I am woman; do not quench the Spirit within me!

(This post may be a bit 'preachy,' so I apologize for it's length and perhaps it's tone, though not for it's content.)

In many Christian church congregations, including the one I have been attending, women have all too often had the Spirit that burns within them quenched, quite rapidly and effectively. As a result, more than half of the labor force of the body has been devalued, paralyzed, and disqualified from God's work. How can this be God's plan? How can women not feel oppressed and spiritually depressed when our gifts are not acknowledged or affirmed?

God does not love or gift women any less than He does men. The scriptures have been distorted for so many years to 'keep women in their place' that many, even women, have bought into these spiritual lies. The extreme of this are the polygamist cults that twist and abuse scripture to say that men need many women to 'serve their needs,' but all discriminating practices which do not allow women to use their God-given gifts are of the same vein.

This view of women - that they are inferior to men - is not a Christ-like view, and it cannot please the God who gifts us all. Sincere christians have, throughout history, distorted scripture to 'keep control over' people they believe to be their inferiors: Jews, who 'crucified Christ' so should be wiped out in the Holocost; people of color, to support the use of slavery... But, more than any other group of people, scripture has been falsely used against women. 1 Timothy 2:12 was used to keep women in the US from voting for far too many years. Ephesians 5:22 has even been used to justify physical and sexual abuse of women by their husbands and fathers. No truly Godly man today would justify the use of those scriptures in that way. Yet, some of these same men deny women spiritual equality in their churches. The result is lower self-esteem and higher depression rates of church-going women than in women in the rest of society. Also, there is a higher rate of domestic abuse and violence in 'religious' homes than in any other segment of society in the US, except that of homes of alcoholics.

When a woman feels the Spirit urging her to serve God, using the gifts to lead or teach that she uses out in the world, yet she is told by church leaders to 'keep silent in the church' or that her gifts can be better used in the nursery or the kitchen, how can that not be seen as a quenching of the Spirit? And how can the church not be held responsible for that sin? (1 Thessalonians 5:19)

In a time when women were socially viewed as little more than property; as evil, ignorant, and 'dirty,' not even worthy of educating, Jesus came to show the world a better way. Yes, even a better way to treat women, sharing God's love with them as equals.

Jesus spoke to the Samaritan woman as an equal; one who had erred, but who was worthy of his time, attention, teaching, and love. Then he urged her to teach others. His first command to be 'evangelical' was to this woman.

Women were welcomed among Christ's followers, an action which surely angered the religious leader of the day. If He was in our congregations, can you see him silencing a woman's devotion to God and the use of her gifts? Many women sat at His feet to learn, and Martha was gently rebuked by Him for urging her sister 'back to the kitchen.'

The story in John 8, of the woman brought to Jesus to be punished for the sin of adultery, is one of my favorites. Where was the man, by the way? Probably among her accusers, ready to join them in stoning her! Jesus did not condemn her to death, as the men wished Him to do. He forgave her, silencing her accusers and showing that women have equal access to justice, forgiveness and love in God's eyes.

I am not urging a feminist revolt in the churches, or saying that women should take over positions of control. But Galatians 3:28 declares that there is "no longer male and female," that we are "all one in Christ." If that is not an urging for us to all be free to use our gifts to serve Him, I do not know what it is! How painful it has been to me, and to some of my sisters in the Body, to sit back and see that the church would rather use an unwilling and un-gifted man to do service than to use a highly gifted and willing servant, just because she happens to be a woman. What a shame that practice is to and for the Body of Christ!

The Gift

To have a gift... to be 'gifted'... to use our gifts... We church-going or spirit-listening people are very aware of these concepts. We are on the lookout for 'gifts' everywhere, for and in ourselves and others. But a thought came to me as I was weaving yesterday that seemed to be a blinding new thought. "This is my Gift - to give!"

I'm almost ashamed to admit that it felt like such a new thought. How very American and materialistic of me, to think that gifts, even spiritual and personal ones, are just for me to receive, even if I have received them and have tried to 'use them in His Honour.'

I have always said that our creative talents (for lack of a better word) are God's gifts, or presents, to us. And for us to not use them would be to dis-honour the Giver. But my thought yesterday took me a big step beyond that belief. I now see that I am expected to give something back. My work in the studio, my weaving and my painting, is not just for my pleasure. It is all that I have to give as a gift. I have nothing else to give; no personal wealth, no brilliance in service of mankind or special knowledge. All I have to give is the work of my hands. So I must give it.

I thought of the holiday song, "The Drummer Boy," who 'had no gift to bring' (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum) so he gave the gift of playing on the drum. That was what he needed to give. Beethoven needed to give the Fifth Symphony. Shakespeare gave stories to ignite imaginations for eternity. J K Rowling gave an epic childrens tale that has already become a classic. Jane Austen, from her relatively love-less life, gave some of the greatest love stories ever written. Einstein gave all that he knew and dreamed and imagined. They all fulfilled their purpose - which was to use what was given to them to give back. None of them knew that their gifts would benefit and bless the world beyond their time. That was not their purpose. The results of our giving are always out of our hands. But we are expected to give.

