Exhibit at Prince Street Cafe

photo by john daniel briggs (c) 2009

My friend and fellow photographer, John Daniel Briggs, will have his photography on display at the Prince Street Cafe in downtown Lancaster. The exhibit begins with the always awesome First Friday Lancaster, Friday, June 5 and runs through the end of the month. Stop by Prince Street Cafe for an ice coffee and dessert while checking out John's stunning photography from his trips overseas. To read more about his exhibit, click here.

And while in downtown Lancaster, don't miss First Friday. The art galleries and shops are open until 9pm, music fills the streets from Mulberry to Queen and beyond! It's like a huge block party - people of all ages - out for a night of culture and community. I just love it.

grace & peace ~ deAnn

Forever and Unchanging

Ebb and flow. Here today, gone tomorrow.
My love depends on the mood I am in
or the kind of day I've had.

Sometimes it's shy and distant.
Other times it burns hot and wild like fire,
searing, cleansing and intentional.

But, the ravaging fire easily becomes a
vulnerable little flicker, barely shedding any light.
Heavy wind can instantly blow out the flicker
instead, stand in the soft breeze,
which fans the flicker back to flame.

Not so with God. His love is not inconsistent.
It's always constant, just like the
tidal waves that wash upon the shore.

Forever in rhythm with His heart,
a beautiful song.
Never dependent. Always ready to be received
if we are courageous enough to accept it.

And even if we are not courageous
He still offers it unconditionally.
Warm, peaceful, forgiving and never ending.
Always transforming, covering past regrets.
It's so far beyond mere mortal expression.

We look right past His love offering,
forever seeking it from broken others,
in it's flawed state, never satisfied.
Birthing temporary joy or devastating pain.

But not so with God.
Open wide your heart
and receive His loving and tender gift.
It's forever and unchanging.

Poem by deAnn Roe (c) 2009

Holiday Weekend

Images from a Korean War Memorial in York City, PA

Photographs (c) 2009 deAnn Roe

Soil

"Nothing sublimely artistic has arisen out of mere art...There must always be rich, moral soil for any great artistic work." G.K. Chesteron.

Good ol' G.K.

Contemplate his words for a moment or two. What images come to mind?

G.K.'s "moral soil" jumps out at me. I am reminded of the parable of the soils (Matt 13). Seeds on a path are trampled or stolen. Seeds in the rocks take root but are shallow and soon die off. Seeds in the thorns take root but are soon choked to death. But seeds in good soil, moral soil, take root, grow with intensity, and produce a crop.

Art that is created from a heart resembling the path, rocks, or thorns will not create truly great artistic work. But art that is created out of a transparent and transforming relationship with Jesus is art coming from good soil, moral soil. And that produces a crop of great artistic work. Art for the glory of God.

grace & peace ~ deAnn

Awareness

"We cannot attain the presence of God. We're already totally in the presence of God. What's absent is awareness." Richard Rohr's words as quoted in David G. Benner's awesome little book, The Gift of Being Yourself.

As a newbie on this Christian spiritual journey, I remember crying out to God for a billboard road sign for the answers to decisions that lingered over my life. That would be the easiest way to know His will, to seek for "signs" outside myself.

Then as my journey deepened through practicing many different spiritual disciplines, I realized that God speaks, as the Bible says, "with a still small voice." He's speaking. But, most of the time, so are we. We desperately seek to hear Him, but we rarely take the time to actually listen.

Awareness of His presence takes practice. As we give time to quieting our lives, quieting not just the outer noise, but really practice quieting the inner noise, we begin to see His touch everywhere, in all ways, in all places. Suddenly it's as if we wake up to our lives with God.

One way I quiet myself is through creating art. Especially in an area that I know nothing about. Sounds strange, I know. Most recently I explored my creativity through an unfamiliar art form - water colors. The act of water coloring and having no idea what I was doing set the stage for listening to my heart and listening to God.

Another way to quiet myself is a walk, jog, or rail trail bike ride. Some outside activity where I don't have to think about what I'm doing. I only need to prayerfully ask God to give me eyes to see and ears to hear deep in my heart. These dedicated times are for me and Him to "hang out." To give time to one another.

"What God wants is simply our presence, even if it feels like a waste of potentially productive time. That is what friends do together - they waste time with each other. Simply being together is enough without expecting to "get something" from the interaction. It should be no different with God." David G. Benner, The Gift of Being Yourself.

