NOTES ON A FAMILY TREE


DeLee: In This Place, acrylic on canvas, 30 x40, $350

I’m finishing up my grandchildren’s family history scrapbooks. I got to thinking about our family tree. The high holy days between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, and the year end festivities bring families together. This often results in a few fireworks or flamethrowers at some of these gatherings. I suspect alcohol may be involved in some of this, but old grudges and scores, which haven’t been settled in decades, won’t get settled on this holiday either. 

My mother’s sister claimed our family goes back to the Baronial Order of the Magna Charter. These are a distinct group of the descendants of the signers of the 1215 document, in which King John of England granted the principles of constitutional law. The most important was each person, even the king, was subject to the law. 

For my family, the real importance was our Anglo Saxon ancestry was ancient and noble, as well as white. Our linage also qualifies us for membership in the DAR, Daughters of the American Revolution, and DOC, Daughters of the Confederacy, two more all white groups. Both of these are institutions of a bye gone age and a bifurcated society. I have folks in my family tree who liked to put on “airs,” as folks in the country like to say. All the old ones in my family tree went to their graves holding these beliefs firmly. I loved them anyway. 

Trees are meant to live by breathing fresh air and growing new leaves and branches. Even if trees only propagate by pollinating with their own kind, each tree is part of a giant forest of many species of trees. If a forest were a monoculture, a single disease or pest could wipe out the entire growth. If the forest consists of many different plants and trees, the destructive organism has to work very hard to destroy the whole, for the different and unlike species provide protection for one another. The variety of a diverse culture is its strength. 

If we human creatures took note of our surroundings more, we would not fear the Others, but would embrace them. We would make them our friends, and we’d defend one another from harm. 

The next generation of my family tree, I hope, is learning to love the other families of this diverse and wonderful world. I hope the branches of your family tree are open, growing, and renewing. Perhaps your branches can provide a shelter and make America friends again. 

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WORK IN PROGRESS: Landscape 


stage 3, unfinished acrylic painting, artandicon


This is on my easel right now. Last autumn on a warm and sunny day, I took an Instagram photo below of the woods near my home.  Maybe we’ll have one ofthose days   again, with no rain!

The photo above is  my most recent painting. I’m letting it set overnight, to see if I need to work it some more. A fresh eye will see better tomorrow. I’ve spent 4 hours on it today. 

Notice I didn’t paint all the trees in the foreground. Photographic truth is different from artistic truth. We know this is the same place by the line of the hill, the placement of the bushes in the background and the staggered line of trees in the foreground. If details are omitted, we don’t worry. If the colors are varied, we understand the artist is responding to the emotions of the landscape, rather than to the facts of the site. 

photo edited in instagram

In the same way, biblical truths may be operating in the parables and stories Jesus told us. For some people, the miracles themselves are mere “truth stories” which serve to open up the mysteries of God. For these people, science is how they understand their world, but God’s word is the way they understand how to relate to God and God’s creation. 
If they can hold this creative tension in their minds, it isn’t any different than seeing this painting as a true image of the place it represents. 

After all, as Jacob said when he woke from his sleep, “Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!” 
And he was afraid, and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” — Genesis 28:16-17

The gates of heaven are all about us, if only we have the eyes to see them. We are always within the house of God. I find this awesome, life changing, and spirit filling. Recognizing God’s presence everywhere should change how we pursue our lives, our work and our relationships also. 

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ILLUSION AND REALITY: The Uysal Clothespin Sculpture


Built for the Festival of the Five Seasons in Chaudfontaine Park, which lies on the outskirts of Liege, Belgium, a giant clothespin sculpture appears to be holding on to a mound of dirt and grass.
Designed by Turkish artist Mehmet Ali Uysal, a professor of art at the Middle East Technical University, the giant sculpture is just one piece in a string of Uysal works that rely on flawless illusion.

One of the most difficult tasks in seminary was learning words can posses more than one meaning according to their use in certain eras and contexts. 

Socrates believed the senses don’t grasp reality in any way, but the soul was the true receptacle of truth. The physical body was an obstacle to the search for truth. What we see in this world is imperfect, while the real, spiritual world of the Forms is perfect. Aristotle saw ultimate reality in physical objects, which could be known through experience. 

These are the gyrations which an art mind encounters on the way toward a theological education. My Rosetta Stone moment arrived when I realized we artists have defined beauty in various ways across the centuries. When I connected beauty and reality, the lights came on in my mind!

In our world today even the word truth had a fluid meaning. For some, truth means it represents a concrete and unchanging reality. For others, truth is a matter how they feel at the moment, whether the facts are true or not. 