I have always 'given' - have always tithed generously from any material wealth or gain. But I now see that that is not enough. It is my work itself that I understand to be the gift God wants. It makes me see my work quite differently.

I have a very small plaque in my studio. On it are the words "Great Art Is Created Not To Satisfy The Viewer But The Creator." Of course, that can be taken several ways, but I have always seen The Creator to mean God, not just myself. But to think of all my work as a gift to Him makes the plaque even more meaningful. When you make a gift for someone, you think of them as you create, hoping they will like it, eager to please them with your results. Today I moved the little plaque from the window ledge, a bit dusty and neglected, to sit on my loom, where it will be visible as I work. I will try to remember that the work of my hands is my Gift - not just a valued and enjoyed received Gift, but my only precious Gift to give.

Joy? Bliss? Huh?

I've been thinking a lot about joy lately. And, of course, when I think about something a lot, it seems that every song on the radio is about it, every sermon is about it, and every book I read discusses it. But they haven't told me what is Joy, and where can I buy it? Isn't that the American solution to everything? I must admit, I have sometimes fallen into that trap; feeling that something is missing, so running out to Barnes and Noble to see if I can find and buy whatever it is, or surfing Amazon and add a few things to my wish list. But I do know that consumerism is not the answer to finding Joy. New things (even the best books) quickly become just one more thing to dust on my bookshelf.

Our library's 'One County/One Book' choice for this year was The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner. I read it. It did not answer the question for me: Where do I find bliss? And what is bliss anyway? Wikipedia, (which is supposed to answer all our questions, isn't it?) says:

Bliss can be a state of profound satisfaction, happiness and joy.

Bliss is a constant state of mind undisturbed by gain or loss.

OK. That sounds like something I want. But still, it doesn't tell me where or how to get it.

The group I sing with has been singing a lot of 'joy' songs. They are generally quite perky and fun to sing. They give me that 'state of satisfaction, happiness, and joy.' But all too quickly, the song is over.

I read the scriptures that talk about 'the joy of the Lord.' But again, they are surrounded by scriptures that lead me to believe that such joy is not the laugh-out-loud, smile-all-the-time bliss we all are looking for. I have also been reading several books about creativity and, surprisingly, the authors also discuss this quest for joy we are all on; the search that the American Constitution calls the 'pursuit of happiness.' So, come on people, where can it be found?

Well, I certainly don't have the answer to that question. But I am beginning to see that the second Wikipedia description is closer to what I, at least, need to find to feel that I have found Joy. To have a 'state of mind that is undisturbed by gain or loss.' To learn to be content whatever the circumstances. (Philippians 4:10) And Matthew Fox (Creativity) adds that we need to live a life of gratitude and creativity; a yearning to return blessing for blessing, joy for joy.

So, I have been striving to be content; to be more aware of all of the things around me that I have to be grateful for, and to actually take the time to say Thank You. I have also been making sure I take the time to create, be it artwork in the studio or a sketch in my sketchbook, a photo session in the garden, or a new recipe for cookies. And these things do give me a quiet kind of joy. As Martha Stewart would say, I do think that is a Good Thing. Don't you?

Joy....

I am not a naturally joyful person. In fact, I am a bit of a curmudgeon, and can find many things that make me grumpy. But I have lately been making myself take note of the little bursts of Joy that I have. In fact, I have been stopping and saying to myself, "THIS makes me happy!", sometimes with a great deal of wonder. I guess springtime is an easier time of year for me to take note of these little bursts of JOY, but it is a habit I want to keep up; this noticing of Joy. I believe God wants me to be happy, and the things that have made me feel that way are little gifts, tiny gift-wrapped presents, from Him.

Here are some of the things that have given me joy lately:

The scent of lilacs. I can't pass them by without thrusting a handful to my nose and breathing in pure bliss.

Fresh coffee in the morning. When the weather warms up, we don't always brew a hot pot every day, but when we do, ....Ummmmm!

Iced tea on the porch with my sweetie.

Iced coffee with a friend at a coffee shop.

Watching the cat roll in the dirt. His joy is infectious.

A tuna salad sandwich with crunchy bits of onion and celery in it.

A lake-wet dog.

New pictures of my grandchildren!! (Best of all!)

Hearing a good song that I haven't heard in decades, so that I had forgotten how much I love it.

Getting out my spring/summer clothes, putting the winter woolens away, and slipping into a well-worn favorite soft T-shirt that I haven't worn for 6 months.

The smell of my oil paints, and the feel of them passing from my brush to the canvas.

A new book by a favorite author.

Sleeping with open windows and a breeze lightly blowing the lace curtains.

A rare spring rainstorm.

Sharing a laugh with my husband or a friend.

Having a bit of weaving or painting look like I hoped it would.

A good hair day.

A sold painting.

May you also have JOY in the many simple gifts that surround us all! And may you stop and capture that moment with your awareness.

My life is but a tapestry...

