IT'S NOT PERFECT...

It has been one of those weeks, you know, the kind where everything you touch seems like an epic fail...from the loaf of bread that would not rise, to the near death experience of a wrong mixture of chemicals while conducting a mixed media experiment, to ruining not one but two hand painted loving crafted journal bindings, and last but not least taping what you thought was a tutorial only to find out the camera was on the fritz!  Small potatoes in light of all the things going on around our world today, very small, nearly invisible, really and truly.

 (Yes I know I forgot to paint the birds other foot, doing that as soon as I am back in studio)

(This was initially supposed to be for a class but I think I have had enough of this particular project)

While I alone cannot clean up the mess this world is in, I can try and repair some of the mess I have made by my own  hand.  I began by spending quite a bit of time in prayer for the worldly mess I cannot handle before tackling the wee smalls in my studio.

After removing all the bindings and pages from the journal covers I was left with two empty shells with no idea what to do with them.  At 4:26 this morning I abruptly awoke with a seed of an idea.  I immediately got up and headed into the studio to see if I could make it work.  I spent time drafting a pattern, sewing, ripping out, resewing, ripping out again, resewing again, until I finally had a prototype ready to test.  It is not perfect, it has some flaws, but I love it anyway, my new iPad carrying case.

If only all the epic failures in our world were so easily repairable by just simply removing all the ugly parts and being able to begin again.  I have spent time drafting a plan of prayer only to see it ripped out of place again and again, its truly a test of faith and endurance when one only feels like throwing up their hands and giving up.  My project is not perfect, nor is our world, they have their flaws, but I love them both anyway.  I refuse to let evil overshadow all that is good and decent and kind.  I now carry the world at my fingertips in my new carrying case which allows me to keep abreast of all that goes on outside of my small sphere but its the world I live in that I carry in my heart and prayers for peace on earth and good will towards all mankind.  

6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6-7

blessings,

Sandy

RESURRECTION...

Resurrection:  To bring back to life

On a cold gray day in January I felt a flutter of my former creative life return.  I was looking for something, anything really, after long months of silence from my creative muse to experience that certain spark of inspiration.  I typed in some random search of images when I saw this...

(Image above and below from Jetsam & Juniper)

Now to most sensible people, the above might look like a pile of rubble, something useless, not worthy of ones time or attention, much less their cash.  I can't exactly explain it but something stirred in me when I saw this image of random objects.  Red and green glass, cracked pottery, broken bottles, metal, button, and bone all castoffs waiting to receive a new purpose.  Looking at this grouping you might say "How is that possible?".  Deep down I knew that to me these shards were a representation of the messy broken life I had been living for months while coping and dealing with my mothers illness as well as some major life changes.   I knew, like these things, that I could not go back to the way things were, we were both too broken for that.  I also knew that both these broken bits and I could move forward reassembling ourselves in some new way to live a vibrant existence of beauty.

     The date did not escape my notice, it was the third day of January.  A niggling echo of the "third day" kept playing itself over and over in my heart and mind.  I knew that I was being gifted my own personal resurrection and I could not help seeing the symbolism.  My heart had been entombed in grief, the heavy stone of emotion being a barrier tightly sealed with the weight of worry standing guard.  There I sat at barely dawn on the third day of a brand new year seeking my creative savior, if you will, when I saw this fragmented image and it was as if the stone of grief was pushed aside and a ray of hope and light shown in.  I felt a literal surge of emotion rise from the depths of the seat of my soul.  A mixture of gratitude and joy bubbled to the surface and I could see all the possibilities for me and for these precious shattered shards.

(The chose shard)

They say that a fool and his money are soon parted and in this case maybe that is true...I bought the relics after tracing the original image back to an Etsy shop.  A sandwich bag full of discards from the literal streets of Chicago arrived much to my joy.  Can you see what I saw?  Hope...hope of a discarded dream being pieced back together.  Surety...surety that personal resurrection is possible after what can seem the most dire of circumstances.  Inspiration...the process of being spiritually, mentally, and physically stimulated to feel something other than despair, to do something, to create something, to drawn in a deep life giving breath of divine influence from a single simple source.

