I heard from one of my beta readers yesterday (yes, she’s even read the completed Perfect Glass . . . sorry) and her words reminded me of the days in 2010 when Henry was coming alive in my head and my heart. When I was building his character from the inside out and wondering about his purpose.
When Glass Girl was released and you began to find it through a process that still amazes me, you had reactions to Henry that were all over the board. You loved him because he was strong. And articulate. And not afraid of hard work.
You loved the way he spoke to Meg and the way he moved. You loved how he opened a door and offered a hand, both literally because he was gentleman, and metaphorically because he was generous with his faith.
I heard from hundreds of you who said he was your gold standard and you were happy waiting until he came along. And this made my heart soar—because I wanted you to see in Henry his solid goodness and his steadfast loyalty. And I wanted you to want that in your life. And to be content to wait on it.
And yet . . . and yet . . . I also wanted you to see that the most important thing about Henry was not “Henry.” The most important thing was that he said to Meg—as much as I love you, HE loves you more. He craves you more.
He wanted Meg to see that as counterintuitive as belief and trust and faith are (when life hurts), they still make more sense than anything else.
And MOST importantly, he wanted Meg to feel loved by God. He saw that she’d never considered it. He recognized a girl who felt like she’d been given a raw deal because she didn’t deserve anything better. Before he offered his heart to Meg, he offered HIS (God’s) heart to her.
The message Henry wanted to give Meg is this:
It wouldn’t be real love if there wasn’t the possibility for another response to him, right? If we couldn’t choose not to love him, then our love would be empty and unsatisfying. That’s why there’s evil in this world, because there’s free choice in this world. He allows the one to prove the other.” (Glass Girl, p. 104)
Here’s what got me all teary about hearing from my beta reader (who’s young, like you, and awesome, like you, and just trying to figure things out in her own way)—she has read Glass Girl four times and each time she’s taken something different from it. She read it again last month and came to the conclusion that she’d been wrong in waiting on a Henry to complete her. She’s already complete.
She’s already walking side by side with the one who stole her heart years ago. The one who couldn’t possibly love her anymore…all her pieces that shatter and come back together in the wrong ways and then shatter again. He loves those pieces. He’s patient while she makes patches. He’s looking at her with tender eyes. Henry will come later, when she’s ready. Jesus is here now.
Oh . . . I can’t say it any better than she did. So, here are excerpts from her email (used with permission)—
There was a time in my life when I would have given anything for my Henry to walk through the door. My goal was to be Meg, a girl with tangible tenderness, a girl who was endlessly loved, a girl with depth and wisdom earned by seeing life’s harsh realities. This was who I wanted to be. How could I be Meg without Henry?
So I waited. Sooner than I expected my Henry (or at least who I thought was my Henry) landed in my lap. Everything matched up. I thought I had gotten it right. A while into our relationship I noticed one big difference. He didn’t show me he loved God. He showed me that he liked me and even that he loved me but he never had that outward passion for his Maker. But he loved me.
Until I made one mistake. And then he showed me he could not forgive me. He never looked at me the same way again and that almost killed me. I found myself in a place I had not been in a long time. I fished for compliments, cratered into depression, and I became hard. Hard to him, hard to my friends, and hard to God. I had lost what was left of the tenderness I did not even know I had. I was broken.
At one time I lived with my emotions right beneath the surface. One tragic day when I felt they betrayed me, I buried them. I buried them out of fear that no one would accept me if they knew how fragile I really was. Burying my unknown tenderness and then destroying what was left of it a year later left me empty.
After my relationship ended I was left with an empty shell of me. I was not the me I had wanted to be. I was not Meg. I was not someone a man like Henry would want.
I lived my life until a perfect storm in the form of Glass Girl and Perfect Glass came into my life. I read Glass Girl for the fourth time and it broke my heart. It stirred that long buried, unknown tenderness within me. I cried from that place of clarity and cleansing. The tears brought me back to the tender, emotional me from years ago.
Maybe I had been more like Meg than I thought. I remembered when faith and joy had ruled my life. I wondered why I had ever let that go. It took me cratering into a depression to realize that my fragility makes me who I am. I am the best at being me when I strike that balance between being breakable and being unstoppable.
