STRECTCHING THEIR WINGS

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As you know, I’ve been part of the Board of Directors of Northern Starz Children’s Theatre for about a year and in that time, I’ve done some work as a stage manager, blog writer, director and volunteered for many other things.  The latest of these endeavors includes an exceptional performance of “Annie, Jr.”  The reason it’s amazing is that the cast consists of youngsters with special needs.

As part of a grant, Northern Starz is the first children’s theatre in Minnesota to embark on this journey.  It’s called the Penguin Project.  The special needs kids are called “Penguins.” Each special needs child has a mentor who is close to their own age.  Together they’ve been spending the last several months, working on choreography and music.  The past two weeks has introduced them to the space they’ll actually perform – the local community college.

For most performers, going through the process of learning music and dance for a show is a huge commitment.  When I went to visit one evening, I was flabbergasted by the progress they’d made.  Each element of putting a show together – music, choreography, blocking, getting familiar with their character, learning lines, brings a new challenge even for the seasoned actor.  When you add set, lights, sound, costumes and makeup, it brings new challenges.

They have adapted to all of these changes beautifully, but the final magic occurs when they present to a live audience.  Theatre can open doors to the imagination.  It stimulates, excites, challenges, encourages creativity, self confidence, team building skills and future success.  Why shouldn’t those with special needs have the same opportunity?  With this program, that’s exactly what’s happening.

The best case scenario is that each seat in the theatre be filled.  Stars shine most when the lights come up and they have a captive audience.  I know the audience and the cast will not be disappointed.  When the curtains open, the fun begins in earnest.

When the show comes to an end, everyone involved will have wonderful memories to hold in their hearts.  The staff will see the fruits of their labor.  For the mentors it will be a feeling of satisfaction from helping another person – being at their side for the long run and becoming friends.  For the Penguins,it will have been an opportunity to soar like they’ve never done before – to be part of a group effort – creating moments that will last a lifetime.

We’re already looking ahead to next year and another production.  The goal is to give all kids a chance to enjoy the theatre as they demonstrate what they can achieve.

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MY PRAYER FOR TODAY

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Each day is a new beginning, Lord, and still I often feel things are out of control. I’ve been praying for the same thing for so long and don’t get answers. Maybe I’ve received them, but they aren’t yet clear. Maybe I’m praying for the wrong things. I try to lay my burdens on you and trust that you’ll take on the tasks that I can’t do by myself.

I pray again, at the start of this day, that you will carry me and bless what you have already given so freely to me. Help me to walk away from my own intellect and reasoning and lean totally on you. I need your strength for this.

I know you’ve given me a free will and the ability to work through my problems, but I always wait to turn to you until there is no other way. Remind me of all your answered prayers – even the blessings you’ve offered without my asking. Dear, Lord Jesus, be by my side today as you are every day. You are my rock and fortress – my guide and my deliverer. You are the only answer.  AMEN!

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TGIF?

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ART & INSPIRATION FROM PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©

Another week speeds swiftly by, a faded sun dips out of sight,

We contemplate a time of rest, a time rich in the joys of night,

Where neither loss nor discontent, can grip us from our cheerfulness,

Nor past mistakes be swallowed up, we just contribute to the mess,

Our sin creeps slowly into sight, we need to leave our work behind,

We numb our brains with pills or booze, finding it hard to clear our mind,

The softness of the setting sun, gives some relief, but it’s still hard,

To cherish every joy on earth, without one plea you stand on guard.

Each day becomes a battlefield, but when the weekend finally comes.

You ask yourself what is this day, you stumble through the restless crumbs,

Of empty days and lonely nights, you wonder when your life will end,

When you are old and turning grey, you treasure each remaining day,

Each one’s a bonus from the Lord, within His arms you’ll always stay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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WHO SHOULD WE BELIEVE?