(Playing with enamel  beads, can't seem to get the bubbles out, will keep trying, maybe they are just little bubbles of joy.)

It is time to bring this blog back to life right along with my new found creative influences, I hope you will join me on the journey.

Many Blessings,

Sandy

P.S.  Thank you to all of you who kept us in your thoughts and prayers, sent emails, cards, etc.  My mother continues to linger in the dark depths of confusion of Alzheimer's, her physical health is flagging some but she is a strong spirit and is holding her own.

IF I WERE BRAVE...

Last week as part of a course I am taking, ASAP (Artist Success Action Plan by Leslie Riley), I did an optional mini exercise on finding motivational or inspirational music.  I came across this wonderful video that is not only right up my artistic alley in its imagery and presentation but with its questioning message.  It raises the question of "What would you do if you were brave?"...

 (Video/Slideshow of the song "If I Were Brave", written by Jimmy Scott and Jana Stanfield and sung by Jana Stanfield, Paintings by Pik)

"One of the biggest reasons why people don’t achieve their goals is fear. They don’t take the necessary actions because of fear. Fear causes people to think small so that there is a lesser chance of being disappointed. This song asks the question, “What would you do if you were brave?” If you knew you could not fail, what would you attempt to accomplish? Too many hopes and dreams are buried due to fear. They say that we are only born with 2 fears. Fear of falling and loud noises. All other fears are learned. What made up fear are you letting hold you back from your dreams?"

                                                     ~ Quote Source: Motivational Wellbeing~ 

What WOULD you do if you were brave? 

Digging up my Dreams,

Sandy

P.S.  My brave thing?  The thing I am doing right now?  Creating and implementing a plan of action to really truly earnestly reach for a long held dream...only time (and perseverance) will tell.

THE APPLE BLOSSOM LESSON...

Meaning of the Apple Blossom: Love, Truth, Peace, Beauty, Honesty, Remembrance, and Hope of Better Things to Come

(FREE IMAGE)

The old apple tree at the farm was in full bloom last week. As I strolled beneath its blossom laden branches the sweet perfume of the flowers was intoxicating. The light aroma skipped on the wind enchanting my senses and lifting my soul to the heights of heaven.I sat on the earths cushion beneath the tree looking up at the soft hues of pink, white, and green against the expanse of cloudless blue sky feeling sheltered by the exquisite beauty and peacefulness being offered by its bower. Love planted this tree long ago, love of fruit, love of farming, and love of family. The tree was a gift to an avid gardener from one of her daughters. I sat remembering when the tree was but a twig and how she nurtured and cared for it year after year even though it bore no fruit. Life is like that sometimes. We hope and pray and strive towards something that seems like we are making a fruitless effort.Gardeners, in my opinion, possess one of the most beautiful attributes of God, patience. She faithfully and patiently tended the tree, staking its tender trunk enough so that it could bend with the wind and learn to be flexible but not bound so tightly that it would break in a storm. Her patient love taught her family those same lessons.

Her love and care for the twig like tree was done with the attitude of hope of better things to come. The twig strengthened into a sturdy trunk and began to branch out over time until one day little blossoms came to life and she knew her work would soon be rewarded with the sweet first born fruits.We stood side by side one warm sunny spring day inhaling the fragrant beauty of the finally full grown tree. Her hands were clasp behind her in her familiar stance as she gently rocked back on her bare heels enjoying the feel of the new grass underfoot. A wispy whistle-like hum blew across her lips into my ear, a long ago tune from her girlhood days.

The hum became words set to the tune, "...after the glory of the blossoms, comes the fruit of the apple..." I did not ask her at the time what she meant by those words, I just listened. All these years later I realize her lesson, our efforts are never fruitless, sometimes it just takes a while to see the fruit.The old tree has bloomed and produced fruit many times over the years. Savory pies, sweet jams, tasty apple sauce, and fresh apple cake have been some of the blessed benefits of her efforts at preserving the fruit.

