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Showing posts from October, 2013

The Critter Whisperer

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Would you picture this for a moment? A picture of an all-American girl--maybe 11 or so, dark curls, gorgeous complexion, face turned up to the sun, utter happiness displayed on this precious profile as a majestic butterfly lights atop the bridge of her nose and rests there.............

 A friend of mine posted the scene I described above of her daughter on Instagram today and I have "photography of children and nature envy."

It is such a beautiful moment--the light and the bokeh are to die for.

In the caption, my friend refers to her daughter as "the irresistible critter whisperer."

I've seen other pictures of this child with critters of all varieties seemingly drawn to her and yes, I would have to agree with that assessment.

However, when I read that, I had this thought: Sometimes I feel like a complete "critter" in the eyes of my God. But all He has to do is whisper my name and I am in awe of Him, ready to do His bidding, to follow once again.

Of …

Weekend Worship

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O LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!




You have set your glory
above the heavens.
From the lips of children and infants
you have ordained praise


I will praise you, O LORD, with all my heart;
I will tell of all your wonders.




When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,




I will be glad and rejoice in you;
I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.




What is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?




You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.




The LORD reigns forever;
he has established his throne for judgment.




He will judge the world in righteousness;
he will govern the peoples with justice.




The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed,
a stronghold in times of trouble.




Those who know your name will trust in you,
for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.




O LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!


A collec…

Storehouses of Love

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Can you imagine what the storehouses of God's love look like?  Just think of the storehouses and jars where He gathers all the waters of the sea.

The only thing is after thinking about it a little bit, I don't think God stores His love.

I think He just spreads it far and wide and is totally extravagant in sharing it to any and all who come hungry, thirsty, empty, humble, in childlike trust and belief.



In His oceans of love, our hearts are free to soar--to free fall into the overwhelming depths of His everlasting arms.
This is a fast little watercolor I painted this afternoon--hope you enjoy-- Love when I find a creative part of me and it comes out.© all photographs, art and text property of Elizabeth Dianne unless otherwise noted
My contact information is listed on the sidebar.  I always love to hear from my online friends. Sharing with












Wind of His Spirit

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Recently I was sitting in my car in a large parking lot when I noticed a small vortex about twenty feet tall.

 It picked up a trail of yellow, red, orange, and gold leaves as it twirled and whirled along its way.

 There it was in all its brilliant glory--for one small moment in time--myriad colors spiraling in the noonday sunlight--my breath came sharp.

And almost as soon as it had come, it was gone.

I couldn't help but wonder if I had been the only who witnessed this magnificent display.

And if I was, why?  Was there a meaning?  Was God speaking to me through this autumnal swirl?

If nothing else it gave me cause to sit in silence, to ponder the workings of the universe, to realize that no man is an island unto himself and to know this:


When we move with the wind of the Holy Spirit letting it gather each of us in a gust of glorious unison, the world will watch in awe as they long to breathe the pure oxygen of this Triune Iron Lung--the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.
© all pho…

Hold His Light High!

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While visiting a friend recently I saw a piece of art that depicted this scene: a prisoner stowed away in a dark cave holding a page of the book he was reading aloft as it burned and produced light for him to read the next page.

That was all the light there was--the one burning page.

 As he read each page, he would tear it out of the book, hold it to the previous page which had now burned down to ashes.

What a choice!

And what if the book were the Bible?

That piece of art really made me stop and think.

What would it be like to have to make a choice like that--to know that all you have is going up in flames to give light and knowledge for that moment?

So today as I read God's Word I will imagine it as the One Source of True Light that I have--

I will trust that its message produces in me lasting wisdom and knowledge.

And I will believe that its light held aloft will draw all people to Christ.


And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself." John 1…

A World of Octobers

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Joining Kim at Texture Tuesday today Also joining Tuesday Muse I used 1 layer of Kim's musiclovin' at 100% opacity
All art, text, photography, copyright of Elizabeth Dianne unless otherwise noted

Faith Is

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Faith is knowing there is a blue sky behind the heavy fog and that I will see it again. Faith is knowing that God is faithful and will provide the blue skies again--whatever circumstances we are going through, God is faithful to provide for His children.



Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1a 

© all photographs, art and text property of Elizabeth Dianne unless otherwise noted

I Am From..............

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Some bloggers are writing their personal stories from the perspective of "I Am From"

i.e. see Elizabeth's post.

I read Elizabeth's post before I wrote this one of my own but decided to not read the one she linked to until after I had written my own.

I wanted to have my own original thoughts as much as possible.

Now I am anxious to go back and read the one she linked to.


______________________________

I Am From


I am from the years of World War II--from a father who did not know I had been born until thirty 
days afterwards, and who did not see me for over a year.

I am from a civil war area, the war torn land of Arkansas,
a land where the Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek and Seminole Indians left a trail of tears that
soaked the delta along the Mississippi River, the fields of bright white cotton,
the rolling hills and valleys of central Arkansas as they trudged forward looking towards the opalescent
 skies and the rugged sapphire, amber and jade mountains 
of the …