Author: Lisa Anne Tindal

Robins, Ponds and Dreams On Purpose

birds, Children, courage, curiousity, Faith, love, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

“And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation.

And this hope will not lead to disappointment.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭5:4-5‬ ‭NLT‬‬

As quickly as possible, she glided just in front of me, eye level. The robin with the determined forward facing beak and the copper like an old country barn belly intersected my path.

Colors

Last night I dreamt of white camellias mixed in with the crimson ones, a dream that followed a nightmare so vivid I sat straight up and startled my husband. He called me from work, confused over the brazenness of a bad dream occurring after I’d had such a love-filled day. He was worried.

Told him I was better. Thoughts we hide away like to come to the surface, I suppose. They refuse to go unattended. They become weapons in the hand of our enemy until we bravely surrender them to God in a lamenting letter or prayer.

So, I journal. I sit. I give God time to come and comfort.

To teach.

Wisdom

Simplicity is calling. I heard the birds waking up early outside my cold quiet home and I let my pen rest, closed my journal.

Could this be prayer?

Prayer mostly listening, uncomplicated by words or prescriptive wisdom?

I listened as the birds continued singing.

We looked for ponds yesterday and found them on the narrow country roads.

The sky was as blue as a diamond found next to the ocean.

The ponds as flat as stepping stones, little rippling at all.

“Here’s another one!” I announced to my granddaughter and she gazed so sweetly satisfied in our togetherness in noticing the water.

Yesterday, the robin met me and I kept driving to see my daughter and hers, felt the determination of a bird assuring me, better is coming.

Soon, it will be Spring. I saw other birds on Saturday, but it’s the robin I’ll remember.

The robin saying, “Set your intention. Your story is not yet finished.”

Your teachers are everywhere, saying this is the way, keep walking in it. (Isaiah 30:18)

Life is a beautiful, simple adventure.

Plump robins, blue skies scattered with white puffs, happy green fields anticipating Spring and flat fishing ponds hoping to be spotted, evidence of good, evidence of God’s intentional nature.

And interspersed in the noticing, friends I feared I’d forgotten too long remembered me, separately in the same day and I was a tiny bit amazed.

grace and love

God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.

Yesterday morning, I journaled a tender question. I asked God if my friends I call my “colors” are disappointed in me.

Time so quickly passing and I’d lost touch, gotten complacent with our stories and wondered if it matters.

One by one, I heard from four friends yesterday. Two of them, it had been over a year or more. I share such a tender question here so that you’ll see, along with me.

God knows. He noticed.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Potted Daffodils

Art, bravery, courage, daughters, Faith, family, grace, grief, heaven, hope, memoir, painting, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

Wrapped in bright yellow foil scattered with pink and baby blue, the potted daffodils at Publix called my name.

I bought the pot of fully grown flowers and moved them into a terra cotta pot. The bird girl statue Elizabeth calls “our Angel girl” now holds a tray of potted pansies slowly wilting in one hand and the other, upward reaching daffodils on bright silky green.

They won’t last long, already full grown. What’s the use, I thought standing in the produce section staring longingly at the happy yellow flowers.

I thought of hope.

Thought of so much hope that’s in a state of deference, waiting for new life, waiting for evidence of our dreams being worth dreaming for again.

I thought of a song as I painted last week.

Like Springtime

An obscure songwriter not many will know, Chris Renzema, penned lyrics that keep dancing softly with me.

I first heard this song over a year ago. It just won’t let me go.

We will sing a new song
‘Cause death is dead and gone with the winter
We will sing a new song
Let “hallelujahs” flow like a river
We’re coming back to life
Reaching towards the light
Your love is like springtime.

Like Springtime

I walked yesterday, briefly and mostly for fresh air to cycle through my chest to move towards healing from a three day cough.

I saw the daffodils and had a new idea, hope and anticipation of Spring next year, of the daffodils the angel is holding today popping up like little joys encircling the statue.

