Why you should Just Keep ... keeping on.

Many of my friends are super talented artists. In fact, I would be embarrassed to show them this sketch I drew of Fat Fingers - a kid who struggled to play the guitar because her fingers were chubby. She wanted to accompany herself while she sang. No one could get it quite right, so she taught herself.  

No one would really ever be able to capture her look as well as I could, so I picked up an average pencil and started sketching. Chased away a hoard of negative thoughts while penciling her out. 

They came to me like, "This looks like a third grader's artwork!" "Why even bother, you won't be able to capture the many looks she needs to tell the story?" "She's not proportionate?" You know, stuff like this.  I kept on sketching anyway until I got Fat Fingers. 

Showed her to a good friend and she said, "Her face has a story waiting to tell." 

Wow! Not what i expected. So I kept sketching until I had cartooned out all her friends who helped her achieve her goals. 

It takes me a long time to get them just the way I want them, but I really enjoy sketching. I'm thinking that an art lesson or two might help, but can't seem to tolerate the whole structure of lessons. Ugh! 

I'm the same way with singing. I've been singing since I was three years old. Have always loved it. Then someone had to come along and make singing exasperating by teaching me how to read music. 

That was just silly. I could hear a song and sing it. 

"Why do I need to read music?"

So you can sing with other people! 

"Birds don't read music and they sing?

Why can't I be like a bird that knows the song it was born to sing?"

Then, be like the birds!

"Okay, I will."

I kept singing. Kept playing, Kept sketching. 

 I just kept on...

My Unsinkable Alfie

I never saw a dog so glad to get rid of an eye as Alf, my Queensland Red Heeler. The glaucoma that took his eye that had a congenital cataract caused painful headaches. According to our vet optometrist, Alf was miserable.  

It was not an easy thing to see Alf when he came back from surgery. They had shaved the whole side of his head and stitches were criss-cross over that side of his face. It took everything within me not to throw-up. Have never seen anything like it. 

But Alf had a big smile on his face, his up-wagging tail was the reassurance we needed that he was feeling great.  We showered him with a lot of love and treated him to his favorite snack- pepperoni. 

It took awhile for his hair to grow back over the scar. He was everyone's champion. Alf's spirit continued to be courageous and his smile vivid and bright. 

This picture says it all about the joy he felt going for walks down our dirt road.  No art work in the world is as appealing as a picture of a dog you know. 

Down the dirt road with my Australian Shepherd

My Australian Shepherd and I have more fun walking down dirt paths and dusty trails. We even live on a dirt road.  Like life, our feet never stay clean. We're forever in need of pedicures and foot washings because we get dirty.   All pilgrims in this world do too.

How refreshing to stop at a house where they understand how great it feels to have your feet washed! In America, we seldom (if ever) invite the stranger in for a refreshing foot bath.  Can it be because we are losing our agricultural base? Our feet, seldom bare and in animal skin sandals are encrusted with the grime that comes for plowing, planting, weeding, watering, and harvesting.  Clearly, it was this way in Biblical times. Shoes and sandals (handmade from hides) were difficult to clean and were often caked with soil.

The woman of the house considered it an honor to not only wash her family's feet, but weary strangers.  What have we really forsaken by laying down the towel and the pan of warm water? I ask myself so many questions about the gracious role of nurturing Christ has called us as females. In my youth, I was indoctrinated to believe that every traditional role a woman had was offensive.  When I look at where this has lead women and even men, all I can do is leave out a deep sigh.

Consider the fact the Jesus took up the towel and the water dish. He considered himself equal to a woman, which in his day was unheard of. Women were cut off from learning the torah, worshipping in the same manner as men, and I'm sure more. But Jesus Christ, the risen savior, took a towel and placed the pan of fresh water at his disciples feet and washed their dirty feet.  He looked into their eyes and said, "If you want to be a part of me, do this in memory of me."

What a hub-bub Christ created, right? I'm sure of it, but because they loved this man who spoke words of life like no one else, they submitted.  

I've been defiant and hard to get along with. In fact, ashamed of being a woman because of all the buzzing of a confused culture in my ear.  But that's changed. I've had a good foot washing and am learning the honor bestowed on us to wash a pilgrim's feet, oh and give their dog a drink of water!