Her simple lesson of the apple blossom floated down upon me with a shower of petals loosened by the wind, and I thought I might have heard the low whistle-hum of the enduring gardener who taught me that patient persistence will result in glorious blooms, the hope of better things to come, as I wait for the sweet fruit that follows, the remembrance of this lesson well worth preserving.

I thought you might enjoy a taste of my Granny's cake so I am sharing her recipe below:

GRANNY GREGG'S FRESH APPLE CAKE

2 Cups raw apples, peeled, cored, and sliced thin
1 Cup sugar
1 Egg, lightly beaten
1 1/2 Cups flour - sifted with 1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 Cup oil
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon allspice
2 Cups chopped pecans
1 Cup coconut flakes (optional)

Cover raw apples with sugar and let stand for 20 minutes. Add beaten egg, stir well. Add remaining ingredients, stir well. Pour into buttered pan and bake 1 hour in a preheated 350 degree oven. Store in refrigerator.

Below are a few free apple blossom images for you to save and use in your art. Enjoy!

(FREE IMAGE)

(FREE IMAGE)

(FREE IMAGE)

I hope each of you have a weekend filled with fragrant beauty!

Blessings,
Miss Sandy

USING PERSONAL SYMBOLISM IN ART...

Symbolism: The use of symbols to represent things such as ideas or emotions. A symbol is something such as an object, picture, written word, sound, or particular mark that represents something else by association, or resemblance, or convention.

Using personal imagery or symbolism in the art pieces I make is a visual language for what rests at the seat of my soul. Sometimes the use of symbolism is intentional and others it is done subconsciously, but, I immediately recognize it after the fact. I am often surprised at what my hands create at the direction of my heart, at how this type of art validates what I am thinking, experiencing, have experienced, or want to affirm. It can even aid in a painful healing process.

Often, the symbols I use are intensely personal, private, obscure, or ambiguous references that only I would recognize the depth of meaning attached to them. The casual onlooker might just see a gathering of objects that are pleasingly arranged in collage or assemblage fashion and nothing more. Most of the time I give a nod to my core beliefs of faith in Christ, other times I use the symbols to process thoughts and feelings or to work through things of the past, much as a writer might use their pen and words or a painter their brush and strokes to convey a message, hidden or otherwise.I don't always employ this method in creating an art piece, sometimes an object or element is what it is and nothing more. My most recent symbolic work of art was a small collage/assemblage project. It did not start out as anything other than a desire to have a decorative art piece for a vacant space on a shelf where I had recently rearranged things, nothing more and nothing less. This was one of those surprise projects where my heart was conveying a message to my hands as I worked.

It wasn't until I was seeking out words to string together for some sort of quote that fit the bird theme that I stumbled upon this combination of words, "There is no confusion in the notes of his song, as to be heard above every other sound.", that I suddenly "saw" the messages in the piece before me.St. John 10:3-5 instantly sprang to mind. The connection between there being no confusion about the notes of his song and the ability to hear it above every other sound solidified what I knew to be true in Scripture - I hear His voice, I know it, it guides me, I follow it without confusion. It is distinct above every other sound and there is no mistaking it.From there on, I was very intentional about the elements I chose to complete the piece from the background to the foreground and everything in between. Each layer, when dissected, acknowledges a spiritual truth that I hold to be true.
The background paper is an old store receipt that reminds me that I was bought and paid for with a great price, His life for mine. (John 10:11, 1 Corinthians 7:23)

The receipt is from Shafer 's Cash Store, which represents a family name, only ours is spelled a little different, reminds me that I am a part of the family of God. (Romans 8:16)The watchful mother bird on the nest of eggs reminds me that I can nestle comfortably in the safety of my Heavenly Fathers attentive care. (Job 11:18)

