words of comfort, because we don’t believe them. We grow further away from those who cherish us. Even when the one we lose has gone through a long battle of illness, we try to convince ourselves that it’s for the best. Those words of comfort aren’t going to mean much to someone who has just experienced the death of a loved one. We’re stunned by the magnitude of the situation. Emotions are numbed by feeling we should be prepared for the unknown. In my case, I felt a certain relief that my husband had entered the heavenly realms. That his pain and suffering were over, but at the same time I wanted to hang onto him for the rest of my life.
My family was a great help during this time of grieving. They made sure I didn’t retreat into isolation. I pushed myself too. Instead of hiding, I continued to write each day. I discovered inspiration from Paul’s many paintings for my daily blog. I felt connected to him by doing so. Acceptance wasn’t really an issue for me, because I knew that death isn’t the end for those who love God. I knew where this man was going, because of what both of us believed. I also know that Jesus wept when he heard that his dear friend died. When we allow those tears to fall, we are releasing endorphins. In turn those endorphins get rid of the stresses that set in. We can’t hold back tears, but keeping busy allowed me to focus on other things. Looking back at special times we shared together was also a comfort. I learned that in the last year of our journey. One important thing to both of us, was to create memories of those last days and how they were spent.
Like I said at the beginning of this post, everyone is different. We don’t all grieve in the same manner or at the same time. These are simple guidelines to help us along the way. Knowing that God is with us through everything we encounter in our lives, gives us great peace and comfort.
As I reach the end of my years, I find I have a lot of good information stored up in this old decrepit mind of mine. If I don't write it all down, it may vanish and no one will have the advantage of my thoughts. This is why this blog exists. I love the Lord, Jesus with all my heart and soul. I know I'm undeserving of all He's done for me, but I also know that His love is beyond my comprehension.
I've always wanted to write. I never kept diaries, but tucked my thoughts in my head for future reference. I use them now in creating stories, plays, poetry and my blog.
I continue to learn every day. I believe the compilation of our time spent with God will have huge affect on the way we live. I know I'm a sinner and I need a Savior. I have One through Jesus, Christ.
My book, "Stages - a memoir," is about the seven stages of life from the perspective of a woman. It addresses all the things girls and women go through in life as they travel it with Jesus, and it is available on Amazon.com.
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
God's amazing grace removes walls and replaces those barriers with Jesus, freedom from sin's consequences, freedom to forgive, and freedom to love unconditionally.
atimetoshare.me 
You must be logged in to post a comment.