Everyday Giving

It’s #GivingTuesday.

I keep wondering what our world would look like if, everyday, we spoke of and actually acted on [rather than just Facebook rant] the many causes brought to the forefront of social media on this special day. As the world groans together for clean water, food to eat, shelter from persecution, and safety from being shot as you walk down the street – I have to take a beat, inhale, and recognize the privilege I live in. It’s the incredibly simple things I don’t even notice: I leave the water running too long, a half eaten apple [is currently] cast aside next to my computer, I walk through my neighborhood in all black without a second thought, and we often publicly pray in a restaurant while worrying about an awkward exchange with the server who may bring the meal at just that moment. That’s it.

I pray that we stop to notice the world beating and breathing around us – and that we recognize and live more each moment as apart of the Body that aches together. I pray that we DO more to love and care for the poor, the orphan, and the refugee. I pray that one day we SEE a world where all have water to drink and a safe place to sleep. A bed where your body isn’t being sold to the highest bidder. A world where when you are the one who is wandering, you are welcomed into foreign lands with open arms and received as a neighbor, just like my Grandfather was. A neighborhood where we are able to recognize all have deep hurts, fears, and differences – and that those who look different than I, are heard, and seen, and just as safe as I have the privilege to be.

There are times when I feel like it’s all too much and then times when I know just one person and one dollar and one prayer can make a difference.

It’s days like today where I pause and take a deep breath. A breath that is both comforting and one that I shudder in, because I know my 12 year old niece Gracelyn doesn’t get to breathe like that. After years of surviving Cystic Fibrosis and battling rejection after a double lobe lung transplant, G is fighting yet again to simply breathe. If you haven’t yet felt compelled to walk alongside one of the many areas of injustice and need in the world, I boldly ask you to walk with my family and to care for this sweet and strong girl.

To stay updated on Gracelyn’s journey, please check out her CaringBridge Journal. To help with the simple, at at the same time extraordinary things, like food, flights, housing, and the like, please donate to Gracelyn’s GoFundMe page. 

If you are  interested in some other amazing causes doing profound work in the world, here are some organizations that I love:

• The Urban Ministry Center: helping meet the basic needs of Charlotte’s homeless community
• The Warehouse242 Adoption Fund: supporting one of the many families  at my church who feel called to adoption
• Hagar International: as they do what it takes to restore the broken lives of victims of sex trafficking
• Sankofa Journey: participate in, or provide a scholarship for, the ECC Sankofa Journey as we wade through conversations of racial reconciliation and justice
• CharlotteONE: Support this community that connects young professionals in Charlotte to the local church and things that matter: get connected, make a difference, and find their purpose

That time I was paid to use my art major.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who studied art in college. After graduating, she move to a far way land and taught art to the little children and created sculptures and paintings when the chance arose. *One day while going about her daily chores, a PRODUCER called her to ask if she was “artsy-craftsy” and if she could work on a stop-motion animation commercial for Rack Room Shoes. She said heck yes. And then they worked as a team to make this cool little piece. The End.

 

*It may or may not have happened like this.

 

Kid President is beautiful.

Watch. Be inspired. He’s talking to me. And you.

and the Lord remembered her…

Journal 1.24.14, a photo by KatieCanvas on Flickr.

Reading Beth Moore and wading through the life of David with my small group.

Mixed Media inspired by 1 Samuel 1:19 (oil pastel, chalk pastel, watercolor, acrylic, ink, glitter).

bunk beds and bricks

Over the weekend, I bundled up with 20-30 20 to 30somethings at the Charlotte/ONE volunteer retreat. It was a wonderful 36 hours filled with old and new friends, throwback youth group games, fruitful brainstorming and worship sessions, and obviously, bunk bed pillow talk.

I’m consistently caught off guard by the exponential manner in which Charlotte/ONE has impacted and continues to influence my life. They were the conductor by which I met my friends, as well as my church, Renovatus. Charlotte/ONE consistently provides an anchor for me in Charlotte with new opportunities to serve and flourish.

Mike Hall, [kick butt speaker and all around cool dude] shared during worship about how we are all haunted by words and experiences – and that we can’t silence those ghosts, but the holy Spirit (when we invite Him) can.

I felt stuck and silent and weighed heavy in my core.  I knew that the spirit would clear the air if I asked him too, but because of my selfish and sinful choices lately – I had built a wall that I felt was tall enough to hide my mess from Him [in the words of Cher from clueless, AS IF].  As a means of processing I wrote the following:

I’ve built this barricade with bricks of bad decisions
and with mortar of guilt and regret. The ghosts slipped through and haunt the hollows of my undiscipline. I should ask them to leave but I’m afraid of the empty spaces they leave behind.