The woven nest of natural fibers, twigs, moss, string, and paper bits remind me that I have a purpose in being here on this earth, my creation was intentional, I was woven and knit together in my mother womb, fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:13-15)

The eggs resting in the nest symbolize rebirth and the transforming cycle of new life, being a new creation in Christ. (2 Corinthians 5:17)The feathers are a symbol of being covered with His protective wings. (Psalm 91:4)

The bound together budding twigs remind me that He is the vine and I am the branch, I am to abide in Him, together we can bring forth much fruit, apart I can do nothing. (John 15:5)

The music notes entwined among the twigs represent my praise to Him, He is my strength and my song. (Exodus 15:2)His words are inscribed on a tag hanging from the twig branch. (John 10:3-5) The Scripture bound to the branch with twine represents the binding of the Bible's words to my heart, a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. (Deuteronomy 11:18, Proverbs 6: 21-22, Psalm 119:105)The stained gauze and tattered cheese cloth bound up by a button and twine remind me that life can sometimes get messy. I may get wounded along the way. I may feel tattered and scattered but He is always there to bind up any wounds I might receive, to gather up any tattered pieces and turn them into beautiful accents that embellish my life story and bring Him glory. (Psalm 147:3, Isaiah 61:1-3)Symbolism in art, whether it be painting, literature, prose or poetry, theater, music, or any other visual art form has been used by artists through the ages to convey a personal message that was meaningful to the artist. The next time you view a piece of art, look a little deeper and you might just get a glimpse of something greater, the seat of an artist soul.

Blessings,
Miss Sandy

CONFESSIONS OF PROJECTAHOLIC...

"To dream anything that you want to dream. That is the beauty of the human mind. To do anything you want to do. That is the strength of the human will. To trust yourself to test your limits. That is the courage to succeed."

-Bernard Edmonds-

I have a confession to make...BIG SIGH!...I must be one of those tiara toting hanging on to my title no matter what til I die kind of gals because I have done it AGAIN...started yet another project before I finished the previous one(s).

(Had and empty space on shelf above sofa, needed something, new collage in progress!)

As you all know there is always more than one work in progress for me...so, I guess I am still royalty...The Princess of Unfinished Projects. I am tired of trying to deny or reject rumor that I will any time soon be stripped of my title. I guess I am like one of those has been beauty queens who cannot help themselves but live in the past glory of their accomplishments, or in my case, lack thereof.

If you could see me now, I am practicing my princess wave, you know, the one called screwing in a light bulb, while wearing my Vaseline on the teeth fake smile and holding my eyes wide open with that deer in the headlights look clutching tightly to my crooked crown for dear life as I dive into yet another project for the good of mankind and to promote world peace!

(Just another touch or two!)

I hope I have not offended any real pageant princess' out there while poking a little fun at myself and the stereotype of all things pageant. In all seriousness I stumbled across a project of the heart, one that I feel is divinely appointed.

I truly intended to finish what was at hand but then I was visiting another blogger who shared a sweet devotion on a bag full of love that she received and everything changed. As I read, I saw forming in my mind an art piece based on her writing. This is not the first time I have visualized a finished project in my head but this is the first time that it knocked so loud at my heart.

(Not quite right yet!)

I have swept all other projects aside until I can complete this one and then I will return to where I left off. With the blessings of the blogger I will very soon share her post as well as my interpretation of her writing in art with you.

Other interruptions have sidetracked me from work as well, like new books! Handy Hubby did indeed make good on his offer and I got three new books:

*Objects of Reflection - A Soulful Journey Through Assemblage by Annie Lockhart is one of the best books I have come across on assemblage art.*Layered, Tattered & Stitched - a Fabric Art Workshop by Ruth Rae really is a workshop in a book with fabulous tips and techniques plus the rich texture of her fabric based mixed media pieces are so inspiring.*You Can Write Your Family History by Sharon DeBartolo Carmack looks like just what I need to guide me thorough the process of collecting my farm stories. The content takes you from gathering and organizing your research to determining your plot structure, making narrative choices, bringing your ancestors to life as characters, setting, using suspense, humor, and romance, blending social history with family history, documentation, adding illustrations, wrapping up the ending, all the way to publication.

