We had 24 artists at this month’s collaborative meeting! Praise God!
If you are new to the C.cada scene here is our mission statement:
C.cada (Cornerstone Christian artist’s day apart) was begun in an effort to give artists from every genre an opportunity to come together to discover, develop, and deploy their talents in ways that will better the church and the community.
Yesterday we met, had breakfast then painted, wrote, played and carved away the morning. After lunch we met for a collaborative Bop session….That is we learned and practiced writing bop poetry. Here are some of our submissions:
Best Intentions
by Jill Poland
used by permission
Oh Glorious garden of beauty and peace
Suddenly decimated by an invasion of hungry pests.
All I wanted was to enjoy the fragrance.
All I needed was some rest.
Why does this always happen?
Why, oh why, did I allow those locusts in?
Never answer the phone on a Friday afternoon
I know God’s Garden is eternal,
But the destruction looks so real.
Oh I hate those lying vermin
Destroying my refuge.
Where did my pretty flowers go?
I must find the way out,
Out of the darkness and the lies.
I know my hope is true.
Never answer the phone on a Friday afternoon
I stop staring at the broken flowers
Mangled and left to die.
I sprinkle that dark shadowy place
With faith and hope and love.
With the lying shadows dispelled, my garden reappears!
My lovely peaceful garden that was always truly there!
He could thunder with the best of them, drew crowds from all across the county. His Bible was cracked with the whacking it took upon the pulpit. His fingers were gnarled from curling them heavenward to draw down the fire upon men who drank too much and woman who cackled like hens behind their husband’s backs. His eyes were fixed in that perpetual stare of hard earned judgment that can only come from the self-indulgence of over-fasting.
His posters got the saints to whispering about the coming revival and the back-sliders to mocking about the coming judgment which in the hubris of both parties was really the same thing gone sour on both ends like an overripe banana.
In the end when everyone stood before the judgment seat: The preacher found his sermons were hay; The saints discovered that their revivals were straw; And the backsliders found that false repentance leads only to the fires of Hell; But one soul…one soul found humility in between the thunder and the gnarly fire. That soul bent his knee. The King Of Ages nodded his head in approval toward that one soul and with the voice of many waters said “Well done!”
It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of goodwill. 16The latter do so out of love, knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel. 17The former preach Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely, supposing that they can stir up trouble for me while I am in chains. 18But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice. Phil. 1:15-`18
each one should build with care. 11For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. 12If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw,13their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work. 14If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward. 15If it is burned up, the builder will suffer loss but yet will be saved—even though only as one escaping through the flames. 1 Cor. 3:10-15
If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.2 If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing.3 If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it;but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing. 1 Cor. 13:1-3
This post was written in response to “All In A Word’s” writing prompt: HUBRIS
Merrit wound his way through the tangled forest praying with every step that he would find the lost sheep. Father had promised Merrit could keep the profits from the wool if he could be responsible for the newborn. Of course Merrit had lost the lamb and with it his father’s respect.
The boy wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
“Unmanly” he cursed.
A wail pierced the dale. Alarmed Merrit ducked under a snarl of vine-trees and moved into the clearing. There nestled in the soft down of the missing lamb was a babe.
For those of you who may not be familiar with it, C. cada is the artists community of Cornerstone Church our mission is to: give artists from every genre an opportunity to come together to discover, develop, and deploy their talents in ways that will better the church and the community.
The C.cada Cross. One of our collaborative projects
I haven’t written much about our doings because we have been so busy doing them but God has been good! We are currently working on several projects as a group:
1. A group of our artists is in the planning stages of redoing the pediatrics play room at our local hospital.
2. One of our artists just finished collaborating with a local elementary school on the show, Aristocats. In fact, I have to unload our portable sound system, which they used, after I am done here.
3. We are in the midst of preparing for an outdoor art show in honor of our town’s 250th anniversary. Here is our link if anyone out there is interested
4. Plans are underway for C.cada to be a collaborator with many other town committees on a town Makerspace project.
5. One of our artists is preparing to lead worship for a Frontiersmen Camping Fraternity Fellowship in May
6. One Desire, our church youth band is cutting its first album.
7. Clayton Phelps, one of our artists is playing out several times a week reaching people with the gospel through his guitar. In fact yesterday he played at GALA another art association’s art show.
That is just a taste of the exciting stuff going on. Books are being written. Music is being played. choirs are singing. Paintings are being prepared for shows and galleries around the area. GOD IS GOOD.
A few months ago our group project was a short story writing prompt. I have already shared Deb Maciorowski’s offering with you and mine but here is another from our very own Charlotte Dorais
First Day
The flashing school bus lights warned me how late I was. My first day teaching Junior High was causing me enough anxiety without being the last one to arrive in my class room. I had planned on time to pray and make final preparations for the day before the first students arrived, this day would only be blessed if I depended on God to lead me. I prayed God this is your day and I need you more now than ever. Thank you for your peace.
