Past Failure

 As I sat staring at the unfinished canvas in front of me, my shoulders slumped, and the $90.00 brush dropped from my limp hand. I was a failure! It was time I took off my blinders and faced that fact. If you have ever gotten to that place in your life where you just want to crawl into a dark hole and shut out the world, you will possibly understand how I was feeling.

I had barged my way into the world of art rather suddenly just a couple of years before this. I had always believed I was an artist, even though I had never had any formal training. I knew I was creative. There were so many things that my dyslexia made difficult for me, but drawing and painting was something I excelled at, and I loved to prove that to myself.

I wanted to prove it to the world, too, so when I was handed a check for $1000.00 for one of my first oil paintings, I was soaring. Everything else, including my writing, was either completely set aside, or specifically used to propel my new career in art forward.

My husband was as eager as I was to see me succeed, and so we opened our new business, Grey Bruce Art World. We showcased other artists, gave lessons, sold art supplies and of course, prominently displayed my work. I did everything I could to promote myself. I wrote a monthly opinion column in an Art Magazine, I featured an artist from our gallery regularly in a weekly regional magazine, and I had a monthly segment in a local TV show. On top of that, we spent thousands on advertising.

But there was something important in all of this promoting that I had failed to take into account; or more accurately, some-One important. God had a different plan for our lives, and we had been ignoring it. God had called my husband to the ministry many years before, but we had been postponing it. Now the Lord was saying it was time, but I was too wrapped up in my plans to be able to hear, and my husband, even though he had heard the call, wanted to please me, and therefore said nothing to discourage me.

Moving forward without God's blessing was a huge mistake. Before the year was up, I had to acknowledge my inability to make it on my own. We had lost everything. The hard part was knowing that all my promotional efforts had been useless. I couldn't bring in the customers no matter how hard I tried.

The final spike to the coffin of my pride came when the group I had formed to organize an art tour made a decision about my gallery. I was expected to continue to be the biggest promoter of the tour, but my gallery was not to be included in the tour. I knew that I would never be part of the elite artists of the community. I just did not fit the mold, and I was mortified. It was a slap in the face, and I reeled under the sting of the blow.

But God was there, and I was ready to listen. Have you ever noticed that it's when you are at the end of yourself, the still small Voice becomes clearer? It happened that way for me. It was a pivotal point for both of us. We started following the leading of the Holy Spirit and our lives became blessed. We gave up the business and my husband followed the call on his life.

The struggles of our art business seemed a thing of the past. I still painted occasionally but had stopped trying to promote myself. God was always there and provided for us financially in miraculous ways, so when the thought came that I should go back to writing my mom's story, I pushed it aside as a temptation to try to make a name for myself again.

When I had started writing “Susie's Story”, my dreams of writer fame had been high. My night school teacher was highly impressed and tremendously encouraging. I had been buoyed up by the prospect of being a published author. But after the first four chapters and a few rejections, I was ready to switch to the new art field where I had already made my first $1000.

But now, when I thought of going back to writing, the memory of my failure, with its allure of fame, made me cautious. My niece, a published author, was telling me that the publishing company that she was writing for was creating a new series. They were looking for exactly the type of book I was writing. Was this another temptation to put myself forward? I couldn't let that happen.

I talked to my husband. “Think of it this way,” he said. “Your paintings never actually led anyone to Christ that I know of. Your story could.”

I asked the Lord what I should do. He answered me with a passage of scripture. It said to tell your children and your children's children what the Lord has done, and to do it in parables (stories). Susie's Story was about my mother's eventful life growing up in Russia during the revolution and I knew the Lord was saying he wanted me to write it. But because of my experience at Art World, I knew that everything I did would have to be directed by Him and that He would get all the glory. My dreams of self-importance were gone.

When I finished the book I queried the publisher. The reply was not what I had expected. It said they liked my book, but they had discontinued that series and couldn't use it. What had happened?

Had I made a mistake? Had I wasted my time? But no. I could be a failure, but God was not. This was His book. I had listened to Him, and He had confirmed to me that it was part of His plan for me.

I decided to self publish, and amazingly, doing publicity God's way, with a whole new mental approach, it sold. But of far more importance, it did lead people to Christ. It made a lasting impression on lives, something of far more importance than fame or any best seller list in the whole wide world!

Years later, we did start another, different kind of business which the Lord directed us to, but that's a whole other exiting story for another time.

For the previous post see: Goodbyes.

Goodbyes

 Goodbye Grandma, I'm going to miss you. She sounded sincere, and her lips formed into a compassionate shovel, but at the same time I could tell that my four year old granddaughter was looking forward to the new adventure that lay just around the corner.

I had gone through this before. The day her mother left us to join the love of her life across the border, it had hurt almost as bad, but at least I could be there to watch her glow with joy as she headed up the isle.

