Path to the

Light

Fabric collage,

stitching

24 x 32 in

“What is the path to the light, and where does darkness abide?  Job 38:19

I stand in a dark place--before me, the threshold between light and dark, I am afraid. If I remain in place, will that door close forever? Or, if I step through, gripped by uncertainty, will the light blind me, or illuminate both my past and the way forward. If the pain becomes too intense, then who will be me eyes, my sounding board? I need, I desperately want, a confidante, a trusted soul-mate, someone who will help me to drop my pretensions, reveal and face my deepest fears, and help me to be healed by the light of truth. Come, my friend, my therapist, my teacher, my mentor! Oh, come, my Lord.

Solitude

Fabric collage,

stitching

20 x 32 in

“I rise before dawn and cry for help ; I have put my hope in your word. My eyes stay open through the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promises.” Ps 119:147-148

Solitude is a welcome escape from the world. But I have not yet mastered the intricacies of meditation. Though I manage to clear my mind for nanoseconds, those “must-have” rush in again, skittering like bad bit actors across my mindscreen. What comes more naturally to me each day is to read intensively, to pour over passages where without exception, I find words and verses highlighting themselves, answering unasked questions, giving me guidance and support. This I hope, will then give me substance for meditative moments in the watches of the night. Without the energy drawn from my times alone with God, my daily battles would be much harder.

Tranquility

Fabric collage,

stitching,

encaustic wax

28 x 22 in

“I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Ps 4:8

When I am anxious or unhappy, I often take to the woods. It is an instinctive response, one that makes me wonder why I am so touched by the sights, sounds, and signals of nature. Why does spring color trigger joy, and why does the solemnity of autumn reinforce my sense of melancholy? And when the wind touches my face, is it God’s breath I feel; is it His music I hear in the trickling of a stream, or in birdsong? Is there a magical connection, some resonance in the laws of “chaos” that connect the natural forms and patterns before me with those of the mind? I only know that these gifts of such beauty overwhelm me with gratitude, and as I rebalance my composure, I am better able to face the realities of life with a heightened sense of who I am, and who I want to be.

Rock of Ages

Fabric collage

26 x 22 in

“For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock.” Ps 27:5

How often have I clambered thoughtlessly up the sheer rockface of my life and become stranded, watching in horror as a weakened handhold collapsed. My safety net destroyed, I cried out, begging to be lifted to a place of safety, to a rock that stands high above the sources of all my fears. Despite my reckless ways, my faith in God’s promises has not let me down. He has heard my cries, and sent me an armada of family, friends and resources to rescue me. His Power has lifted me out of depression, loss and despair, to a place of refuge.

Beside the

Still Waters

Fabric collage,

stitching,

encaustic wax

40 x 30 in

“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.” Ps 23:2

(Scene inspired by the beauty of Jones Farm and the valley surrounding it.)

As a child, I had the wonderful gift of optimism. I trusted in my relationships, until experience jaded and transformed me into a skeptic, one who knew that the world is not always safe! How I long to rediscover trust in people and places surrounding me, and find fulfillment once more. How I long to lie down beside the still waters of life, to be released from turbulence into tranquility. Have I been in this place before--or is it just a dream long-lost from childhood? Oh, let me soon exchange the currency of pessimism for that of faith, for, as I change how I think about my life, I can change how I feel. Let me find the purpose behind each and every experience, and through that insight, gain trust and wisdom.

Count It

All Joy

Fabric collage,

stitching

24 x 30 in

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds.” James 1:2

As a former scientist, I am well acquainted with the uncertainties of measurement. And I know that the measurement of love or joy is best left to poets. As a child I experienced both love and joy, but often thanklessly. Today, older and wiser, I revert to the art of measurement once more, but with different sensors and end-goals. Watch me, for example, as I count my blessings, and finding them too numerous to count, I sense that my heart is full to overflowing. Watch me as I weight my words before I speak, and as I tally up my shortcomings. And see me as I compare my love offerings with those of my Creator. How wide, how deep, how long is His love for me, surpassing understanding.