MARK 5 WOMAN – part 6

I talk to God every night. He never talks back. Sometimes I think He is listening but sometimes I wonder if His ears are full of wax.

I have discussed this issue with my Papa. Papa says that I am wrong to think that God should speak to me. He says that God only speaks through Rabbi’s and that I should go to Synagogue on a more frequent basis.

Synagogue is boring. Those rusty old men who sit around with their noses up in the air as if they are better than  me because they are men and I am merely a young lady. Am I to learn about God from such arrogance?

They prance around as if they are demi-gods, lauding their righteousness.

If they knew my thoughts about my love they would be tempted to pick up stones and stone me. My thoughts about Mr. Amazing are not pure, they are full of lust, but at least I am honest.

I digress though. This feeling that I have for my love is one of desperation. How can desperation be love? It leaves me weak and fearful.

If God is involved should I not feel peace? Why do I fear that he will never be mine? Why does he have this effect on me?

He is gone now and I can not rest. I have a fitful sleep. In the day my mind is consumed by him.

I must go paint, that is the only thing which keeps my mind occupied, other than him. I can not paint him anymore. I already have scads of sketches and paintings of him.

I must paint a bird today.  I have decided to capture the Wall Creeper in flight.

It seems as if  God was a bit undecided when forming this bird. The bird is a lovely  dusky gray with a sliver of crimson riding on its wings. When it takes flight the crimson explodes from the base of the wing. The crimson is breath taking in its explosion, only more so because at the end of the wing there is black with white polka dots for contrast. What a beauty this creation is, such a masterpiece, created by God.

This bird leads me to believe that the Rabbi’s do not even touch the hem of God’s creativity with their stuffiness. I hope I may feel His presence as I am painting today.

As soon as my hand touches my brush I feel Him coursing through me.



Continuing on in my reflection of the temptation of Christ I now have come to the point where Jesus has fasted for forty days and forty nights.

He was in the wilderness where no one else accompanied him. Being without food for forty days is quite a feat.

I believe that I would not be able to sustain past day two without food. It is not that I enjoy eating, in fact most days I rarely eat much until the middle of the afternoon. If I didn’t have food for a few days I imagine that food would seem quite paramount to my level of joy.

It is at our point of weakness that the devil attacks. Jesus’ hunger was His point of weakness. The devil knew that Jesus could turn stones into bread. He was present during Creation, He could create anything and everything.

So in that temptation was not the devil trying to have Jesus show his power? Would that not be good? Is this not the same Son of God who fed the five thousand with one fish and a loaf of bread?

Jesus’ answer was truthful. He did not say He was not hungry for He was. He said, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.”

My interpretation of this answer is that it is not wrong to eat or to enjoy life. He did not deny his hunger in this statement but He gave glory only to God.

Over the past two years I have walked a path that others thought was a path of insanity. I have abandoned a career which was my income producing career to follow what I believe is God’s path for my life. I had heard through a dream the voice of God many years ago. The voice said, “You should be a Christian writer.”

I have not gone without food for forty days but I am becoming fearful that my savings will not sustain me past the spring.

The Lord has provided for me so far through friends and family, but I am yearning to provide for myself through my calling of God as a Christian writer. That is why I have started the series on the Mark 5 woman. It will become a novel and I will only post a certain amount of posts on this blog and then I will ask my readers to buy the novel.

I have encountered a vicious attack by my ex-husband, the family courts and the AG of Texas on my finances. It seems as if they seek to destroy me but every time I think of giving in and returning to my past career  someone comes along side of me to encourage me.

I feel each time I get a new follower or someone comments on my blog that you have become a partner with me in achieving God’s will for my life.

So for everyone who has visited my blog I want to thank you. You are helping me resist temptation to go after temporal pleasures and assisting me to achieve eternal rewards.

Just by reading my blog you are partnering with me to achieve God’s will in my life. When my novel  is finished I would appreciate your continued support with a purchase of the novel.

Thank you so much for assisting God in His plan for my life.

MARK 5 WOMAN – part 5

I have to start painting something other than him. If only as a ruse to use as a decoy for my obsession of him, I must capture other objects.

I began to walk through my village with a different view. I now view everything through a lens of beauty.

Even the black, basalt stone that our house is  constructed with is at risk for interpretation through my brush.

