Deep Calls To Deep

I just read an article online about this verse:

Psalm 42:7
Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.

The article, which I won’t link to here because I’m about to disagree (LOL), states that this could be David lamenting about his troubles. Watching a waterfall spill on top of itself, churning up bad memories and events.

I disagree.

This verse calls to me. Calls to the deep. Are you deep?

Meaningful calls to meaningful. Intelligent calls to intelligent. Known calls to known. God calls to those who seek Him. And those who seek Him hear His voice.

At the beginning of the psalm, David is talking about his deep yearning, thirst, for God. Deep calls to deep as thirst calls to water. Connected. Deep connection. One must satisfy the other. God must satisfy our desire. You cannot slake thirst with anything but water. Deep calls FOR deep.

The article did hit on one detail. They talked about the metaphor of water. The bible talks about water many times. The flood of Noah. The punishment of Egypt and the salvation and ransom of Israel with the parting of the Red Sea. The direction of Jonah. The baptism of Christ. Jacob’s well-the well at which Jesus met the woman. The spring of eternal life bubbling up inside. The thirst that is quenched with the words of God. Jesus as the fisher of men. The boat saved. The storm stilled. Water was used over and over in the bible as a cleansing, a washing away of sin and fear. Life-giving, life-changing water.

The article said that the use of water in this instance is a mighty force. Yes. I agree.

That force here is God. IMO. Deep calls to deep. God calls to holy? He calls us. The roar of your waterfall. The fall of your grace down upon our sin and it is washed away. Your mighty power pounds away at the rock of sin. And we don’t sink. We bubble up and float away with the hope of a full and deep river. All your waves and breakers have swept over me.

If you’ve ever been in the ocean, just at the shore, the waves crash and agitate relentlessly. The water is constantly churning the sand and shells to break over and over on land. It’s a washing machine of sorts. And so is our daily-renewed relationship with the Spirit. Grinding down the broken pieces. Smoothing out the rough edges.

The tide of the Spirit comes in and offers up treasures and fruits of the sea. Shells of patience. Drops of love. Foamy, soft breakers of joy. Rolling push-pull of generosity. Sweeping kindness. Salty spray of endurance. Permanence of self-control.

Yes. Water. God is powerful. His waves and breakers have swept over me. He calls to me. Softens me. Renews me.

His love is deep. Deep calls to deep. Love calls to love. It is not trouble I picture. It is mighty power sweeping over, overwhelming my sin. Rescuing me from trouble. Calling me above my weakness. Raising my sunken body from the floor, floating to the top of good. Calling me close. Calling to my depth. Bringing hope to the dark, still bottom that nothing but Water can reach.

Trouble and sin cannot exist where the Water and Light can touch. He has swept away trouble with His power.

His “…power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Or–His function is used in our shortcomings. Does that make sense?

These are just my thoughts. I’m no theologian. But I love this verse and it means so much to me. God calls to my inmost being. The person he created and knew before my parents gave birth. He calls to my soul. He knows me. He has power over me. He rights my wrongs. He is my help. He is within me. And I am made from Him. Deep calls to deep. Kind calls to kind. And I have been swept clean by His mighty force. I have been refined by Your constant loving water.

 

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Pencil Princess Profile Picture

My daughter drew this for her user avatar. So cute. I gave her a lesson in Photoshop in detailing with the white outline and effect on the pencil skirt. 🙂 Love this idea! Lilli, you’re so talented.

Pencil Princess

I already have my amazing Pencil Princess logo (thanks, Crafty B!), but I also wanted to create a character that represented my online persona. Rather than being my website’s icon, the character would be my WordPress profile picture for when I made and replied to comments.

