Advent Diaries ~::🎄❄️♥️Page 7♥️❄️🎄::~ PAINT ~ {Day 53}

Our Creator painted this sunrise just for you!

I’ve been thinking randomly about Wonka Vision (from Gene Wilder ‘Charlie and Chocolate Factory’ film) …yes, my brain doesn’t turn off well. 😂 I’m desperate to paint my life with Jesus Vision… seeing all the glorious gifts and beauty around me as Love. And caring enough to share that love, let spill it over and out!

What matters in the deeper experience of contemplation is not the doing and accomplishing. What matters is relationship, the being with. We create holy ground and give birth to Christ in our time not by doing but by believing and by loving the mysterious Infinite One who stirs within. This requires trust that something of great and saving importance is growing and kicking its heels in you.

~Loretta Ross-Gotta

Watch for the Light, p.97

.50 cent notebooks to collage the covers for my SIL’s for Christmas gifts! Did I mention I have 11? SIL’s?! Ha. Better get collaging!

What if, instead of doing something, we were to be something special? Be a womb. Be a dwelling for God. Be surprised.

~Ross-Gotta

Watch for the Light, p. 101

One of my slow Christmas reads for myself this year. We all enjoy this story and the illustrations are just lovely!

We are starting during our Christmas term to use some of the activities in Map Art by Berry & McNeilly as we all are map lovers here. It’s so fun to mix art techniques with imagination. I’m looking forward to the collage maps, especially.

My 12 yo Phoebe’s map ♥️🥰 (used by permission)

They trooped out into the garden and saw the wood all lit up by the westering light as though a thousand candles had been lit upon the trees that stretched their shade deep beyond deep in the dark wood. The water was all aglint too, and the colors of the flowers burned pure and still. The sky was a deep blue-green overhead, and three wild swans were flying upriver to their home. There was no sound in all the world but the beat of the birds’ wings and the soft lapping of the water against the old stone walls. They stood for a moment at the gate at the top of the steps and the peace held them silent.

~Elizabeth Goudge

The Pilgrim’s Inn, p. 99

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