Amy Boucher Pye

Tag: Leo Boucher

  • Celebrating the fourth day of Christmas: Marking Holy Innocents day

    A stark black, white and grey scene of a winter tree in the snow, void of color.
    A stark picture fitting for today’s topic. By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    The Christmas season is for celebrating, but it doesn’t shy away from the horrors of this world, such as the slaughter of “holy innocents.” The day marks the killing of all the boys in Bethlehem under two by Herod, a jealous and volatile king:

    …an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. ‘Get up,’ he said, ‘take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him’… When Herod realised that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under (Matthew 2:13; 16a).

    This massacre of around thirty boys (for Bethlehem was a small village) wasn’t outside of Herod’s character, for Herod also had his wife and her mother killed, as well as three of his sons. And when he was dying, he ordered that all the notable men of Jerusalem be killed in the hippodrome.

    Herod may have been a powerful king, but his plans to eliminate Jesus were foiled. For Joseph again was warned in a dream, and he obeyed the angel’s direction, trekking into safe territory in Egypt.

    But why did those sweet little boys have to die? Why all those mothers weeping for their slain children? We just don’t know, for it is wrapped up in the fall of humanity and the problem of evil. But we can stand on God’s promises that he will comfort the comfortless and bring hope to the hopeless. And we know that he too grieves at the loss of children so young.

    Heavenly Father, we don’t understand why you sometimes allow innocent people to die. Strengthen our faith and help us to know more about your character, and comfort all those who mourn today.

  • Celebrating the third day of Christmas: The wonder of lights and ornaments

    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    This morning, one of the participants in the Woman Alive book club Facebook group posted this comment:

    “If people want to mark the 12 days of Christmas how do they keep the spirit alive when other people think it’s over? I’m back to work this morning and I’ve already seen one post of Facebook about getting the decorations down!”

    Celebrating the full twelve days of Christmas is something I’ve become more keen about doing in recent years. I confess I don’t observe the season of Advent properly – for I put up the Christmas tree far earlier than I should (my excuse is that putting up the tree and decorations takes a long time). But I do love celebrating the twelve days, marking the full season and not “getting back to normal” as seems to be the tradition these days shortly after Christmas day.

    One simple thing we do for the twelve days of Christmas in our family is eating our dinner in the dining room, table laden with candles, including the Advent wreath fully ablaze. We can see the Christmas tree in the living room as we eat, and it feels festive and fun.

    Another idea is to pray along with the #FollowtheStar prayers produced by the Church of England, which you can find here.

    Do you mark the twelve days of Christmas? Why or why not?

  • Celebrating the second day of Christmas: Around the Christmas tree

    Christmas tree by a fireplace.
    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    Happy second day of Christmas!

    I love this painting by my dad, for it evokes Christmases in the family home growing up in Minnesota, where my parents still live, and where they celebrated on Christmas Eve with all the family (except us).

    That “except us” is the poignant bit, isn’t it. Christmas is a wonderful holiday for family celebrations, but often not everyone is gathered around the tree, for whatever reason. Maybe they’ve moved far away, like I did, or a rift between siblings turned into a war that now fractures the family, or someone has to work in healthcare or in the church, or maybe they have died, and we miss them achingly… Christmas will never be picture perfect, because life this side of heaven isn’t picture perfect.

    But we can have glimpses of wonder and joy, those moments of unity and fun that drop deeply into our memories and make us long for unbroken moments of sweet communion. May you experience more than a handful of these today and during this Christmas season.

  • Watercolor Wednesday: Here’s the church and there’s the steeple…

    A church in blue and white surrounded by trees and sitting in a bed of snow.
    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    We’re in the third week of Advent, but soon and very soon we’ll have the fourth week and then boom, in quick succession, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The twelve days of Christmas will commence. And many of us will go to church to celebrate. I love this picture of a sweet little church framed by trees and cushioned by snow, painted by my father. It’s an idyllic picture of what we imagine church should be like – all soft edges, coziness, and safety.

    But, of course, life doesn’t always follow art. Church can be an experience of disappointment, weariness, hurt, anger, criticism, and pain. If you’re human and you’ve gone to church for a length of time, I’m guessing you can relate to that list of feelings and experiences, and add your own.

