“The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives.”
We all carry baggage and brokenness of one sort or another. Yet through love and forgiveness, recovery is possible. We can regain a childlike wonder. As children of God, given His original blessing, our lives are unique and beautiful. Whether we or society see this beauty is incidental to its existence–our Creator sees it.
And we too can see beauty in obscure and forlorn places. The purple flower was growing in a back alley of La Grande against the peeling paint of an abandoned garage. And the yellow hibiscus, growing above and beyond the barbed wire fence, bringing beauty to a dusty street yard, found sustenance in Catamayo, Ecuador.
If you are inclined, check my web site at www.praisephotography.com and click on Alleys of La Grande to see similar pictures.
a haiku for these images:
what really matters-
not my own power,prestige
But God’s constant love
The psalmist talks about our prayers, not just an occasional one but many. These prayers acknowledge and draw upon God’s unfailing love. And His mercy is not just plentiful, it is “so” plentiful; just as it should be with an infinite and eternal God!
There are many ways to shoot still lifes besides arranging fruits and flowers on a table. One of the keys is to try to simplify the complexity and isolate the subject from a busy background.
Outside of Otavolo lies a a small township, Carabuela. The roads are unpaved, dusty when dry, muddy when wet. Amidst the simple houses of mainly Quechua Indians is a small children’s center that Secondo, a Quechua native runs for children whose parents work long hours of the day. Meg and I were introduced to this center by Karen and Carlos, whose medical and mission skills serve many people and programs from Quito to the coast.
Secondo’s father and mother live in a one room house, smaller than the average American living room. There they cook over a wood fire, wash dishes by hand, sleep, and store their minimal possessions. Their real treasures of heart and love for each and their children are stored in Heaven.
Two years ago, the father also did all his weaving inside the house. Now, his work area has moved outside to a covered shed that is open in the front. He raises the sheep, shears them himself, cards the wool, spins it into yarn, dyes it and then weaves it into a variety of products. I bought an incredible heavy scarf from him. It reminds me of the contrast between his simplicity and my complications.
Day in, day out, he focuses on his wool. I have no idea how long he has been at this work. And, as you can also see,his wife is there with him, in the simple sweetness of companionship. I was truly privileged to be there.
God’s call to us is deeply personal. We are His Beloved, always held in His heart, yet we don’t always recognize His Presence in ourselves and others. We are finite beings being drawn toward His infinity and eternity.
An essential reminder for me on any of these mission trips is that we are all God’s children, created by Him out of His abundant, unfailing love. We come to Him not out of our supposed power, position or prestige, but out of humility and poverty. He is totally indifferent to my status as a retired judge, although I honor by using the gifts He has blessed me with.
I have always enjoyed the AW Tozer statement that “an infinite God can give all of Himself to each of His children as fully as if there were no others.” Indeed we each of His beloved. “We belong to God who claims us as beloved children and holds us close in the embrace of strength and love.” (Rueben Job)
Our medical mission trip to Vilcabamba and Catamayo, Ecuador lasted two weeks. Despite fully absorbing the sights, sounds, smells, moods, light of each day, I still could not believe how fast the time slipped down the hour glass. Two weeks felt like two days.
I returned home to La Grande early Sunday afternoon. As I hugged Meg, petted our golden retriever, looked around the familiar surroundings of our house, I felt that I had been gone for two months.
Two weeks are two weeks. However, from my perspective in Ecuador the time flew by, yet from my vantage point in La Grande, the time was greatly lengthened. To come to the end of experience is to make a new beginning. My “time past” is now my present and my future. New experiences await here at my earthly home, yet more and more, I wonder what my eternal home will be like. Blessings, Eric