We could travel to see her any time, and when their son was born, I was there to help. And when they came back to Canada, I was able to home school him and his younger sister. God had been so good to give me that privilege. I was blessed.

But now, this littlest, the late arrival, was ready to start school. I was going to miss out on that special bonding that happens between a teacher and her student. I had already had a taste. She had been coming over a couple of times a week to “have school” with me, and I loved it. I believed I could make a difference in her life, but now she is gone. I can't even expect to cross the border to see her any time soon. The border is closed. Why Lord?

And then He speaks to me. “Trust me! I have a plan!” His words bring comfort, as I realize that God has it all under control. He still expects me to do my part. My biggest job has always been to fight the battles through prayer, and that hasn't changed.

My littlest granddaughter is having a wonderful time in her new environment. She has fallen in love with a very special auntie who is showering her with lots of personal attention, and the grandma that was left behind is almost forgotten.

But I don't mind. You see, I love her and her family, and I want, above all, to know that they are in the place God has designed for them to be. That's what a mother's, (and a grandmother's) love is all about.

For the previous post see: I Can and I Will if it is God's Will

For the next post see: Past Failure.

I Can and I Will if it is God's Will

 “I can't do this!” I muttered. I wanted to shout it out, but my upbringing had given me a strong aversion to use that negative phrase. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” must have been my parents favorite verse of scripture. Still, I couldn't help thinking “I can't!” out loud.

A few days earlier I had won second prize in a competition, a consultation to have my Website revamped, but all I had was a blog, not a proper website. I had tried once or twice before but had never been able to set up a website for myself.

Now was a good time to try once more, but before long I was ready to shut my laptop and walk away from Word Press for good, even though I had paid for a year's subscription. It was way different from Blogger. I couldn't get anywhere. I kept getting lost in the different settings.

Before long, I was ready to give up not only setting up a web page, but also doing anything that required any kind of brain power. Was I out of my mind to think that I could write another book? I really wanted to write Hugh's story, and he certainly was looking forward to it, but I am nearly 73 years old. My brain is obviously not as young as it used to be, and I have noticed that nasty brain fog frequently threatening to creep in and steal my clarity of thought.

But “no!!” I will not listen to that negativism, even if it is just in my mind. I CAN do all things through Christ who strengthens me! As long as it is His will, He will give me the grace and wisdom to do it. It will not be me, it has never been me. If He wants me to write Hugh's story, it will happen His way and in His timing. If He wants me to have an author website it will happen, otherwise there is no point in trying to set it up.

I will not fret about it. I will not beat myself up over my inability to do something that was never really one of my God-given gifts.

My consultation got postponed today because I had trouble getting on Zoom for the call. I will wait and see what the Lord wants for me in the mean time.

For the previous post see: Blew it again

Blew it Again!

 

“Oh no!” I thought desperately, “I can't believe I am doing this!”

Just that afternoon I had been smugly reflecting on how well I was handling myself. I was maturing. I was certain of it. I felt I had finally started handling situations with a lot more wisdom, and at almost seventy three years old, I figured it was about time.

But here I was, only hours after that reflection, seeing myself as that same very flawed creature I had always been.

I had wanted Hugh to come with me to town that day. I had known it would feel terribly lonely being in the town where I used to be able to stop in and see any one of my three girls, and some of my wonderful grandchildren, but now Owen Sound felt empty. True, one family had only move less than an hours drive away from us, but it seemed far because I almost never saw them, and then my oldest daughter left and went way up north, and now my youngest had taken my littlest granddaughter and had moved way down south.

While I was in town, I made the mistake of driving by their old house. Already, I could see signs of the change of ownership. The deck that used to be cluttered with the toys of a four-year-old, was now graced with beautiful cushy furniture, and in the front garden, a pair of solar lights flanked the steps. Two cars lined the driveway. I could picture the incoming family, tired from the move, but excited to make this new house their home.

I came home from town that day tired, and sad. I was glad it was raining. It would mean that Hugh probably wouldn't have been able to take a walk the short distance to see his brother or his son. He would be home to give me the hug I desperately needed.

The rain had turned to drizzle by the time I pulled in the driveway. As I entered the house, I heard Hugh on the phone to his son in Sudbury. Good! He was home! He quickly ended the conversation and I rushed to him for my hug. But then I stopped short. He had been out. He had gone out in the drizzle to have a coffee with his son.

Normally, we do our visiting with his son outside. Denis is a smoker, and because his house bears evidence of that fact, and because I am bothered by the smell of smoke, we don't usually spend time in his home.

But while I was out, Hugh had been in that home, and his clothes, hair and skin bore the evidence. The comfort I sought was shattered by the odor that infiltrated my nostrils. I broke. My self-pity habit returned in full fury, and I lashed out at my dear husband. I was ready to throw something at him. It was a totally unreasonable reaction, but I had spun out of control.

