who am i that god should care

  

Let every body stand up and shout, This is the One who helped me out.

It was something that God wanted to do
Something that God wanted to do
It was something that God wanted to do for me

Nothing I was worthy of
Yet He did it for me in His love
Something that I thank Him for
Something of His mercy
Something of His power
Something of His glory

Who am I that He should love me?
Who am I that God should care?
All my shame and guilt He carried
Such a love has no compare

It was nothing I was worthy of
Yet he did it for me in His love
Something that I thank Him for
Something of His mercy
Something of His power
Something of His glory















I'm a child of my Father
He loves me, I am His own
I'm His child for ever and ever
To my God do I belong

It was nothing I was worthy of
Yet he did it for me in His love
Something that I thank Him for
Something of His mercy
Something of His power
Something of His glory

Something
Something


Worship video. Seven minutes. 2015 guitar and voice.

Something that I thank Him for
Thank You, Jesus
Something that I thank Him for
Thank You, Jesus
Something that I thank Him for
Thank You, Jesus
Something that I thank Him for
Thank You, Jesus

Something of His mercy mercy
Something of His mercy mercy
I don't deserve it but You gave it
I don't deserve it but You gave it
I don't deserve it but You gave it
I don't deserve it but You gave it

 













Something of His power power
Something of His power power
You are mighty, You do declare it
You are mighty, You do declare it
You are mighty, You do declare it
You are mighty, You do declare it

Something of His glory glory
Something of His glory glory
Yes I know the Name
Yes I know the Name
Yes I know the Name
and You are good

Let them know the Name
Let them know the Name
Let them know the Name
for You are good

Let every body stand up and shout
This is the One who helped me out
Let every body stand up and shout
This is the One who helped me out
Let every body stand up and shout
This is the One who helped me out
Let every body stand up and shout
This is the One who helped me out

It was something that God wanted to do
Something that God wanted to do
It was something that God wanted to do
For me and you and you and me

It was something that God wanted to do
Something that God wanted to do
It was something that God wanted to do for me

Wanted (lyrics and guitar chords) by Karl Marxhausen, copyright 2015.

cadminum red light

The loss did something with my head. The news of not getting picked for the exhibit I entered -- got to me. My three entries were not the only ones turned away. One hundred others got the same news.

What was this heaviness? What was this sadness? Why did it drag my heart down? Why was it so hard to shake it off? What was the game plan going forward?

It was the week of the last wound clinic appointment. Every reason to be joyful. The nurse proclaimed my chronic wound had healed completely!!! The epithelial cells had formed a layer closing the gap. 100%!!! The ordeal which started last March was over. Friends texted me their relief. My heart was a heavy rock. Help me, Jesus. Get me out of this slump. Release gratitude back in my attitude.

Being helpful, the nurse practitioner listened to my grief. Then she heard it turn into a tale of active pursuit -- busy creating large outdoors -- the satisfaction and wonder of it all -- and saw the increased excitement in my voice. Her eyes glittered and Tanya Land noted:

"That painting brings joy to you SAYS something ABOUT YOU. I would FOCUS on that INSTEAD."

-----------

       In the meantime, more varnishing of loose smaller works. I felt I was being led by the Lord to send these unframed works on to cousins distant. A night time scene of my neighbor's property from 2002. His name came to mind. I stepped out to gift him and Bill Smith opened up with the history of that property. How that house had been one hundred years old. It once housed Mexicans, the Olvera family. How the streets used to be dirt. And how, when he was 16 years old, the house he grew up in on North Folgers beside the Methodist Church was moved across town to North Ely Street, neighboring that corner house. The wife of the lawnmower repair man walked in and was glad to take the prized scene back home.
      The tomatoes Don Mason raised in his backyard. I walked across my lawn and pushed his doorbell, his name had also been given. Inside, warm, he held the piece with both hands, staring, regarding, remembering. I was clearing my shelves. I want him to have this. We chat. At the close he shakes my hand. The gift let go, it remains.   
      Mailing off panels and getting cards of kindness in return took off the edge. Another name came to mind. The firelight falling on the silhouette group of high school students, arms raised in a hallway of lockers. Erin Dotson met me by my car in the Mulch's grocery parking lot. She was thinking about her youth group at church. How much God is active in teenage lives. Goodbye fire painting. Jesus, your personal presence alive among your adolescent disciples. The overflow going out, his excellence, his goodness and mercy and delight filling my cup. Eases the loss, lightens the load, lifts my eyes.