Can we make our art with emotion and also use our reason at the same time? Can we hold ideal truths and live with imperfect reality? These are questions for life, art, and faith. 

Image: http://unusualplaces.org/clothespin-sculpture/

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CULTURAL CHRISTIANITY & THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD


Some folks say Merica, like they can’t stand to say the whole of our country’s name or bear the taste of it in their mouth. Others bleed red, white and blue, but they only see the America they know and love. Once they have their piece of the pie, they are afraid to let others come to the table. 
First we maligned the Irish, then we found other newcomers to scapegoat. We kept a whole race enslaved, and then found ways to keep them second class citizens. Women didn’t get the right to vote until 1920! Yet none of these oppressed groups ever gave up their dream of the America we can become if we all work together for the best of the lofty goals our forefathers desired. 
The providence of God is a faith belief and a trust that the pie is always large enough for all to share. God will provide for us our needs every day. Our human need to control our own destiny and define our own life is marked by our fear of God not being there for us. While humans may abandon us in our hour of need, God’s steadfast love endures forever. This is a promise repeated over and over again in scripture. 

Human love tends to be conditional, or a quid pro quo type of love. “You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” is how we explain this. God’s love is unconditional because God loves God’s creation and provides for what he created. The pie for people of faith is limitless, for God keeps increasing it. How does this happen? God opens our hearts to the needs of others and we share God’s blessings with them. 

This is why Americans are the most generous people of the whole world. We know the source of our strength and our power is magnified when we share it with others who are weak and under attack. If Christianity is going to be co-opted by our culture, let it be the best parts of our faith! The care for the poor, the weak, the hungry, the sick, the ones who need a miracle in their lives. Let’s not have Christ be used as a one armed bandit to deliver riches, health and wealth to individuals for the rice of prayers or deeds. 

Look at the photo again: a true patriot…

“This woman explained to me that the flagpole over her door was broken but ‘on such a day as this, one keeps one’s flag on one’s heart.'” I felt in her a touch of the strength and robustness of the early American pioneers’.

Photo by the great photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson USA. Massachusetts. Cape Cod. July 4th, 1947. Independence Day.

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Hope and Transformation 


Happy to report this altar has found a home! It’s a one of a kind piece, made from found objects and items no longer found useful around my home. I found most of these items while walking around the local hospital, while others are from broken pieces of my jewelry and my mother’s old treasure hoard. The three matching pulls across the bottom are from the old kitchen cabinets of my 1965 era condo. For some reason, that huge block of wood called my name, as did the snuff pack and the bent radiator cap. Some one lost part of their hub cap, while I lost interest in a home improvement project for which those red acanthus supports were intended. 

While we often give up hope on the detritus of our life, only to throw it out the window or stuff it into a box, never to see it again, we still want something bright new and shiny. Many people today never speak of a struggle because they think it shows God isn’t with them or worse, God is punishing them. Yet the promise of Christ is for the hurting, the broken, the poor, the sick, and the oppressed. 

The message of this altar is Christ died to transform those without hope and for those we’ve given up hope they’ll ever change. As long as we breathe, we can hope. With our dying breath, Christ will complete us for glory if we believe in a redeeming God whose power is greater than our own struggle to rebel. 

You’d be surprised at the junk I find in the roadways and byways, but that’s where Christ did all his great miracles of healing, in the streets and fields of his world. Maybe this altar is calling us to bring Christ out into the world, instead of celebrating him safely within our sheltered walls. 

The Deisis Altar: The Handing Over

“Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.” ~~ John 19:25-27

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QUINOA BEEF & ASPARAGUS CHEESE BAKE


“And are we yet alive and see each other’s face?”

Illness robs us of our tastebuds as well as our sense of smell. Sickness often robs a person of their appetite, but I’ve never had that problem. Somehow I’ve managed to eat my way through the mumps, measles, chicken pox, mononucleosis, and morning sickness. Yep, I learned how to keep my head perfectly still, grab the saltine crackers placed strategically near my bedside, and gum those square flour curatives slowly until my stomach settled. 

Once I was out of bed, I was starving. My huge breakfast would be gone by ten. I’d have an early lunch, and then another lunch at noon. By two pm, I was ravenous, but I couldn’t have dinner. I hit the ice cream container in the freezer. By four, I was exhausted, so I napped. All that chewing had tired me out. I usually rallied for dinner, and for the bedtime snack. I ate six large meals per day. My doctor said I could “Eat for two,” but I don’t think he meant two adult persons. 

