Twelve.

Twelve.

First born.

A little piece of your heaven.

Fishing with your best buddies.

What comes to mind

are thoughts that every mom must think and say.

They sound so cliche

that they are worn down from over use and lose their meaning.

Every mom grows up

with that first born.

Because there is a child part

of each mom

that begins to grow up

when that first born looks her in the eyes

and her heart cracks wide-open

with a feeling she's never had before.

A feeling that seems to swallow her up.

Yet it explosive at the same time.

A desire to do it all perfectly.

Preparing for a baby.

The baby arrives

and then mom can't remember

the days before you came,

the days before you walked,

before you ran,

before you spoke,

before you could read,

before you could decide

that you love to fish

and are fascinated with military aircraft.

And twelve.

Twelve more equals twenty-four.

And mom lets go a bit more . . .

You are such a great twelve.

With a heart for what it good and noble and right.

Manly.  Respect.  Honor.

With friends that challenge you to live your best.

Trusting that God has His hand on you for the next

twelve. 

There Is A Season

Jim and I just celebrated 15 years of marriage.

The week before we got married

a hail storm wiped out all grass and leaves on a large stretch of prairie.

I chose to fight the season

and plant flowers.

A week later, grasshoppers ate every ounce of green.

It was 1996.

That winter we had the worst blizzards in decades.

Then the snow stopped.

The rain stopped.

My kids learned to sled on bare ground:  dead grass and cactus.

We began to dread the sight of clouds.

Clouds no longer meant rain.

Clouds meant lightning.

Lightning meant fire.

In 2006, our 10 year anniversary year,

my parents saw a century of pine trees burn up in one night

and then evacuated their home waiting until it was safe to come home.

 

Some in their community had no homes to return to.

  

A week later, my husband was called to a fire.

Clouds were brewing up

and my sister-in-law and I loaded up our 4 kids and sat on a hill top

to watch lighting and spot smoke.

All my life I had been taught to

get off hilltops and highspots in lightning storms.

Drought turns that on idea on its head.

Hair standing on end

radio antenna buzzing . . .

I don't recall how many strikes we saw,

how many spots of smoke rising.

The next spring it started to rain.

Seasons.

Hard to believe we have hay like this.

{Click above for last year's hay season.}

I have never seen the prairie look like this.

The wildflowers and the grass look like it must have

when the pioneers came in their covered wagons

in 5-10 feet tall grass.

I didn't really believe it.

I didn't believe that Harvey Dunn's painting

The Prairie Is My Garden

were based on a possible truth of the prairie

until now.

Seasons.

Drought was our season for 10 years.

Now, wildflowers paint the prairie

and grasses tower over my kids' heads.

 

In Ecclesiastes chapter 3, it says,

To everything there is a season,

A time for every purpose under heaven . . .

He has made everything beautiful in its time.

Also He has put eternity in their hearts,

except that no one can find out the work

that God does from beginning to end.

I know that nothing is better for them than to rejoice,

and to do good in their lives,

and also that

every man

should eat and drink and enjoy

the good of all his labor --

it is the gift of God.

Copyright 2011 Jodene (Jodi) Shaw.



Beautiful Day

What is all this day about?

Whispers & callings in my heart

stirring, urging me on a new path . . .

Praying, journaling, asking,

Really, God, is this You

or am I just making this up?

Identification of belief ~ my beliefs

of what is important

and how I want to live.

Asking the question:  what am I believing?

Asking this question: how do I want to teach my children to live?

Play it safe? Or risk following what's in your heart?

Do what you think will please others and impress?

Or do what you really care about and believe in?

Seek what the world says you need/want?

Or love and live right where you are?

Wish to be someplace else, some other time, someone different. and have something else?

Or find beauty right where you are and enjoy what you have?

Try to not to disappoint anyone?

Or realize that we all disappoint someone sometime?

Stay on the same path,

or follow the one that is true to your heart?

Worry that you might fail, so you might as well not try?

Or have faith that trying you may fall

but that learning is a process,

and God's grace is the hand that will catch you

and set you back on your feet again?

Think your too old or it's too late to start something new?

Or believe it's never too late to be what you might have been? (George Eliot)

Stand still because the journey is so big?

Or start by taking one step today?

Wish you would have done this or that?

Or start taking steps, even small ones, toward it today?