     A new large work speaks to me from across the room. How did that scene come together like it did? Cadminum Red Light has entered my palette, squeezed onto my palette next to the orange, blue, green, white, and yellow. His treasure lifts me. Enormous on our living room wall. It astounds me. So bold. With depth. My spirit soars. A beacon of your aid manifested here. Yessssss!

rendezvous with karl

PHOTOS BELOW. Chillicothe Business College mural, painted from a scissors-lift three stores up. The full space was 100 foot wide. Ten foot illustrations was course work offered at that turn-of-the-century school.

--- The Karl from 2014 is melding with the Karl from 1998 and the Karl from 1977. What a rendezvous. the VAST INTENSITY joy undivided is stitching my memories into one person. that PHAT PHISH. beautiful FIRE. my king and lord jesus. from a 1996 journal entry entreats me to: DELIGHT IN HIM, speak of him, SING TO HIM, let my tears be on display, be a model of tenderness, be open, be gentle. 

 --- I remember what Danielle Sullivan told me about the red plastic tear drop, with the bright glitter outline, in the middle of blue felt jesus hands. she said: "THAT US. WE ARE IN THE WOUNDS OF JESUS. THAT IS WHERE HE HEALS US." that nine year old observation, so fresh and real. 

Danielle gets autograph BELOW from reggae band Temple Yard, when they performed in 1999 at That Phat Phish Coffeehouse, 14 North Main, Carrollton, Missouri. Off the CD they handed out. Lion of Judah, and Tell Me, and Freedom In Captivity,  samples, listen.

 --- The night I woke up at two o'clock in the morning to record on paper what he pointed out to me from that night's movie at the Uptown Theater in Carrollton. As Bud of Pleasantville told the students in the soda shop about his experiences "outside Pleasantville," the blank book pages came to life. How the roads are not a circle path, but they go on and on. He declared an experience greater-than-you-have-ever-known with jesus and the wonderful drenching rain of the spirit and the beauty of jesus ( full text at http://karl.marxhausen.net/pleasantville.html ) 

Carrollton sculptor Robert Willis ABOVE mounts his welded shovel bird at 1999 Beautiful Fire exhibit, 5 East Benton Street, Carrollton. That exhibit was sponsored by That Phat Phish coffeehouse, for a one-day event.

 --- it was my chat with wayne, something my youth group wrote on paper, the VAST INTENSITY JOY UNDIVIDED crashing mashing melding smoothing splashing into my mind and heart and being. he is ALL THAT..........and so much MORE. He stirs my senses in my 58 years old self. He embraces this porcupine, I am His and He is mine. 

PHOTO BELOW, a piano break of mine, in gymnasium. One stop of many during my father's art workshop tour 1970 - 1971, around the United States when I was age 16.

 PHOTO BELOW. at age 20, on my knees in the Commons room of Centennial College, surrounded by Jon Swift (upper left), Dan Swinarski (holding lamp), Tim Roper (center), Lynn Williams (upper right). my advertised happening event, tearing paper strips from discarded Lincoln phone books, tossing them up in the air, watching them flutter poetic to the floor. 1975 at the University Nebraska in Lincoln.