The original concept I had for my profile picture was a girl wearing the pencil crown from my logo. It was a simple idea, and I didn’t spend any time at all thinking about it. As I was drawing it, it became more of a chore than a fun activity. I remember that my hand was shaking by the time I finished inking because I had so little energy to work on it. And then there was the final straw: after I had outlined everything and was erasing the sketch underneath, my paper ripped. At the time, I was very upset. I would…

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An Out-of-This-World Father’s Day

Amazing! So adorable. What a lucky dad!! Love it.

Pencil Princess

Untitled drawing So cute! By the way, this is definitely a completely, 100% accurate depiction of how the moon was created. Yep.

I usually limit myself to one post a day, but I figured that I would make an exception because today is Father’s Day. Don’t worry, I’ll still have something to put up tomorrow!

I stayed up late last night to make this cute picture for my dad using my Sargent Art gel pens. He really likes science and space, so I wanted to make him something with that in mind. Also, when I was little, I used to run circles around him all the time. When he heard the song Satellite by Guster, it reminded him of that, so that’s why he calls me his satellite.

In school, I heard that Earth was hit by a very large object, and one of the chunks that broke off in the…

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Paterfamilias

That’s a snap of my dad. I’m the little red-hooded halfling almost cropped out, just behind him. Nice jean jacket, Dad.


My dad didn’t give me much. What he did give me though is everything. A sense of humor. Learning to laugh at yourself is so important. When you have nothing else, e.g. talent, ability, grace or aptitude; if you have a sense of humor, you can endure all things.

My dad used to say things like, “I work my country ass off!” And, “Give me hell, I’m the devil.” LOL

One day, in a mood of silliness, my dad tied two brightly-colored balloons to his ears. They floated high above his bald head as he walked out of Wal-mart, greeting each new customer, “Thank you for shopping at Wal-mart.” I was humiliated on the outside, but inside, I was screaming, “Yeah, my dad’s a fuggin’ freak and that’s friggin’ awesome! Let your freak flag fly, Daddy!” LOL I wish I had been brave enough to show him my approval. It might have comforted him to know that he wasn’t alone.

My dad was also abusive. Verbally, emotionally and sometimes, very rarely, physically. I forgive him for that. I have forgiven him for a long time. I remember the abuse, but I choose to focus on the positive things; the love he gave, the tenderness he showed, the loyalty he displayed.

Another memory that I will never forget is the day my father showed me the greatest amount of tenderness. I asked if I go could run an errand with him in the old Ford pickup we used around the farm. Typically, he begrudgingly allowed me to tag along, but sometimes not at all. But this day, he was excited to have me.

I hopped up in the cab with him and he laid his giant hand on the well-worn bench seat. “Are you my pardner?” I grabbed his meaty paw and said lovingly, “Yeah, Dad.”

We didn’t say much else. Just smiles and camaraderie.

No other memory of him was as meaningful and sustaining. He’s gone. 27 years he’s been gone. He’s been gone for longer than I had him in my life. But his closeness is nearer than ever before. I hope that he looks down on me with approval, but the truth is, I’m sure he’s too busy enjoying paradise.

I love you, Dad! Happy Father’s Day. Thank you for my sense of humor.


And Happy Father’s Day to the best dad I know, Guy Maggio. You’re an amazing example of love, grace and acceptance. Even if you don’t always know what to say or do, you’re here, you care and whatta sense of humor! You make life more than bearable. You make it exciting. Worth living. Love you. Thank you for being my baby-daddy.

Line Art: Ladybug Girl

Poof! Another cool drawing. Lilli, you’re so prolific! I love these.

Pencil Princess

LadybugGirl She looks so friendly!

Here’s another drawing of an animal-themed girl. This one is based on a cute ladybug! She was actually the first one I drew, and I had so much fun doing it. I wish I could wear that fantastic dress of hers! Again, I plan to color this soon, and I’ll upload the finished version here to my blog. I scanned the line art beforehand so that if I do create a coloring book, I can put this in it!