The day I happen upon the lilly flower in the pond I am ecstatic. I rush back to my house and grab a canvas, paints and a brush.

The purple petals emerge from the pad as if they are royalty amongst flowers. The striking shade of yellow in the middle make my insides flutter with joy. What beauty is before me!

I feel as if God has opened up my heart through this silly brush, I grasp so desperately, to a world which I have not seen.

Tenderly I dip the hairs of my brush into the colored oils seeking to recreate God’s magnificent beauty.

I am lost in the moment as the moment travels forcefully to become an hour. The sun is setting in the West as I finish the last of what looks like porcupine quills surrounding the yellow center.

My back is hurting from the frozen posture that I have entertained throughout the afternoon. I lay my canvas down and get up to stretch, brushing the hair out of my eyes and allow my eyes to wander.

They didn’t wander long. My love was gazing at me from across the pond. Our eyes locked as the sun slid down the sky. He flashed me an amused look and spun on his heels, walking away.

He had a sack over his shoulder and he was walking away from our village, not towards it.

My first impulse was to dash after him. I would beg him to take me with him. If that didn’t work, I would forbid him from taking even one more step away from me.

How did I get to be this way?

It didn’t feel like love, it felt like fear. If I loved him I would not be trying to cage him.

There is something wrong with the way I love. I must talk with God about that this evening.









Recently I have been discussing my favorite Bible verse.  This verse  is the one where God states that Jesus is His beloved Son, in whom He is pleased.

Right after Jesus was baptized he encountered the temptation of the devil.

As I continued on in my reading I was disturbed by something. In Matthew, the New King James version says He was led by the Spirit of God into the wilderness. In Mark the Bible states that the Spirit of God drove him into the wilderness.

Why would God do such a thing?

How else could Jesus understand how it was to be fully human if he was not tempted as we are in our weaknesses?

He had no food for forty days. God could have slipped him some food but He didn’t. He gave Manna to the Israelites but He didn’t give a crumb to His own son. Really?

Satan tempted Him with food and Jesus refused, stating that God’s word was sustenance enough for Him.

Satan then tempted Him to do something foolish, jump off a pinnacle.

I wonder if after forty days of not eating and standing on a pinnacle if the knees of Jesus trembled and if He felt faint?  It would have been understandable if he would have stumbled and fallen off of the pinnacle or even jumped. He surely didn’t have much strength to stand upright.

Furthermore if Jesus  took a jump or fell  then He would have been caught by God and God would have been given the glory right?

Not so much, because in that act He would have been obeying Satan and not God.  Jesus was wise enough  to know that God’s power is not to be misused.

Satan was not to be undone. He then led Jesus up on a mountain and showed Him the glory of the world.

The world is in Satan’s grasp and He could have handed it on a silver platter to Jesus.All Jesus would have had to do is to serve Satan.

I wonder how much oxygen Jesus’ brain was getting. Forty days without food would leave a body in severe malaise and very anemic. What good was God if Jesus died of hunger?

Don’t we many times look at those who have partnered with the devil and who have become wealthy  and wonder just where God’s measure of justice is? If living for God is not a productive venture then why engage in it? Why not instead serve the devil who rewards in this life?

At this point Jesus had had enough. He banished the devil from His presence saying that the only one He would worship was the Lord.

Friends, Jesus knows how we feel when we are tempted. It is important for us to draw near to God to receive wisdom and power to withstand the temptations of the Devil. It is never more so important as today when Satan’s rule is so broad and ingrained in every facet of society.

In James 5:7-8, the Word of our Lord says, “Therefore submit to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you. Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners; and purify your hearts, you double-minded.”

If Jesus could resist the devil and we have His spirit in our hearts through our belief then it is not impossible for us to do the same.

MARK 5 WOMAN – part 4

Mama asked him over for the evening meal. I begged her not to.

She is not good about listening to me.  She said that it was something that Jewish mothers do – that not listening stuff.

She made a meal that was her best. Papa even mentioned how tasty it was and he never says much about food. He normally only talks about money.

They called me to the dinner table and the only place I could sit was right across from Mr. Amazing.  I kept my eyes glued to my plate, afraid I would drool if I lifted my eyes to gaze upon his beauty.

Then he started telling his stories. Pretty soon I started giggling, then laughing uncontrollably.

It was impossible for me to eat without spitting my food out.  I pushed my plate away and stole a glance at him. He was glancing at me, his eyes crinkled at the edges as laughter filled the air.

