Psalm 56:8 (New American Standard Bible, NASB) You have taken account of my wanderings; Put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book?
As I began to paint again, irresistibly drawn by "the stronger pull," an old theme re-surfaces. The idea that out of the fiercest flames of our lives, we are granted wings to fly high - and carry others with us. The Wings are Mine Dense winged creature clawing my chest - cawing over charred dreams,…Read more Out of Flames… Wings
For me, art is dialogue. A message sent out into the world, quivering in the space between two people. A word spoken, waiting for response. A spark extinguished if not received. After too many messages crumpled in the receivers’ hands, I stopped communicating—for me, it was a series of entering art exhibits and experiencing a…Read more The Fire of Creating
It was a misunderstanding, we discovered later. But at the time, just after a morning worship service, we thought we had been invited to an exorcism that evening. So as the news passed to me, I bowed my head with two teammates, and we prayed. Around us swirled the activity of a church parking lot,…Read more So Simple, Yet So Profound…
When I brought him home five years ago, I was broken too. His leg had betrayed him, shattering mid-stride when the thrill of the race outpaced his physical capability. His passion had disintegrated into pieces. I, too, scrambled to collect the shards of a dream. Hope for someone I dearly love had collided with her…Read more Shattering Into Joy
That moment when you run… not because someone told you to, not for any tangible benefit, not to prove anything to anyone (not even yourself). But simply for the sheer joy of surging through the grass, under the sky, alive in this moment. When every cell of your being trembles with the present. When you…Read more Racing for Joy