Then those nuts got me all distracted or was I distracted because I am nuts? Anyway, I whipped up all that were in the bowl yesterday, all 14 dozen of them. I probably won't need another itty bitty faux nut shell bird egg for as long as I live.

(OK, so I am not totally hopeless after all, I DID paint all those eggs!)

As if I did not have enough on my plate, I merrily joined in another swap. How could I resist Karla's Alice Tag Book Swap?
It is only six little tags made with images from Alice in Wonderland or Through the Looking Glass, a piece of cake! Last I heard, she still has some slots left, you can check out the guidelines here.

(I am taking back what I told you, not for sale yet, first it is bound for Somerset, wish me luck!)

Speaking of swaps, I received my swap of an unfinished project from Diane:

And she sent along the most beautiful tag!

I felt kind of bad that she sent me a pretty wrapped up unfinished project and the one I sent her was in bubble wrap! I promise to do better on the return of the finished piece. And the subject of unfinished projects brings me back around to the original intent of this post so here goes...

They say the confession is good for the soul. Hi my name is Sandy and I am a projectaholic. I have a problem with unfinished projects. I cannot determine if it is distraction, after all, I do have the attention span of a gnat, or if there are just so many interesting things to try that I want to try them all at once, or if being artfully scattered is just my nature, or is the real deep down honest truth that I actually like being a princess of projects so I can wear a twinkly tiara and fly by the seat of my pants wherever a whim my blow me.

(Almost done, decided to use the crumbly back of the frame, love how it is shaping up!)

Maybe it is none of the above, maybe, just maybe, I am a girl who must follow her heart and pursue the ideas I dream, testing what comes to mind, pushing past the insecurity that limits me with a strength and courage that comes directly from the giver of my gifts in hopes of honoring Him and of sharing a bit of creative beauty. I am entitled to my tiara as a daughter of The King. As I sit here and write I realize that I am my own analogy - a work in progress, being fashioned and designed by the ultimate artist. Wow, I am in great company because His project, me, is not finished yet either!

I hope you all have a beautifully blessed weekend!

Blessings,

Miss Sandy

MY BLUEBIRD OF HAPPINESS...

"Every now and then,

when the world sits just right,
a gentle breath of heaven
fills my soul with delight..."

-Hazelmarie ‘Mattie’ Elliott, A Breath of Heaven-

"Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn't know you left open."
-John Barrymore-

It seems as if for the last two years I have been holding my breath. I took in one very deep one upon my grandmothers death. I have been waiting to exhale ever since. And then, the Christmas miracle happened. Every memory I possessed was bottled up in that one breath, held in check, ready and waiting to be released. Everyone knows you can't hold your breath for infinity, eventually you will turn blue, self~preservation will kick in, and you will inevitably gasp for air.

That's exactly how the grieving process was for me. I thought if I could hold in all the past and concentrate on the here and now, eventually lifting my eyes to the future, then and only then, could I survive the gaping hole her absence left in my heart and life. For awhile, as I held my breath, I did turn blue, that deep dark denim kind of blue that is so weighty it clads ones heart within its constricted boundaries like a too tight ill fitting pair of jeans.

Since breathing is something we can control or regulate, it is a useful tool for achieving a relaxed and clear state of mind. Perhaps that is what I thought I could achieve by blotting out the memories like one would blot up a spot of spilled liquid, the spill being my pain, absorbing it in one swipe, and casting it away. Grieving is like that, we can get so absorbed by it.

