Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Monday, August 11, 2014
Thursday, January 9, 2014
happily {Ever After} and my return to fairy tales
As most of you know, my two best friends and I started an online Christian community for women called His Ladyship. Our mission is to inspire women of all ages to embrace their royal, God-given inheritance through discovering their limitless value and extraordinary destiny. Our first series we were so ecstatic to introduce is called "Return to Fairy Tales," and here's a little of how I've found my own.
Just a couple nights ago I had this out of the ordinary impulse to watch a movie (since college, I've completely neglected anything projected on my TV). But not just any movie, I wanted to watch Ever After. Entirely unknowingly, I had forgotten that this movie was my very first "grown up" movie I watched as a child. And my, I did not prepare myself for what I would experience watching this as now grown woman (so weird to say!).
While watching this movie, I had the strangest sensation. I was not only having funny memories of rewinding my favorite scenes (the ball and engagement scene) over and over again, countlessly choosing this movie over others at family movie nights (poor daddy), the time I locked myself in the bathroom crying because my older sisters were having a sleepover watching Ever After with their "older" friends and I was not allowed to join because it was past my bedtime, and reenacting the whole movie from start to finish with my three imaginative sisters. While (most) of these memories are sweet and sentimental, I was most intrigued with the way I was remembering my thoughts I used to have, as a seven-ish year-old-girl, throughout the duration of the movie. Ever have those moments? I was literally transported, as the film was unfolding Cinderella's story, to the mind of a little old me.
I had thoughts like...
"People kiss with their mouths open? Gross!!"
And...
"I think the prince is so handsome even though Whitney and Taylor don't!"
Oh, and this one!
"How did she manage to get ready so fast from servant to Countess when she went on that date with the prince?!" (Cosmetologist for life ;) )
I remember the scenes that I would privately act out in my make-believe world, where I was Cinderella and her world was my own. I remember picking up old and adult-looking books and sitting by my fireplace, just as did Cinderella, pretending to read because I scarcely knew how.
How fragile are the things of our childhood. The thoughts, delights, wonders, thrills, questions, scares, and the "anything is possible" spirit. So this was my return, and it was a beautiful one. I remembered the old me and compared it to the knew. And I have to admit, I sorta miss that bashful, sensitive, worry-wart of a little girl. She had an imagination that inspires me!
Just for fun and to celebrate you, I challenge you to flip through an album, read an old book, or watch an old movie from your childhood that will trigger those memories. What fun it is to remember and revisit the old you!
As for me, Ever After, you will ever have my heart and hold the fondest memories of the little me.
-BJM
Just a couple nights ago I had this out of the ordinary impulse to watch a movie (since college, I've completely neglected anything projected on my TV). But not just any movie, I wanted to watch Ever After. Entirely unknowingly, I had forgotten that this movie was my very first "grown up" movie I watched as a child. And my, I did not prepare myself for what I would experience watching this as now grown woman (so weird to say!).
While watching this movie, I had the strangest sensation. I was not only having funny memories of rewinding my favorite scenes (the ball and engagement scene) over and over again, countlessly choosing this movie over others at family movie nights (poor daddy), the time I locked myself in the bathroom crying because my older sisters were having a sleepover watching Ever After with their "older" friends and I was not allowed to join because it was past my bedtime, and reenacting the whole movie from start to finish with my three imaginative sisters. While (most) of these memories are sweet and sentimental, I was most intrigued with the way I was remembering my thoughts I used to have, as a seven-ish year-old-girl, throughout the duration of the movie. Ever have those moments? I was literally transported, as the film was unfolding Cinderella's story, to the mind of a little old me.
I had thoughts like...
"People kiss with their mouths open? Gross!!"
And...
"I think the prince is so handsome even though Whitney and Taylor don't!"
Oh, and this one!
"How did she manage to get ready so fast from servant to Countess when she went on that date with the prince?!" (Cosmetologist for life ;) )
I remember the scenes that I would privately act out in my make-believe world, where I was Cinderella and her world was my own. I remember picking up old and adult-looking books and sitting by my fireplace, just as did Cinderella, pretending to read because I scarcely knew how.
How fragile are the things of our childhood. The thoughts, delights, wonders, thrills, questions, scares, and the "anything is possible" spirit. So this was my return, and it was a beautiful one. I remembered the old me and compared it to the knew. And I have to admit, I sorta miss that bashful, sensitive, worry-wart of a little girl. She had an imagination that inspires me!
Just for fun and to celebrate you, I challenge you to flip through an album, read an old book, or watch an old movie from your childhood that will trigger those memories. What fun it is to remember and revisit the old you!
As for me, Ever After, you will ever have my heart and hold the fondest memories of the little me.
