...A little child shall lead them (Isaiah 11:6)

The Little Child in this painting is, of course, Jesus Christ, destined to overcome the world and banish the darkness of the Evil One.  We are watching for him, especially now in Advent.

The prophet Isaiah tells us: "then the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat; the calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to guide them..." Catholic New American Bible, Revised Edition, Isaiah 11: 6.

On this side of The Cottage Door, I have been discerning the evil that exists daily in my own heart.  I remember that if I am repentant, I can go to Jesus and ask the Father to purge my soul of everything that might offend or hurt him. What a blessing and a grace, undeserved, but all the more beautiful because it is given so freely, so completely.

In The Chronicles of Narnia, by C.S. Lewis, the wicked witch feels she has conquered the powerful and good Aslan, the lion in:  The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.  She, her demons and her ogres accomplish Aslan's tortuous murder, yet Aslan is far from dead. He rises from the altar to pursue and conquer her for good.  If you haven't read this "children's" book for a while, do review it and savor its masterfully penned allegory. When I re-read it the other morning, I was brought to tears once again. The depth of love displayed by the children toward their friend is astounding.  His loyalty to the good, what a sacrifice.  How brave, how valiant he is, just the sort of friend we all need.

 Jesus is our best friend, born so long ago as a babe.  It is comforting to think of Mary holding him, caressing him, cuddling and protecting him.  This Advent, rather than focusing on what Jesus can do for me, I am resolved to wonder what I can do for him.  I would like to hold him, stroke his wounded head, comfort his aching heart, and tell him that I am loyal to him and willing to sacrifice my own little needs for his sake and the sake of others less fortunate.  This Advent, I want to open the door wide for him, hoping he will come right Through the Cottage Door so I can greet him!

Have a wonderful Advent, and keep your heart's door wide open for the Little Child, become Man.

Thoughts about God, Through the Cottage Door, for Thanksgiving

I shot this pic of clouds out the window of a jet. I grabbed my phone and delighted in the view, and it got me to thinking. I wonder what God thinks when he looks down at his creation from Heaven,  Does he feel sad at what he sees, or does he find good things happening in some way, in some places, by some who love him?  And when he views my everyday life, is he glad or sad about the things I think, say or do?  He has given me so many joys, so very many blessing and very crosses to bear, though I hope I am prepared for the privilege of coping with more.  I just can hardly believe the blessings abundant each day in my life.  This Thanksgiving I truly wish to thank all my readers of this blog and I promise to more frequently add new images and thoughts, that we might share moments that are special and joy-filled.  That is my pledge to you, through the Cottage Door.  

Summer Wanes with a Warm Smile, Nods to Autumn

September sun lights up a sapphire blue sky, day after day.  Grass is still green, even greener in places as if each blade wants to show off its best color before it succumbs to dormancy later in the fall.  Children have given up vacation and are back in school, their buses rumbling down the streets of our city in morning and afternoon.  Things have settled into a new routine that comes with the close of one season and the premier of another.

Painting is somewhat seasonal for me also, and this month I am fortunate to have my River People series of verse and watercolors displayed here in my city, all 20-some pieces exhibited in the Grace Episcopal Church at 315 Wayne Street, Sandusky.  It is a privilege and a joy to have others view them.

The image to the left is called "Magician".  The verse tells of a native Yup'ik lad who was busy with the July dust, inches deep, in his village.  He was literally covered in it, and happy as could be to throw it everywhere.  He was making a golden moment out of playing in the dirt, a magical bit of childhood for me to paint.  If only we adults could, rather than mourn the little time we seem to have because we have so busied ourselves with the truly unimportant tasks we undertake to prove our worth, just fling dirt, or sing songs aloud, or even have a good belly laugh more often, maybe we could make magic, too.
At least that is what I think tonight, as I peek out at the moon through my cottage door.  Go play in the dirt and see how it frees you.

This illustration, Dragonfly Profusion, was begun Plein Aire on the Lake Erie Bay down the chaussee where the willows border the road.  When I returned to my studio, I went wild with paint and color, and just had such fun adding shapes and fitting it all together.  I may write a children's book about the Dragonfly who almost disappears to solve her problem of thinking rather too highly of herself.  She is saved by a ...well you will just have to read the book to find out:)

Signs

I've seen the signs all along recently, noticed the geese returning and pairing up, even a duo of swans with their necks intertwined on the frozen bay.  Its ice still thick at least a quarter of a mile out, the lake begrudgingly has given up some of its winter coating of white and snow and we can spot deep blue water freed at last.  Now I sit here at my writing desk, with my window cracked open so that I can hear the birds chattering and the sounds of  wildlife emerging from woods and yards, sounds no longer muffled by cold air and arctic wind.  What a joy the coming of Spring is to all of our senses!