Perfect Glass showed me that I will never reach perfect. Motives are always crisscrossed between what we want and what God wants. My motives have been crisscrossed all along. I see that now. But, as in Perfect Glass, God guided me through my failures. He showed me the difference between me with Him and me without Him. He showed me that my personality had been shaped by that mysterious tenderness within me.
I have dealt with guilt and loss. I have been shaped by the curve balls like has thrown me. It took a tragedy, a relationship, a depression, and two incredible books for God to prove to me who I really am. I am Meg. I am tender. I am shaped by a life that was not always easy. And all I had to do was wait for my Henry.
But God found a way to prove even that logic wrong. Shortly after finishing Perfect Glass I read a blog post written about why I should not be waiting. Why I should not be working to prove to God that I am content enough with Him to be awarded my Henry as some kind of prize. I have already been awarded my Henry. He is my sweet Savior, the one who has been by my side all along. I don’t need to be waiting on my Henry to make me Meg. I already have the source of my joy and the partner for the rest of my life.
I am fragile. I am tender. I have dealt with life’s trials and learned from them. I see this world for the achingly beautiful place that it is. I am endlessly loved. I am complex. I am transparent. I am strong. I am glass.
I have been given a second chance and a Savior by my side.
I am Meg. And I am done waiting for my Henry.
Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. Song of Songs 2:7
I have a full heart today.
This post is twice as long as my usual, but I encourage you to stay with it. I think once you get to know my guest, you’ll be encouraged!
I’m blessed with friends who are courageously following their dreams—bold in their pursuit of creative lives that are an expression of their souls. They inspire me to keep plugging away at my own dreams.
I’m so excited about introducing you to my guest today that I’m tempted to use all caps here. But that would be screaming and I try to avoid it.
Marna Taylor and I go way back—and when I say way back, I mean to birth (she’s fifty-five days younger than me). We grew up in a small town in Oklahoma called Durant (which Marna and I both miss in complicated ways even though we were desperate to leave by sixteen) and our families worshipped together in a church of about two hundred members. Maybe you’ve heard of Durant—it’s home to the world’s largest peanut.
I have snapshots, real ones and mental images, of a group of kids that spent more time together than apart—my brother (Stan) and me, Marna and her two sisters (Leah and Jocelyn) and their cousins (Laura and Jason). Their parents were almost as familiar to me as mine.
There’s something you should know up-front about Marna—she is possibly the most compassionate person you could ever meet. I remember, in our many, many deep talks throughout childhood and adolescence, how Marna’s emotions would run away with her causing her to cry over the hurts of others. And I cry when I’m in the presence of someone else who cries, so you can imagine how maudlin our late night convos became. But in so many ways, we were both tightening our empathetic heart-strings and becoming the women God intended for us to be.
As you’ll learn, Marna grew up in a musically-gifted family, so she learned to express herself and heal through singing. And, thank God she did because her voice as been a gift to many throughout her life. She’s now a member of an up-and-coming Nashville trio called Sweetwater Rose.
Here’s my recent conversation with Marna—
You’ve had a longstanding love for all kinds of music, and a mature taste in music even when you were a little girl. What do you think most influenced your musical tastes and dreams?
I think what influenced me most growing up was having parents that loved to listen to music and made it a big part of our lives.
We listened to a variety of artists and genres ranging from blues to opera to country which opened our minds to many different styles of music. My mother started out as a music teacher and came from a musical family, so even family reunions were filled with beautiful harmonies mixed with lots of love and laughter. It always made music a safe place for me!
My parents, even though they were professional by trade, were artists at heart. They never made me feel bad for chasing my dreams, in fact quite the opposite… like anything was possible. They gave me the greatest gift they could give me, to believe in myself and to listen to my heart. I am very grateful for this.
Who were your favorite bands growing up?
Growing up I really responded to female artists like Billie Holiday, Bobbie Gentry, Lena Horne, and Linda Ronstadt. I also loved bands like the Eagles, Steve Miller Band and Creedance Clearwater Revival because it was music the whole family could agree on for road trips.
I remember memorizing lyrics to the Eagles’ songs playing through your pink tape player in your little room. And listening to the three Taylor girls at the piano singing bizarre songs you’d made up.
Tell me your memories of singing with Leah and Jocelyn.
I loved singing with my sisters while my mom played piano at home, then also performing with them as well. I’m sure that’s why the sound of three female voices makes sense to me now. It’s like coming home.
