Tag: Courage

Set me as a seal over Your heart.*

Its been released! AshaJourney of Hope, featuring my Cover and 8 paintings along with others’, in a slim back gorgeous Book that anyone anywhere might be intrigued by…

*pg 98. SET ME AS A SEAL OVER YOUR HEART is one of my 8 + (4 stunning paintings by Artist Anika Bogi) featured in this limited Edition addressing people in emotional/ physical trauma care, Asha: Journey of hope
Published by Biblica,Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Print,India.
……

If you’ve ever been there, in the throes of trauma, you’ll feel this. The Paintings are perhaps personal windows, illustrating soul stirring Bible study Leads on the fact of Divine healing via the Gospel of John’s 7 “I Ams“. Written by some of our finest Contemporary Writers.

The above Paint theme* was inspired by the Song of Solomon, portrayed as the human spirit, now embedding in His Vineyard; Rejection is rejected.

Will post a Review shortly.

Cover painting ‘Journey of Hope’. RN. Thankyou Biblica Inc., for a brilliant Publication.
(The reds are exaggerated a few tones in my camera though).

….

*Set me as a seal over Your heart:

I AM THE VINE, YOU THE BRANCHES. His Presence/His Acceptance and Divine Support.

Read on, for my personal footnote with above image of Vineyard painting, if you’re wondering what that handcuff is doing in a Vineyard, with Scarred hand….(not part of the book):

Reading the Gospel of John in the light of these themes is visiting a cellar deep within, for me. Familiar text and images merge as John’s chapters reach between lines and push boundaries between Seen and Unseen worlds. Blue-green vineyard violets seep like tears on canvas: Rejection is rejected;

the Word crowds my canvas with VINE as the palms of two people facing each other, rest – one being released of handcuff, the other with a scarlet Scar. I’m a whole new essence, a new Cask of outpour. For any of us with scarred identities, Heaven signs that dotted line endorsing us as first citizens in the unshakeable kingdom of God. This is the permanent secure address of the Vineyard of Engedi (Song of Songs). Mathew Henry’s commentary on that book reads like a Song of Evangelism). Ezekiel’s’ River of God’ cleanses out Dead sea’s putrid En-Gedi Banks, turning it fertile! The whole Bible pieces together with the promise I AM THE VINE YOU ARE THE BRANCHES. ‘Set me as a seal over Your heart’ is today’s scream for God.

Raylarn.

Will be posting more of Asha here, but truly excited about the impact of a Book like this one, Published purely for those of us hurting in silence.

That Once

Original oil, RN. Sold.

….

He did not reply,

but in the Stillness,

all else was hushed:

that One time was enough,

enough for me to know

the Power of His

Stillness.

Autumn Blush!

He made me cry with this one:

NoelJeff : my husband’s Painting goes to a new home tomorrow.

We thought about Title, I said “Reflections“, seeing I’m supposed to be the family poet. He gets me my mug of hot drink and sits next to me with, “What’s that?”

I tell him we need a title before packing up this beauty and he (Jeff) says, ‘Autumn blush.’ Like he’s done all these kind of words before, y’know abstract words with emo.

It’s been a long day today, longer than I can tell here. I wonder at the colors in this amazing man of mine, colors of joy and Spring, harvest yellows and ripples of an earth tide reflecting the heavens. Gratitude Lord for Your ceaselessness that flows like a Tide through our lives, just because You say so.

Hands on, rage.

Janbi Street half hours drive from here, there they were, two bikers – one with bloodied nose, then bloodied mouth, as the other rammed his fist in him, over and over. A crowd gathered, they try separate the two. The wounded guy just sits there taking it, as the other rears to go again, his fist readying….

Jeff and I are silenced, words choke. What’s to say. We just saw rage, violence. What had caused it? An accident prior?