Grace & peace as you become more aware of God's presence around you ~ deAnn

Wordless Conversation :: 008, Conclusion

Photograph (c) 2009 deAnn Roe

The following series of posts titled, "Wordless Conversation" are my inner reflections while living a couple days, alone, in silence on a creative retreat. Below is part 8, the conclusion of my story.


As I teetered on the edge of an emotional crevice, I sensed God saying that He was present with me in the art shed and pleased that I took that time to meet with Him, despite the fact that I didn’t have a “good” experience. No matter the outcome, artistically, all that mattered was that I showed up.

Because God, I did. I put these two days on my calendar, planned this get away because I do LONG TO BE WITH YOU. Be with You in a special way, outside the normal ways of daily life. I want to feel Your presence, I want to feel Your creative genius, I want to be transformed by You, through and through.

Sitting on the loft deck I wrote easily and felt no signs of inadequacy. I recalled the book excerpts, miscellaneous quotes, and sayings that my eyes and heart have interacted with since I arrived at the cottage. God is silent, mysterious, loving, and loves me very much. The change I seek doesn’t manifest itself immediately on the surface. The deep change I seek occurs in my “secret heart” and radiates out and up from there. Not in big obvious ways, but in small peaceful ways and I may not notice them at first. And I may not even notice them today or tomorrow. But the times I seek God in solitude and prayer gives Him much joy – as I open to Him and give Him free reign of my heart to arrange and rearrange the things He sees fit. Again, I may not “feel” it at the moment but I will notice it in time. The touch of the Makers hand never goes unnoticed.

It’s funny, God, I feel most close to You right this very second. With my laptop open, collecting the depths of my soul, knowing that my art is writing – expressing what You are doing, and will do, in me through my creativity. I may not be a fabulous painter or sculptor, but my gift is writing - and maybe even photography. Both these artistic genres sooth my soul and I feel I can best honor and glorify You in these practices. Writing is an art. Photography is an art. And I hear You asking me if I will trust You with my most inner parts and trust how You’ve made me. Lord, I do. I do trust You. Forgive the self-loathing mood of a few moments ago, and forgive the ones to come in the days ahead. Your work is mysterious and deep. My expectations are too high – I expect something tangible right way, something to hold on to. You expect me to simply show up and be present.

You call me to simply be with You. To sit quietly "before the canvas" or on a tired wooden bench. You simply desire to be with me. What comes from our time together is of Your making, not mine. Should the outcome be a meaningful piece of art – wonderful. If not (such as today’s experience in the art shed) You are pleased that I just showed up and we spent time together. And through the humiliating creative process that ended in disaster, You were busy at work deep in my secret heart. Thank You for rearranging the parts of me that need Your touch. I will not leave this cottage retreat unchanged. I may only look unchanged on the outside or I may feel unchanged on the inside. But where You dwell, in my secret heart, nothing is the same. For that, I thank You, my Lord. Amen.

Grace & peace on your creative spiritual journey ~ deAnn

Wordless Conversation :: 007

Phot0graph (c) 2009 deAnn Roe

The following series of posts titled, "Wordless Conversation" are my inner reflections while living a couple days, alone, in silence on a creative retreat. Below is part 7.

I continued my journey around the garden, going deeper into its beauty. I found some dogwood trees just beginning to blossom. My shutter was working overtime as I snapped what seemed like hundreds of shots, some extreme close ups. As I walked around the perimeter of the property, observing every detail underfoot, I was startled when I caught sight of my ghostly white legs. Embarrassed doesn’t accurately describe how I felt, but no one was around. So why should I care.

Right next door to the cottage is the quaint little art shed, a renovated chicken coop. I did some water coloring last night at the kitchen table, but figured I’d play in the art shed today. This was not a pleasant experience. Even though I invited God to collaborate with me in my creative endeavor, I felt uninspired and clumsy. I didn’t feel God’s presence, nor did I feel His creative genius pulsing through me. After attempting three projects, there was only one which I liked (meaning I didn’t throw it away like I did the other two). I left feeling discouraged. So, to numb the feelings of inadequacy, I ate. Extra sharp cheese, hard salami and crackers. The filtered sunlight passed beyond the young buds of the ancient tree while I sat on the loft deck, wallowing in rancid self pity. “Why did God wire me with desire to create with Him AND inspire others to create with Him, when I’m horrible at it myself? I am so not an artist.”

more to come...