I’ve never understood folks who lose their appetite. My daddy would think about his next meal as soon as he finished the current one. My mother, on the other hand, ate because it was necessary. Food wasn’t a joy to anticipate, but a function comparable to breathing. It had to be done, but one didn’t think too much about it. I always anticipate my next meal. If I’m not planning for it, or getting excited about it, something is wrong. 

This is why I like to use fresh, seasonal ingredients. Cooking with the seasons keeps your menus fresh. When food is in season, it is also at its best value. I live in the southern USA, and while we can get Mexican tomatoes in the winter, they aren’t as good as the rest of the year. They’re also more expensive. I don’t use tomatoes too much during the winter, but I’ll appreciate them all the more when they come back in season once again. 

While dinner was in the oven tonight I entered the ingredients into the Spark people recipe calculator. It has a function to post your portions to your daily meal records. I like the convenience of knowing what I’m actually eating, nutrition and calorie wise, rather than estimating. It’s a matter of accountability and discipline. 

When I do the wild & crazy dance (eating a 500 calorie chocolate bar for lunch, for instance…), I know I’m going to record this too! This was an easy meal to make, especially since I used leftover quinoa. I ate two portions tonight. I was out shopping for sandals today and decided to take it easy in the kitchen. 
  This makes a healthy alternative for a potluck or covered dish supper.
Minutes to Prepare: 10

Minutes to Cook: 35

Number of Servings: 6

Ingredients:

1 cup Ancent Harvest’s Quinoa, Traditional, Organic (1/4 cup dry / 46 grams) 

8 oz Beef, 90% Lean Ground Beef from Sirloin 

.5 cup, chopped Onions, raw 

2 serving Garlic 

1 tbsp Cilantro, raw 

1 tbsp Basil 

3 plum tomato Tomatoes, red, ripe, raw, year round average 

3 oz Mozzarella Cheese, part skim milk 

3 large Egg, fresh, whole, raw 

12 spear, medium (5-1/4″ to 7″ lo Asparagus, fresh 

Cook quinoa according to package directions or use leftovers. Brown 8 ounces of ground beef. Add 1/2 cup onions chopped. Cook till tender but not limp. Add 2 or more cloves chopped garlic to taste. Stir in chopped cilantro, basil, diced tomatoes, and Turn off heat. 

Spray oven safe dish with cooking spray. Lay clean trimmed asparagus across bottom. Put meat & tomato mix evenly over asparagus layer. 
Spread 3 oz mozzarella cheese over meat. Spread 2 cups cooked quinoa over this. Then mix 3 eggs in separate bowl. Pour evenly over top. Put into preheated 350F oven. 

Directions:

This could take 30 to 35 minutes at 350 F depending on the humidity outside. 

Serving Size: Makes 6 large portions or 8 lady sized portions. Serve with salad or veggies as a side. 

Number of Servings: 6

Nutritional Info
Servings Per Recipe: 6

Amount Per Serving

Calories: 269.1

Total Fat: 10.0 g

Cholesterol: 124.6 mg

Sodium: 129.4 mg

Total Carbs: 25.3 g

Dietary Fiber: 3.3 g

Protein: 19.4 g

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Field of Dreams 


John Atkinson Grimshaw: The Butterfly

Spring forward has done me in & brought me down. I have succumbed to the couch, with the shades drawn against the extra light pouring in through the windows. No amount of espresso in the morning will overcome this lethargy. The promise of a chocolate bunny isn’t enough to drag me off my recliner. 

I have unfinished art works on the easel, finished works awaiting hanging hooks and wires, and a chapter in my scifi spiritual journey novel to post on line, but I’m not rising from the couch to attend to these interests. This is the fifth month anniversary of my daughter’s death, a grief I thought I was past, for the most part. 

Mostly yes, but completely, no. Art is a process, for a work isn’t completed in an instant. Grief isn’t finished in a short time either, for it’s  a journey which is sometimes straight forward and other times circuitous. Sometimes it seems like our own grief journey is a death spiral! Like a heroic pilot, we pull our airplane out of the fall just before we graze the ground. We soar so high into the bright sky until we nearly stall and fall, but we dive back down again. This up and down upon the unseen hills and valleys of the air scares our audience, amd if we had any sense, it would scare us too. 

We are mostly too numb to know the difference, so we aren’t aware of the effect we have on others. This is the blessing of grief, our oblivion of experiences beyond those most important and nessary for existence. Life gets simpler in grief:  we narrow our choices, things don’t seem to matter as much, and we enjoy the basics more often. Seeking out a one of a kind item takes too much effort. 

Grief allows us to note the simple things, which we once took for granted: smiles, laughter, silence, and a loving touch. 

A butterfly alighting on my hand tempts me to visit a field of flowers, but only in my dreams. 
 

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