Okay, tell me why you pursued your dream with tenacity through ups and downs? What kept you hanging on in such a roller coaster industry?
I guess for me what keeps me hanging in there with music is that it just never really goes away. You can take breaks from it, but if it’s in you, it’s in you. I think to deny that is to deny a gift that God gave to me. I always think of the Bible story of the man who buried his talent and it didn’t grow, therefore saddening God. I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the impression it made on me at a young age.
You’re married to Brad Pemberton, a long-time successful artist in the music industry, who happens to just be really cool. Tell me how you met.
Yeah, Brad is a professional drummer. We met just after I moved to Nashville with my dreams and he’s always been my strongest support system here. Being with someone in the business has also given me a great freedom to explore this kind of life with someone who really understands why it is so important for me. Having someone you trust who can be a solid sounding board is a real gift. I know he always has my back, but also that he won’t just tell me what I want to hear if it’s not in my best interest.
What’s the best advice you’ve received from someone in the industry?
Ah. . .to not give up. See, the ones at the finish line are just the ones that didn’t quit.
The worst advice you’ve heard?
I can’t think of a good example of the worst, but anytime you chase after a dream there will be those that don’t understand it or want to shoot it down in some ways… the trick is learning to listen to your own voice and knowing when not to listen to the “haters.” Easier said than done sometimes.
What about advice from outside the industry . . . just life advice?
My favorite would be “don’t quit five minutes before the miracle.”
I think all of us on the outside want to know what it takes to be a musician in Nashville these days.
It changes every day! Groups in Nashville these days all have to get a bit creative when it comes to getting their music out there. The music industry has changed quite a bit in even the last ten years and because of that there isn’t a road map. The best thing about Nashville, though, is the musical community is so loving and supportive of one another. It really helps to learn from the struggles and successes of the bands out there working to make it happen.
You’ve been touring quite a bit lately. What’s your favorite part of that?
The best part about touring is seeing new places, performing and connecting with new fans through music, making great memories with bandmates, feeling inspired by the response of a supporting crowd. The hardest part is missing home.
How’d you meet Ali Sperry and Kim Collins, the other women in the band?
We actually auditioned for this group! Our producer, Mac Gayden, and his wife, Diane put this group together after Diane had a dream that they should start a girls group. Mac is a legendary songwriter and guitar player in his own right, but they have done something not many people do anymore these days—taken the time to develop an act. We’ve been together for over two years and have gone through some changes until we finally feel like all the components are in place. It has been such a blessing to work with such amazing talent and to learn from all the experience that Mac brings to the table.
How would you describe the band’s sound?
Diane’s dream was to put together a “female Buffalo Springfield group” . . . something that brought back a vintage sound from the bands we all love from the 60s and 70s, like Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, the Eagles, Poco, Flying Burrito Brothers, and others, but from the female perspective. That, of course, was all I needed to hear! It was as if the perfect opportunity came looking for me and I still have to pinch myself sometimes.
nothing to hide behind. Is it difficult to put yourself out there as a performer? Does it take an extrovert to be successful?
I think for me performance was something that helped bring me out of my shell at a young age and gave me a sense of purpose and fulfillment. I do know that I always felt most authentic on stage for some reason. As a very young girl, I was shy and my parents got me involved in children’s theater. I did this every summer from when I was five years old until I turned thirteen, and I credit that experience with bringing me out of my shyness. It’s the one place I always felt purposeful. I didn’t ever feel like I had to be the best singer because I believe that my personal gift was being able to deliver a song in a way that would reach someone in the audience.
There’s nothing better than live music. I always feel like there’s a tangible cord between the audience and the musician and that is almost overwhelming to me . . . but completely addictive. Tell me what that moment feels like when you’re the singer.
When you know that the audience is with you, there is a warmth that you feel as if they want to give back to you what you are giving to them. There is nothing else like it that I’ve ever felt before. I know we’ve all had those moments watching a performance where we feel like we have been transported to another place. Well, the performer feels it also and it’s really magical. That’s why live performance is so important! It’s the one thing that cannot be generated by a computer somewhere. It has to be experienced.
Would you be happy singing to an empty room?
It’s interesting because sometimes music is something that is very personal and sometimes it is something that has to be shared. Both of these things feed the soul, but in different ways.