Wordless Conversation :: 006

Photograph (c) 2009 deAnn Roe

The following series of posts titled, "Wordless Conversation" are my inner reflections while living a couple days, alone, in silence on a creative retreat. Below is part 6.

Post shower, I donned black shorts and a white short sleeved tee-shirt and headed outside with camera in hand. Again, the sun was that “mountain sunshine” I love so much. Illuminating everything it falls upon with a shimmer that looks as if it’s coming from within. Do I shine like that?

The symphony was in full concert as I strolled around the gardens, sometimes stooping inches from the moist earth to capture the most delicate of flowers through my lens. I spent a good 90 minutes meandering around, watching the way the light fell upon the plant life, then lined up perfect shots in order to hold that moment in permanent digital form.

Under a particularly old and tired tree sat a story-laden wooden bench, and it was beckoning me to join it under the tree’s wide canopy. I accepted the invitation. I sat quietly in the filtered sunshine and noticed the busy members of the harmonious symphony: Cardinals, Blue Jays, Robins, Black Birds, to name a few. I’m not much of a bird person. I enjoy their songs, but don’t know them by identification. And I’m alright with that.

It wasn’t long before I spotted my groundhog friend who was also out for a morning walk. What a fat and rolly-polly groundhog he was. And so entertaining to watch. For a moment I felt as though I could have been doing something more worthwhile with my time, but then I remembered – I was.

more to come...

Wordless Conversation :: 005

Photograph (c) 2009 deAnn Roe

The following series of posts titled, "Wordless Conversation" are my inner reflections while living a couple days, alone, in silence on a creative retreat. Below is part 5.

Friday, April 24, 2009 12:16 PM
Last night was good. I heard the temperatures were to get as low as 37degrees, so decided to build a fire in the wood stove. I kept warm all night long, to warm, actually. I believe I sweat off 3 pounds overnight! Benedryl always helps me sleep and last night was no exception. However, I did get up several times for a tall drink of water (must have had to replace the fluids I was sweating out.) It was much cooler downstairs.

The piercing morning sun woke me around 6:30 but I was not ready for its gentle kiss. Still piping hot in the cottage, I opened up the angular loft door and let the cool damp air flood over me as I sweetly found my way back to dreamland. Around 8:00 AM I woke again, this time to symphony of winged musicians just outside my opened door. I didn’t want to sleep the gorgeous morning away, so I wrestled the strong sleep off of me and headed down the hand chiseled wooden stair case. I was careful not to bounce my head off the cross beam as I stumbled towards the coffee pot. Once the pungent scent of Starbucks under brew gave me enough gumption, I released the sunlight from behind the rolling shades and it drowned every inch of the cottage. Lovely. Near the sofa was prayer book. I opened it to “Friday Morning Prayer” – immersed myself in the moment then reflected on Isaiah 58 - “The Lord will guide you continually.”

more to come...

Wordless Conversation :: 004

Photograph (c) 2009 deAnn Roe

The following series of posts titled, "Wordless Conversation" are my inner reflections while living a couple days, alone, in silence on a creative retreat. Below is part 4.

Around 6:30 PM the sun was still bright yet sat comfortably low in the eastern sky. “What will I do tonight?” I pondered. I took along one movie, “Queen.” I hadn’t seen it, so figured it was a good movie to watch. I wished I brought more movies. There was a Blockbuster on the way here, but doubt they would rent to me since I was from out of town.

The bookshelves in the cottage were packed to the gill with Merton books and others that sound interesting, plus I took a couple of books to read from home. My iPod and headphones were nice companions as well. Then there is always Solitaire on this laptop. But that is not the point of such a retreat. I should be listening to God with more intention instead of typing this entry and texting my son. Why do I struggle with being still?

Lord I want to be still – you know that, right? Like so many other areas of my life I can “see” in my mind – the way I long to be with You. But I can’t seem to get there. What’s the hold up? What’s in the way? How do I overcome…me?

OPENINGS
(from "Landscapes of Light" by David Adam)

O Lord God, Creator of all
Open my eyes to beauty
Open my mind to wonder
Open my ears to others
Open my heart to You

more to come...

Wordless Conversation :: 003

Photography (c) 2009 deAnn Roe

The following series of posts titled, "Wordless Conversation" are my inner reflections while living a couple days, alone, in silence on a creative retreat. Below is part 3.

Evening had arrived. It was time to dabble with watercolors. I painted two more scenes that now are becoming a series – my spiritual journey – while listening to headphone filled with U2’s latest album, “No Line on the Horizon.” I wish I could paint, or create for that matter, directly from my head. Or even from my heart. But I need an image to interpret. This makes me feel less like an artist. I can replicate well, adding a little of me to that which I’m painting. But I struggle with my own original ideas.