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Does anyone remember guys like David Brinkley and Walter Cronkite?  When we tuned into the news on our TV sets of the 1950s, we could be pretty sure that we were being fed the truth, because those guys had no reason to do otherwise.  Journalists were taught to check all their sources twice before reporting a story.  They included the “who, what, why, when and how.”  There was a race to get a scoop in those days, but not before all the facts were known.

With the onset of Watergate and the Viet Nam War, our nation became one of enquiring minds wanting to know.  With the advent of the internet, they wanted to know immediately.  Watergate opened the door to investigative reporting, relying on questionable sources and meeting in dark corners to get the story.  Viet Nam gave way to imbedded reporters on the battlefields and the ugliness of war became an addition to our evening meal.

Today, there are still those who look for truth.  They check their sources before turning in their stories.  They are ethical in their reporting.  However, as with anything intended for good, someone is always lurking in the background with the temptation to get the story first – no matter what the cost,

Fake news has become a commodity for those who long for the sensational.  Our love affair with seeing others in a bad light is one of the most successful tools of the devil and he wastes no time in making sure we get it.  Those of us who want the truth, have turned off the news and opted for something on the travel or history channels.  We need an escape from the daily tabloid news which has become a steady regimen for the world.

So, who do we believe?  What do we believe?  Can we believe anything?

We need to stay informed as to what’s happening in the world, but we also need to know we’re getting the truth.  Unfortunately, we’re daily being exposed to false stories without fact checking –  opinions rather than solid reporting and a media that stirs discontent and anger among the people.  Most crimes don’t even reach a courtroom before they’re judged by the media and popular opinion based on the same.  Reporting of protests with supposedly thousands of people are being manned by a dozen or so.  We’re often only getting half the story.  CNN was responsible for the way the news was reported and it continually slants their stories to say they got the scoop.

I believe in free speech.  I know a press controlled by the government would be disastrous, but isn’t what we see today, just as bad?  It comes to a point where trust is a non-existent word in our every day vocabulary.

I believe the only truth we can count on comes to us in the form of the Bible.  This is God speaking to us through men He inspired to write it down.  The fact that it has continued through the ages – in spite of various translations – proves to me that it’s truly from Him.  God doesn’t lie.  He remains consistent through His Word and actions.  The Bible supports itself throughout and it changes lives.  Because God remains the same each day, His Word is the only source of truth.

There are nuggets for every aspect of living – stories of average guys like you and me doing extraordinary things – unexpected goals being accomplished – the truth that we’re God’s children and He loves each of us unconditionally.  Want some good news?  Read the Bible.

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JULIE’S FRIDAY FUNNY

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FAKE NEWS ISN’T NEW

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July 18, 64 AD

It was a steamy summer night in the city of Rome.  The wind picked up, bringing some relief, but before the night was over a large portion of the city was engulfed in flames.  It started in the poorest part of town, where the merchants set up their wares each day.  It didn’t take long for the fire to spread through the wooden marketplace.  With encouragement from the wind, it spread quickly and destroyed almost 70% of Rome.

Rumors added fuel to the fire as the emperor, Nero, was claimed to be responsible for the disaster.  Did he actually give the order or start the fire himself?  Was it true that he sat on the balcony of his palace, fiddling away as the city was consumed? Could he possibly look out over the burning city that he had built, with joy in his heart?

Nero was one of the most unpopular leaders of his time.  He was known to use Christians as human torches to light the city streets.  His sadistic deeds were well.  Yet was he so evil that he’d actually have a city that he ruled burned to the ground?  He was proud of what he’d built  His narcissism most likely wouldn’t allow him to wipe out the grandeur that was Rome.  His reputation would be at stake.  He had plans to create an even more grandiose Rome with his name attached to it.  That plan was carried out when he rebuilt the city to even greater heights.

Still the people weren’t particularly fond of this guy, and when their livelihood and residences were snuffed out, he was the one they’d name as the perpetrator.  Nero wasn’t ready to be victimized in such a way.  He needed someone to blame and the perfect scapegoat would be the Christians.  Their beliefs were infiltrating Rome faster than the wildfire which spread through the streets that night.  In order to satisfy the rumors about him, the Christians were taken to the amphitheater and fed to the lions.