---- My piano self in 1977, sitting on the wooden bench of the Neihardt snack bar, next to Jon Swift, harmonizing about my neighbor Bob Popek in a warm and silly chorus. Conversing with the grown up version of Jeffrey Binder, the flute person who now is a neurologist in Wisconsin doing brain research. That friendship stretched through time and space into May of 2014. oh my lord, my phat phish, my delight, my king. you ARE so good.

you

it came like a dream,

a hobby project,

from the world of assembling materials.

from the dirt

a yellow chamois cloth was handpicked and cleaned.

its edges became

hand stitched with bright red and orange embroidery thread.

carefully mounted

beneath a clear bottle shell

surrounded by a smooshed sea of grocery bags painted red.

covered with a delicate netting of a potato sack.

now constructed like a womb

enshrining

an imagined thinking entity

bestowed with value

--- pleasing to my eye.

you are precious to me, says this lover.

you are a delight to me.

more than a son or a daughter,

more than blood and bone,

you are a reading conscious intelligence

for me to hold, to love, to kiss, to embrace, to know, to see.

it is i who stop and find you, 

wash and dress you,

and call you mine.

this now, this dance,

this new, this moment, says my lover.

me with you = more.

slide 100 - nephew

Yesterday was our turn to watch grand nephew Tad. Here are the plus moments that I recall.

• Using 'nectors and plastic colored straw units he fitted together a big circle base and up and up four squares tall, like a great big bin, he called it a rocket, stretching his attention span, focus, refocus, redirect, and finish with Jan's remarks. Learning about the words vertical and horizontal. Then, instead of tearing it apart, we left it up in his living room for Granpa to appreciate later after work.

Tall empty box

• The long empty cardboard box in our couch room he figured how to grab the middle with his stubby arms and vertical haul it carefully out and down into our side yard and open it out flat.

• With prompts and exploring he enjoyed being inside the space his size. Later, hands grabbing it hiding himself and running on short legs through the grass, with peals of joy squealing as he ran, hidden shell with bare feet.

• Sword fight with weed stems. Box on end became a castle. Box parts became gold and spaghetti and helicopters and shields. Flat on hill, grab rope swing, run, jump on flat, and slide down hill. He named it "Slide 100."

• Eating most of his burger instead of just French fries. Me making over my little bites of hamburger. His boasting of big bites of hamburger with ketchup.

• Letting our tummies settle. Driving round with windows open, air flowing in. Stop beside a road sign, help Tad interpret number speed limit, round red signs, color of fire hydrant fire plugs, I see a tree, you see a car.

12 foot pool

• Our yard, our little pool, space seems small, until you close your eyes for the water game marco polo, searching, crawling in wet cool water, reaching for ankles slipping beyond reach. Animated wrist and hand mouth saying pretend "can't catch me," flopping, splashing when caught, Tad puts diving plastic colored ring over wrist and pulls Uncle Karl by the wrist around the big pool. The unannounced ceremony of water emptied over my head from toy boat, trickling down my neck, eyes closed, water up to my neck as I sit down on the pool bottom. Taking turns saying the "marco," waiting for the other to reply "polo." Jan standing, sifting floating leaves and crumbs, with her long pool handle net. Not crowded, lost in these long moments, his hugs, and giggles. Later, out and dry, flip flops on, back in car seat, four years old, and headed home to GG and Poppy. Poppy talking about the straws and nectors. Tad making piles of straws and back in box and taken home by Uncle Karl. Straws and nectors a birthday present which he treasures and shares once and a while.

bounce bounce

• Thanks to God for box action, inventing, bouncing on trampoline, Tad conversing, building, reasoning, being in moments, far from everything else, special, real as kin. Knowing there will be other new times as well. Thank you Jesus. Thank you for your care, breaking in tenderly, significant, and the composition of letters, posting, and knowing people through emails, phone calls, youth group, kansas city print society, the life you have given me to be in You, tethered strong, rocking me to sleep, second chances, and the certainty of Your love, Your knowledge of my existence, the little moments glued into my consciousness.

one in the boat

My Brother by Karl Marxhausen

acrylic on panel

(Private collection in Cameron, Missouri)

 

My Sister In Ethiopia by Karl Marxhausen

acrylic on panel

(Private collection in Bellingham, Washington)

 

 

My Sister In Prayer by Karl Marxhausen

acrylic on panel

(Private collection in Carrollton, Missouri) 

 

  

Brother Obermueller by Karl Marxhausen

acrylic on panel

(Private collection in Carrollton, Missouri)

  

One Wrapped in Light by Karl Marxhausen

acrylic on panel

(Artist's collection in Carrollton, Missouri)

Listen to four minute song 
from  "Dancing With The Chromosone" recording 2000
http://karl.marxhausen.net/DWC/10-Who_Are_You.mp3
 
Who are You, Man of God?
Who are You, Man of God?
Who are You?
I read about You, You're the One in the boat,
waves are crashing all around them,
They don't know if they can float.