Earlier in the day as I nodded off, I began reading a book that is written with the same passion that lingers in my heart – to collaborate with the Holy Spirit in art making. I’ve succeeded in doing that well twice before, my sculpture and painting of Jesus in the Garden. But, I had a hard time engaging in a collaborative effort this afternoon. My distractions in this cottage are limited. I walked away from my “life” in order to be silent. In order to listen. Yet, I still struggle. Why is this?

more to come...

Wordless Conversation :: 002

Photography (c) 2009 deAnn Roe

The following series of posts titled, "Wordless Conversation" are my inner reflections while living a couple days, alone, in silence on a creative retreat. Below is part 2.

After a short mid-day nap, the annoyance of my cell phone startled me from a deep restful peace. I hit “ignore.” In the distance I heard the sounds of a real riding lawn mower, not a giant bumble bee. At least, I hoped.

The sun was in its 2:45 PM position in the sky. However, it was mostly blocked by the ancient tree just off the loft room deck. Shards of sunlight pierced through the “hobbit-sized” door window and landed on the tan carpet. The wind was still quite brisk, so I donned my jacket then climbed out onto the deck. I stood there, eyes closed, taking in the smell of the spring air – healthy and fertile The sound of the northeasterly breeze passed through the budding leaves and was perfect music to my soul.

I had a sense I was being watched. My eyes scanned the landscape looking for suspects, but none were to be found. Then, with closer inspection of the flowerbed at the base of that ancient tree, I spotted a groundhog peeking out of his home. He kept a close eye on me. Slowly, I grabbed my cell phone from my pocket and snapped a photo of the critter – looking at me looking at him. I knew my dSLR with telephoto lens would capture a nicer shot, so I carefully crept off the deck, back in to the cottage and grabbed it. I only got one photo of him before he had enough of the paparazzi. You would think I’ve never seen wildlife before.

more to come...

Wordless Conversation :: 001

Photograph (c) 2009 deAnn Roe

The following series of posts titled, "Wordless Conversation" are my inner reflections while living a couple days, alone, in silence on a creative retreat.

Thursday, April 23, 2009
I have arrived.
Quietness invades my soul.
No Blackberry. No TV. No internet connection.
I am here. I am still.
Where it is silent. Where rest can occur.
Listening is the order of the moment.

Pine needles wave to me through the angular window near the sky. The air is chilly, yet the sun is warm. It’s a white light, “mountain sun shine” I called it as a child growing up in the Sierra’s of northern California. The white sunlight doesn’t just cast its glow on to the leaves; but instead, illuminates them, as if the leaves themselves are creating the light. It feels clean, fresh, this white sunlight. Bright and new, after two days of cleansing rain. Longing to be seen and felt – it knows we’ve missed it dearly, its sunny warmth on wind cooled skin. This is the first sunlight my winter complexion has seen.

I’m enjoying full bodied coffee being sipped from the coolest mug I’ve laid eyes on. Unique pottery pinched in three places on the bottom to form pedestals for the mug to rest upon. It’s worth drawing, although I’ve already taken photos of it.

The clicking of an unseen clock speaks to my ears. Time is ticking away but I don’t know where it’s going, nor do I care. The whirl of the ceiling fan over head, I barely feel the fruit of its troubling labor. The refrigerator is chugging away in the background, taking a respite every now and again. Alas, the wall heater growls, scaring the chilly air out of my cozy cottage. For a quick moment, all sing in competition with one another and the noise is unbearable.

Off in the distance, I hear the faint hum of a lawnmower or a weed whacker. No wait! It’s a bumble bee the size of a Blue Jay and its inside my cottage! In the kitchen by the window - I saw it – trying to escape. Not sure what to do, I grabbed a dish towel and swatted at it which caused it to fly into the living room, near the front door. Thankfully, I think the bee wanted out as much I wanted it out! So I opened the glass door and it quickly disappeared. I don’t know where it came from but I hope it doesn’t decide to return.

Lord Jesus, what do you have for me here? As you told me in Israel, (and I have the photos on my screensaver right now to remind me of that experience), “move with God.” That is what I want to do here today and tomorrow. To move with You. Amen.


more to come...