I realize now that I have been holding my breath waiting for that one thing to reveal itself to me that would allow me to expel the pent up pain. A scene from a movie, set in simpler times, moved me from being fixated on what I had lost to remembering what I had - wonderful, beautiful, precious memories. A tingle of happiness trilled in my heart, like a bluebirds song, as the scenes of the movie before me faded away being replaced by the ones of my childhood.The farm on the screen was not located in the pancake landscaped dusty Delta region where cotton crops are harvested but was a little house set up against hill in a hollow where the land rises and falls heaving rich vegetable crops from its fertile soil. Sights and sounds and stories, voices of the past whispering to my present to remember.

I felt myself breathe with a sigh of relief as the flood gates opened. For the first time in a long time I wanted to open the scrapbook of my mind and page through all the pictures contained therein. I wanted to point, and to smile, and to laugh, to recall and reminisce over each faded snapshot scene, retouching each one, bringing them back to life.

I am not exactly sure that the old adage that time heals all wounds is true, at least not completely, when the wound heals there is always a scar. I think we have some choice in the matter. Do we continue to hold our breath to gape and bleed as we suffocate in pain or do we slowly breathe in and breathe out, allowing this deep cleansing process to do its work. Breathing exercises are all about focus and technique, what we choose to focus on and what technique we use to cope.

Everyone is different, for me the passport to my healing is in the remembering and the writing of those memories. As I step into the image of each snapshot in my life's scrapbook it is like Dorothy Gale in The Wizard of Oz stepping from the black and white world of Kansas into the technicolor land of Oz. The sights and sounds are vivid and surreal, and yet, they are very real and tactile.This thing called writing has become my means of coping, my bluebird of happiness if you will. The bluebird has long been a symbol of hope and renewal, hearth and home, as well as happiness. The bright blue flash of memory that flickered into my life on those dark and gray days has given me the wings to fly above the pain, process the loss, and helped me to realize that happiness comes from the journey not by avoidance. I am giving wings to my words, those of the memories, letting my little bluebird, writing, aid me on my journey.
I wanted to thank you, dear blog readers, for being a part of the journey, for reading and responding to the posts that pay tribute to my past, my true life farm stories of a lost lonely little girl who spent her summers and holidays at The Old House nestled in the foothills of the Ozarks tended by her grandmother in the only place where true happiness for her resided. Your response to these stories has overwhelmed me and blessed me beyond belief. Thank you for the twitter of happiness you have put in my heart by letting me share these little snapshots of life.May the Lord bless each and everyone one of you with your own little bluebird of happiness in whatever area of need that you may have today. May you nestle under its wings and allow it to shelter you. May you find comfort in it, enough to step out of the shadow of avoidance and to begin your own journey on the path to healing. May it keep you in its care, may its song guide you, and its flight path be clear. May you feel that flutter of happiness in your heart and life today.

Many Blessings,
Miss Sandy

Photos: A bluebird on the cattle gate at the farm taken on our last trip there. The very gate where a local farm boy tried to give me my first kiss, but that is a memory and story for another day...

Serendipity Sunday: Routine Days.....

Serendipity: Making a delightful or unexpected discovery

"Look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always."

~Psalm 105:4 (NIV)~

This has been a quite week here at the Quill with a rhythm of routine days and tasks. Most of the time I like a regular routine, however, sometimes I chafe under it and wish for a break in the boredom. Nothing seemed to be happening and the same old same old was growing tiresome. To compound matters I have been cooped up for weeks now due to all the rain in our region. My delightful discovery of the week came to me on a quite day when I was in need of a reminder to be thankful for routine days.

This is what I read:
"When I give you no special guidance, stay where you are. Concentrate on doing your everyday tasks in awareness of My Presence with you. The Joy of My Presence will shine on you, as you do everything for Me. Thus you invite Me into every aspect of your life. Through collaborating with Me in all things, you allow My life to merge with yours. This is the secret not only of joyful living but also of victorious living. I designed you to depend on Me moment by moment, recognizing that apart from Me you can do nothing.