There was no proof that Nero fiddled while his city burned.  He was out of town when the fire broke out.  Of course he could’ve ordered it, but there was no actual evidence of such a plot.  If it were true, it would’ve been like shooting himself in the foot.

He was not playing a fiddle as is often depicted. The fiddle had not yet ben invented. If anything, he would be playing a stringed instrument like the lyre.  The one truth in the story that has been handed down through history is that Christians would now become the object of even greater persecution.  Someone had to take the fall.

So the media doesn’t always get it right.  Some things never change!

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DISCIPLINE

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As a child, my instrument of choice was the piano.  There happened to be one left in our apartment when we moved in.  I was probably no more than six, but the idea of playing the piano occupied my dreams for many years.  My parents couldn’t afford to have me take lessons, so most of my playing was self taught and done by ear – which is incredibly hard to do.  I mean, have you ever tried playing any instrument with your ear – but I digress.

I developed a love for music at an early age.  As I grew into a teenager, my tastes went from Twinkle, twinkle, little star to more advanced pieces like Take Me Out to the Ballgame.  Without lessons, my music left much to be desired, but I did manage to sound out Clair de Lune just by rote.  I listened and I learned.  Still I wasn’t all that good.

My husband was on his own journey in the area of music at a young age.  His parents possessed an old violin so this is what he would play – whether he liked it or not.  He was fortunate (I guess) in that he did take lessons.  His instructor was an elderly, strict, German fellow who insisted on perfection.  A little extreme to expect from a six year old boy who would much rather be catching frogs or playing ball.  Still his parents thought the discipline would be good for him.  He would need to practice every day and follow directions, which always led to good things.

After a number of lessons, a sort of rebellion took place.  After numerous reminders to keep his left arm from sagging – instituted by the poke of the professor’s bow – it was finally just too much.  The stubborn little boy, quietly stood up, set his violin on the chair, raised his bow and took a very impressive fencing stance.  A little sword fight with bows ensued, but after a few strikes, the instructor boldly stated, “I will not teach you anymore!”  Paul responded, “I quit,” and thus ended his musical career.

The instrument became an heirloom, seldom played, except for a squeaky rendition of
“Barker Roll.”  It collected dust for several years and was finally sold to someone who could actually play and enjoy it.

The idea of practicing, rehearsing, reciting, being disciplined, is never easy for most of us.  It’s often easier to muddle through life, just getting by.  In a way, that attitude can lead to all kinds of problems.  We begin to feel sorry for ourselves because we aren’t as talented or smart as someone else.  We think we’ve been cheated.  We make excuses.  We set ourselves up for disappointment.

God’s discipline comes with our well being in mind.  Being told what to do, how to do it, rules that must be followed is always hard to digest, but as any parent knows, without it things often become impossible.  God is our heavenly Father and wants only what’s best for us.

I still love most types of music and so does my husband.  We are not the purveyors of it, but there must be an audience and we fit that much better.  There was a point when I purchased a keyboard, complete with rhythm and genres built into it.  I got so caught up in the background noise, I forgot to play the melody.  Thus officially ended my music career.  I’m sure God had better plans for my life.

 

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THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD

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We’re probably all familiar with Jesus being compared to the Good Shepherd who gently cares for His flock. Choosing to depict us as sheep wasn’t just a matter of chance, by our Savior.  Being familiar with the agriculture of His day, it was the right choice.  People could relate to sheep.  They were their livelihood and their sustenance.

Sheep need a shepherd to guide them.  On their own, they’d wander away from the flock into dangerous situations which might even take their lives.  They were also not too bright.  The extremely stubborn needed to be chastised or even crippled so the shepherd would have to carry them – allowing him to keep a close eye on the wayward sheep.  They need to be directed to fertile pastures for food – refreshing waters – and places to lie down and rest.  They need constant watching.

