Kite prayers

Kite flying

Thinking About Prayer

I know many of us spend time in prayer. We sometimes offer up hurried prayers when we are off and running. Other times we linger over our prayer journals writing each request neatly on the blank page.  Other days, we seem to live in prayer. We pray when washing dishes, driving the kids, cleaning the house, and when gardening. Then there are those kite day prayers.

What are kite day prayers you say? Well, those are the days we linger with the Lord just holding onto a ray of light to the throne room. A thought occurs and a prayer concurs. Another wind thrusts our vision upwards, and we offer a request so big that we know only God could answer such a dire need. We just hold onto the sunbeam in our minds and thoughts and prayers create the weights on the tale of the kite.  The weights are ours and the wind gusts are His. He thrusts forward our words, thoughts, and prayers. 

I love kite prayers because I lose control. My words aren’t fancy or contrived or familiar repetitions. Instead, they freely are released unto the kingdom. He is in charge, and I am making the request, the offerings, and the affirmations of love.  It is free time and indulgence with the Holy Spirit. 

Just as when we fly kites in the spring, there is a refreshing and excitement in this type of praying. It takes time, silence, focus, and an unseen power. The power of prayer comes forth.  Today is a kite prayer day.  How about you?  Interested in flying heavenly kites?

Living life is hard work.

Hurts, heartaches, horrible depression, and more

Art work by Betty Fraley

           

I have been mentoring, encouraging, and learning from friends with bipolar disease and severe depression, a life long depression, or a deep hurt that plagues them every day, every hour.  God keeps sending these folks to me and I hurt for them.  Their daily lives are plagued with unrest, hurt, despair, and unimaginable mental and emotional pain. 

It puzzles me why God sends these people to me because I know nothing about how to fix them.  I do pray for them.  I try to write encouraging messages or share positive thoughts and views with them.  However, I am so inept, so insecure in this ministry that I totally lean on God.  I am weak.  Weak in a way that I just don’t know what could keep these folks encouraged or how to experience daily joy.  My only answer is Jesus, the healer, the provider, the counselor, and the one who is always faithful.  How do I impart that answer into them?

Spending over twenty years as a Young Life teacher and counselor taught me one clear principle.  Begin where they are.  Relate to their life this day.  Sometimes that is so hard for me because God wired me as a positive, mostly happy woman.  I forgive quickly and don’t hold grudges.  Nothing I do; God just made me that way.  I can find silver linings in most lessons and experiences in my life.  However, when I talk with these friends, those silver linings are more difficult to find and explain.  So, I am back to all I know to do.  Pray.

I do know that scripture makes it clear that grace and truth are Jesus’ provisions to us.  He has a plan for our lives. He’s got my hand and I’ve got His.  That is all I know to impart to my hurting friends.  He’s got their hand and all they need is to hold tightly. I think my plea today is for us all to be sensitive to others.  We don’t know their story, hurts, or pain.  Be diligent to pray for those the Lord brings to you.  That’s all I know.  Pray and pray some more.

A dream, a painting, a Spiritual confirmation

Creating by way of the Creator

In my dream, I saw a vision of a vivid orange background with five women hanging on a rope in Africa.

When I awakened, I saw the vision flash before me.  I drew a very rough draft in my journal, and I realized this would be my piece for peace.  I had volunteered to give a painting to be sold in a silent auction at my church.  The last weekend of September, we were racing, praying, and hoping to make others more aware of the need for peace in the Congo.

I painted my long thin canvas orange canvas and waited for it to dry.  I put on my tennis shoes and set out for my training for the four-mile walk I would do to raise funds for the race for peace in the Congo.  As I walked, I began to pray for the women in the Congo and felt a spiritual stirring, a nudging from the Lord to intercede for these women.  I had been praying in the mornings during my devotion time, but those were distant prayers.  Those were prayers that were getting my heart ready to commit to interceding for the vulnerable of the Congo.  Today, was different, I began to feel their despair, their fear, and hear their cries.  Today, I knew my prayers were heart felt and heard by my Father in heaven.

The next morning I arose early to begin my painting. I was at a loss as to what Congo ladies wore.  How could I paint them?

