When Faith Declares “Only Believe”

“Autumn Splendiferous over the Village”  New England —  Autumn Glory

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Fall is taking sooooo long to appear this year.

Where are all the trees that look like paint brushes dipped in overflowing paint standing upside down in the ground, their drips and drabs of color spilling all around…?

I’m opening my curtains each day, expectant for the colors of our days to turn deep and glowing, like a palette of Artist oils. Cerulean blue, yellow ochre, burnt umber, cadmium and crimson reds…

That otherworldly glory I can’t drink in enough.

The riotous plumes outlining country roads that wind alongside the river…

The crunching through neighborhood leaves under whispering maples and gold leaf canopies… Breathing in the way those leaves shimmer and pirouette down, down, down to others  skittering across the road… Catching the sound of the breeze singing like rippling accordion notes through chimes on someone’s porch…  Sharing a smile with a stranger power-walking by.  And thinking once again how this isn’t just a fall scene in a movie I only dreamed I was part of as a kid…but this once warm climate girl is really here, walking in a real live Autumn portrait…

A joyful memory unfurls like a movie trailer in my mind, so I view once again that scene imprinted on me from a few years past…  A fun, almost quirky truck with a bed of small children snail-driving by me through the Norman Rockwell style neighborhoods, looking like a makeshift hayride and reminding me of Dorothy’s munchkins as the kids fill the apple-crisp air with their piping, “Hi! Hi! Hi!”  A dozen little hands are frantically waving at me, as if the children simply must let me know they see me – making me laugh out loud and wave back just as energetically.  I can hear their cheering greeting as they round the next block, spot the red-jacketed man raking at the street corner turn to wave as well.

Sooo… Have the leaves misplaced their coats of many colors this season?  Will they yet transform  like a long awaited answer to prayer?

Only believe… are the words I hear in the tittering of birds in far off treetops, the breathy breeze rustling that message through the same…

When you can’t yet see, when everything seems to scream impossibility, when the hope-stealer is dancing his conning jig… hang on.  Such are actually the harbingers to seeing His Promised Glory about to break through…

And once again you know…

Like the mountains surround Jerusalem, the Lord surrounds His people. With passionate color-scapes.  With heart-song.  And…mmm…such glorious sparks.

©  Pam Depoyan

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 Overhearing what was being said, Jesus said to the synagogue official,

“Do not be afraid; only keep on believing [in Me and my power].”

Mark 5:36 (Amplified)

 

“Autumn Splendiferous over the Village,” now on display and available at my newest gallery in  my “Picture It in Pen and Ink” blog  —  Autumn Glory

(Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)

Stop in and browse more Fall portraits at my art blog,  pamdepoyanblog.wordpress.com,  available for purchase at this link:  Autumn Glory

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Posted in Autumn Glow | 14 Comments

Another Spot of Luminous

“First Blaze of Indian Summer,”  available in my  Autumn Glory gallery

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Autumn wisps in hand in hand with Indian Summer breezes today, sketching in a cardinal red leaf on my dogwood, casting leavetaking to wing — like birds dancing and chirping, soaring and dipping across battalions of white-sail, tall ship clouds,  to melody only they hear.

Yet, as I wait my turning out of the cul de sac, watching those papery leaves skitter in trails behind each passing car, their song catches my heart up like a whirl through that once a year dance round.

Then, in all the still- green foliage my eyes search… and find… the one harbinger of fall tree, luminously aflame.

O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!
    Your glory is higher than the heavens.

~ Psalm 8, NLT

What glow of luminous Majesty do you see in your little corner today?

 

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© Pam Depoyan

“First Blaze of Indian Summer,” mine.  (Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)

Stop in and browse more Fall portraits at my art blog,  pamdepoyanblog.wordpress.com,  available for purchase at this link:  Autumn Glory

Posted in Autumn Glow | 12 Comments

From 30 – 90, how to revitalize your young-at-heart spirit…

Often when I look through photos as ideas to draw, there are those that just make me smile… like the one that inspired this little gem.

Who is this middle-aged, bowler-hatted, suit-clad gent riding so elegantly but incongruously on cycle?  Maybe a Mr. Chips professor on his way to class in what appears to be a school or college, muted in the background?  There is a back story here…and the writer and artist in me wishes I could fully read it.  I’m grateful the unknown photographer caught this lovely tree lit lane and invited me into his scene across the pond.  I’d never have delighted in recreating in sketch, reveled in such dappled light as though I were there in person otherwise… this framed story moment.

