Grandmop And The Turnip

 (A tale about allowing those you love to be themselves)


The following is an excerpt from my Mother/Daughter Banquet teaching from several years ago. Regretfully, since this date, both my mother and husband have gone home to be with the Lord.  What better way to honor my mom and my husband's prayers than to make someone else smile.

Who knew you could learn a life lesson from a turnip?

When the Lord gave me this visual I went dashing to Wal-Mart to purchase a turnip. I needed to have time to get it all dolled up for the Banquet! I was in a BIG hurry when I realized I did not know what a turnip looked like! So I asked the person stocking the produce, and she didn’t know either! Luckily, my husband did. He purchased the lonely little turnip and brought her home in time for her debut.

How many of you have ever heard the saying, “You can’t get blood out of a turnip?” I’m a visual learner so here goes…

How many of you know you can be related, but feel like you live in two different worlds? Surely the other person is the problem. The conversation from two different worlds.

Gmop: What’s up Turnip?

Turnip: Not much GrandMop…just trying to figure out what to do today.

Gmop: I know…we could go shopping! I have a coupon!

Turnip: I can’t go shopping…I don’t have a driver’s license or a coupon. For heaven’s sake…I’m just a turnip!

Gmop: Well…maybe we could go get a massage and a pedicure.

Turnip: I can’t go get a massage and a pedicure…I don’t even have a back, toenails or polish!

For heaven’s sake…I’m just a turnip!

Gmop: I’ve got it! We could go out for a quick bite! We could go have Sushi and then coffee from Starbucks!

Turnip: I can’t go get sushi! I don’t have a Sushi Bar in my neighborhood and I’m allergic to caffeine!

For heaven’s sake…I’m just a turnip!

Gmop: Turnip this is so frustrating! I need so much more love, attention, and time than you are giving me! YOU NEVER CALL ME! YOU NEVER HAVE ENOUGH TIME! IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU! YOU DIDN’T EVEN COMPLIMENT ME ON MY NEW DRESS!

Turnip: Grandmop…I’m sorry….this makes me sad. I don’t seem to be much help or any fun. God designed me completely different. If you plant or cook me, I could give you nutrients to help you stay healthy or I would look great in your purple kitchen! Besides…I don’t even have a watch. Plus, I live on the ground and I can’t see above your ankles! For heaven’s sake…I’m just a turnip.

Thank you Turnip…please take a bow.

Isn’t this ridiculous? In reality, this is no more ridiculous than the outrageous demands that we place on the people closest to us. For me…. lesson well learned.

After the banquet, during our drive home, our daughter just shook her head and said, “Of course, my mother painted a turnip!” (Poor girl…imagine having me for a mother)

             H A P P Y   M O T H E R ’ S   D A Y !

                            t-t-f-n- (ta- ta- for - now)

THE BROKEN WING

 I wrote this poem many years ago, but just now felt released to share.

The hard knocks of life paid an unexpected visit
to the sparrow’s nest that eventful day.
Little did she know she had been selected
for the enemy's next prey.

With his selection complete,
He rehearsed, repeatedly, her final defeat.
He roared orders from Hell below.
'THIS TIME’ he hissed would be the severest blow.

He released the calculated challenge
into the heart of her chest...
YES, indeed, this would be his very best!



With little warning of the violent thrust,
Not only was she violated in her physical body,

But, at the core of her trust.

She was forced from the safety of the trees;
Body broken,
She was knocked to her knees.

The enemy of her soul
would arrive at each day’s dawning,
to see what array of lies
he could serve her this morning.

Oh what an unusual condition,
no longer a sparrow in flight position.

She fell from the place of self-sufficiency,
now, reduced to minimized capabilities.
Oh the shame and humiliation of the fall.

Did anyone see?
Did anyone care?
Anyone at all?

Oh, how can I ever be of use again?
The pain is too great!
Will I ever mend?

Along with hard knocks, self-pity would also call.
Once more to rehearse the trauma,
she was forced to relive the events of the fall.

The other birds whispered -  “She didn’t respond like I thought she should.
I certainly don’t believe she’s done all she could.
She was soaring, just about to peak,
instead, she has disappeared into what seems to be
“a solemn retreat.”

Yes there had been many challenges,
more than a few,
but she always landed on her feet
with the right “solution” of just what to do.

Wounded and sore,
with every breath,
her bones would roar.

With relentless pain, the torment grew.
The other sparrows questioned, judged, and thought they knew…

They only shook their heads, in disbelief,
surely, she is overwhelmed with grief.
Furthermore, they concluded,
I think this time …she’s really through!

The little sparrow cried in the light of sunshine’s day.
She cried in the quiet stillness of the moon’s steady ray.
Isolated by circumstances from her own kind,
the enemy’s reports and fears plagued her mind.

As the business of day would relinquish to the still of the night,
Father Time would tip toe in to touch her brow,
and hold His little sparrow tight.

He would whisper encouragement in her weary ear.
Ever so gently he would transfuse a deeper measure of faith,

and blow afresh on her dreams held dear.

Unbeknownst to her, this exercise was taking her to a higher place,

closer to her Maker, nearer  His face.

Though the battle fierce seemed never ending,

combined with prayers and Angelic attention,

her broken body and spirit was quietly mending.

Only in the process of time, would she again emerge from the dust of despair,
for there was One, the One who knows all,
who was never taken unaware
to the magnitude of the tragic fall.

With a Master’s touch and Craftsman’s skill
He breathed strength into her broken heart,
And, thus, renewed her will.

Her tears now dried she started to sing,
boldly proclaiming!
Her voice once silenced, now began to ring..

"Although my wing had to be replaced...
He has molded me another…
with GREAT…GREAT,
AMAZING,
GRACE!"


           t-t-f-n (ta - ta - for - now)

THE TRUE COLORS OF EASTER

The old saying is …”One picture is worth a thousand words.” With that being said, I am allowing this illustration to depict what Easter means to me.

This particular illustration is not something I just dreamed up. This is a vision I have held deep in my heart since 1988. The night I made the initial sketch the only art supplies I owned was a small pack of inexpensive copy paper and a #2 lead pencil. I did not own a computer, and certainly did not have any working knowledge of painting digitally. This was also the same night I felt direct inspiration regarding all of the ideas that would eventually be the sum total of High Art Forms and Modern Orange.

As I contemplate all that embodies both the crucifixion, and the resurrection, I am amazed there is always another aspect of power to be revealed. I am not sure we can ever fully comprehend the magnitude of courage required to fulfill the mandate on Jesus life. It is this fresh revelation, together with the events of these last two years that have forged courage I have never experienced before.

As I read and reread the Biblical depiction of the Passover Season, I am also acutely aware of the difference in relationships birthed out of obligation versus love.

Relationships birthed out of obligation are ultimately destined to fail. The fruit of this type of relationship is inevitable; frustration, bitterness, resentment, etc. I submit that if the motivation of the cross had been anything other than love it would have been totally ineffective.

Love enabled this mortal man to sacrifice and endure the highest levels of betrayal, abandonment, abuse, and ultimately the most horrific of all acts…the Roman crucifixion. The rusty nails did not secure this spotless Lamb to the cross; it was the power of Love.

Love enables us to respond beyond the emotions of the Adamic nature. Love makes the impossible possible. Tis’ the season to forgive.

              T-T-F-N ( ta-ta-for-now)