Showing posts with label miracle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miracle. Show all posts

Friday, June 29, 2018

Mysterious Face -Paint Party Friday


When I was in Fifth Grade, our teacher, Mrs. Young, gave each student a piece of black paper and some chalk for an art project.  I still remember the feeling I had as I smoothed the chalk into places of light and shadow.  It was as though I knew exactly what to do.  I still remember the pure joy of creating that face.  My teacher was astounded.

Looking at the drawing--I see I used a fan of pencil lines drawn up from the center of the bottom of the page.  I drew across those lines, to place chin, mouth, nose and eyes.

Mumsie loved it so well, she framed it and hung it in the stairwell.  There it hung years.  Then, almost 15 years ago, Mumsie gave the drawing to me.

When I took it out of its frame to scan it into the computer, I noticed what looked like tears trickling down from his eyes...if you enlarge the drawing, you can see where they seeped through the chalk.  I have no explanation how that would have happened.  None.  The back of the frame was taped into place...

Some have suggested the tears might be a chemical reaction between the construction paper and chalk.  However, if that were the case, the entire drawing would have been affected.  According to my research, colored construction paper and chalk do not chemically react to one another, even with age.

So, as unlikely as it may seem, this person I drew as a little girl, might have shed tears inside the frame during the time it hung in Mum's stairwell...that would be sometime between 1969 and 2003... I love the fact that miracles do still happen!

Blessings and peace to all of you dear ones.  Thank you for dropping by--your visits are such a joy to me.  Happy Paint Party Friday!




Friday, April 3, 2015

Something More -Paint Party Friday


I lost my sweet younger brother to cancer in early 2002.  We were only a little under fourteen months apart in age.  I have always expressed my feelings through my art--in my grief I began to paint Dow's hands.  As I did so--the picture became something more.

This painting, though from a long time ago, seemed perfect for Easter weekend--a time when many of us celebrate God's gift of hope.  Indeed, I know will see my Beloved husband, my little Brother and my Daddy again someday.  

Happy Paint Party Friday, all you lovely artists and beautiful people. May God bless you, dear ones, with His joy and peace.  Thank you for dropping by.





Friday, June 22, 2012

Hope


There are days when life seem so overwhelming it seems there is no way out. Sweet friends, there is hope.  There is always hope.

Trusting in the mighty hand of my Creator. 
Resting in His grace. 
I am leaning into his Strength, 
Accepting His embrace. 
I am at that moment at peace. 
Only then.
~ Beth L. Niquette

Sunday, December 6, 2009

A Miracle for My Sister

Thank you--everyone who has prayed for my sweet sister Clytie's recovery . . . as I write to you, it is with a thankful heart.

Clytie, darling Queen of Hearts, had a stroke at 5 a.m. Friday morning. She was taken by ambulance to the hospital--it took me an hour to get there from where I live. Her right side was paralyzed and she could barely speak. To write of this, just . . . well, as I type here I am weeping . . . I have lost a brother and came close just now to losing my beloved sister, my friend.

I stood by her side. They had done everything they could do--it was a waiting game. She would get better, worse, then better, then worse—that last time was the most frightening, I was rubbing her numb foot when suddenly I realized she wasn’t feeling the pressure of my fingers.

I walked to her side, looked at her right hand and it was starting to curl. I felt so scared for her. I took her hand into my own. The nurses did some tests and she could not lift her leg or her arm--her speech was blurred. The nurses left.  She had closed her eyes--her face was white and so still.  So I put my hand on her hair.

I was praying over her when I felt that God was telling me to put my other hand on Sissy's head and to pray for her healing. I felt a little foolish—I thought maybe it was my own wishful thinking.  But I obeyed.  As I prayed for her healing, my hands got hot—like an oven. It was the strangest thing--I could feel the heat actually radiating down from my palms. My prayer was that God's healing would pour down through her body like warm oil, sweeping away the numbness imprisoning her. In my mind’s eye, I saw the connections that were hurt, reconnecting and sparking. I don’t know how long I stood there praying.