Last nights dream was playing like an old silent film in my mind. Still shots of the class room and each student flashed one by one. I knew a few of the kinds personally from church, but so many of the faces were strangers and the fact that this class was special needs excited me. God see potential where no one else does. He would lead me to the best plan for each student.
The parking lot was filled and late comers like me were left to the back 40. Shouldering my heavy bag I trotted the length of the parking lot. First bell rang as I entered the class room door and most of the students were paired up and talking excitedly to one another. As the final bell rang I turned to close the door Jeff rushed past and slide into an empty seat. Jeff was one of my church kids and I counted on him for support. My greeting to him was ignored and he kept his head down and eyes averted.
These students would spend the day with me, one by one we would get acquainted and develop an individual teaching plan. I looked forward to the challenge.
Marie stood in the front by my desk and introduced herself to me, she knew all the students and offered to assist me in any way I needed. I knew God had sent her. As I turned to get material to pass out I saw Jeff slip out the door. Rule number one broken the first hour of the day, no one leaves the room without permission. I decided to step out and look for him and he was right outside the door with his face to the wall praying, God make it stop.
My quick pray was give me words, and I ask Jeff to tell me what had to stop. His said a line from a book:
He heard the crunch of leaves behind him, he turned……
was playing nonstop in his mind and he couldn’t turn it off. I suggested he finish the thought, when he turned what did he see? All fear left him as he replaced the lie with Jesus. God’s power is always work and He never fails us when we cry out to him. I was where He meant me to be.
Charlotte L Dorais
I can honestly say what we are doing is hard work but it is so exciting! I am convinced that God is in this because the results are beyond us. We are offering what we have. We know it is not enough and yet He is multiplying us even as He multiplied the fish and loaves.
As usual Cee has asked us some very good questions to help the world get to know us all a little better. My own slants on the inquiries are below. To read how Cee and her groovy gang of sharers have answered go to http://ceenphotography.com/2013/11/04/share-your-world-2013-week-39/
Now on to the questions!
You are given $5,000 and the chance to exchange it for one of two envelopes. One envelope contains $50,000 and one contains $500. Do you make the trade? Why or why not?
Sure I would make the trade. Either way I win. Even if I got the $500.00 I would look at it as having won $500.00 not as having lost $5,000.00
Do you believe in the afterlife? Reincarnation?
I do not believe in reincarnation but I strongly believe in the afterlife which I see as an extension of this life in one of two places (that is an oversimplification but for the space allotted it will have to do). Our individual destinations are determined by putting our faith in Jesus Christ as the only atoning sacrifice for sin. If anyone has any questions come visit me in Lillie-Put. I love having spiritual conversations in my blog country!
🙂
If someone made a movie of your life would it be a drama, a comedy, a romantic-comedy, action film, or science fiction?
Oh most definitely a comedy! I think it could be called A Journey to Lillie-Put or My House On the Corner Of Crazy!
If you had to spend one weekend alone in a single public building or institution, which building would you choose?
I think I would choose to spend the weekend in the Royal Palace in Honolulu Hawaii. I really want to know if they really have that crazy computer they show on Hawaii-Five-O!
😉 I suppose spending a few days on the beach after my weekend stay wouldn’t bring me too much pain either.
Well it is time for another dose of Friday Fictioneers with Rochelle at http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/08/14/16-august-2013/. The challenge is to write a 100 word piece of fiction with a beginning, middle and end. Let me encourage you to take the challenge for yourself!
Reaping the Whirlwind
Momma used to sing me a lullaby… “If God is for you, sweet baby child, who can stand against you?”
I always liked that, thought; But what if God is against you ?
I knew joining Billy’s “business” was not wise but my honey-tongued friend can make murder sound friendly. Besides , the street was deserted. The keys were in the ignition. I was gone in under thirty seconds.
A block down the road God blew on the tree.
When the police arrived I just admitted “Momma always told me, ‘If you sow to the wind, you’ll reap the whirlwind’.”
Here is our prompt for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. This exercise in flash fiction is a great way to get the creative juices flowing! So let me encourage you to jump on over to Rochelle’s page at http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/08/, read the rules and join in the fun.
Here is my take on this week’s prompt.
Wannabe
My name’s Jake. The chick on the right is my sister Norma Jeane. Yep that’s right Norma Jeane Mortenson. The Mortenson clan were big fans of the blond bombshell. One of the families had to fall on their swords and create a namesake. We drew the short straw.
Actually it wasn’t all that bad until Aunt Orli bought Norma that stupid white dress. Now she insists on wearing it out every time we go to the grocery store.
Part five of the Celebrant turned out to be so long I felt the need to break it up into two pieces for the sake of my blog family. So this week you get two installments instead of just the one. I hope you enjoy! If you have missed any of the previous parts of Nathan’s Story it can be found here: http://wp.me/P39vIx-EQ
The Celebrant 5.5
The Christmas concert was paper snowflakes and tacky tinsel glittered over with the dulcet tones of untuned flutophones. It was magic after the highest order. Under its spell I became an addict to melody and rhythm.