We’re probably all aware that anointing was a cleansing process for human beings.  Anointing was used in the Old Testament for special occasions like appointing a king or signifying a blessing on one chosen to do God’s work.  Did you know that shepherds used to anoint their sheep with oil?  They’d rub oil into the wool of each sheep’s head, possibly laying their eggs there thus driving the poor animals insane.  The oil  deterred lice and other insects from burrowing deep into the ears and nostrils of their herd.  This act of prevention saved the sheep from banging their heads against stones and causing injury or even death.  If you’ve ever had a gnat fly into your nostril, you know what I’m talking about.

Down to the last detail, Jesus is our constant care giver – our loving shepherd.  He watches over us every step of the way. When our steps wander off the path, He’s right there to lead us back.  He may have to chastise us from time to time in order to get our attention, but He still holds us lovingly in His caring arms.  When our minds become infected Satan’s minions, He gently anoints our heads with soothing oil to protect us and cleanse us.

We don’t really like the idea of being sheep.  It’s not a very flattering comparison, but to know that we have a shepherd who loves us so much that He laid down His life for each and every human being to walk the earth.  Through Him, we never need to walk alone.

 

 

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WHAT TO DO WHEN IT’S HOT

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Picture this.  It’s almost ninety degrees in the shade. We come prepared with our cowboy hats, boots and water, but the float hasn’t arrived.  We huddle under a tree.  Soon the rest of the group arrives and joins us under the tiny tree.  Finally the float arrives and we all board and take our places on it.  Practicing my queen wave and shouting a couple of yee-haws, we’re ready for the festivities to begin.  The three couples on the float are all over 70, and there are a few children, a couple younger adults and two plastic horses.  We’re ready, but it will take a while before our float gets into line.

Time passes – an hour at least before we join the parade.  All that time sitting in the blistering sun. Oh that Paul had chopped down that little tree and brought it with us.  The parade lasts all of ten minutes.  My water is now hot enough to make a cup of tea.  My body is numb on one side.  Is it simply the heat?  Is it because I needed help stuffing my already swollen feet into my cowboy boots?  Or was I having a stroke?  My natural acting skills kicked in, allowing me to greet all the buckaroos lining the streets and invite them to Vacation Bible School. Their interest was more in the candy being handed out.

As we de-floated, we were greeted with sandwiches, apple slices, chips and more water.  As I stood under the shade of another tree, I felt the need to get home. I tugged on Paul’s arm, told him what was going on, and he quickly whisked me off to the car.  By the time we got home, I felt a little better.  After removing my tight fitting boots and drinking a gallon of water, I felt a lot better.  I laid down and fell asleep for two hours.

It wasn’t a stroke – a bit of heat stroke maybe. I think we retained or title of most rowdy on the float.  I believe we’re the only ones who talk a lot.  I’m having second thoughts about doing it next year, but then again, my competitive nature calls my name.

 

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SUMMER TREASURE

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ART & POETRY FROM PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©

The edge of a bluff lined river – a glassy reflection glistens and bounces onto a hill.

The light touches the rims of trees and buildings, creating patterns dancing from one place to another .  The deep crevices fill with darkness.  The sky is magnificently dotted with wispy clouds,

Interlaced with mauve, crimson and blue.  A path of towering pines shades the heat of the sun,

Looking out at the beauty of God’s perfect creation – breathing in the sweet, fresh air – hearing the sounds of rushing water and birds singing their little hearts out – fills your heart with contentment.  This little morsel of peace is just a speck in the scheme of things.

How long we’ve waited for the glory of these summer days.  They are so few and fleeting.  Soon the leaves will turn to red and gold and then fall.  Like our lives. We wither and die.

The moments of joy we experience on this planet are nothing compared to what waits for us after the winter of our dying breath.  Once again spring returns and we’re blessed with new life when we know God.  The glory never ends.

 

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I’M BORED!