“So what do you do to occupy your time?” He asked with an inquisitive lifting of his eyebrows.

“I p…” I stopped before the word could slip out.

What would he think if I told him I painted? He may ask to see my paintings. I couldn’t show him what I had painted. He would surely think I had lost my mind.

My face was burning with heat. I looked at my Papa, pleading with unspoken words for him to save me from my embarrassment.

“She putters around the house all day.” Papa said with pride as if puttering was the grandest of all jobs to do.

“She does more than just putter, Papa,” Mama said with a twinkle in her eye as she looked at Papa.

Oh, no, Mama, please don’t say that I paint.

“She helps me mend, she helps me with cooking and she always keeps her room clean. She will make some man a good wife some day.” Mama looked at Mr. Amazing with sincerity.

I had never known Mama to speak an outright lie but that bit about my room being clean was the biggest lie had ever heard.

Mr Amazing was having an affect on my family and even though lying is a sin, somehow I thought God may let that lie slide past.



My favorite Bible verse is Matthew 3:17 where God opens the heavens descending upon Jesus like a dove. The Spirit of God then speaks words of affirmation to His Son.

“This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

I have been meditating on this passage of scripture recently, seeking truth, which may be hidden, waiting to be discovered.

I will humbly share my reflections with you and ask for your feedback.

Today I was reading it again and I realized that this affirmation happened before the start of Jesus’ ministry, right after His baptism.

I have read some of the books on the lost Gospels. In these manuscripts, which were not allowed for public consumption, there are stories about Jesus as a child and also as a young man.

One of the stories I remember about him was that he had gotten angry at one of his childhood friends and the friend died. Everyone blamed him for the death so he brought the dead friend back to life. It seemed characteristically easy for him to do such a miracle even at a young age.

The other story about Jesus was an observation. Someone had seen him by a river creating birds apparently. He was just sitting at the side of the river and forming birds out of clay and they would take form and fly off.

I wish I had been there. I would have had so much fun with him as a child.

So he had the ability to take and give life and to create from the time of birth. These miracles were not considered a part of his ministry.

His ministry started after His baptism and this affirmation from God. God showered Him with love before He was known as the Messiah before He became well known for His miracles.

Does this not give further weight to the concept that God’s love is unconditional and not based on works?

We are saved by grace, it is a gift, from a loving Father. All we have to do is believe that He loved us enough to sacrifice His son for our sins.

It is a matter of our hearts not our hands. It is how we love, not how we toil, which pleases God.

If our heavenly Father who is so Holy and Righteous can love us with this kind of love, should we not strive to love our children in the same manner?

MARK 5 WOMAN – part 3

The man who caught my heart soon became quite a fixture in our stone house. He regaled my Papa with humorous stories of his travels.

Always I felt his eyes watching me, searching me, as I flitted about trying to distract myself.

As soon as he was gone I would disappear into my room, which was now littered with shards of charcoal, splattered paint and canvases stacked with precision in the corner.

There was little room for me. My life had been consumed. Maybe my Mama was right when she accused me of being “too far gone.”

The minute he walked out the door I was consumed with fear that he would not come back. The only way I could ensure he would linger in my heart was to draw and paint him.

My Mama and Papa had no idea why I was hiding from them.

One day when I was on a mission to find a certain shade of pink for his lips they became curious and began snooping.

I could tell when I got back that someone had viewed each and every painting. They had been moved.

I was furious and enraged. How dare anyone touch him but me. Yes, I know, the paintings were not really him, but they were for me to touch, only me. I feared that if I touched him I would lose myself in entirety, never to be my own person again.

In all honesty I think I may have overrated the importance of being me, without him, that is.


I remember the day as if it was yesterday. My mother bought me some new white socks. They were knee-highs and I believe she intended for me to wear them to church. She made such a big thing about them you would have thought they cost a million dollars.

We were not poor. I am not sure why she placed such importance on this item, maybe because they were white.

As a young girl my favorite thing to do on the farm was to go outside in the summer time. I would make mud pies out in the yard. I would play in the garage in my play house which would always contain a collection of wasps and flies, as well as dust and dirt. Other days I would romp around with my brother, playing football and faking claustrophobia when he tackled me.

It didn’t take long for those new socks to find themselves on my feet and my feet to be running outside to play.