It makes me wonder, in this stressed and work-worn world, what makes this man appear so free and young at heart?  How can we revitalize, rejuvenate ourselves daily?

Could it be as simple as training our eyes to really see

the interplay of light and shadow,

take note of The Artist’s brush strokes, as it were?

This morning, steps away from the door of a local print and business store, I suddenly heard the even quicker footfall of someone coming up behind — someone apparently bent on beating me through.  An urge to speed up my already fast walking, get there first, came over me  (for if she were going to the print center as I was, and got there first, I might have to wait a long time).  But envisioning a not to0 pretty collision, I acquiesced with a semi-loud sigh and let the woman now in front of me edge inches ahead.

Hm.  She didn’t turn or even stop to hold the door open for me, on top of her as she must know I was.

That’s when I really took notice of her.  “I think that’s my good neighbor,” I suddenly realized, in shock.   “Yes… it is!  And she didn’t even recognize me as she pushed past!”    (A twinge of my own guilt at how I’d almost tried to outrun her echoed back.)   Not wanting to embarrass,  knowing how easy it is to be sort of myopic as we move about in the world,  I simply went on in behind her without speaking…

Still, it gave me pause.   

How much do we miss every day because we are in some inexplicable rush, or time and care-worn?   

Are we not meant to see so much more than we do?  Do we simply pass by with eyes unseeing as God sets a table before us?

As I sketch more and more lately, I find myself… looking for the luminous. 

That’s why this scene tugged at me immediately – a quiet, sundappled portrait of love between an elderly man and his collie, out for a stroll in an English wood.  He reminds me of the actor who played Santa Claus in Miracle on 34th Street, the same elderly charmer as a character in classic Lassie films of the ’40’s.  But he isn’t.  Just an anonymous man caught forever on this radiant path who – cane and stooped-stance aside — somehow resonates young at heart to me.

I’m struck by this thought — I think there’s a photographer, artist, writer, wordsinger born into each of us, meant to notice such scenes, imprint them on our souls, trace the secret messages within   Maybe not always with a physical camera, a paintbrush or lines on a paper…though it may be.  But more with a spiritual hunger for uncovering and somehow holding close the shining bits of majesty and story, hidden in plain sight…but seemingly so elusive.

For it is those “bits” that limn God’s Presence in deeper lines, draw us closer to the heart of Love and ring within us the sound of a child’s carefree laughter once again — like cottony white clouds sailing light and shadow over our heads and inviting us to soar.

As little ones we knew it as wonder.  

The way the light shimmers and dances through the leaves to set this moment between man and dog in an almost movie director glow…  the warmth of the man’s hand on his collie’s head.  The adoring uplift of the animal’s eyes to master… the simple stage of an unpolished and somewhat wild glen…

Only, being but babes just beginning life, our understanding was also immature, and as such, unable to fully unfold the marvel.  Then.

What of now?

What if we take those Psalm-selah moments and look for the luminous?  Like detectives, questing for clues…

Search expectantly for hidden treasures in peaceful moments softened in pools of unexpected reflections…

Remember and cherish the stories of us, family, friends over generations…

Take time to listen to a seashell story or two…

 

Revel in the gleam of clean, pure white…in clouds, in sea foam, in sweet girl dresses…

Make time for cozy… Steep in the Spirit’s fresh breezes…

And as we do, let us share the wonder of such discoveries,

speak of them to one another

to build each other up

in looking for the luminous

and revitalizing a youthful spirit!

And…banish forever… words in our own mouths, calling ourselves old.

bird yellow

[He] satisfieth thy mouth with good things;

so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

Psalm 103:5, King James

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© Pam Depoyan

A summer’s worth of Pen and Ink and Pencil drawings, mine.

ONE OF THESE DRAWINGS ESPECIALLY RESONATE “LUMINOUS” TO YOU🙂

Stop in and browse more here at my art blog, pamdepoyanblog.wordpress.com –

Beach Themes, and Etching the Young-at-Heart

to purchase a print!

(Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)

Posted in Wonder Moments | 29 Comments

Blue Skies in the Morning… Part 2

Mm… this wonder-filled image!  It so captures the artist, the reader, the dreamer in me.