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I used to wonder how people could be bored with so many options for entertainment and recreation.  Then I turned 76 and we had a ginormous heat wave, with poor air quality – and I was confined to the house or some other location with air conditioning.  It suddenly hit me. I was becoming a victim of boredom.

It became easier to stay at home rather than venturing out into the steamy air.  It became an excuse of sorts for being lazy or uninvolved.  When we isolate ourselves, we miss out on so much that could really be making our lives anything but boring.

When we see not only kids, but old fogies like me, glued to their phones or I-pads, it becomes apparent that they’ve become creatures of habit and are trying to fill their lives with something that’s missing.  How can we become such slaves to an electronic device?

I am as guilty as my grandchildren on this one.  In a way, our social media becomes a safety net.  We can enjoy conversations with others, without making eye contact.  We can get a glimpse of someone else’s vacation time or amazing lifestyle without having to board a plane or spend a buck.  We can play games – see what we’d look like with a certain style of glasses, make-up or clothing.  We can get medical advice without going to a doctor- enjoy fine art, delicious recipes, order anything we want and have it delivered at no charge.  Basically we are becoming cocooned in our own environment. No wonder we’re bored!

So what’s the solution to boredom?  Involve yourself in something that takes you outside of yourself.  By focusing on someone else and their needs, we can fill our own lives with purpose and value.

Help someone weed their garden and actually have a face to face conversation.  Take a meal to a homebound person and offer help with something else while you’re there.  Babysit for a neighbor who’s feeling trapped and do it for nothing.  Get a job!  Take up a hobby that gets you outside – golf, swimming, walking, plein air painting.  Get together with your friends, rather than communicating online.

There are hundreds of ways to volunteer your time to help someone else, but if you are physically incapable, think of ways you can use your talents – to encourage, to sit with someone, to get them out of their box and back into the world.

If we eventually become dependent on electronics to live our lives for us, imagine what the world would be like.  Think Orwellian.  I don’t believe it will ever come to that – at least not in my lifetime – but I fear it could get close.

“We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aid, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn.”

Henry David Thoreau

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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SIN

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I read an article yesterday pertaining to words Christians use, which most folks don’t understand – words like sanctification, justification, redemption and little words like behold, blessings and sin.  These words apparently aren’t on the minds of those in the world and furthermore, they carry no clout anymore.

Sin was a word introduced to me at an early age.  I heard about it in church.  I was taught the Ten Commandments.  They became engrained in my mind.  Sin means doing something against God’s authority and His expectations of us. As I memorized those words,  I realized that there was no way I’d ever be able to keep those rules.

My childhood years as a Christian, filled me with the fear that I was going to hell and there was no getting around it.  Thankfully as I continued to study God’s Word, I began to see that all was not lost.  God provided the way for me to get to heaven and it had absolutely nothing to do with me.  His own Son, Jesus, became a man and took every one of my sins to the cross.

It startled me that this three letter word is almost nonexistent in our world today, but then it explains a lot, doesn’t it?  If we don’t believe that we’re sinners, there’s no need for a Savior.  There must be a balance in what or pastors preach.  If they expound only on the wages of sin, there is no hope.  We desperately need to know that there is a way out.  That way doesn’t cost us a cent.  It’s freely given to those who believe.

Words come and go, but a word like “sin” should never leave our vocabulary.  It’ the one word that reminds us how much intervention we need from the only One who can give it.

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JULIE’S FRIDAY FUNNY

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SOME RAIN MUST FALL

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“Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Most folks know I have a passion for old time musicals shown on the big screen of an old movie theatre.  I loved watching Gene Kelly dancing through the puddles with his umbrella.  It seemed so natural, but actually how many folks do you see tap dancing in the rain? Reality doesn’t take hold – once you leave the outlandishness of an old musical.