Who are You, oh Man of God?
Who are You, oh Man of God?
And with Your mouth You speak a command,
and the wind and the waves they OBEY.
What is this?
What is this?
Now you're telling me the things around me,
the wind and the ocean, obey his voice? WHO is this?

I let You in as my Savior, I'm learning about You every day,
Your scriptures tell me about what You did for me and that's ok,
but who are You to stop the waves?
Who are You to bring peace in a storm? Who are You?

Behind Those Stars by Karl Marxhausen

And in this class of biology, I am reading about
the smallest things that I can't see,
There You are, putting it together
So intelligent and smart You are.
I guess it's in the Bible, how You made all things
And in all things, things find their place in You.
Who are You, oh Man of God?

Who are You, oh Man of God?
Owner of a thousand hills, owner of a thousand cattle, You're the One.
Outside time You made this place,
not only on Earth, but in outer space.

Holy, I find You rare.
Such a love has no compare.
I'm a child of my Father
You love me, I am Your own.

How can I understand this?
Like David I'm found wanting.
I don't understand You,
Who are You, oh Man of God?
I believe You, I receive You, help me through it....

Karl Marxhausen © 2000

You Embrace Me, How Can You? by Karl Marxhausen

acrylic on panel

(Artist's collection in Carrollton, Missouri)

Wired To Hear Your Voice by Karl Marxhausen
       40 3/4  by 64 inches, acrylic and oyster shell on board

(Artist's collection in Carrollton, Missouri)

More on this work HERE

 

Open by Karl Marxhausen

acrylic on panel

(Artist's collection in Carrollton, Missouri)

 

school skills

O Lord, you are my strength and my shield. You bring me joy in pleasant ways. I sing your praise.

There is a delight when a student thinks for himself and formulates an answer, a guess, a hunch. The thinking through and voicing of her thought. This came Friday morning with my third graders. We had completed our six brain gym exercises, and time remained for a motion puzzle. I held out a large rectangular chunky looking tray to each in the group. What did they suppose was the tray was made of? Was is wood? No. Was it metal? No. One guessed, paper. Was it heavy? They held it with both hands. No, it was light. Then I continued, I had found this Styrofoam packing material left out for the janitor to discard. It had once been around a computer unit. I thought maybe it could be used here in our room. (I brought out the plastic golf ball from my jacket pocket, and placed it in the inside the tray.) I wondered whether you could figure it out. (Taking hold off the tray on both ends with my hands, I tilted the tray so that the ball would roll down one side and across the side closest to me. Just enough to plant the idea. We had been trying various forms of ball rolling back and forth on a cardboard track. See http://motionpuzzles.blogspot.com/2011/10/back-and-forth.html)

Each student took three minutes to try their skill at making the ball run down all four sides of the tray in a circular fashion. In the middle of the tray there were two large preformed holes. Every student experienced the ball falling through the tray to the floor, bouncing under a table to retrieve on hands and knees. It was not as easy as it appeared. Two students chose to sit down instead of standing to complete the two loops. I thanked each for trying this exercise out for me. Some began coming up with names for the puzzle. The joy of the Lord enveloped my heart.

Friday afternoon at BMP I listened to a third grader read. Sounding out words you do not know is WORK and takes much COURAGE. Following the story with my eyes as he read, I could interject the right pronunciation of a word after he tried it himself first. The sentences came together in a halting fashion. Start stop start stop. Instead of gibberish, the story actually meant something and could be understood by both of us. After he finished the chapter we looked at the book illustrations and talked about the silk weaver woman, what an ox looked like, what the wooden cart looked like, and the pointed to the major characters by name. After completing the assignment, the student was delighted and in a pleasant mood. The joy of the Lord snuck into my heart and made my spirit soar.