The obvious part of the girl’s design that makes her a ladybug is the bottom half of the dress, with the outer spotted layer covering the inner, almost leaf-like layer. These are meant to look like ladybug wings. In addition, ladybugs are social creatures, so I wanted to give her a warm and inviting expression. The iris of her eye is meant to be ladybug-shaped, as is…

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Swimming, Drowning

Swimming through the past. An ocean of negative feelings and tremendous waves of guilt, doubt, hurt and resentment pound you against the sand of time.

I swam in several oceans. Just this morning.

If you can read this, it’s because I trust you.

No.

It’s not.

Well, sort of.

It’s because I’m willing to give you one chance before I don’t. So I trust you. For now.

It’s funny because I trust this online group of fellow writers more than I do my own flesh and blood. I trust you more because you and I are the same.

You understand the tiny intricacies and intimacies of out-loud emotion. Sensitivity to environment and relationships. You observe life and tell it again. Live it again. An editor said to Susan Weidener, “Writing is living twice.”

Writers are brave enough to live, even the bad parts, twice. Suck the marrow.


“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms…”  Henry David Thoreau


YOU (Reader/Writer)=Preservationist. Historian. Testifier. Guardian. Lover of words, people, experiences, life.

I understand. Mad respect.

This morning, I crushed a tiny flying insect between my index finger and thumb. Without thought. It continued to fly around my face and it was extremely annoying. S/he landed on my shirt and I took my chance.

Somehow, now and again, I feel just like that bug. Crushed without thought by some annoyed acquaintance.

I’ve mainly felt that way around certain creative types who have enormous ego and too little time to care for another. Improv actors. Improv actors are good at one thing. Thinking up jokes on the spot. Otherwise, adulting is just too hard.

The trouble is impulse control. They have none. I should know. I married an improviser. Ironic, I know.

The same impulse that tells them to say something funny or true on stage? That’s the same impulse in life that gets you socked in the gob by a gnarly stranger. Most of us learn to control that impulse to blurt out something ridiculous. Improvisers are rewarded for such behavior with laughter, slaps on the back and applause.

My husband’s improv friends for the most part were a tightly-loomed clique of quick-witted attention whores who constantly tried to one-up each other. If you couldn’t hang, you were just a hanger-on.

I’m damn funny. But not an improviser. I’ve tried. I’m not an improv-er mainly because I have strict impulse guidelines and fear rejection. Plus, my brain just does not work that fast. My judgment slows my reaction. I can improv. Just not at the same level as my husband.

For years I tried to fit in, be supportive, hang on. But it is wholly unsatisfying to be surrounded by adult toddlers most of the time. It’s exhausting.

No one ever seemed to be able to hold more than a five-minute conversation. Never about anything real either. It was usually a 5-minute joke-off/caffeine/smoke break. And they certainly didn’t care about your personal details unless it benefited them in some way. Exhausting.

Most successful improv-ers IMO have compartmentalized lives. Improv is over here. Family, life, job is waaaay over there. And that’s just not me. I want to be fully integrated. Real. Whole. And I want my husband to be, too. He’s working on it. Doing really good. But we haven’t seen that whole improv crowd for years.

I mainly swam around in regret for a few minutes this morning because I just finally deleted most of those people from my LinkedIn page. Seeing all those faces again just made me sad and mad all over again. The rejection of my true self, the rejection of my ability, the rejection of my offer of genuine friendship. Tears came fast and hard without warning, without rationale.

But, I’ve written about it and I feel okay now. Plus, I am too busy to tire myself in this choppy ocean of feelings. I’m sure you understand. 🙂

 

By His Wounds

Jesus is the Physician that came to heal the sick,
Not the well.

Jesus is the Lover that came to embrace the hateful/hated,
Not the pretenders.

Jesus is the Savior that came to rescue the sinners,
Not the saints.

Jesus is the Redeemer that came to raise the dead.
To sound the alarm and resurrect the lost.

He left the 99
To find the 1.

Get found.


Psalm 147:3
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

Amen.