It whirls clouds of white stallions across blue skies.  Stirs remembrance of England’s Cornwall coast as one of my lifelong favorite story themes, where protagonists come to live in mysterious manses of Bronte style, shrouded in century old beauty and strange happenings, spending their days walking cobblestone paths winding through villages and around cottages beside the sea in all it’s many moods, trying to unravel mysteries they unwittingly find themselves caught up in…

I’ve never been to Maine, the setting of this lovely lighthouse there on the edge of a pretty-sounding cape called Elizabeth.  Still, this scene wisps a childhood memory back to me of Dad, driving my family up the winding, sometimes scarily close to the cliff edges of  mountains along Big Sur, California.  Up, up those twisting roads, our car seemed to hug the ridge for protection and warmth.  Clouds of fog swirled up and around, blocking parts of the rock here, then allowing the tip tops to steeple through like lighthouse towers through the clouds there, until we reached our destination.  A cozy, New England style motel.

There, the fog had lifted unto the shimmer of sun setting on the nearby water, like coming out of a dream and into the deepening light of wonder.  I remember going to sleep that night under knobby, white upon white coverlets stitched with charming seaside designs, the rosy light of the kerosene-style lamps beside our beds, the breathy lilt of waves hitting the shoreline just beyond our windows.  I remember the piney knots of the warm  paneling, the tall ships model with its many-stringed sails, high upon a shelf.   And the feel of being inside one of those novels I so loved.

This lighthouse immersed in cloud and cerulean and crashing wave is an image that elicits a dreamer’s sense of imagination and adventure within me, attuning me even more to the panoramas of sky drama right outside my own window.  For running errands, I suddenly take deeper notice of the heart-stirring clouds, how awesomely they are spread before me like so many top hats laid out on blue carpet, stacked high with poofy white tops, underlined with rims of charcoal.  Sans camera, I just want to paint them on my mind.

It reminds me to take note of the adventure and story God is dream-painting into our moments…daily.  Be aware.

Of light and shadow.

Of both white and color to soar our spirits, lift us to Heavenly-minded hopes.

To look for and notice Him leaning over the shoulder and pointing out what is so easy to miss in the drumming of life.

You don’t have to be an artist, photographer, writer to take little selah moments of wonder….and breathe in the minutiae.

 

The cloud cover, the lighthouse piercing through, the crashing of waves, like timbrels…they call to the worshiper in me… and maybe to you, too?

© Pam Depoyan

Portland Head Lighthouse drawing, mine.  Stop in and browse more here – –Lighthouses and Other Landmarks We Love to purchase a print!

(Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)

Posted in Wonder Moments | 16 Comments

Blue Skies in the Morning

Battery Point Lighthouse, Crescent City, California

 

Softly, at your morning pillow, He bids you, “Come.”

You feel, more than hear the call to a freshly-crafted story unfolding in the dawn.  To a small, leather-bound volume that seems to be laying open at your bedside table.

In your half-dreaming eye, you watch the chapters ruffling as if to a breeze, and — as you stir – turning to a new page in the book of you.   A beautiful voice is reading.  Words you can’t quite catch, yet… they swing wide windows within you and dance airily across your spirit.

Look…and…listen…  are the words that caress you into this new day… lingering like gentle fingertips on your brow.

Uncover the illustrations, notice the sounds, embrace the wonder written just for you…

Blue skies in the morning… gulls winging and wheeling and skimming over silver star-lit waters.

Creating new songs welling within you to their joyously raucous cries…

And later, just one song, on crescendo … rising within you to unexpected showers in the afternoon – riding upon mounds of whipped cream clouds, sent like tall ships on billowing gray waves, bent into the wind, racing adventurously overhead.  To warmly shared umbrellas, leaning you into majesty and grace and luminous power…

and a story traced in sure promise and Victory…

You light my day with your radiant glory, O Lord!

© Pam Depoyan

Lighthouse drawings mine.  Stop in and browse more here – –Lighthouses and Other Landmarks We Love to purchase a print!

(Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)

Posted in Wonder Moments | 20 Comments

Grace to all who enter here

On that Day, all the horses’ harness bells will be inscribed “Holy to God.” The cooking pots in the Temple of God will be as sacred as chalices and plates on the altar. In fact, all the pots and pans in all the kitchens of Jerusalem and Judah will be holy to God-of-the-Angel-Armies.

Zechariah 14:20, The Message

draw royal alberty cup and saucer with silver grape pattern

Are there pieces of artwork that you feel bring a shine of God’s Grace to your home?

Or …have you ever considered or been inspired to think of how the exquisite detail in such pieces reminds of God giving His people such minute, intricate details as to how He wanted things crafted with beauty and inventiveness…?  