As you know, I feel like, in the end, the creative life is really about faith and love. Faith that God has given me something that He wants me to step out with in all trust . . . and love for others that makes me want to, in some way, be a balm to them.
I see and feel that in you, too, and always have. Describe the connection of faith to this life you’re living out on the stage.
Faith has always been the part of my life that has kept me grounded. That’s why, even now, it’s so important for me to maintain balance in my life so that I can feel that connection to the guiding voice inside me. I know this is different for everyone, and my background of growing up going to church as well as my Native American heritage has given me a perspective that it is okay to have different paths to the same goal. It’s always been comforting to me to know that there is something inside me that is also bigger than me. . . .
Music does make me feel a connection to God in a way that few other things do. It has also been a way that I have been able to give back. It’s like when I sing for a funeral . . . I’m so sad that I feel like no sound will even come out of my mouth, but it’s important that I be there in that role. It’s a way of comforting a family during a loss and also the last thing I get to do for someone I love. This takes a strength that I know I could never possess on my own.
We have this shared experience of growing up in small town Oklahoma. (For my readers, think Footloose, the original.) I know what that’s about, but not many of my readers do. What’s meaningful to you about how we grew up?
Durant, Oklahoma was a wonderful place to grow up, with close family near by and lots of love! I was given safety there—to be who I was. It was also a place I couldn’t wait to leave when I became a teenager! You and I had that conversation a lot, didn’t we?
Now, as an adult, I have a very strong appreciation for my home state and the people I come from! Okies are a special brand of folks (good stock, as we would say there) and I’m proud to be from Oklahoma!
The music issue of Oklahoma Today this year reminded me just how important Oklahoma has been on the music we all know and love! It’s a state that suffered many hardships, and in many ways music is a common thread that got people through those trying times.
I’ve mentioned before that the main character in Glass Girl, Meg, shares your December 25th birthday. I did that because I love you, but also because I always felt your angst on that day. A Christmas birthday can Mess. You. Up. Hah!
It’s funny because all my life I have opened birthday presents while everyone around me opened Christmas presents. Now, as an adult, it feels really wrong and awkward to open a birthday present if no one else is opening gifts. What does that say about me?
We’ve both lived a lot of life since those carefree days in Oklahoma and sometimes it’s from the hard things we’ve endured that art arises. You’re open about a heartache you experienced in your twenties that taught you a great deal about what truly matters in this life. How did overcoming the reality of a difficult relationship strengthen your character and your resolve to pursue your dream of music?
I think, for me, music has always brought me back to myself. Anytime I’ve felt lost or alone, music gave me comfort. Look, we’ve all gone through things that asked us to be stronger than we thought we could be. When my first marriage was ending, I had never felt like such a failure in my life. At times I wasn’t sure what the point was or if I could go on. The love of my family and our shared love of music and laughter brought healing. It always has.
Can you speak to what I’ve always known about you and admired – your deep and long sense of compassion for everyone? Is making music your way of giving yourself to others?
Wow, this one’s hard for some reason! Here’s a memory that I’ve thought about a lot recently that may shed some light. I was a counselor at a student council camp right after my senior year of high school. I was singing a song for our talent show called “On My Own” (from Les Miserables) and one of the girls in my group had just come a day late because she lost a friend in a motorcycle accident. The words to that song saddened me so much for that girl that I cried in the bathroom as soon as I finished. Honestly, as an adult thinking back on it, she probably wasn’t really even listening closely to those lyrics, but for me . . . it was as if I was singing it right to her, and it took everything out of me.
I’ve always said that I feel things very deeply. Maybe that’s typical of all artist types, I don’t know, but it has always been the case for me. A blessing, a curse . . . I’m not really sure at times, but it’s what I know to be true for my life and it’s really important for me to live authentically. I think music allows me to do that. I can use my heart to help others in that way.
I have loyal readers who are actively pursuing their own dreams with music, writing and art. Can you give them a pithy gem of advice?
I think the best advice I could give is to always stay true to yourself. Really, it comes down to this—you are the best judge of what is right for you, so trust that!
Thanks for talking to us today, Marna. I wish you, Ali and Kim great success as you step out with Sweetwater Rose! I’m really glad you’re able to do what you love and live a meaningful, creative life!