The journey to this

new beginning

has been full of hours of fitful sleep,

choices to stay on one path or follow another,

hard choices, facing who I want to be, choosing not to hide that person,

risking vulnerability,

putting my heart out there in writing, speaking, teaching, photography, and art

and weaving all of those things together.

Believing God is with me,

really doing a work in me.

Choosing to believe God over the doubt

and sneaking whispers of fear and discouragement...

This has been a journey

of facing fears,

of fighting gremlin-like voices in my head

that discourage and diminish who I am

and what I have to offer,

as well as battling the prideful heart that desires

to prove my worth, my validity, my security.

Life is facing all that.

It is taking a look at all the things

that hold me back

with faith that the God who made me

did so with purpose and intention.

It is trusting that He takes the hurt parts, the broken parts,

the places where He shattered pride and arrogance,

made me humble,

and puts them back together and redeems them,

for a purpose with a passion for Him

and sharing all of that . . .

so that others would seek Him, find Him, and follow the unique purposeful passion

that He puts in their hearts.

That's what all this is about.

Listening so closely for the heart of God.

Finding His voice.

Following it.

Being who He made me to be.

Because in really searching and seeking for Him,

I find who I am, and I discover all these other wonderful blessings

that are right here in my hands, my heart, my life.

So, so grateful for this family, these friends,

that came to support and celebrate

this opportunity to share a beautiful day

of stepping out in faith and not letting fear rule.

Especially grateful to my husband Jim

celebrating 15 years of marriage,

of saying "yes" to him here at Chute Roosters in Hill City,

16 years ago,

that he has loved me through all of my

ups and downs, questions, wondering, fear/faith battles,

falling flat on my face in failures, getting back up again, and

being here for a great day like this one.

Thanks to Lori and the staff at the

Jon Crane Gallery in Hill City, SD,

for giving me the opportunity to share my art.

I'm honored and grateful.

*

*

Linking with Jen here:

and with Jennifer In The Studio here:

Studio JRU

Sneak Peek Friends, this post was on Monday,

but thought I'd share here as a celebration with YOU

for the STUDIO work I've been doing and sharing with YOU.

THANKS FOR YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT.

My Friday post is HERE:  There is a season.

It features my photos of the beauty of the prairie where I live,

which is also what I've been up to "in my studio" this week and month!

*

*

Operation and Care of Farm Machinery

An art journey ~

Here is one of my painting processes

this week In The Studio

I'm honored to host the "Sneak Peak" this week!

I encourage you to visit the blogs of the other

creative inspirational artists and writers at the bottom of this post.

Listening to my mp3 player,

I hear this line:

"Turn this broken earth to holy ground".

I grab my pencil and the nearest paper

and jot down

"Luke 8. Parable of the Soils. 100 fold harvest."

And then I jot down a prayer

that spills from my heart:



A few years ago,

Beth Moore taught at a simulcast about this very parable.

It has stayed with me.

I've written about it.

Spoken about it.

And now created art.

But this piece grew in a way so directed by

the Spirit.

I found a book at a flea market 7-10 days ago

--a Bible story book copyright 1878--

in German.

My Grandpa Tommy was a German living in Russia

and immigrated to the United States through Ellis Island in 1908

when he was a baby.

My husband's grandfather John was German also.

I can't read German, but I deciphered this title was from Luke 8:4-15.

The Parable of the Soils.

This book below belonged to my husband's grandfather: John Wahl.

So, I am scanning this old farm machinery manual

that has incredible diagrams

and printing them for this piece.

I start reading the titles of the sections:

Each section starts with an intro and I am reading them.

And it is like Jesus is telling me this parable

himself right here in this old

John Deere farm machinery manual.

Don't ever tell me that

God doesn't speak to my heart

through something other than the Bible.

Yes, I've read the parable of the soils in my Bible.

I've studied it.  I've written about it.

But this little farm machinery manual

was full of truth!

Just read Luke 8:4-15.

{I put it on the piece, but go get your own Bible and read it.}

In the Parable, there is a sower, the seed, and the soil.

The Sower is God, the seed is the word of God, the soil is the heart of man.

So, I'm reading:

"Part One:  Preparation of the Seed Bed

{I'm thinking: the Soil, the heart of man, my heart}

The plow.

{I'm thinking:  An instrument used by the farmer/sower}

The plow is the most important implement used in seed bed prepartion.