After Christmas I started the trumpet.
In Fifth grade I got a paper route and bought myself a dented French Horn.
In sixth grade it was the guitar.
In seventh the saxophone.
In eighth grade I joined the high school chorus as an alto and began piano lessons.
I was no prodigy. I was an addict. I would play the music until the music played me. The song it sang pushed me by increments away from my family. I think they missed me.They never said; So I just filled the hole inside with sound.
In the late eighties as Paul and I prepared to enter high school the stock market went bust. Adam’s bank account exploded. He focused his business in do-it- yourself hardware and camping supplies, two growth industries it seemed. With the money he made from his good -end- year Adam moved us out of the house on the hill to one of the new developments springing up all over Winchendon. Treasure heights was a block of large modular homes cut into the side of Mount Pleasant just below the Olde Center of town. Benjamin Street banked right onto Fiesta Dr. which curved left onto Celebration Dr. ,left again onto Gala Blvd and finally left once more onto Extravaganza Way.
The Dahlstrom family moved into number 2 Celebration Dr. a giant blue Edwardian affair complete with Grecian columns holding up the front porch roof. A giant brass chandelier swung over the stoop lighting the way into the foyer, a sunken living room to the left and a full dining room to the right. The Kitchen which ran the length of the house at the back was built around a breakfast bar with built-in double sinks. A walkout to the left side spilled onto a sixteen by twenty deck that overlooked a manicured lawn that flowed back to a one story barn running the full length of the yard.
The shed, as we called this out building, had two doors and was walled directly in half with a connecting door between the two resulting rooms.
“This side,” said Adam motioning to the left, ” is going to be my workshop.”
“And this side,” He waved to the door on the right, “Is going to be your clubhouse. It is where all your sports equipment goes Paul and where all your instruments go Nathan.”
I wanted to protest but he raised a hand for silence. “The building has its own heat so none of your equipment will get damaged and there’s plenty of room for both of you to share.’
It took us the rest of the summer to unpack and organize but by the time I entered ninth grade I was the only kid in band with a practice studio.
My addiction was effectively shut out of the house but that’s how it was discovered by Mrs. Wallender.
Part five of the Celebrant turned out to be so long I felt the need to break it up into two pieces for the sake of my blog family. So this week you get two installments instead of just the one. I hope you enjoy! If you have missed any of the previous parts of Nathan’s Story it can be found here: http://wp.me/P39vIx-EQ
The Celebrant: This Was Us Pt. 5
I remember a sign that hung on the wall of our band room in High School. It was by some kid from Winchendon who made it “big” in the real world. It read “In the reflection of running waters, a memory exists of the delicately balanced masterpiece that is our world. The Creator has spoken forth His holy portrait and we all are no more nor less than splendid echoes bouncing off the canvas of His pièce de résistance.”
I liked the thought that somehow my life was an echo of God’s voice rolling down through the ages. It did make me wonder though what He might be saying.
When I was in the fourth grade we rented a house on Tannery Hill. The grey Victorian with its scrolled facade rose directly out of the side of a graduated cliff to the right of the Miller’s River. The front yard sloped up sharply to a stone porch that wrapped around the front entrance like a granite moat. We let the apartment on the right side, three floors of dark panelled rooms and lead painted windows. My room was on the second floor at the very back of the building. The lone window looked out over the shaded back yard and up the hill to where old trolley tracks cut a path through the thickly gathered forest. I spent hours as a little boy wandering the woods, eating berries and pretending to be someone great and heroic in a world that did not know me yet.
That was the same year I started picking up instruments. In September the band director called interested fourth graders to buy plastic recorders to prepare a concert for Christmas. I begged my mother to let me join. To be honest It wasn’t really music that attracted me. It was football that repelled me. I had joined Pop Warner Football the year after Paul but unlike my stronger more coordinated brother I was a disaster on the field.
Paul and Adam were merciless. It wasn’t that they made mention of my countless fumbles, the kicks I missed ending up on my rump, or the fact that the girls on the team could throw and run circles around me. It was that they never mentioned me at all while weekly accolades of Paul’s exploits dripped like honey from the edges of our dinner conversation.
The night I brought music up the honey froze.
“What about Pop Warner?” Polly asked for Adam.
” I’ll do both,” I said knowing Adam would never let me quit something I had started.
“But no one in our family has ever been musical.” Mom returned.
The room was quiet for a long time.
Adam finally broke the air so heavy with anticipation, “I think we should let the boy try.”
I jumped up from my seat and ran around the table to hug my father. He tensed at the spontaneous show of affection.
“All right! All right kid! This isn’t a free ride. You practice every night just like football.” He squared me off with an eye brow of steel.
Somehow Adam understood I had discovered another piece of my puzzle.
Lillie-Put 