Here’s all the info you’ll need to connect with Marna and Sweetwater Rose:
Being the wife of a man and the mother of a son, I think a lot about the ways men and women seem to worship God differently. In 2004, David Murrow’s book Why Men Hate Going to Church (Thomas Nelson) made quite a splash. I like Murrow’s premise and think he was onto something. God’s nature and love is experienced differently by boys and men and the way they return that love is colored by gender.
For instance, the men in my life are fairly uncomfortable with singing in public, so congregational singing is a time to squirm and lose focus. Have you noticed this with guys in your youth group? Or maybe your own brothers? I know a lot of men who love to sing and are especially moved by worshipping through song, so I would never make a blanket statement.
You know what else makes Alan squirm? Being called the “bride of Christ.” I know, and my husband knows, this pertains to the spiritual sense of submitting to Christ’s love for us. We are cherished, protected, and provided for as Christ’s bride. But that doesn’t make it any easier for Alan to say, “I am the bride of Christ.”
So in thinking about these issues as I raise my son, I try to plant imagery in his mind about who our God is in a way that speaks to his gendered frame of mind. My favorite image is one that Anderson gave to me. One night he said, “Can you believe God made something as big as Betelgeuse?” Well, I’m a writer, not a scientist, and what I heard was Beetle Juice, the cheesy 1980s movie starring Michael Keaton. Right? You too? So the conversation became sort of absurd.
“How did you know about Beetle Juice?” I asked, wondering how my eight-year-old could’ve happened upon this movie.
“I found it in a book. It’s huge. Everybody knows about Betelgeuse except you, Mom.”
“Um, I saw it when it came out,” I said. “I’m fully aware of Beetle Juice. I just don’t get the connection you’re making to God.”
“You were here when he made it?” he said. “That’s crazy. What did it look like?”
“Well, it was dumb. And not funny. And a little annoying. I’m surprised it didn’t wreck Keaton’s career, actually.” I paused when I saw Anderson’s confusion.
“Mom, that’s just weird. It’s 700 times bigger than the sun.”
“Wait, what? What are we talking about here?”
I did what any good mom does and I wikipedia’d “beetle juice star” and found out about Betelgeuse, the red supergiant star that is, indeed, 700 times larger than our own sun. I’m sure you’ve all studied it and are shaking your heads at me right now. Did you know if it were placed where our sun resides, its outer edges would reach Jupiter? It’s big, this Betelgeuse. Now that I have this gem that I know captures my little boy’s imagination, I use it. A lot. God is the God of Betelgeuse. I serve the God of Betelgeuse.
I say this to remind myself that we all experience and understand God through so many lenses—gender, upbringing, environment, past wounds, intellectual interests. And the cool thing is that God is big enough to handle those biases.
He is everything to everyone and He is all the power and majesty of creation. He’s strong, our God. He is also as tender as a mother with her child. He is what captivates, this God, the God of Betelgeuse.
O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. From the lips of children and infants, you have ordained praise.”
Psalm 8:1-2 NIVRead More
One of the things that brings me the greatest joy is that I am able to call Mara Schasteen my friend. She’s an up and coming artist based in Sheridan, Wyoming who trained at the knees of Mike Wimmer at Oklahoma Christian. When we found each other in lower Texas, we were young mothers buried under diapers and three squares a day. But even then, with all the frenetic child-rearing happening, we took hold of each other and clung, stubbornly. Barnacles, we were. My memories of the young mom years swim around in my head, usually murky, but sometimes uncannily clear.
Like the time Mara and I sat in my driveway with our fussy children, reaching for anything that would improve the mood, and suddenly Mara jumped up and began to perform a Broadway-worthy number, in a perfect Carol Channing voice, jazz hands and all. And it was more for me than for the babies, who wouldn’t get the irony. Don’t get me wrong, the baby days were delicious and juicy for us. We both loved every minute, even the bad ones, but you know how it is. It’s hard and frustrating and incredibly tiring when you’re there. Mara and I centered each other and kept it real.
Life intervened, as life does, and there were more babies, a lot of moves around the country, and some significant heartache. Before we knew it, we’d been out of touch for too long. Out of touch, but not out of mind. When I began writing Glass Girl I set it in a small town in Wyoming, envisioning Mara tucked into her small town in Wyoming. I made my main character’s mother an artist. I named a character Annie (maybe remembering Mara’s second-born fondly). I tried to capture the laid-back, independent spirit of Mara, the consummate Wyoming-bred girl.