How He gifts us in creating, to reflect His beauty… like sunlight diamonds twinkling on water…?

draw silver antique perfume bottle beautiful  Join me here at Elegant Sterling Silver Tea Pieces (and More) in Portrait  to continue reading and see my portraits in silver…   🙂

 

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© Pam Depoyan

“Sipping Autumn,”… a delightful silver cup for a spot of tea… or, perhaps… French chocolat!  🙂.  Stop in and browse here – now available for purchase here AT A SPECIAL SAVINGS PRICE OFFER : Elegant Sterling Silver Tea Pieces (and More) in Portrait

(Please do not copy without permission. See my copyright info button on the sidebar.  :)

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Summer Sparklers

The kitchen was abuzz with 4th of July dinner party chatter, everyone gathering round the island to fill  plates high.  Mine full, I glanced over at the bay seating.  Somewhat unusually, all the little kids had it pegged first.

Hmm…

My eyes followed on through the large windows to the deck beyond.  There, all alone at a long wooden table, sat three-year old Molly, her back to the house.

That’s funny, I thought.

Stepping outside, I greeted her.   “Hi sweetie!”

She patted a seat beside her tiny form.  “My mommy’s coming to sit next to me!” she announced, smile breaking across her face like sun on a summer daisy.

“That’s great!” I answered, slipping my plate in catty corner from her, making sure to reserve that space between us.

One by one, others came to join us, and to each one Molly flashed her ingenuous smile, informing again and again of her mom’s promise to sit next to her.

“Let’s tell stories!” her slightly older boy cousin piped up, sending lively conversations of fun and silly “remember when’s” round our group, like a game of duck, duck, goose.

Quite a bit of time elapsed, and still that spot remained, like a missing tooth, next to Molly.

Here and there, I wondered if her mom knew she was so fervently expected.  After all, she was the party hostess, probably caught up in some serving inside.  Maybe I should go find her…  But the stories, like sparklers, kept swinging my attention back to the laughter all round and I sat on.

I glanced at Molly’s face, faith and hope in her promise still beaming there like the banner of stars and stripes over the day…  until, unknowing of her little cousin’s space-holding, one of the college girls slipped her plate into that last seat beside Molly.

That one action seemed to be her last straw of hope, and without a word to explain the seat was reserved, Molly…simply…avalanched…into…tears.

“It’s okay, honey,” we all encouraged.  “Don’t worry!  Mags can move over here next to me… your mom will still have space!”

But, overwhelmed with gulping, she wasn’t hearing.

Suddenly, her dad appeared out of nowhere, right behind her.  Molly stood up on her bench seat and flung herself into his arms on a heartbroken moan, “OOOOHHHH!”

Questions spun through my thoughts as I put myself in Molly’s place. Was she feeling broken at the appearance that maybe her mom wasn’t coming after all?  Or was it that she had tried her best to save that space and now it just seemed like she was too little to accomplish that?  Her faith had been so complete, so unwavering as she continually spoke that truth out to each and every one of us at that table.  Love had promised… and of that she’d had no doubt.  But maybe… it had just taken a bit too long.

I could feel tears behind my own eyes, because I’d had that hope deferred makes the heart sick feeling myself lately.  Hanging on to the Father’s promises, declaring them out in faith, “saving that space” expectantly.  But sometimes… it just seemed like it was taking sooooo long.   Like my faith was too little, I wasn’t strong enough.   And… where was He?

I watched Molly’s dad, holding her close.  Not trying to “talk” her into anything.  Just letting her rest secure against his chest.

“That’s what I mean by ‘My power is made perfect in your weakness…’ When it seems like it will just never be, always remember…I’m ever working behind the scenes,” came a whisper to my spirit.   “Keep your eyes on the promise, for the breakthrough is near! My Word is true and unfailing!”

 Just then, the back door creaked, Molly’s mom holding it open with one elbow and one foot, plate piled high in hands, eyes filled with question.  “What’s happened?”  she asked with puzzlement and concern.

Voices vied across the table, explaining.  Someone must have taken her plate to set down as she quickly enfolded Molly in her arms.  “Oh honey,” she said, wiping her tears, “thank you for doing such a wonderful job saving my place!”

Soon, table now complete, mom and daughter hip to hip in their places, the stories and laughter resumed.   Watching Molly lean her head contentedly into her mom’s side, I smiled.  Faith, like a sunny, lemon yellow bird, fluttered its wings against my heart.

©  Pam Depoyan

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