We experienced a super rain storm last night.  Huge claps of thunder didn’t disturb my sleep.  When my husband told me about it this morning, I thought of the old nursery rhyme – It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man (lady) is snoring.)  When a kid, I wouldn’t think twice about putting on a raincoat and dancing in the rain.  At my age now, I might be taking a nap outside during a storm.   I could easily drown as I slept with my mouth open and snoring.  I can see it all now.  She died from drowning while trying to sing in the rain.

OK, I’m exaggerating a little, but it’s what I do.

Prior to the Great Flood of Noah’s time, there had never been rain. A great canopy covered the expanse and acted like a terrarium, replenishing the earth with its own moisture.  Can you imagine what the people of Noah’s time thought when he started building his ark ?  Can you imagine Noah’s own thoughts when God spoke directly to him and commanded him to do so? None of them had ever heard of rain, much less a deluge which would cover everything in its path.

It took 120 years for that craft to be built – plenty of time to convince a wicked nation to repent of their evil ways and return to God.  Yet in all those years, they simply thought Noah was off his rocker.  Soon the animals began boarding ship, two by two.  Even that didn’t turn these folks to accept God’s warning.

Then the rains came.

Water was released from the sky and from under the earth. Those left behind perished, but Noah, his wife and their three sons, along with their wives, were obedient to the Lord even through the ridicule of others.

The lessons we can reap from this true story of God’s people are numerous.  God is extremely patient with His children.  He allows us time.  He gives us chance after chance to do so.  He loves us even in our disobedience.  He’s slow to anger, but His power is immeasurable.  He controls every force of nature.  He will bring storms into our lives, but He also provides a way out of them.

Sin didn’t end when the flood cleansed the earth.  Like a cancer, it continues to thrive.  Praise God for providing the final payment,  giving us eternity in heaven through His Son, Jesus.

We’ll experience storms throughout life.  Storms that will shake us to the core and make us sit up and take notice. Those storms will either crush us or strengthen us.  It’s up to us to put on our dancing shoes and dance through the puddles with joy.  With God, all things are possible!

 

 

 

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TAKE A VACATION!

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One day, my husband entered the kitchen in his camouflage under armor and said, “I bet you can’t see me.”  My response was, “You’re right.  I bet if you take your shirt off, you’ll be half the man you used to be.”  Another time, as we were enduring a problem with water in the basement, he came upstairs wearing a snorkel and water goggles.

I’ve also been known to do some funny things.  Like go through a drive-thru wearing a fake nose and glasses. I’ve worn two different shoes and, when called out on it, declared that I had another pair at home just like them.  I once dyed my hair and it turned out green.  Today it would be fashionable – then, not so much.

When we turn a normally difficult situation into something funny, it can make things bearable, or it can irritate the heck out of you.  Personally, I love to laugh.  There’s nothing like a little chuckle, a loud chortle or a booming guffaw.  It seems to me that we take things too seriously sometimes – especially if we believe all the things we hear on the news.

We could easily fall victim to the chaos, disaster, false reporting, speculation.  Negative noise brings about negative thinking and optimism soon turns sour.  When we allow ourselves the freedom to laugh, we open a whole bunch of endorphins and soon positivity infects us again.

Sometimes our negative thoughts get the best of us and turn us into naysayers and impossibility thinkers.  Even those who normally live life with a positive attitude, may have days when there seems to be nothing to laugh about.  Maybe that’s a good thing too.  If we all walked around with smiley faces all the time, we might be considered weird and carted off to a mental facility.  Even if that were the case, think of all the fun you could have in a place like that.  No house payment to make, no responsibility, free health care … oh well, there I go again – off the deep end.

 

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THE ARTIST PAINTS, BECAUSE HE MUST

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WATERCOLOR SKETCH BY PAUL BOECHER©

“I am a poor man and of little worth, who is laboring in that art that God has given me in order to extend my life as long as possible.”  Michelangelo

When you have a passion for the work you do, it can be all consuming.  When you’re an artist, the work is a daily affair – an unending chasing the light, sketching out the window of your mind, drawing on napkins and any other available surface.  An artist is a different breed.  Yet without art the lives of those who enjoy it would never be the same.

