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Faith Life

Choosing The Better Window

All that God requires of us is an opportunity to show what He can do. ~A.B. Simpson

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Not every window should be left open.

During my two weeks in the south of France I ignored the newspaper, made no plans beyond lunch, and walked the cobblestone streets with carefree joie de vivre.

My what if? and what then? windows were left shuttered, my what’s here? and why not? panes were thrown open wide.

One day a bird flew into my fourth-story room, a symbol of the right here, right now attitude I’d embraced. Embraced because someone else was taking care of me–I was happily dependent on those in charge.

But happily dependent is not my norm. In the wee hours of restless nights I tend to respond to every insistent window tap of worry and concern. I throw open the sash to anxiety, and then fling my pleading prayers at the heavens, only half-believing I’ve been heard. When dawn comes, I marvel at my faithless night-fears.

But later with my morning coffee, I let the news reports sink their teeth in me, bold-inked headlines taunting me to straighten my tilting planet. I pile up oughts and shoulds like poker chips on the table before me–calculating, hedging my bets, plotting and planning until I’ve regained my illusion of control.

If you’re in charge of what you see out the window, you’d better not mess up.

A Window With A Better View

Oh, you weary, misguided soul, lay down your self-sufficiency, and be happily dependent once more. You were never meant to invent yourself, to be strong and stand alone. You weren’t made to measure up to the wisdom-less crowd, to please any set of eyes but His. Throw open the shuttered window and drink in a better view.

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“He covers the sky with clouds; he supplies the earth with rain and makes grass grow on the hills. He provides food for the cattle and for the young ravens when they call. His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of a man; the LORD delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.

Psalm 147:8-11

Who is in charge from your point of view?

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Culture Faith Life

The Past Is History

Before the hills in order stood, or earth received her frame, from everlasting, thou art God, to endless years the same. ~Isaac Watts

The Abbey Ruins at Alet-les-bains
The Abbey Ruins at Alet-les-bains

I’m drawn to the Old World.  My newer world is still young and forgetful. We pull up history by its roots.

Our rhetoric can be naive, as if the answer lies in the next amazing new thing. As if a heavy foot on the accelerator will take us where we long to be.

Don’t look back! Don’t look inward! Heaven can be purchased at a pre-season sale. Constant innovation and restless self-reinvention will restore our joy.

No wonder we are so tired.

The Dust of History

The river Aude
The river Aude

I’ve come to Alet-les-Bains to paint beside the ancient river Aude. From the snow-melting Pyrenees, the river flows swiftly on its relentless, timeless journey to the Mediterranean Sea.

I breathe in the damp air where once the son of Julius Caesar came to bathe in thermal waters and drink from the natural springs.

I watch a woman fill a bucketful of that same water from a faucet in the town square. Shuttered windows silently watch, as they have through numberless years.

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History is alive in the stones of the hotel, once a Bishop’s palace standing in the shadow of a Benedictine Abbey and Cathedral, later humbly reformed into a henhouse by unforgiving Revolutionaries.

Now her ancient doorways welcome tourists with mushroom omelets and glasses of the region’s fine wine.

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I’m conscious of the dust of history underfoot as I paint the 17th century arched bridge, my progress noted by a curious French hen.

DSC01242 The river flows, the ancient stones crumble, a fellow pilgrim quietly sips a cafe au lait under

wizened trees and gazes at the roses in full scarlet bloom.

I feel the backward pull of the past, while life’s demands draw me forward.

For a moment, paint-brush in hand, I’m free of the future’s uncertainty and the weight of history. I am content to be present, because I remember: While time is slippery, and the ages of humankind converge and diverge like the ebb and flow of tides, I am held by history’s Author. I stand on dependable ground.

O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come; be thou our guide while life shall last, and our eternal home. ~Isaac Watts

 

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Faith Life

The View From Limoux

There is nothing insignificant in the world. It all depends on the point of view. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I have a room with a view, of Limoux (lee-moo). My windows open in three directions on this lovely ville, and the Pyrénée foothills that surround it. Life is filled with grace-filled surprises, n’est-ce que pas?

I flew to the south of France to learn to say merci, and somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, I opened my clenched heart and gratitude settled in. Je vous remercie de tout mon coeur, mon Dieu. 

A Room With A View

view of Limoux
My vew of Limoux
Another View
The River Aude, my view as I type this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The view makes it difficult to write.
My Top Floor Apartment
My top floor apartment

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse the windows of the château next door, where my new friends stay. The gift of community was unexpected. Ten artists and two unflappable young guides–each woman warm, generous and unique–are now family. We paint from different points of view and speak with varied accents, but we fit comfortably together.

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A sketch by Nancy of a few of us. That’s me,  standing, third from the left.
Dinner at Modern et Pigeon in Limoux on my birthday
Dinner at Modern et Pigeon in Limoux on my birthday

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our teacher, Randy.
Our gracious teacher, Randy.
Our tour guides, Penny and Maeve.
Our charming tour guides, Penny and Maeve.

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Gourmet meals are eaten with paint-stained hands, foie gras and creme brûlée washed down with laughter, poignant connection, and poetry read from an i-phone. I leave the table filled, but not with food alone.

My Morning Croissant.
My morning croissant.
Charcuterie. Fresh deer sausage in the foreground.
Charcuterie. Fresh deer sausage in the foreground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every day I feast on light, color and conversation–even some spoken in French–but my writing fingers are tongue-tied. In the place of words, I hope these pictures capture a glimpse of my beautiful view from Limoux.

Painting in the Poppy Fields
Poppy Fields Near Limoux
Painting in Alet-les-Bains
My Painting of Alet-les-Bains

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have you ever been left wordless by the view?

 

 

 

 

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Faith Life

Je Vais En France Aujourd’hui

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. ~Marcel Proust

Allons-y! 

Here I go! Today I fly to the south of France for a plein air painting workshop. I’ll spend  two weeks peering at poppy fields and vineyards, castles and Roman ruins. And, after I’ve gazed, squinted, breathed, looked around me nervously, I will dip a brush in oily color and….

My teacher is great, but I’m a rookie among hall of famers. A friend posted this quote for me yesterday, “Painting is easy when you don’t know how, but very difficult when you do.” (Edgar Degas). I think Degas was right. I’m in the Junior T-ball stage, I can’t fail, and there’s a juice box and fist bump waiting at the end of every effort.

So far I have:

Practiced Sketching

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And Mixing Colors

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Created My Values

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And Packed My Paint Supplies

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Blogging In France?

I hope I will. But more than that, I hope to savor every moment of this gift. Traveling teaches us to pay attention, to look at the world through less smeary lenses. I leave, already repentant for daily graces I seldom notice, the kindness of God reflected in ordinary moments, and people I walk past every day. 

I go to France to learn to paint. I go to France to learn to say “Merci beaucoup” more often when I return.

What has travel taught you?

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