On Sunday evening, the a capella group I sing with went to a neighboring church to sing. The church family there was grieving the loss of one of their missionary members. In tribute, one of the members recited this poem, which is of unknown origin:

My Life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the under side.

Not til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful
In the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

He knows, He loves, He cares,
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those
Who leave the choice with Him.


This poem became popular when Corrie Ten Boom included it in her book a number of years ago, but I have always wondered why it became so popular with the general public. If I were not a weaver, I do not think I would understand it in the same way I understand it because I am a weaver.

When I weave a tapestry, especially a large one, as the span of my life would hopefully be, I can only see a very small portion of it at a time. I cannot concern myself with what has been woven before, because it is wound around a beam and will not be seen again until the tapestry is completed and off the loom. In the photo above, the large tapestry is almost completed. It is 56" long, yet only about 10" of tapestry can be seen by me as I weave any given area. What will be woven in the future has not been determined yet. Even though I may have the design completed and in front of me, as God the weaver of our lives surely does, each thread I weave in, each color and texture, is a choice I make while I am weaving each specific shape and area. I may choose, and change my mind, and choose again several times before I weave the area in what will be it's final arrangement. Though God may have a design in mind for our lives, he is allowing us to choose the colors and textures that go into it.


This is the 'underside' of one of my tapestries, fresh off the loom. Whomever wrote this poem knew what the underside of a tapestry looked like! Just like our lives often look to us; like pure chaos. Yet, when turned over there is a beautiful tapestry on the other side, with a design that looks planned and orderly. It is that beautiful side of our lives, according to the poet, that God sees.

One of my favorite parts of this poem is the bit about how necessary the 'dark threads' are. In any art or design course, one of the first things, and the most often repeated thing, that you learn is how important it is to have all values present in your design. Bright colors and areas of light cannot 'sing' without nearby areas of dark. Our lives do need the dark times, much as we dread and dislike them, for us to know true joy in the light times.


I have not thought of this poem in a long time. It was good to have it drawn to my attention again. When I heard it on Sunday evening, I wanted to bring everyone home to my studio with me, so I could show them exactly what the poet meant!

Knowing: a Love story....

I am not getting much done this morning. I have been watching spring unfold. Watching with wonder.

We have had a love story, a true romance, taking place in our yard for the past several years. A few years ago - maybe 4-5 - a beautiful white dove moved into our old trees. She has the most mournful cry, and she kept it up almost relentlessly the whole first spring she was here. She was a loner. All of the other doves shunned her - maybe because she was different, the only all white dove around here.

The following spring, she began her mournful cry again, but before the spring was over, she had found a mate, and her cry no longer sounded so mournful or so relentless. Her mate is a regular ring-necked dove, but he is quite a bit lighter in hue than the rest of the area's common doves. They have been a pair now since they found each other. They generally nest in our flowering crab tree, but a neighborhood cat has been spying there this spring, so they have decided to move house.

The amazing thing is, they have decided to move into our dog yard! One might think, 'out of the frying pan and into the fire,' but I have been watching their relationship unfold with our 10 month Golden puppy, and it has astounded me.


Booker is a real asset to the doves' home-building. He gathers sticks and branches from the yard, and chews them down into twigs just right for the birds nest. The doves gather these, right under Booker's nose. I watched this morning while all three were on the patio, the doves gathering twigs not 5 feet from Booker, who just sat and watched them.


What amazes me is that I would not describe Booker as a 'gentle soul.' He is a rough-and-tumble puppy. Just ask our cat! But he seems to know... and I am not sure what it is that he knows. Does he know from experience that he can not catch them? Does he know that he is their protector from the cat, who will not come into his yard to get them? I'm not sure, but it is clear that he 'knows' something that makes him allow them to be so near and to not harass them at all.


It has reminded me of the things we just 'know.' We know so many things; things that keep us safe. Things that tell us Whose we are. Things that connect us to some people or repel us from others who are a threat to us. I truly believe these things are the things that God has placed in our hearts to help us function in this world. Some would call this knowing 'instinct.' That's as good a word as any, but whatever it is called, in Booker and in myself, I 'just know' that it is a gift from above.

A song of praise...

As I was driving to have coffee with a friend this morning, I felt the rock I have been carrying in my pocket to remind me to praise God. So I began to sing a song of praise... not one I have ever heard before, but one that just came to me as I drove. I'm going to post it here, so I don't forget it. I've 'been given' songs before, but I never remember them a few days later. (I hope I remember the tune, too, as I liked it, but if not, I guess I'll just make another up!) Here it is... (Don't judge it too harshly, as I don't claim to be a poet or a lyricist!)

If I do not praise Him,
If no praise falls from my lips,
If no Hallelujahs
Travel from my heart to His...

The hills and the rocks will cry out!
The mountains and valleys will sing;
Shout 'Hallelujahs' to the King!
If I do not praise Him.

If I do not praise Him,
If my heart turns from His grace;
If my lips are silent
When I look upon His face...

The grass in the field will sing praises!
The trees on the hills clap their hands!
The mountains will shout out glad tidings,
If I do not praise Him.