As luck would have it my Dad was painting something on the yard. He was painting that something with John Deere green paint.

He asked me if I wanted to try painting and then gave me a brush and some paint. He told me I could paint a bit on the concrete in front of the shed he was working on.

So I grabbed that brush, stuck it in the paint and started to transform the concrete into a bright green. It was but a minute when I noticed that I was effectively not only painting the concrete but I was also splattering that grass green paint on my new white socks.

I was horrified. My mother was not one to take things such as this lightly. I knew I would be screamed at.

What was I to do?

First, I tried to eliminate the evidence. I scurried inside and tried to wash out the green, having no such luck, I resorted to plan B. I would hide the socks in my closet.

That I did, the wet green and white socks were crumpled up in a ball and hid on a shelf in my closet.

They stayed there for quite some time until my mother smelled something off in my closet. (blast it, I didn’t think of mildew ruining my plan B) She pulled the socks from their hiding place and asked me very kindly about the blob.

I, of course, feigned complete ignorance as to what the blob was and told a “white” lie.

It was wrong of me to do so and I did feel guilty.

As an adult I understand the reason for my lie. My mother had always given the impression to me that things were much more important to her than my feelings.

If, as a child, I had known that my mother loved me more than those white socks, I would have been truthful. I would have known that although there would be a talk about keeping things clean this talk would have been followed by a hug and affirmation of my worth as a child.

Children lie when they are fearful of the truth hurting them. If a parent understands this dynamic they will make the environment for the child one of comfort when confronting them.

It is difficult, if not impossible, to lie in the presence of unconditional love.


I have heard it said that one never knows the value of something until it is lost.

I have lost everything that I once loved during the past twelve years.

Before the bleeding started I was at the pinnacle of the universe.

I was beautiful, well respected and in love.

I still remember the day my love caught my eye as he walked past my house.

He gave me a look which stole my breath and sent my heart on a wild race.

My heart still skips a beat when I remember that day.

He was more than handsome, he was exquisite.

I had to capture his face somehow. It was the first time I considered painting.

It was a desire which became a passion. Some said it had become my obsession.

I tried sketching him first, my fingers became blackened with charcoal. My mother fussed at me for soiling everything with charcoal. I giggled at her. He was worth the soiling.

I don’t know if he knew I existed. Every day when he walked past my father’s house I would stare at him, hiding my intense gaze behind trees, bushes, and the crevices of our stone house.

I would pick a new angle daily, searching to immortalize this man. God he was beautiful.

Then one day it happened. He approached my father regarding a business proposal. I hid behind a curtain but gazed at him in secret for the span of a whole sunset.

The next time he came to visit, I felt him before I saw him. I was at the wash basin washing vegetables for dinner.

I didn’t hear his steps but I knew it was him. My body felt him. I heard his breath slowly, sensually, slithering in and out between his pearly white teeth.

I wiped my hands on a cloth and turned around, stunned at his close proximity to my chest. He was so close every cell in my body tingled with excitement.

His eyes crinkled into a sensual grin and he enquired about the presence of my father.

I couldn’t speak. My breath had left me again. I merely pointed like a deaf and mute child to the bedroom and after a moment whispered,”napping.”

“I will come back,” he softly spoke.

“Please do,” I whispered, locking the gaze of his eyes into the memory of my mind.

His hand caressed my face and he turned, striding with long and dignified steps to the door.

I absorbed every nuance in his gait. I etched every wisp of his curly black hair in my mind. I memorized the slight curve of his shoulders.

I suspect he left that day with two hearts beating in his chest because mine was racing to become one with his.

As soon as he was gone I catapulted out of my house. I ran into the street like a mad woman. I began screaming,”Paint, I need paint! Who sells paint?”

I started painting that day. My painting continued through the night by the light of an oil lamp. I finished my first portrait of him as the sun broke through the eastern sky.

I swear the likeness was so remarkable I could see the portrait breathing.


I was working at a hospital when I had the encounter with envy. Envy is an evil I don’t characteristically welcome in my heart or mind but it stealthily crept into my heart on that day.

There was a couple who worked in the hospital as Respiratory Therapists.

They stopped by to chat with me and I engaged in conversation.

They were not pleasant looking people but they had something which many couples lack. They had love.The beauty of their love masked their appearance.

As the conversation blossomed they told me about their daughters. Contine reading