Spring of 2023 will have me looking towards the little spot I treasure and I’ll watch and wait and laugh quietly when the flowers pop up in a cluster to say to me, see you hoped and waited and we came.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.”
‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭13:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“We’re coming back to life
Reaching towards the light
Your love is like springtime

Come tend the soil
Come tend the soil of my soul
And like a garden
And like a garden I will grow
I will grow.”

Today marks the date of a phone call twelve years ago, my baby brother’s voice saying softly,

“She’s gone.” and the memory of my woeful sobbing, my head dropping heavy to my desk.

Mama, I’ve grown.

I’ll keep growing and hoping and looking heavenward. It’s hard to fathom, but impossible not to believe.

I’ll see you again. Like Springtime, it will be a beautiful day.

Until then, I’ll have a piece of coconut cake tomorrow and I’ll remember your truths.

“Lisa, never take backward steps, only move forward.” Bette (Elizabeth) Jean Peacock Hendrix 1939-2010

Grace and Pages

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, grace, kittens, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

“Let them come to me for refuge; let them make peace with me, yes…”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭27:5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

This morning I wrote three pages worth of notes without lifting my pen. This practice, “morning pages” is something I’d heard about and thought maybe.

I am often stubborn as a student, slow to be trained by the wisdom of others.

I’m learning.

Yesterday, the entire third page chronicled grace, the preceding two were questions of self and God.

Today, I expressed my confusion over my cat, “Georgia” suddenly and frantically obsessed with the water in my painting jars.

I tracked her movement as my pen moved swiftly blue. Committed to this morning pages practice, day two, I found a lightness in my thinking, a sweetness in allowing the freedom to write about my “just fine Georgia” cat.

She’s frantic and sneaky, moaning in her meowing to get my attention. I wonder if she knocked over the jar on my desk and drank the blue muddied water.

I continued to examine the meaning behind her behavior and transitioned to make it relatable to mine.

Unsettled seeking it seems we have in common. We have a frantic inquisitive nature and little patience with lingering question, longing for fulfillment.

I’d become apathetic about writing. Ambivalent, not just yet because I’ve not lost my love for creativity, just wondering if I’m still able.

Page three of three today asked God about delay, delay in the question I keep asking that remains unanswered.

The more I asked the question in all sorts of way, I began to feel attended to, I began to be okay with not yet knowing, instead continuing while waiting.

I settled down and ended page three wishing there were space for more.

Resting.

Pages lined with swirly words and Georgia settles. Help me to settle, God. Resting. Confident in your ability meeting my willingness.

Day 2, morning pages complete. Writing more like process than performance.

I’m learning.

One or The Other

Abuse Survivor, Art, artist calendar, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

When I think of David, I think he seems to have lived a life marked by thinking one way or the other. He was either desperate or joyous, defeated by his own sins or bravely standing on God’s character and promises for him, for us too.

Honest, David was honest.

“In you, O Lord, do I take refuge; let me never be put to shame; in your righteousness deliver me! Incline your ear to me; rescue me speedily! Be a rock of refuge for me, a strong fortress to save me!”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭31:1-2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

What are the thoughts you think about yourself, your value, your image, your light meant to be shared with others?

Are the things people say of you consistent with the things you think and say of yourself?

“You will look to Him for gladness and refreshment when depressed, for moderation and recollection when in good spirits, and you will find that He will never leave you to want.” Francois De La Fenelon (1651-1715), Joy and Strength

Last night, I dreamt of drowning.

I heard myself catching my breath as I came up from the deep, a frantic exhale. I found my soft heavy blanket. I let it rest over my torso and I processed the possibility that I’ve been pulled downward again by the unanswered questions of my past, the agony of being unable to piece it all together peacefully.

I’m not able on my own I’m reminded.

“I’m not sleeping lately.” I told my husband. “Did I wake you?” “No.”, he answered.

“Good.” I added, thinking there’s no need to trouble him with the dream of drowning.