My dad was a man of few words and when he found out I was going to marry an artist, he asked me why? After we’d been married a while and my ad man husband had changed jobs several times (a common occurrence in that industry) my dad asked him when he was going to get a real job.

To many who don’t understand the artist’s mind or his zeal to make art, it can seem to be a sort of chasing the wind.  In today’s world, where digital art is readily available at little cost, an original piece of art doesn’t seem to carry the value it once did.  We think nothing of paying $500 for work done to our cars, but think twice about spending a few hundred dollars on a painting that will withstand the ages.  It’s rare for someone to actually make a living as an artist.

Gone are the days of Michelangelo, who apparently considered himself a man of little worth.  There are still the Picassos, in search of something shocking or outside the box. There will always be artists.  God gave some this gift for a purpose.  There may be new ways of doing it.  There will always be advances and changes, but there will always be a need for it.  Those who possess the talent to take us to a different world, if even for a moment, are desperately needed in times like this.

 

 

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AT THE DOOR

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POETRY BY KATHY BOECHER©

His life was a mess. He was tattered and torn; still he slowly approached the door,

He had lost every hope. He was broken and worn. Yet he felt there had to be more,

With all of his might, with his life now exposed, he trembled within and without,

His right hand now raised, with fist tightly closed, he knocked for someone to come out.

His hand shook in fear as he heard a voice speak; “What do you want, my son?”

His heart beat so fast and his courage grew weak. He stuttered, “I shouldn’t have come.”

Before he could leave, he listened once more to the comfort he gained from the voice,

“Repent and have faith, I’ll open the door, it’s up to you now – it’s your choice.”

The words were too easy. There had to be more, but still he couldn’t resist,

Unworthy to speak to this merciful man, he finally checked off his list.

“The path I’ve been on took me into despair; I don’t deserve anything good,

The folks that I’ve hurt; they no longer care. I’m alone and misunderstood.”

“I’ve nowhere to turn, I need to confess. I simply must empty my heart.

Please let me come in. I’m in such distress. My life could use a new start.”

The door slowly opened, with hands stretched out wide. Wounds still remaining there,

And then he invited the poor soul inside and released him from all of his care.

“My child, I’ve been waiting for you to come home. Now stay right beside me today,

For now and forever you’ll never more roam. In my house is a room – please stay,

With tears in his eyes, the man fell to his knees, he knew he was where he should be,

For once he was blind, but now he could see. With this man he finally felt free.

“Now don’t be afraid, just listen to me, I’ve something important to say,

Your road has been hard – I’ve been there, you see, but you have returned today.

I have heard your request, I know all your needs. All you had to do was come back.

I love you, my son, I’ve erased your misdeeds. Your soul is no longer black.”

God loves everyone and he wants every soul to dwell in heaven some day,

Simply seek, knock and ask – He will open the door and wash all your sins away,

Praise God for salvation and serve others too. He wants you to share this good news,

Go and love one another, lay your troubles on Him, you really have nothing to lose.

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ON BEING A MOTHER

mama mae

Some years ago, I played the part of Mae Peterson, the domineering mother in “Bye Bye, Birdie” in a community theatre production.  At the time, my own kids were well beyond childhood, so I could relate somewhat to the character.  I never considered myself a clingy mom, or one who couldn’t let go of her children, so that part took a little research.  I have to admit, it was fun standing in a trash can, expounding on the woes of being a neglected mother – one who could be compared to an empty can of Bumble Bee Tuna ready for the garbage.

Now that my own kids have been out on their own and self-sufficient for a number of years, it would be safe to say that the apron strings have been severed.  However, in my opinion, one never stops being a mother.  Even though they’re far away from your watchful eye – even though miles separate you physically – even when you know they have all the tools they need to get through life – there is a Mrs. Peterson in each one of us.