There are other signs of rebirth, too.  Lent is upon us, midway, with its opportunities for self-denial, reflection and meditation on the Passion.  Danny and I look forward each week to our church's practice of the 14 Stations of the Cross, a series of prayers, readings, and musical interludes that help us focus on Christ's ultimate sacrifice on Calvary.  Lent is a time when we pray for the world, for Pope Francis, for Bishop Thomas, and for all those who are suffering at the hands of violent and ruthless captors.  We especially pray for the children who are homeless, uncared for, or victims in any way.

On the less serious front, it is March Madness at our house.  Coach Danny is glued to the brackets with 84 teams being narrowed down to the final winner of the NCAA basketball college tournament, over the next several weeks and games.  On the Pro Team level, the Cleveland Cavaliers are our pride and  joy here at the Roth household. Then there is the beginning of the training season for the Cleveland Indians baseball, now begun in Arizona.  We look forward to seeing Kluiber on the mound this season.  We might look at these things as a rebirth of kinds in the athletic world, a sure sign of spring.

The signs of spring are everywhere, but perhaps the most exciting sign of spring within myself is that rekindled desire to paint and paint and paint.  I wake up in the morning eager to look at the paper and paint laid out on my drafting table from the night before.  What did the paint do?  How did the colors change?  Stand back and look.  What is the next step?  The transformation of my attitude toward my craft is a sure sign of something stirring within me.  It is a sure sign of spring and with it is a strong hope that my paintings will challenge me to grow some more, to paint happiness for others to see, to explore with courage new possibilities, both in art and in my life.

Baptism (From River People, cElizabeth Roth)

Sunday Morning Surprise

This morning, a Sunday morning, my husband Danny roused me from a deep slumber by telling me to hurry and dress for early mass because he had a wonderful surprise for me.  Danny had had little sleep himself because he arises each morning at 4:00 to set out on his job as a newspaper deliverer to the Veteran's Home and to the residential home called Parkview.  (He arrives home at 6:30, and so affords himself another half hour to full hour of rest before he begins yet another part-time job which, depending on the season of the year, can be either guarding a pool at the local Venetian Marina, or working the counter and kitchen at a local McDonald's restaurant.  He likes to keep busy, and plays a lot of golf, so winters are a challenge for my McDanny.) My husband is 73, looks 43, and has enough energy to be 23.  For him to slow down enough to notice the delicacies of Nature is priceless, to use a cliché, and for him to share the wonder of them with me is a precious gift I will always treasure.  Another incredible hoarfrost had draped itself over the landscape.  I took many photos from which to later paint.  Here is what he wanted to share:



This is what is called the Chaussee, a bar of land and sand on which our road is built between two sides of the bay at Lake Erie.  Hoarfrost covered the willows that border the Chaussee and Danny and I trudged in the deep snow to capture this moment.  Isn't God's creation breathtaking?   Aren't precious moments of sharing joy like this an opportunity for the spirit to soar?

We saw three adult bald eagles perched in a tall tree along the Chaussee.  They are likely watching the frozen lake and bay for a spot where they might fish.  Right about now, their mates are sitting on eggs that will bring new babies into the world later this spring, and food for them will be a top priority.  The eagles are majestic, another of God's miracle creatures, and whenever we see them in the wild we are reminded of how things that seem to be very much endangered can in God's time come to flourish.

 

Clean Start

It is SOOOO cold this week, frigid and snowy, fresh drifts everywhere, typical winter weather around here this February.  I am so blessed to have a warm house, a cozy bedroom, hot tea whenever I need a mug to heat my hands in the evenings, and a wonderful husband to come home to each night.  It is still dark when I leave for work in the morning, and often dark again when I return at night, but I can tell that the hours of sunlight are beginning to expand little by little.  Soon, Spring will begin its slow advance here on the North Coast.  Winter will fall back, and gradually give birth to tiny signs of warmth like the crocus that will wriggle upward through the cold. 

One of my good friends, a favorite painting, left me this week and went to its new owner.  The name of the painting is Fresh Start.  It is a colorful rendition of a group of buildings in Beijing.  A clothesline stretched among sports wet clothing drying in the air.  This scene was so typical of the Asian city dweller's I observed in China, but I have also seen this kind colorful display in France, in Russia, in Italy and among the Amish in Ohio.  I remember hanging clothes on a summer clothesline myself when my children were small.  It gave me a thrill to see my family's clean things getting their share of sunshine and fresh air.  They smelled like happiness and there was a certain feeling of satisfaction that I derived from the exercise of hanging, waiting, taking down and folding those clean clothes.

I want to remember how my own behavior stains, soiled choices, and muddy decisions are repeatedly cleansed by our Lord, hung out in the fresh sunshine of the Father's love and mercy, and flap in the healing breeze of the Holy Spirit who guides me.  Each time I go to him, after repentance and forgiveness, I believe God can see the bright, new colors of joy and relief in my life, and I know that He will continually be with me to hang my cleaned laundry on His line, which is made of these words:  I love you.  That's how I see Him:  Through the Cottage Door.