Vision Over Visibility

My friend, John Miller, and his wife, Pam are walking a long and difficult road - one of grief. They lost their son, Benjamin, March 10, 2009. He died, then he was born.

Since Ithe 6th grade, U2 has been one of my favorite bands. Their music and lyrics are arresting and speak to an unfamiliar place in my soul. Their music was not just delightful to my ears, it touched me deeply, but couldn't name where.

Much later in my life, I came to know the love of Jesus and remained a loyal U2 fan. Enter John Miller, a Christian U2 fan as well. For as long as I've known John, he's always helped me see God's redeeming power through the arts, music to be specific. I discovered that I wasn't alone in the way "secular" music can touch our hearts and move us deeply. John knew that feeling well and helped confirmed, tangibly, what my seminary professor drilled into my head, "Life is full of God." He knows our hearts and uses many ways to speak to us. (When I was a brand spanking new Christian, I was told to throw out all my "secular" music and listen ONLY to worship tunes. That did not sit well with me. I have been touched by God in heart-places by such bands as Dave Matthew's Band, Coldplay, and U2. I was not going to toss their music.)

Well, right now John and Pam are clinging to Jesus. And in their darkest of days, He is bringing them love and comfort through the arts; through the inspiring lyrics of Bono. I encourage you to follow John's story as he walks a road of sorrow, yet filled with grace. His website, "Vision Over Visibility," is truly moving and amazing.

Thank you, John, for sharing your un-wished journey with others. As brothers and sisters in Christ, may we carry even a small piece of your burden, as you continue to hold tightly to Jesus.

Grace & peace ~ deAnn

ReCalling Ephesus

For nearly four weeks in the summer of 2004, my husband and I visited the stunningly beautiful country of Turkey. We started our journey in Istanbul, traveled to Antalya and Beldibi and spent two and a half weeks swimming in the Mediterranean Sea. Then we drove west to the Aegean Seaside villages of Kusadasi and Ephesus. Finally, we headed north to Istanbul and then flew home, much to my dismay. It was a trip to remember forever.

One of my favorite places was the ancient city of Ephesus. It was a surreal experience - meandering the same well worn stone-paved streets that the apostle Paul walked for three years while there. As I stood in the middle of the main "drag" surrounded on all sides by the story-laded ruins of the once pagan city, I tried to image Paul and the burden placed in his heart by God for the people of Ephesus. Little did he know that the letters he composed would reach far beyond the years and geography to reach my two eyes and penetrate my heart all the way in Pennsylvania. The burden he had for the Ephsians, the love he wanted to share with them began in those ancient ruins and calls to my heart still, today. I imagined Paul urgently running down the street, his sandals slapping the white stone under his dusty and weary feet. I was standing on sacred ground.

The old stones were very cool to the touch. They seemed to be alive with many stories longing to be shared. I wondered how many people had touched these stones, what conversations were had in front of them, what crimes did they see happening. Oh, if they could only speak. One collection of well placed stones was in the Great Theatre. It is believed that the theater was begun in 100 B.C. But what we see today was mostly built by the Roman's in the first century. Many additions and renovations have been made over the past 2000 years. The image below is taken from sitting pretty high up on the left side of the theatre. The Harbor Road leads from the theatre and ends where the Aegean Sea used to be. The Sea has receded and now is just past the mountain on the left. It's said that the Paul was held in prison on that mountain peak after he was arrested for preaching to the pagans in that very theater (Acts). Imprisoned, Paul could see the theater, pretty diabolical of his captors, if you ask me.

We spent a couple hours taking in the details of the ruined city, the Library of Celsus, the Prytaneion, and the Temple of Hadrian. Each piece our eyes fell upon was a work of art. Not necessarily work of those in love with God, but nonetheless, work of gifted and creative artisan's. Seeing a city such as this, created by pagan workers, yet having such beauty and longevity, made me wonder what Heaven will look like - made by Love, Him self and being prepared for us by our Lord, Jesus. The beauty will be beyond what our eyes can currently handle.

Even to this day, I'm overwhelmed by the gift of traveling to Turkey and seeing where so much of our history began. Way before America was "discovered" the streets of Ephesus (Efes, in Turkish) were teaming with life and God was spreading the Word through His dedicated servants. Scribes recorded the happenings so that we could have one or four Bibles in our very homes today. Being in Efes made the Word come alive to me in very tangible ways. It's funny, God knows how darn visual I am, and I wonder if that is one reason why He's allowed me to travel as I have. What a loving and amazing gift.

Grace & peace ~ deAnn