One of my favorite paintings of hers became the inspiration for a pivotal scene in Perfect Glass.
And, look at this incredible portrait of her baby girl…
Eventually Mara and I reconnected and it is, in the way only true friendship operates, just as it was. And she’s painting, successfully, and I’m writing, and we’re in touch often. I try to channel her so often when I write about recognizing and celebrating beauty. It is what an artist does, after all. And she’s a master. Artists are given an extra measure of whatever it is that recognizes God’s creation and reflects it back. They have different eyes. And, at least for Mara, art is absolute ministry.
I asked Mara several questions recently and her answers struck me as a powerful reminder that we are all His priests and our efforts to understand and interpret this world in relation to the next are worthy. Anything that draws our attention to what really matters—the eternal things—shimmers with holiness.
What is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?
I’m not sure you could have presented me with a more difficult question! I’m thinking of the scenery all around me in Wyoming, my favorite flowers, beautiful works of art. But what I go back to again and again are the sleeping faces of my children when they were newborns. Now that is something I could truly stare at all day long – and I did so many times!
On the flipside, what’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen?
Images of the Holocaust come to mind. Those images of death, abuse and starvation are a very tangible symbol of what evil looks like. And, it’s interesting to me that I see people (in some form) as both the most beautiful and the ugliest things I have ever seen.
You’ve told me on many occasions that the only thing you want to capture in people is kindness. Tell me about that.
What else matters if someone isn’t kind? Not even a strong faith in God matters much to others if that person is unkind. Because we were created by a loving being, surely there is kindness to be found in all of us. It is something easy to understand and should be celebrated whenever possible. A portrait which fails to draw out even a glimmer of kindness in the sitter may as well never be painted, as it would serve no important (or heavenly) purpose.
What place does beauty have in our understanding of God?
I am glad you asked this question because the answer is the cornerstone of my life’s work as an artist. As I have taken time to focus on my vision or this gift of art I’ve been given, I have meditated on Philippians 4:8-9 (MSG).
Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies.
Beauty matters. To celebrate truth and beauty – the best, not the worst – has been my purpose. We find God when we experience love. As with love, we find God in beauty. To focus on the beautiful in all its variations leads us to find Him again and again, from many different directions, giving more fullness to our understanding of His remarkable personality.
What does it feel like when you see something you have to paint?
Frustrating! I say that with an implied smile on my face. If I could actually drop everything and paint when I see something I just have to paint, I might feel excitement or elation. But with four young children to care for every day, I don’t usually have the luxury of painting when the inspiration hits me. I have to tuck those little memories and observations in my pocket and keep them fresh and spontaneous for when I have time alone to work. I do a lot of “looking” in the meantime. I have treasures of things stored up in my mind for later.
How is art a ministry?
I am just now figuring this out for myself. Years ago, when I knew I wanted to be an artist, I would ask myself, “How do I serve the Lord as an artist?” My limited human creativity always provided answers like: illustrate Bible stories or praise God in the titles of your paintings. And those weren’t bad ideas, but they didn’t thrill me, either.
Somewhere along the way, God opened up some doors for me that I would have never imagined were effective ways to serve Him. One of the most important opportunities I have has been to share my artistic processes with other artists all over the world through the Internet. Since my work and my belief in God are intertwined so tightly, I can’t help but talk about my faith as it relates to my work as an artist. So here I am, talking Christ to Muslims, Hindus and atheists. I have never been met with opposition, rather, those who disagree do so quietly and those who are interested want to know more. I am so blessed to have been given a way to make art my ministry.
If you had a chance to paint anyone or anything in the whole world, who or what would it be?
Oh, to have Jesus come sit for me in my studio for a portrait! Imagine the kindness that would overwhelm me. I’m sure I would never be able to actually paint a single stroke in that scenario, but it would be a great excuse to get to spend time with Him in the flesh.
Name three things you cherish.
1) Quiet time
2) A brand new piece of oil primed Belgian Linen
3) The Holy Spirit’s presence on earth
Thank you, Mara, for using what God gave you to show us the beauty in this world. I’m blessed to see what you see!
Visit Mara, and take a look at her incredible work, at maraschasteen.com!