-BJM
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Expressions of the Advent
Expressions of the Advent is a compilation of many things. Coming out of a season of learning and God speaking, I feel as though to adequately usher in this next Christmas season, to slow down and stay in the story, this physical act will force me to dwell of the Advent - the coming, the waiting, and the unwrapping of the greatest gift of our Lord.
God showed me the still, secret joy of eucharisteo in November, and I was even successful in participating in 28 days of photographed thanks! But in the midst of this Instagram trend coming to an end, I came upon this realization:
how can I stop counting, proclaiming blessings when the best gift has yet to come?
So this Advent, my first recognized Advent, I resolve to make my gratitude exceed that of Thanksgiving. These twenty-five days leading up to Christmas will mark a series of artistic expressions in order to prepare my heart to soberly recieve the Gift freely, but weightily given - Jesus Christ. In the scramble of shoppers and frantics of final exam papers, I promise I won't miss Him this year. And hopefully, you won't either.
I invite you now to participate in our own expressions of Advent! Whether it be collaged, written, journaled, sung, or hand-crafted - make them your own! Anything will do, so long as it compels you to stop, still, and be moved by that silent night.
For further inspiration, visit Ann Voskamp's blog to follow along with her expressions of Advent. http://www.aholyexperience.com
-BJM
God showed me the still, secret joy of eucharisteo in November, and I was even successful in participating in 28 days of photographed thanks! But in the midst of this Instagram trend coming to an end, I came upon this realization:
how can I stop counting, proclaiming blessings when the best gift has yet to come?
So this Advent, my first recognized Advent, I resolve to make my gratitude exceed that of Thanksgiving. These twenty-five days leading up to Christmas will mark a series of artistic expressions in order to prepare my heart to soberly recieve the Gift freely, but weightily given - Jesus Christ. In the scramble of shoppers and frantics of final exam papers, I promise I won't miss Him this year. And hopefully, you won't either.
I invite you now to participate in our own expressions of Advent! Whether it be collaged, written, journaled, sung, or hand-crafted - make them your own! Anything will do, so long as it compels you to stop, still, and be moved by that silent night.
For further inspiration, visit Ann Voskamp's blog to follow along with her expressions of Advent. http://www.aholyexperience.com
-BJM
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Limitless
If there is one thing I have learned in this life about my gender, it is that we want to feel valued, loved, and cherished.
Value. What if it wasn't measured by how others perceive us? What if it wasn't about how talented we were at our professed passion, whether or not we had a good man (or any man at all), or our self summed up scale of beauty?
If I was being stark honest, it's my own struggle to find value that has lead me to write. And somehow, I know I'm not the only one. The trouble is we are trying to find value in things and in people - but these measurements always fall short.
The very very beautiful thing is that no one can appraise our value, not even ourselves. Would you believe me if I told you that your value can't change based off the listing above and that it can't be evaluated on a scale? Measurements pertain to limits, but your value is limitless.
Value, in business terms, is determined by demand. So, what if we as fragile female creatures don't feel like we are in high demand...or in any demand at all? That we are useless, incapable, undesirable, and unnoticeable. But did you know that there is such a high demand for you that Jesus died so that He could intimately know, love, and cherish that beautiful soul of yours? And that because He did this, we are now able to shed our failures and fears and become new creations in Christ? Oh yes, heaven has a high demand for you. You were bought, purchased, at the highest cost, and you are not up for the bargain.
What we need to come to realize is that God has put a price tag on you!
The very very beautiful thing is that no one can appraise our value, not even ourselves. Would you believe me if I told you that your value can't change based off the listing above and that it can't be evaluated on a scale? Measurements pertain to limits, but your value is limitless.
Value, in business terms, is determined by demand. So, what if we as fragile female creatures don't feel like we are in high demand...or in any demand at all? That we are useless, incapable, undesirable, and unnoticeable. But did you know that there is such a high demand for you that Jesus died so that He could intimately know, love, and cherish that beautiful soul of yours? And that because He did this, we are now able to shed our failures and fears and become new creations in Christ? Oh yes, heaven has a high demand for you. You were bought, purchased, at the highest cost, and you are not up for the bargain.
What we need to come to realize is that God has put a price tag on you!
It reads: immeasurable. exquisite. chosen. priceless. worthy. redeemed. loved. free. child. daughter. beloved. beautiful.
Ladies, you are prized at the highest of worth, far too costly for God to let go. Every spec of unlovely, hint of shame, or singe of pain has been redeemed so that no one can sum up your value but He - because He became sin, ugliness, chagrin, insecurity, and fear when He gave His life for yours on the cross.
Now that we've captured our limitless value, I want to pose a question I often ask myself: are you stripping value from people or are you bringing value to people in the way you engage or don't engage them? Are you a value giver or a value stripper? What if we treated others as if we had the lens of Christ, seeing them for their true value of worth?
