Painting and drawing give me lots of time to listen.  I listen to my married children on the phone.  To the younger kids still at home.  To the radio.  To God.  In fact, being stationed at my easel makes me a captive audience for anyone who wants to join me.  I'm not going anywhere. 

Yet, even while I'm parked on that spot in my studio, I'm not actually stationary.  Inside I'm moving, little by little getting closer to the one who is talking to me.

Occasionally I make the effort to record some of the things my heart hears when I'm working on an art piece.  You're welcome to listen in if you'd like to! 

"Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you..." (James 4:8)

Ironing the Ice
02/09/2015

       It was predicted to be a long cold winter in Northern Michigan, so we decided to build a backyard ice rink.  After all, how hard could it be? Build a frame, lay a tarp, and fill it with water, right?  But we soon discovered that our level ground wasn’t so level, and our waterproof tarp wasn’t so waterproof.  We struggled through those issues, though, and gradually, building ice layer upon ice layer for a period of weeks, we were able to cover the highest area of ground. Then, all we had to do was create a smooth surface.
       Well, ice is a funny thing.  A lot of factors – like temperature, the amount of water added, and snowfall – can determine whether the surface is scaly, bumpy, or glassy.  A little snow left on the ice can freeze into small mounds, and that’s exactly what I found myself dealing with:  a mound that was about an inch higher than the rest of the rink.
       It actually crossed my mind to warn the kids with a sign that read, “Beware of rough patches.”  But I knew that spot would trip them up constantly.  So, with an electric iron and a long extension cord, I ironed out that spot on the rink until that rough, high mound was gone.
       Building and caring for a family is, in a lot of ways, like building and maintaining an ice rink.  We may think we know what we’re getting into, but we really don’t until we add water and the temperature drops.  Even if we’ve prepared ourselves and done the research, sometimes you just have to learn as you go.
       Life – like ice skating -- can be tricky enough as it is, and I fully expect that my kids will take their share of spills.  Everyone stumbles from time to time.  But one thing I CAN do is deal with the rough spots in my own life, the mounds of attitudes, habits, and poor choices that will not only trip me up, but, quite likely, those who follow after me.  I have experienced this first hand with unhealthy attitudes that I secretly harbored -- things that I thought were well hidden --  as I began to see those same attitudes mirrored in my children.  It was obvious that my sin wasn’t just affecting me; it was tripping them up as well.  Instead of putting up a warning sign that says “Warning! Don’t do what I’m doing,” I need to get out the iron, plug into God’s power source, and let the Lord melt away the sins in my life that can cause me, and others, to stumble.
       When the prophet Isaiah was confronted with his sin in a vision, he was touched with a hot coal from the Lord’s altar and told “your sin is removed.”  Hebrews 9:26 tells us that Jesus “removed our sin by sacrificing Himself.”  I could never chip away the big mound of sin, but when I've called on Him, Jesus has melted my heart many times and continues to remove things that make me and others stumble.
       Raising a family is tough, and nobody gets to skate through life on perfectly smooth ice.  But I’m encouraged by the promise of Psalm 37:24 for God’s children that “though they stumble, they will never fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand.” It’s comforting to know He holds our hands and graciously molds us by melting those icy rough spots.  --  Jan Bower (February 9, 2015)

I Dreaded the Dishes
01/21/2015

       Early on in marriage I discovered that there was one job that I despised.  Doing the dishes ranked #1 on my "I-don't-want-to-do" list.  I got pretty good at stacking and hiding dirty dishes.  Sometimes I put it off until either we had nothing left to eat on, company was coming, or I couldn’t stand the rank odor any longer.  Even though I knew avoiding this chore meant it would take me much longer to get that hardened, glue-like food off the plates and out from between those fork tines, it still didn’t motivate me to keep up with the dishes on a daily basis.  As the mound grew, so did my repulsion for getting that job done,        One day I heard a friend say, “Learn to love the things you have to do.”  I pictured my dirty dishes and I smirked to myself and thought, “That’ll be the day.”  The next time I washed the dishes I asked myself, “How could I EVER learn to love doing this?”  As I picked up a glass, it occurred to me that as poor as we were, this glass had held refreshment.  I washed a plate and instantly acknowledged that that plate had held a meal for someone that I loved.  Believe it or not, that dishwashing session became an act of thanksgiving and worship.
       I can’t say that I’ve loved doing dishes from then on, but that job was never again so burdensome or neglected.  Psalm 107:8-9 reminds me that I should “give thanks to the Lord for His unfailing love and His wonderful deeds for mankind; for He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.”  That’s certainly been the case for my family.  And every dirty dish serves as a reminder of my Heavenly Father’s faithful provision.  I discovered that an attitude of gratitude can add joy to any job – even washing dishes.  --  Jan Bower (January 21, 2015)