Not many of my childhood memories are viewed through a warm sepia-lens hue. Most shade to grey, blur into dark images I prefer not to examine too closely.
I remember this moment though, because new toys (yes, even a piggy bank money-box) were rare and usually saved for Christmas or birthday, but this was an unexpected summer gift and I was keen to show it off.
So I sat proud on the lawn my father lavished great attention to, midst the scent of roses and buzz of honey bees, grinning unselfconsciously for a change.
Recollections aren't always reliable. A hint remains:a shade, a shadow, a stain, a scent, a touch too much.
Feelings capture more than a camera can. Haunt us down the corridors of years.
When Bonnie asked us to "picture yourself as a little girl with Jesus. How do you picture her and what is she doing? How does she feel? What does she want?" I began to back away from revisiting the past, a country where I fervently wished my visa had expired but which pervaded the present.
We were also asked to express what was on our mind and heart to Jesus. Tell it all to Him. Look into His eyes and be aware He is listening. I gulped, prayed and spent some time sitting with Jesus.
This was the result:
"I'm sitting on a wooden bench in our garden at home, wriggling a bit because of the splinters. Jesus is right beside me. I am looking wistfully into the distance, feeling sad and alone. As I turn to face Jesus I share how I've forgotten how to play and enjoy my life. There feels a heavy weight on my heart, like a dark cloud is suffocating all the joy out of me.
Jesus smiles, takes my hand and passes something to me. My eyes light up at the sight of a jar of bubbles, and I look up at Him curiously. He encourages me to open the lid and blow some bubbles at the sky. So I do.
And they grow huge even as they float with ease and care-free abandon. I can't help but smile back at Him now.
He points to a dark cloud partly obscuring the sun. We watch together as a giant bubble rises, gathers momentum, nudges into the cloud and pops it softly. I gasp, laugh and Jesus joins in.
'Look', He says, 'Your cares and concerns overshadow your days like that dark cloud and it feels like no heat, light or warmth is reaching you. It makes you sad and steals the joy out of your life. But I offer you joy unspeakable and full of glory, life and vitality. All you need to do is ask Holy Spirit to blow on your wand of faith, and joy will rise like this bubble. And instead of the bubble being broken by the air pressure all around, you will see the dark clouds disperse and sun will fill and flood your day again'
I begin to feel warm all over as a glow spreads from inside my tummy outwards. The air shimmers and I shield my eyes against the brilliance of rainbow-coloured flares. However, doubts still surge through my child-like heart as I long to trust and believe, but have to voice my fears first.
'Where will you be, Jesus? And what happens if the sky stays cloudy?' He tilts my chin toward His sweet face and I look into the most tender, loving gaze I've ever seen. His voice whispers deep to my toes and reverberates through the sun's haze as He reminds me that He's always right here beside me, and says no cloud will ever cover up His Light, for it shines even in darkness.
I'm to expect Him to brighten up each day whenever I seek His face, and to look for the rainbow appearing after stormy skies have passed by. That will be a sign of His promise to restore life, light, colour and joy to my world once again."
And I did have times of blowing bubbles as a child, enjoying their tactile magic. In the image above I'm overshadowing my twin sister and cousin as I hog the bubble-blowing, sitting on the edge of the bench in my eagerness to make them go higher and further.
I also remember my mother using a green bar of 'Fairy' soap as she scrubbed laundry stains, causing lather bubbles for us to wonder at, as well as concentrated 'Fairy liquid' washing-up liquid agitated into lovely, multi-coloured rainbow foam-squirts sparkling in the sink.
Those memories are given a fresh perspective from the lens of age and grace.
If my parents were usually overly busy, anxious, stressed, angry, neglectful and dysfunctional custodians, they were also able to relax and be surprisingly attentive ~ if only for split seconds, mere moments in time, brief precious periods in my personal history.
Yet is is those positive snapshots I am choosing to cling to as I walk with God along the path of healing my wounded emotions, one tiny, faltering step at a time.
Each grey day can have a better outlook in His eyes as He helps us to see His continually reassuring presence through it all, to rest in His provision even In This.
Because God knows us intimately; He sees all we go through in the span of our lives and knows the truth of who we can become in relationship with Him.
My recollections were stirred by reading 'Finding Spiritual Whitespace:Awakening Your Soul To Rest' by Bonnie Gray.
Confession:I have been stopping and starting this book over the last few months because it is working soul deep and re-visiting childhood pain again is, well, pretty painful. Now, I sense God calling me to persevere with it and allow Him to awaken me fully to how I can rest my restless, anxious soul more in Him.
You can read this truly helpful book as I'm doing, quietly, slowly and privately by yourself, dipping in and out as needed, or alongside others in Bonnie's book club on her Facebook page.
Over to you:
How do you feel as you look back on your childhood?
Have you been given a fresh perspective on it as you've grown older?
Joining with other writing friends at these grace-filled places:
Bonnie ~ Beloved Brews
Holley ~ Coffee for Your Heart
Jennifer ~ Tell His Story
Just a few simple words. Nothing more, nothing less.
Sometimes, that's all it takes to make or mar a day. A drop here and there.
When words rise to our pool of consciousness and hover a while close to the surface, it is well worth asking God if these are ones He wants us to pay particular attention to.
Although God mainly speaks through Scripture, He also invites us gently to notice our lives, heed the world's sounds, and hear Him in the everyday, e.g via books, blogs, poetry, music, films and the spoken word.
These had a life of their own, shimmering with vibrancy like ripples in a pond spreading wide to touch others.
My breath caught as they reached to my core. Here were words to confirm the 'word' I'd received for 2015 and set me thinking soul-deep.
They came from a new book, 'Centering Prayers:A One Year Daily Companion for Going Deeper into the Love of God' by Peter Traben Haas.