I know. Bummer. [Sidebar: us artsy types can take it pretty dark.] There is a happy ending however. The good news, the Holy Spirit courts me more sweetly than the ghosts and the minute I begin to pivot towards Him, He joins me in this messy place while we try to sort through it together.

“The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air” Romans 8:2

lyrics to live by: “Only One” by Harvest

On repeat.

“I want to be the only one on the throne of your heart. The only one that moves you.

I will remove the names of your lovers, even the memory of their face will fade away.

I will write on you my name forever. I will be known by you as faithful and true.

So come back, come back, I’ll take you to the start.

Come back, come back, I’ll take you to your first love.”

lyrics to live by: “Oceans” by Hillsong

Feeling the wind and the water and resonating deeply with “Oceans” by Hillsong

 

“You call me out upon the waters
the great unknown where feet may fail
and there I find you in the mystery
in oceans deep
my faith will stand

Art Journal with “Oceans” lyrics

So I will call upon your name, and keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise, my soul will rest in your embrace
for i am yours and you are mine

your grace abounds in deepest waters
your sovereign hand will be my guide
where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
you’ve never failed and you won’t start now

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
let me walk upon the waters
wherever you would call me
take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
and my faith will be made stronger
in the presence of my savior”

Holy Discontentment

Art journal quotes from “Sensible Shoes”

“You’ve reached a place of holy discontentment…the frustration you’re feeling can be a gift to nudge you toward something deeper. I’m hearing restlessness in you, and restlessness is movement. You may feel stuck, but your Spirit is moving.” – Sharon Garlough Brown, Sensible Shoes

wild geese

Wind blown at Wild Goose

You had me at mountains, Jesus and art.

But seriously! The Wild Goose Festival is the intersection of faith + justice + art + music for one weekend in the Mountains of North Carolina. When Aune and I weren’t being blown away by epic lady preacher, Nadia Bolz-Weber, we were soaking in the wisdom of Phyllis Tickle, taking in a plethora of “off the beaten path” bands…and participating in conversations on racial reconciliation in the middle of a field.

Song of songs Creative writing

 

 

The weekend included being surrounded by mountains, showering in a river, cooking by campfire, overwhelmingly awesome seminar choices and singing hymns while imbibing. Jealous, right?

If you thought I was lost, chances are I could be found sipping wine at the “Art and Soul” tent where I was able to create for the first time in months. One workshop I attended was about writing imagery driven poetry in the style of Song of Songs.

 

Yes it rained. Yes it was hot. Yes I was sometimes out of my comfort zone. But, I’m simply in awe of this community filled with passionate love for “mother- father- God”- where days are filled with the arts, creation care, deep theology, outpourings of acceptance and of course, beer and hymns. [FYI – Registration for Wild Goose 2014 is open!]

lyrics to live by: “Tendons” by Bellarive

Super influenced at the moment by the band Bellarive and their song, “Tendons”. INTENSE spoken word in the song but I LOVE it!

“barely beating now, my heart is overcome, i fear there’s nothing left for you

can you hear my heart from there? it seems the distance is what i chose to bear

so rip these tendons, they hinder my reach towards you
rip these tendons, they hinder my reach towards you

would you meet me here, where i rest my bones, where i lay my head down?

this place is my escape, oh god, i need you to initiate

light up the sky, set our hearts on fire
light up the sky, let us see our creator

if the titanic was made to sink than so was my heart, for I made sure it was impenetrable. Oh, what a wretched man I am. Who will save me from this flesh? Paul whispers in my ear, Oh, don’t worry my friend you’re in good company. Poets before me have tried to measure this love and if 40,000 brothers cannot with all their quantity of love make up this sum, than how can my heart contain this mass? it would only burst at the seams into a million tender pieces. So what then? What good is a broken heart to you? Could you even hear my heart from there? And like a father assuring his son to come home, Oh my son, it’s enough, it’s enough. So who am I to accept this grace that just falls like rain? Cause we all know I chose to lay my head in this desert. But like a fish out of water, we only know then what it means to be parched. So if Christ is alive, the love, and the groom, then take heed my friends for chivalry is not dead. For I know no other lover who would have met me here in this place. So I awake and I rise from my bed of complacency. Oh, my God I’ve been sleeping with a corpse. Oh, and these bed sores they still rest in my bones. Oh, how I’ve made a beautiful dance with this cadaver but my audience is appalled. Oh, how strong these tendons. How they desperately need to rip from this ancient Adam. So light up the sky and set me a flame. Burn this bone and tissue. For I no longer want to be entangled in this sinew that hinders my reach towards you.”