We wish we could still put a bandage on a scuffed knee and make it better.  We long for those unending, “whys” or the sound of a child’s voice repeating the word, “mom,” over and over and over again.  We recall the many lessons taught, the little victories, the hugs, the hand made art work – all of which hold a treasured spot in your heart.  Still, one of the greatest gifts we can give our children, is their independence.

Let it not be forgotten that we moms will feel the angst of a lost job – a health issue – a financial concern – almost as much as they do, but we must be confident that we’ve given them the tools to get through those things.  When we give them the one thing needful, those obstacles in their lives will not seem as difficult.

Being a mom doesn’t stop when your child leaves home.  You pray more for their well being.  You stay in touch without being overbearing.  You give them their space, but let them know you’re available whenever they need you.  You long for their company, but realize they have busy lives too.  You make the most of the time you have together.  You continue to love them unconditionally.  You let them go, knowing that God has them in the palm of His hand.

If that doesn’t work, you feel sorry for yourself and find a trash can.

 

 

 

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SOME DAYS ARE MADE FOR PAINTING

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ART & INSPIRATION BY KATHY BOECHER©

Last week I posted about taking advantage of the good days.  I planned on a rerun the next day, but having overdone it the day before, led to less strenuous activity. I love my garden time and even though I was a sweaty mess, Paul said I was “glowing.”  Not sure if it was the perspiration or the joy of digging in dirt.

The next day was another picture perfect day so we decided we’d enjoy the day instead of working.  So I suggested we get out our easels and paint outdoors. Since Paul never says no to painting , we did just that.  However I’d forgotten what it was like to paint plein air.

Preparations  often take longer than the actual painting time.  My easel hasn’t been used for some time so the first piece of business was getting it dusted off and set up in a shady spot.  There were a few more trips inside to get my paints, a canvas, some water and brushes.  In the process, our dog Gage managed to escape from the yard.

Gage is a runner.  That’s why we have a fence.  We also have a number of feral cats in the neighborhood who love to taunt him.  I quickly dropped my canvas and took “chase,” while Paul got in the car to search him down.  I am not a runner.  I’m not even a fast walker, but I pressed on.  I got sight of his long white tail making its way behind one of the houses.  I hobbled as fast as I could, but he was long gone before I ever got there.  Thankfully, Gage just turned eleven, which means he’s now surpassed me by one year.  He isn’t as quick as he used to be either.  We somehow managed to corral him into the car and back to the fenced in yard.

At last it was time to paint.  Gage curled up next to my chair.  I put paint on my palette and began applying it to the canvas.  It was a perfect morning to “catch the light,” as Paul noted.  I slipped my brush into the crimson paint.  The fingers of my now arthritic hand also fell upon the paint and became covered with what looked like a bloody mass.  Despite the dog chase and the newly painted fingernails, I managed to come up with a painting.

Sometimes the things we plan for each day, can turn into something totally unplanned.  The enjoyment we hope to experience through something different may quickly turn into disaster.  The way we handle those obstacles is going to affect the way the day ends.  I realized that my body is aging fast and I better do something about getting back into shape.  I learned that my dog still can outrun me.  I discovered the joy of painting outdoors comes with many challenges.  In the end, I enjoyed the beautiful day with the man I love and had fun creating some art too.

Most of all I’m reminded that you have to laugh at your circumstances.  Can you imagine a woman running after her speedy dog at the rate of Tim Conway as an old man?  Can you not laugh at all the things that can go wrong when trying to create art in nature?  When we can see the funny in things, it makes the icky seem a lot better.  I’m sure God had a few good laughs that day too.

Posted in aging, art, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 10 Comments

PRAISE THE LORD, OH MY SOUL

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Today as we face the week ahead, let us remember that new life comes from the Lord, God, Almighty.  Nothing we can do will change that.  With Him at our side, we can do great things.  With Him as our leader, we can overcome all obstacles.  With Him at our back, our power is undefeatable.

Give praise to the Lord and forget not all His benefits.

Posted in armor of God, Uncategorized | Tagged , | 4 Comments