As he walked away from me and went to have a shower, I knew in my heart, that I had reacted foolishly. I thought of my little granddaughter and her words of wisdom. (see Wisdom of a Child) It took only a few short moments of talking with my Lord to calm down and to see how my lack of self control had just hurt my husband.

I reached Hugh before he entered the shower and hugged him and apologized. That day we had a good talk. Quarrels are never good, but talking and admitting our failures can be immensely healthy. God says in His word to confess you faults one to another, and as always, following the path God has set out in His word, brought healing and blessing.

That incident, yesterday, reminded me of how far I still am from the place where I know God wants me to be, but it will never make me say that It's pointless to try.  The New Testament is full of admonition to “be perfect just as your Father in Heaven is perfect,” so I continue to "press toward the mark" just as Paul did even though I can say with Paul that I am definitely not there, and even though I keep seeing how far away that mark is. I am His child, and I know He loves me, but just like any normal child, I want to be just like my Father.

And as I allow Him, He will continue to work on me, to change me into His image.

For the Previous post see: Wisdom of a Child

For the Next post see: I Can and I Will if it is God's Will

The Wisdom of a Child

 "I'm happy again now, Grandma," my littlest granddaughter assured me as she came back to the garden. "Nate told me that whenever I get upset and want to get mad, I should go up to my room until I calm down." She gave me a little smile and then said, "I'm going to pray now." And that's exactly what she proceeded to do.

The three of us had been working together, her mommy and I, frantic to get the garden weeded before putting the house up for sale, and Maddie using her shiny new shovel that I had given her, trying to help. But Maddie is more of a leader, than a follower. She is always trying to direct the project in progress, and that day was no exception. It turned into a confrontation, and Maddie's ire was rising. Suddenly she stopped and said, "I've got to go up to my room."

Her mom and I continued working for a while, and then she reappeared. She prayed a sweet, earnest prayer and then told us that we all should pray together now. This time we were quite willing to follow her direction, and we had our own little prayer meeting right there in the garden.

Later, she told me that Jesus was in her heart and that someday she was going to go to Heaven. I believe her. Her child like faith is growing, and her wisdom, some of which has been gleaned from her older brother, is helping her to be an overcomer.

Maddie is only four years old, and some may say she is too young to understand, but I can remember when I was only four and God started dealing with me. I started my Christian walk at the same age Maddie is now.

I pray that she will never loose that childlike faith.

For more stories about Maddie, see: Leaving it behind.

For the previous post, see: Unreasonable Anger

Unreasonable Anger

 I was so upset yesterday morning. It was crazy, absolutely nuts, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. Have you ever had that terrible urge to hall off and smack someone? You know your being unreasonable but the feelings won't go away. Well that's how it was when I woke up from my dream. I was ready to smack Hugh or bite him or something else equally horrid, all because of a stupid nightmare. I tried to reason with myself. I even rewrote the dream in my mind to make more sense, but it took all my willpower to brush it off.

Why was this happening? I hadn't had a dream like that for years. They had ceased after I had stopped having dairy products. But then I remembered; The day before I had yielded to the temptation to have some ice cream, the first I had had in a long time. Weirdly enough, every time I have milk products, my brain wants to celebrate by having its own pity party.

Divine Encounter Surprise

 

“That's you!” I whispered, trying not to miss a single inflection. It had to be him. Nobody else could sing exactly like he could. We had turned on the radio for the first time in almost a year. Bill Murdoc was supposed to be talking about the crazy situation between the United Church of Canada and the Massie Church, on his talk show, but that didn't seem to be happening. A song came on, and I knew that I knew that voice.

Hugh wasn't so sure until he heard his name. “That was Massie's own Hugh Neelands!” Bill announced and then went on to explain that he had requested and had been given one of Hugh's Cds by Hugh's son a few years ago, but it didn't work for him in his truck, and then he had lost it, but he had just found it the day before, and decided to play it that day. He talked a bit about the days in the past when Hugh was a hit, singing in dance bands and how he now blessed many, volunteering his services singing at nursing homes.

Now I do not believe in mere coincidence in relation to the Christian. Things don't just happen for no reason. There could only be one alternative. God must have had some purpose in mind when he nudged us to turn on the radio this morning.

The night before, I had been contemplating the book Hugh and I were preparing to put together. After I finished my own story, The Path He Chose for Me, I had suggested that we start working on one about Hugh. It would be fun just letting him reminisce, and hearing his stories.

We had already had a few of those sessions but I still had no idea how I would begin. Then last night I remembered an incident that I knew I wanted to include, and now, with the help of the divine encounter on the Bill Murdoc show, something clicked in my mind, and I realized God had just given me the key I needed to put it all together.

I can't wait to see how God is going to weave this story together to bless the people who will someday read it.