My son’s palm in mine, 31st December prayer meet

Road rage, all kinds of rage, is getting more in the news, it competes with rape and glitzy page 3 spreads. I’m shivering as we reach home. Those guys were in their 20s,30s? What makes things go so out of control we can ram our fists into each other over and over till flesh breaks and blood pours down? Why is it easier to be explosive than be anything else? It gets easier to rave than try peace. Tempers are not leash-able, not much.

What happened to us all, that we cannot control emotions; we believe in mortal wounding, anything but a gentler option.

And ofcourse we cannot/ will not pray; it’s a foolish silly old- fashioned, ignorant thing to do, right.

Here’s the thing: something does happen when we hold our hands and join forces with that Unseen power from where Grace flows. I’m talking 100% nonsense, right? Try me.

I’m veering off a bit here, but these past few months at home we’ve had to deal with violence as a family, following post- seizure drug-induced aggression from our youngest who for 18 years has been the gentlest person we’ve ever met. I won’t do details here, but it’s been bad. There’s been days in November we just hugged together and wept. He’s unfortunately been on 3 drugs – previous Neuro Doc should not have given him. New doc now retracts those and we introduce new med. We have withdrawal which is a Syndrome in itself. Rage? You think I don’t know it first hand- my own frustration at a system that is this careless with a serious medical condition.

Psychiatry would call the Act of Prayer ‘Self Counsel’. If I were left to self-counsel I’d have turned into a monster, trust me. What happens when we pray, is beyond me, but this happened here, among a whole stack of other changes – both interpersonal/ personal. Anyone want details, please say. Happy to help. idialects@gmail.com

1. A peace that human understanding alone cannot understand, that’s happening.

2. Clear instructions to not use harsh tones in our own voices, even a loud yell of joy, these could trigger a reaction, among other triggers.

3. Harvesting joy in our own selves, this somehow broke through to our troubled son, don’t ask me how. Joy spreads. He knows the air has changed for the better. I said ‘harvesting’ … because it takes work to do that sometimes, hard work. Forget self, count blessings… 🙄 yet, it works. Joy is a Force to reckon with.

4. Remembering all the 18 years of this young person’s gentle nature, and seeing him through that filter, knowing this is drug reaction. If not, God help us, but there’s that deep well of Quiet, I don’t know how else to describe it.

5. Gratitude, songs of love, thanking God for everything, even for this trying time, it takes the sting off the moment. Horror loses its claw hold on me, it has no control over any area in my life, if, in everything I can say,”I thank you Lord.”

One morning I prayed in the stars; the rest of the family were still in bed. It was softening grey misty, like my heart softening, waiting in silence. And I’d be a liar if I didn’t tell you He sent Comfort and Joy and Strength. (Wouldn’t be blogging without it, 😊).

“I love it when You speak to me

@innerdialects.

My Journal.

What Child is This?

Today at our little church overlooking gulmohar trees and a blue December sky, the question was asked,“What does Jesus mean to you?”

I don’t like Q&As; we could be judged in these sessions, but this morning here there are people in their teens and twenties and the few of us other gen. humans. They are frank and brilliant,

some say Christ is Love and Light;

to make it even more hard to be real honest, the young preacher asks us to know Jesus sits in the room and that we do this on birthdays don’t we…don’t we say a few words about the birthday person, so… let’s make this a personal Christmas, she says.

I’m getting more uncomfortable. You don’t fake it with the son of God. It’s my turn to say my few words. I speak my heart,

See Jesus used to be my best friend. The kind that puts up with all my nonsense. A Big brother. As I grew older He was the stronger. As I grew tired He was my strength. Now though, He makes me uncomfortable. “

I pause for breath before venting.“These days He is a mirror. Showing me how selfish I am. I see Him in the faces of neighbours, strangers… relatives… I see Him asking me to love them, help them if I had it in my power to.”

This info begins to worry me but it’s from a real place.

My life isn’t just about me. Sure. I know. And I wonder what kind of Person can love like that, to change me from the inside so I get to care about Mrs.Lanley Aru, and her husband who hurts people, and Ghanush, and Miya. And Bobo and Tre. All a bunch of people who should go to a school for behavioural disorders. I can feel His gaze go right thru me. Dont tell me that’s emotional stuff. You dont know me. I couldn’t love like that. I couldn’t care about these peoples eternal lives, why would I want to live with them eternally, please.