So how can we live in such a way that celebrates others? A few ways in which I feel God is teaching me is to listen intently, speak truth, encourage one another in love, rejoice in the dreams of others, and be attentive to those God puts in our path. If this lifestyle is as challenging for you as it is for me (especially when it comes to those test-ies), ask the Holy Spirit to help you in this way and watch how the fruits of the Spirt seep into the way you love others.
All my love,
-BJM
All my love,
-BJM
Monday, August 12, 2013
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Further Still, But Growing Near
Scared, anxious, my story, here
-BJM
Spoken, sung, rejection, I fear
Insecurity, envy, melancholy tears
Suppressed voice, eager ears
Surrender, trust, Oh Lord, will You steer?
Dreams, visions, Words become clear
Grace sufficient, from shadows reveal
Further still, but growing near
-BJM
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Paper Maps and Red Light Bulbs
In seventy-five days, eight hours, and nine minutes, I will turn twenty-one years old. In my entire life as an almost twenty-one-year-old, there has been one moment in my life when I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was it. A brief moment of clarity when I knew the God-given purpose for my life.
Growing up in church as a youth pastor’s daughter, and one of six kids at the time, I always had the best church experiences. The church was a second home for my siblings and me, and we acted just like it. At seven years old, Wednesday nights were the highlight of my week. Dinner at McDonald’s (because 39 cent hamburgers was cheap eating on a pastor’s budget), Royals Rangers for the boys, Missionettes for the girls, and mid-week prayer service for my parents. It was one of those nights when 8:30pm rolled around and kids were let loose...but the adults were still in prayer service.
Freedom.
We thought as we roamed about the old, traditional Baptist building our Assembly of God church purchased a few years back. Oh the games us kids thought up in all the time our parents experienced the third coming of the holy spirit and revival breaking loose...from princes and princesses, to mini-church, to haunted horror. We must have been in the middle of one of these scenarios when the strict Miss Tammy caught us at the top of the steeple and sent us straight into service to sit with our parents. I remember feeling so embarrassed, aggravated, bored, and probably a little tired too, but despite all of those emotions of a perturbed seven-year-old, the Lord had a message He was trying to get through to me. I don’t remember the missionary that stood behind the pulpit. I couldn’t tell you where he was from or even what he said, but whatever it was, it shook me into a much deeper reality from my previous state of mind.
The service ended, and like many Wednesday nights, my parents stayed late talking. While waiting I took a stroll down the hall, walking bewilderment , trying to make sense of the needs that so heavily burdened my heart. I suddenly found myself looking up at our church’s world map that swallowed both the wall and myself. I studied it for a minute and then began to carefully push each button, watching in awe as the mini lightning bulbs flickered from country to country, showing the light of all our supported missionaries around the world....and in that moment I knew it. That was it. One day I would be one of those lightning bulbs lighting up a paper map. I would be a missionary.
Growing up in church as a youth pastor’s daughter, and one of six kids at the time, I always had the best church experiences. The church was a second home for my siblings and me, and we acted just like it. At seven years old, Wednesday nights were the highlight of my week. Dinner at McDonald’s (because 39 cent hamburgers was cheap eating on a pastor’s budget), Royals Rangers for the boys, Missionettes for the girls, and mid-week prayer service for my parents. It was one of those nights when 8:30pm rolled around and kids were let loose...but the adults were still in prayer service.
Freedom.
We thought as we roamed about the old, traditional Baptist building our Assembly of God church purchased a few years back. Oh the games us kids thought up in all the time our parents experienced the third coming of the holy spirit and revival breaking loose...from princes and princesses, to mini-church, to haunted horror. We must have been in the middle of one of these scenarios when the strict Miss Tammy caught us at the top of the steeple and sent us straight into service to sit with our parents. I remember feeling so embarrassed, aggravated, bored, and probably a little tired too, but despite all of those emotions of a perturbed seven-year-old, the Lord had a message He was trying to get through to me. I don’t remember the missionary that stood behind the pulpit. I couldn’t tell you where he was from or even what he said, but whatever it was, it shook me into a much deeper reality from my previous state of mind.
The service ended, and like many Wednesday nights, my parents stayed late talking. While waiting I took a stroll down the hall, walking bewilderment , trying to make sense of the needs that so heavily burdened my heart. I suddenly found myself looking up at our church’s world map that swallowed both the wall and myself. I studied it for a minute and then began to carefully push each button, watching in awe as the mini lightning bulbs flickered from country to country, showing the light of all our supported missionaries around the world....and in that moment I knew it. That was it. One day I would be one of those lightning bulbs lighting up a paper map. I would be a missionary.
-BJM
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