    But church can be joy and communion; peace and fellowship; wonder and relating. Jesus came to earth as a baby to usher in a new kingdom, where we are filled with his presence and can find union not only with him but others – and we can find this in church, of all places.

    As we wait for his coming again, may we glimpse what church can be here on earth. Even if for a slender moment. 

    Father God, you sent your Son to earth as a baby, that he might live as one of us. How you must ache for the pain you see your children wrapped in. Thank you that you want to relieve us from this heartache. Help us to turn to you for comfort and help. And please bring unity and peace to our places of worship, bringing healing and release where there has been hurt and betrayal. May we sense your calming presence in our lives this day. Amen. 

  • Weekly Watercolor: The second week of Advent

    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    This week, two candles glow on our Advent wreath, the light becoming stronger in our kitchen as we eat dinner each night in candlelight. The second candle traditionally denotes peace and the prophets. Peace – that’s certainly something we can pray for, in these worldwide times of terrorism, political upheaval, and unrest. 

    Father God, you sent the Prince of Peace to our world as a baby, that we might not live shrouded in fear, conflict, and strife. Continue to usher in your peace, the peace that passes all understanding and guards our hearts and minds through your Son. We ask for creative ways to mend the brokenness among people groups around the world; we long for unity and respect among those with deep differences. May your shalom reign, that your kingdom on earth might flourish. Amen.

  • Watercolor Wednesday: Life in the city

    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    Last week while I was speaking in Somerset, I heard time and time again how much those I was talking with loved their home county. They might like visiting London, but they exhaled when they got home to the green open spaces with its hedgerows, hills, and atmospheric clouds.

    I can understand that, for I love breathing in the clean(er) country air, slowing down, and taking in the surroundings. But I love the city too, and if I had to choose, would go for the hustle and bustle of, say, multicultural London over the quiet of the countryside. (Especially as I can more easily travel on public transport versus those scary single-lane country roads with drivers bearing down on us less confident types!)

    What about you? City or country or somewhere in between? Why? Where do you feel most at home?

    Art by Leo Boucher, my father. Not a watercolor, I know – I’m guessing acrylics on canvas. To purchase prints of some of his work, click here, or email me if you are interested in a piece not listed there.

  • Watercolor Wednesday: A lighthouse in the darkness

    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    I find this painting of my dad’s intriguing. The lighthouse sits high on a rock, promising to illuminate the dark skies and warn boats of the rocks that would crush them. I see hope and promise in that image.

    And then I glimpse the large fall leaves in the foreground, those that soon will wither and disappear as coldness sets in. They are a sign of the earth hibernating and sleeping.

    Two juxtaposing images. Together, they bring hope for light even in the seasons of death.

    What do you see?

     

  • Watercolor Wednesday: Scenes from the life of Jesus

    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    Today I thought we could spend a few moments taking in some words of Jesus as depicted my dad in these sketches. Why not spend some time considering one or more of the scenes, asking God through his Spirit to speak to you. What strikes you? Do you see something in a new way?

  • Watercolor Wednesday: A place to pause and reflect

    By Leo Boucher. Used with permission; all rights reserved.

    Stop for a moment and look at my dad’s watercolor. Transport yourself to the little red shed. What’s it for? Painting? Writing? Pilates?

    What’s happening outside the window? What’s the temperature outside and in?

    What’s on your heart to do or create today? What emotions rise to the surface as you stop to reflect where you can see God’s fingerprints today?

    Commit the rest of your day to God’s care.

  • Watercolor Wednesday: The fruitfulness of autumn

    By Leo Boucher. All rights reserved; used with permission.

    Autumn is a time of glorious colors, as I was reminded last week when I spent time in the Upper Midwest of America. Glorious oranges and yellows peppered the browns and greens in the tree-line, which I noticed even more because London doesn’t afford such striking colors. I’ve heard that the difference in temperature from warm days to cool nights produces the amazing displays.

    I suppose this can be true in our own lives. When we move from extreme temperatures, whether through grief or change or some other reason, we can look to God to bring forth his beauty in and through us as we walk through the changes or time of testing. If we’ve committed our lives to him, he will be doing this work already, and often we aren’t aware ourselves of how he’s moving within us. But others can see the fruit of the Spirit, the glorious gifts of autumn.

    How today can you commit yourself to God, asking him to reflect his love and life within you? In terms of my dad’s painting, what speaks to you within it?