When I was done praying, I lifted my hand away.  Clytie opened her eyes and said as clear as a bell, “Aren’t you getting bored standing there with nothing to do?”

I said, “of course not, I’ve been praying for you!”  Tears gathered in my eyes as I tried to explain what had just happened.

A couple seconds later Clytie lifted her right hand—the one she couldn’t move before and was looking at her fingers and hand with astonishment. She started wiggling her fingers. She lifted her leg and curled her toes.  The numbness was leaving her body.

Just after that, I left for my parent's place to pick up the twins to see her. While I was at my parents house I wrote the last blog entry. By the time we returned the numbness was totally gone. Clytie could lift both her right leg and arm easily, she could speak clearly, the numbness was gone!

Clytie has steadily improved since then—Last night she ate dinner, she sat up in the chair and she’s been walking the halls—if all goes well she’s going home this afternoon. I’m just so amazed, and moved. Clot busting drugs and the power of God and the prayers of a loving sister--I am convinced a miracle happened.

All the doctors and nurses are just agog. The physical therapist says Clytie is a “rock star!” (grin) They are astonished she’s completely recovered, given that her entire right side was totally and utterly paralyzed. One nurse told me a full recovery like hers is exceedingly rare. The neurologist hardly knew what to say, except to stammer sometimes things happen they can't explain.

Please pray for my precious sister's continued healing and growing strength—the MRI shows she did have a stroke—the doctor says it is an area the size of a Lima bean, with a kind of vulnerable halo around it. She says she doesn’t feel anything is different than it was, but she’s still a little weak and tires easily.

I am so thankful for your good thoughts and prayers for my precious little sister. I promised Clytie I would let everyone know how she's doing and she sends her grateful love and thanks to each and every one of you.

Sometimes we wonder if God cares about us as we live our lives here on earth. He does--He cares. He's watching over us and loves us! All Glory to God for the things He has done!

Monday, June 29, 2009

Nothing Fills Her Emptiness

Endless aching, sharpened need.

She has squandered her very being. She no longer cares.

Nothing fills her emptiness.

Only possessing the void, she fills it.

Sniffing, inhaling, swallowing. She gulps down the burning.

Welcoming the numbness fuzzing behind her eyes--

It fills her mind, trails down her limbs.

Then blessed, hated release . . .

But only for a moment,

Only for a moment.
Then again the crushing pain.

The lies, her unending struggle.

Many have tried to help.
Only a miracle can save her now.
I believe in Miracles . . .

"I myself will search for my sheep and look after them. As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness." (Ezekiel 34:11, 12)
(This poem is my expression of grief over a beloved young friend, who is lost and in grave danger.)

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Tender Tears


Because this blog augments my art web page, I will occasionally be re-submitting some of my earlier art stories. This morning I decided to re-visit Tender Tears, and the mystery which surrounds this chalk drawing.
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I was 11 years old when my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Young, gave the class a page of black construction paper and a thick stick of chalk. I vividly remember drawing a fan of lines from the bottom of the page, with horizontal lines crossing where I thought the eyes, nose and mouth should be. Time seemed to slow as I gently smudged chalk into the darkness of the paper. Slowly a face emerged. I did not know who it was, but I loved the tender expression of his eyes.

My Mother liked it so well, she framed my drawing and hung it in the stairwell of our home.

Over 30 years later, I slid the picture out of its frame to scan it into my computer.

Here is the mystery.

Imagine my astonishment when I noticed tear stains soaking through the chalk, trickling from those wonderful eyes, seeping down the plane of one cheek. If you look closely you can actually see the tear stains pushing through the chalk lines. How on earth did they get there? My drawing had been sealed in its frame for more than 30 years.

Today the picture, which I've entitled Tender Tears, hangs in our upstairs hallway gallery. Every now and then I stop to look, and to ponder how those tear stains got there.

Sissy thinks the picture looks a little like my husband. I am not sure. Either way, it's a wonderful mystery.