That day I spent two and one half hours at the library searching for photos of Congolese women’s attire.  I only found a book of Faces of Africa.  I took the book home, but I knew my ladies in the painting were to have no faces.  They were the “forgotten” women in the Congo.  Even the media had not given them faces.  The Congo’s violence was seldom covered.   I looked all over the internet and still could find little of their  current, daily dress.  I could see women with various turbans and scarves, and one photo with the ladies in tee shirts and long wrapped skirts.

So, I decided this would be a faith painting.  I would begin painting in obedience.  I would trust that the Spirit would lead me and that He did.  As the figures formed on the canvas, I could feel their hearts, their sufferings, yet I knew hope was building within them and me.  Hope for peace in the Congo was coming forth in the painting and through my spirit from the Creator.  I trusted I could paint this because the great Creator had created me.  I had His spirit and He would lead.

Eagerly I awakened three successive mornings at 5:00, prayed and read the Word and then I’d begin to paint again.  I put dresses on them from my imagination.  I was worried that this wasn’t even the right colors or what the women really wore.  I just kept painting.  After getting the women all hanging from a rope like clothesline, I looked again at the photo of the two women in the wrapped skirts.  I suddenly noticed behind them were mountains.  Mountains! I hadn’t planned for mountains.  I googled the terrain of east Africa and sure enough there were mountains.  So, I painstakingly put the mountains in around the hanging women.

Then, the next morning, I got up to look at my painting and realized one of the women in the foreground, just was not positioned correctly.  I heard in my spirit, “These women have been made strong by their surroundings.  They have learned to endure hardships.” So, I began painting out the one woman and replaced her almost effortless into a strong woman forced to hang, forced to suffer, but she still had courage within.  I felt the Spirit channeling through me as I painted.  Many times I would put down my brush to wipe tears from my eyes.  Sometimes I would just paint with great hurt within. I painted and wondered, “ Is this even how the women look? Do these clothes depict Africa or my image of their dress?”  Truthfully, I was unsure of my painting, but the Spirit just kept me painting.  Spirit led and Spirit designed.  I knew it was bold and I could feel strength in the piece and my deadline for submitting it to the church gallery was near.  I had to let the oils dry or I could not get it to the church.  All that cad red and alizarin paint took a long time to dry.  I carried it to the church with insecurity that it was not good enough to offer.  It was my first painting depicting full figures of people.  I painted landscapes for three years, but I had never painted people. My husband went with me to drop the painting off at church.  He is always so supportive of my paintings bad or good.  Was this one good enough to offer to others at the church auction?

The painting , "Forgotten" was hung in the gallery on a corner panel.  I was amazed at the wonderful creations that were displayed. Evidence of the Creator was apparent.  He was working in the hearts of the artist toward peace in the Congo.  I felt humbled; yet, I was so excited to be a part of this movement of the arts.

It was Saturday night, September 28^th when I met Belinda Bauman, who is a writer, author, and advocate for the women of the Congo. She was our guest speaker for our praise gathering.  She explained that when she came around the corner panel  displaying the church’s silent auction art,  she stopped at my bold orange painting and thought a Congolese painted it. The dress was the same as the Congo.  The colors depicted the choice of their fabrics.  The turbans were just as they chose to wear.  

She had faces for my five women on the clothes line.  She had been interviewing these five ladies about the same time I was painting them.  She was in the Congo at a temporary refuge camp and was given permission as a reporter to go within the block and interview.  They led her to five women who shared their story of fears and hopes.  Their greatest fear was that they would be forgotten by the world.  Their greatest hope was peace and safety for their families.  Their desire was to be seen.

Such spiritual affirmation is exhilarating, but more importantly this testimony of two women who had never met were being used by the Lord to insure the Congolese women that they were not forgotten.  The Father saw them and heard their cries. Then, the Holy Spirit transferred that vision to me. God had manifested their likeness on canvas to assure them they were seen and not forgotten. 
The Spirit called forth something within me. I trusted and created.  The Spirit called forth to Belinda to interview those five ladies in the refuge camp at the same time.  My title of the painting was their fear.   Is God real?  I will be pleased to hear your answer.