Its purpose is to pulverize or break up the soil

admitting air and light--two essentials to normal plant growth.

The plow covers surface trash or manure, mixing it with the soil to decay (die) and furnish plant food."

Ok, so are you with me?

The plow pulverizes or breaks up the soil.

I relate.  In the past my heart was broken up, pulverized by the Sower,

who let in air and Light, essential for my growth,

covered up the surface trash/manure, {the crap of my old sin and surface fakeness}

mixed it up in the soil {my heart} to die {dead sin, dead fakeness, dead lies}.

To be the food for the growth in my heart.

Remember, I'm reading a farm machinery manual from, oh, I don't know, 1950?

And this is the message I'm getting.

Jesus is so good isn't He?

So good at speaking my language if I will listen.

So smart to teach us in stories.

Reading on in the manual . . .

"Part 2: Planting

If planted accurately . . . maximum yields will result,

provided, of course, that other conditions and practices are correct."

"Part 3:  Cultivating.

The destruction of weeds is the primary purpose of cultivation.

Weeds are truly theives . . . they steal profits . . ."

Weeds are truly theives.

In John 10, Jesus said the theif comes to steal, kill, and destroy,

but I have come that they might have life

and have it more

abundantly.

Weeds equals theif.

Weeds steal our abundant life, steal the intended abundant harvest.

And then we come to

"Part 4:  Harvesting"

I almost laughed out loud when I read the first line

because so many of you in my family and community know the

obvious truth of this statement:

"Harvest season is the busiest time of the year on every farm."

Really?

Whether it is the "harvest" of cows calving in the spring,

or the harvest of hay being put up in the summer,

harvest of grain, harvest of the garden.

Busy, indeed it is.

And if it's not busy?? 

Well, on a ranch or farm,

not busy harvest means not happy ranchers.

{smile}

But seriously, read Luke 8:4-15.

The 100 fold harvest only comes with the right conditions.

The abundant fruitful life only comes

when The Sower is allowed to

do the hard work in our heart of

preparing the ideal seed bed

putting the plow to our hearts,

turning the trash into nourishment,

cultivating the weeds out that choke out the growth,

planting the word in the rich, prepared soil

of a good, noble heart,

that's been thawed from winter's freeze,

broken through the surface, through the shallowness of heart,

into the depths of the truest self,

softening the soil,

preparing it for the Seed

of the Word.

Which only then can it take root, grow, mature, and bear fruit

in our lives.

Not easy.

But the harvest is good.

As I made this piece of art.

And as Jesus spoke His parable through the farm machinery manual,

my thoughts turned to the good men in my life

that have been or are ranchers and farmers

{and I know, that ranchers are ranchers and farmers are farmers,

but most ranchers have to do some farming,

and many farmers do some ranching}.

But, anyway, these are some of them men I'm thinking of:

my husband Jim, my dad Phil, my brother Reed,

my Grandpa Tommy,

my brother and father-in-law, Les & Jim,

Jim's grandpa's Les and John,

my uncles

Roger, Willie, Marvin, Hofer, Odde,

some of my cousins,

those friends in our church and community

that I won't list because surely I'll leave somebody off.

And in my mind's eye,

I see Jesus talking to them

man-to-man

not wearing a robe,

but Wrangler's and a faded, grease-stained, western shirt,

smelling like the sweetness of fresh cut hay,

mingled with gasoline, dirt, sweat and grease

talking about haying equipment

breaking soil, seeds, cutting,

and

harvesting.

He wouldn't talk to them

in the thees and thous of King James language,

or with airs of arrogance, or with fancy speech.

He would talk to them in the language of

of cattlemen and farmers . . .

showing Himself and His kingdom,

with stories about everyday working life.

*

*

So much goes through my mind and heart

as I create a piece of art.

Some more than others.

This was one full of God speaking to my heart.

Putting a message into it.

He is the one who sits in the seat of the machinery . . .

*

*

Along with the piece above, these below are a tribute

to my home

and family and heritage

and a prayer for those hard working hands

that have meant so much in my life.

I'm thrilled to be taking my work to my favorite gallery in the Black Hills of South Dakota:

Showing Art & Photography at Jon Crane Gallery

256 Main Street, Hill City, South Dakota

Sunday, July 31, 2011, 2:00-5:00 p.m.



Art, photos, and text, copyright 2011.  Jodene (Jodi) Shaw.