You make my path straight. You bring me your joy in unexpected ways. How sweet you are. How gentle and kind.

streaming over

At the impulse of your love, at the impulse of your LOVE, at the IMPULSE of your love--it comes. Streaming fowler--rockhill memos--names off the record--the positioning of gertrude woolf lighton--jim edd spencer--subjects geary logan lankes leighton had in common. A sheet filled with ideas, my truck cruising over the late green of north carroll county, toward work in chillicothe. spirit sparking flashes, lines of data, to a writer's glee, your whee, your manner of business, downloading file after file. Thanks Lord. This is what you bring to me.
You heard my cry and flooded my data banks to overflowing. The abundance of mulberry essence, your sense, your timing, your impulse, effortless, soundless music to my mind, all you, sweet you, my God. It comes.

Remember it, as the evidence lays ready to the right of the keyboard. Recall the goodness,the magnitude of him, who leads you into MORE. Delectable, always tending to your needs. Thank you Lord. Pull me back to your name, your genuine attention, your assurance, your fullness, your poetry, your symphony of good coded in my mitochondria.

you restore missing files from the hard drive, files buried within other files, you help me extract and consolidate: geary, spencer, memos, holly street, lighton. with clear air you release organization, thank you, thank jesus, thank you father, transfer complete, blessed be your magnificent power, your blessed interface, your pronouced exactitude,
 

 

"Delight in Me," you whisper close. On this cool day in September, yard blessed with new green shoots, leaves chanting your praise, windows open to refresh the house, cats napping and listening to the rustle breeze, I delight, Oh Lord, I remember, Oh God, I smile. Fingers tapping, pauses choosing, yes, to your credit, you are worthy of word and song.

 



it comes

His way is not my way, Isaiah 55: 8 tells me. He's been telling me to “drink in his peace--let go off fretting—rely on what he brings my way—thank him for the things that disappoint as well as the things that bring joy.” 

As I looked off to the side I could see the leaning cloud with its astute shading. My feet pedaled, the sprockets clicked, the rubber tires moved me gently over the rough tarmack of Highway B. It was like God was doing X games. You know those amazing riders on ESPN who flew high, somersaulted their bikes, and landed smoothly on the down turned ramp. God was twirling his bike handles in mid air, a fancy cloud stacked with flair, and his voice said to me, “look at this! Isn’t it cool?!”  I replied in my head, ‘That is fine, God. I am happy for you. How majestic is your name. How clever are your skills. I am truly impressed. But what will it be that you will bring to me??? What will be the thing you want me to paint?’

I used to feel intimidated by the wonders of nature. Felt compelled to master what I saw. Yanked this way and that. How majestic is your name. It is enough to give him credit for his astounding compositions in nature. I am drawn to wait. What surprise does he have set aside for me….

Easel faced toward the east end of my neighbor’s waning pond, the willows in shade, the edge of the water receded from the heat wave. Half way through the morning, God brought his awesome clouds into the patch of blue,  just behind the tree tops. Combinations from the brush excited me. Eagerly I ran to the shed and into the house to pull out paintings with unfinished skies. Darkened values received a new coat of titanium white and cobalt blue, swish spish swash splash. Muscles jubilant, awash with joy. It came,  just as he had said it would. Yes, he brought this moment along with the energy and spunk. He who is high about the tree tops. He who brought something unexpected. He who brought peace to drink. A light load to bear. A smile for my heart. 

Floating on my back in the Walmart rim-inflated pool, I looked up at the green pattern above, fuzzy without my glasses. How majestic is your name, Father. Jesus, this way, your way, high above the branches, is not my way. Walk away, you tell me. Walk away from my greed. Nothing escapes your attention. Time and again I fall back on my sneaky ways. Your restraining order is a discipline with which you are training me. Train me, Lord. Help me to wait. I will drink in your peace. Personal trainer, lead me in your word. Train my heart. Teach me your way. You are doing it well. Your peace quiets my mind, when it comes