What kind of story is this: from cradle to a crude cross:

I’m out of breath.

To be cont’d .

Have a great day,

💌

Have you seen someone inhale music thru’ their ears…

My Jeff (Noel – no one else would put up with my messy paint tubes and books in corners and centre stage of my life), when he listens to music it’s like he’s breathing it in via ear phones. I’ve not seen someone savour music the way he does; it’s his profession (Sound) yet him soaking it in with palms clasped over headphones makes me realize the gift of music is to be unwrapped, opened to senses and inhaled into spirit… the Balm of Gilead!

We’re listening to a recording of our three children doing their take on Kanye’s Jesus is Lordhttps://youtu.be/p2TuJFlv2Uk

Johann in black Tee, with guitar Vihan next to striped girl Kitsy

(they’re at a carol a day: drummer boy, 3 kings, God resting merry gentle…)

where they get their joy is something to watch; it’s been a month of us battling med induced aggression with our son, I’ve written my nails blue on this one but that’s not the story here. Gratitude spills out my ears that mid all this there can be music? Maybe because its December, maybe it’s that time God’s letting in a new season. This time around I wasn’t able to think on a carol, then the kids do what they do in season and out. Music’s been a norm, a hard habit to break. It’s now a best friend. A gift from God, unwrapped over and over. Jeff gets his headphones out, his brown eyes swim out at me for joy, what else can describe this… comfort,hope,healing….

ay weeping may endure a night but joy comes in the morning.

Thankyou God that trusting You isn’t a myth, You’re not a long ago Shepherd with Psalmist sheep in tow, You’re not stuck in Time- wrapped in swaddling diapers, You’re not even embalmed on iron crosses for us to kiss when we can’t pray. You’re here.

I don’t know when healing will arrive for sure, but this is a greater miracle that Peace can trek thru’ storms with us. It’s a miracle that our son pushing through momentary random aggression can even smile and pause to sing.

Jeff is a warrior. I go climbing walls when am anxious; sure I pray but I turn into a praying spider woman. He’s the calm lake of Galilee thankyou Lord Precious Jesus.

Thank You for people in our lives who have ears to hear Your Music, Your Voice mid all others’. Thank You that Christmas is more than a Season of Decor & Shine. Thank You that though it’s a long trek through Valley of the Shadow of Doubt we need fear no evil, You’re there.

Ow. This was an instagram post. Jeff&me.

Today is different

I am not what I used to be yesterday; bruised arm and brain maybe, but I have watched giants of fear leave my house. Yesterday startled me with its share of pain, but this morning the sun rose again as if it were renewed, as if the earth were washed in pure joy. I have so little to say out loud in blog, in my darling home- the illness of our youngest child is more heartbreak than I can bear, but God’s mercies are new every morning. This I read, “Whatsoever is lovely,lovable,honourable, pure,kind,good,worthy of mention….think on these things, and the God of peace will garrison your hearts…”

What can I say. As I pray for our youngest angel to war through medication side effects and safety for the girls and Jeff and me, I know there’s new Dew for the day, new manna,new peace. Ay, today is different. I’ve made a new pact to not put one Stop to the way God Himself tackles circumstance: with His brand of peace.

Have a different kind of day: utterly blest!

He

Heard.

He heard me.

Dyou believe mid-traffic, He heard the noise in my head, my questions and riot; I know a thing left me. Shadows,doubt.

How can I say enough the way this is?

He heard me. Didn’t change the situation,but He heard my voice. It tore past all His universe, and it resonates deep within.

What greater thing there is I do not know. Not healing, not change, not even peace, but that He heard me. On just this I can go to sleep and not sweat the whys and wheres and whens. I love that there’s communication with Someone like Him. And that He cares.

Not just for me.