Be thankful for quite days, when nothing special seems to be happening. Instead of being bored by the lack of action, use times of routine to seek my face. Although this is an invisible transaction, it speaks volumes in spiritual realms. Moreover, you are richly blessed when you walk trustingly with Me through the routines of your day."

Colossians 3:23; John 15:5; Psalm 105:4

~Jesus Calling by Sarah Young~

Praying your days this week are anything but routine as He fills you with the joy of His presence.

Blessings,
Miss Sandy

Serendipity Sunday: Under His Wings.....

Serendipity: Making an unexpected or delightful discovery

"He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings shall you trust."

~Psalm 91:4 a~

This weeks discovery was nothing new, just a needful reminder of where to seek shelter during a storm.

The clock read 3:42 AM. Outside my window raged a storm that rivaled that which brewed in my heart and played out in my emotions. I felt so alone. I shivered at the blinding flashes of light, the sudden crack of sky and earth being united by a thin line of electrical current, and the deep unending rolling booms of thunder. Torrents of rain poured from the sky like unending tears. I didn't feel safe from either storm, the physical or the emotional. The enemy had singled me out striking fear in my heart, stirring up my emotions, disrupting my sleep, and distracting my mind.

Roused from his sleep my husband sensed my fear and drew me near, tucking the covers around me, and sheltered me in his arms. Strong winds began to buffet the house causing the trees to wildly sway, casting frenzied shadows through the blinds. As I watched the shadows and flashes, listened to the lightening cracks and thunder claps, I rested warmly under the shelter of someone dear.

As quick as the lightening flashed, my mind dug into its stash of comfort in fear, reciting each one quietly followed by a praise. I ran under His wings.

"How excellent is Your loving kindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of your wings."

~Psalm 36:7~

How priceless and precious is Your unfailing love for me, thank You, dear Jesus that I can put my trust in you. Thank You for the protective covering of Your wings.

"Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful unto me: for my soul trusts in You: yes, in the shadow of Your wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast."
~Psalm 57:1~

I am looking to You for protection from the physical and emotional storm that has assailed me. Thank You that I can hide beneath Your wings until the danger passes.

"I long to dwell in Your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of Your wings."
~Psalm 61:4~

Thank you for the sanctuary and safety beneath the shelter of Your wings.

"He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings shall you trust: His truth shall be your shield and buckler"
~Psalm 91:4~

Your faithful promises are my armor and protection.

The storm outside still raged but the one of my heart had calmed. As comforting as it was to be sheltered in the protection of my husbands arms, the feeling paled in comparison to being sheltered under the Lord's wings where perfect peace and security covered me from the inside out. My hubands arms bring physical comfort and a measure of security outwardly, but it is the shelter of the Lord that calms and secures the storms of the heart, mind, and emotions. As I settled in, before drifting off to sleep, a sweet song began to fill my mind and I realized the perfect illustration of its words through the scene that had just taken place.

Under His Wings

by The Ruppes

My way was filled with danger
And I felt so alone
The enemy had singled me
Out to do wrong

And when he drew near
My heart filled with fear
Then I heard someone dear
Calling me to His side

And I ran, under His wings
There He covered me and now I can see
The enemy still looks for me
But what he can't see
Is that I'm under my Lord's wings

Under His wings

The thunder rolled
Dark clouds hung low
I was out in a storm
I was shivering in the coldest night

No safe retreat from harm
And there blew strong winds
Would this be my end?
And then I heard my friend
Callin' me to His side

And I ran, under His wings
There He covered me
And now I can see
The storm still rages
Oh, but the Rock of Ages
we're resting warmly here
Under our Lord's wings

Are you under His wings?
And there He covers me and now I can see
Under His wings
Under His wings
Who from His love can sever?
Under His wings
My soul shall abide
Safely am I forever!

To listen to the video below, scroll to the bottom of my blog and turn off the player, then click on the video and be blessed.



Whatever your storm might be today, I am praying you too are resting under the shelter of His wings.

Blessings,
Miss Sandy