These words (underlined) were part of a contemplation:"I begin the year with the simplicity of silence. Resting in you, I become myself again" which were simple but profound, with echoes of eternity in them.
As I pondered their significance, I reflected how my early life experience had already revealed the world to be a place where I invariably felt lost, drowning under the weight of expectations and pressures, splintered and fractured, fragile and out of sync.
To have a chance of becoming and feeling whole (and safe) again, I needed to connect to God. And I feel so blessed He called me to faith as a late teenager so I could spend all my adult life getting to know Him.
Because, not only do we find God the Father in relationship with Jesus, we also find our true selves.
Become more fully human and fully alive than ever before.
Become more truly who God created us to be, beautiful in Him.
Function more freely with the flexibility of grace.
Fulfil God's greater plans and purposes for our lives as we co-labour with Him.
Discover our full potential.
Embrace our new identity In Christ.
Waken to our worth as God's beloved child.
See ourselves, via eyes of faith, as already healed, restored, beloved and forgiven.
Rest in the knowledge of being united with The One who knows us inside out and loves us just the same ~ even as He's transforming us from the inside out.
In some inexplicable way we grow to become more like Jesus as we learn to live and abide in Him on a daily basis.
Yet, amazingly, we also become more of ourselves, more true to the essence of God's intended blueprint for us.
All this from one line or two, just a few words? Yes, indeed. Words have power to change a life.
And I wouldn't mind guessing that I have only touched on a small fraction of what it means to "become myself again" as I rest in Him.
Many words have been inspiring my soul lately as God has been speaking to me, and I'm sitting with them for a while before sharing, letting them rest in me and do their work.
Because I have all year (a lifetime?) to plumb the depths, to mine for treasure and discover the riches of resting in God.
And you, dear reader, can learn along with me as we share the journey of faith together.
Linking here with Bonnie, Jennifer and friends
Over to you:
What words have greatly impacted your life recently?
How hard do you find it to see yourself as God sees you?
Please feel free to join in with the comments below. I really appreciate your input. Your words matter. Thank you.
I sat on the bed, desultorily dusting the few objects I could cope with while my energetic friend breezed her way around the room, almost knocking things over in her enthusiasm to get the job done.
Our soul conversation more than made up for any lack of application on my part.
She grinned as I pointed out the family photos, recalling births, marriages and proud family moments in my life.
And we pondered on the passing of time turning me from young woman to grandma and her to wife.
Finally, she reached a set of drawers where much paraphernalia is stored.
Pulling at them one by one, I revealed their contents and why they'd sat neglected for many years.
Here lay gifts from family and friends to aid my creativity. Long before I painted pictures with words I put pencil, brush and paint to paper for another purpose.
I drew, sketched, dabbled with pastels, felt-tip pens, ink and coloured pencils, painted with water-colours.
Here lay treasure, if only I could remember how to mine for it again.
Somewhere along the way I lost my true self, and the hope of my beloved family and friends was that these things might somehow 'restore me' again.
The very real fear of failure kept me captive to all but creativity.
Captive to shame. Captive to deep emotional pain. Captive to the past. Captive to fear itself.
How could I risk further proof of my incapability? This would only be evidence of shame and failure once again.
So these gifts were received with a shy, watery smile, tried out briefly then placed together in this cabinet, pushed away out of sight and out of mind.
I sighed at the waste but believed it to be confirmation of my ineptitude.
Now, what to do? As I marvelled over this unexpected treasure trove I felt a pang in my heart. And a 'What if?'
What if I actually dared myself to try again, to pick up these parts of me, dust them down and use them for the purpose they were created for?
Prior to opening and revealing the contents I would have felt it was a 'no go' area, a Pandora's Box to steer well clear of.
Who knows what it would unleash? Most likely guilt and sadness.
But what if also freed up a fresh wave of hope and optimism? A desire to start again?
Maybe you have a similar drawer or space like this in your life to reclaim?
Maybe the enemy of our souls has persuaded you it's too late, it's time to move on?
Maybe there's an emptiness inside where creativity seems to have died?
I thought my creativity was lost until I began expressing it writing poetry and prose on a blog, and taking snapshot images to make memory markers of my days. It feeds my soul to read, to write, to capture, to create.
So, have I picked up where I left off, brandished brushes and pottered around with paint?
Erm... not quite. This uncovering occurred a few weeks ago and I've been in the throes of flu for almost a month. But I am determined to make a start when energy and inspiration are there.
There have been too many years sitting by while creativity slowly died, too much time already wasted to want to waste another second.
All it takes is the ability to be willing to start over again. I'm trusting God to help me with the rest.
We can allow God to paint beauty with the ashes of our lives as we busy ourselves being creative.
The same is true for you too. As we venture forth in faith God leads and guides us into the places where we can be most effective for him and become all He intends us to be.
Sometimes He will sit and smile as we make progress; sometimes He will point out the way ahead, maybe instruct us how to add a touch here or there, and sometimes He might just hand us the brush to paint new things on the canvas of our lives.
I've got my metaphorical brush in my shaky hands. In time (not too long, I hope) I will wield it again and lose myself in the art of making art with my life.
Are you ready to wield yours too? Willing to become open as a child again?
Revisit the art room as eagerly as we did before we got too grown up and self-conscious. Become reacquainted with our inner selves and the expression of them.
Let's learn to press pause on perfectionism. See beauty in all we're still becoming.
The reassuring thing is, God still approves of us no matter what mess we make. He gives grace upon grace to start over again.
Our task is to see ourselves as already pre-approved, rest in believing we're beloved Just As We Are. Because that's a beautiful thing in His sight.
Linking here with Bonnie, Holley, Jennifer and friends as we share what feeds our soul, provides coffee for our heart, and encourages us as we live out our faith in the telling of His story.