Instead, carry on with the new day.

As I fed the cat my eyes went to the calendar and the verse I found fitting for January.

The theme is courage.

I sat with coffee, lit my candle although it was morning and secretly asked God to come and find me again.

Turned to January 21st in my devotional. There again, the verse about courage.

“Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭31:24‬ ‭KJV‬‬

I recorded three thoughts and let them lead me to process my worry, my concern over who I am, who I was, who I’m becoming.

I’m not who people think I am. I’m fragile. I’m faltering. I doubt the promises of God quite often and I exhaust myself with worrying.

Then, God brought reply.

Same type replies he gave the ancient souls like David and Francois when they found themselves despairing.

You’re not who you were and perhaps rarely who people say you are, but you are fully known and loved.

I am who Jesus says I am.

Three self-reflective questions led to honest self-assessment and the possibility of a different perspective according to Jesus.

Could it be the deepest place of questions can answer the longings you feel are best kept to yourself?

“In mercy you have seen my troubles, and you have cared for me; even during this crisis in my soul I will be radiant with joy, filled with praise for your love and mercy. You have kept me from being conquered by my enemy; you broke open the way to bring me to freedom, into a beautiful, broad place.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭31:7-8‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Possibly, we’re all one or the other quite often. We sense ourselves falling into questions and despair. We stay there longer than we’d hope. We acknowledge our position.

We’re brave like David.

We ask for help.

Continue and believe.

Take courage, the ceaseless gracious hand of God, take courage.

January Things and Thoughts

Abuse Survivor, birds, bravery, contentment, courage, daughters, depression, Faith, family, freedom, grief, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, suicide loss, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

Once I was a member, although not fully eligible to join, of a community of people who gathered over grief.

I was the leader, though never feeling equipped. Often, I thought to advise or redirect which led to empty gazed expressions from those mourning a loss due to suicide.

It was simply better that I just sit with them, that I listen.

Often listening lasted too long for me.

Moments between a gut-wrenching story and the responses of others stretched out long around the conference table.

Still, sitting still together in silence was best.

On Tuesday, my granddaughter who’s two and a half going on twenty asked to get closer, get closer to the little birds.

I saw one bird on a thin branch. She spotted its companion nearby. We walked carefully, me instructing her, “Step up high, high knees, watch your feet, be careful!”

We walked over limbs, pine tree remnants and broken up soil in the place where the land is being cleared for changes, her future and her family’s.

I thought of, am thinking of David, of the psalms. One in particular I cling to and others so honest we’re reluctant to say we can relate.

“I lie awake; I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭102:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We found our footing atop a little high place she called the mountains and we saw the sparrows before they flitted away.

In the margin of my Bible there’s a sketch here, a rooftop with a solitary bird brings me comfort, tells me others understand.

I have a very old Bible, an estate sale find. Once I thought to find the owner’s family, now I have decided it’s mine.

In this old Oxford Bible, a leather woven cover soft over the thin yellow pages, I find papers, a teacher’s identification card, and a lesson plan marked “January”, a typewritten script for 5th grade students on the color wheel.

The owner of the Bible I found was an art teacher.

Underlined in faded red, she must’ve wanted to express the importance of colors developing, merging, being strengthened when placed alongside or blended together.

I found it fitting to tuck the funeral pamphlet of my mama’s service here.

Here in January.

“Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me: thou shalt stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand shall save me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭138:7‬ ‭KJV‬‬

Today, I journaled prompted by more ancient words, the quote in my “Joy and Strength” devotional.

Let them be strangers, your dark thoughts. Believe them not. Receive them not. Know them not. Own them not. (Joy and Strength, Isaac Pennington)

“For the Lord is the Spirit, and wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”
‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭3:17‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Continue and believe. Share your sorrows. Listen and agree.

Jesus, we need you.

By Faith and Waiting

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

Like a teenage girl twirling the tiny ring of promise on her slender finger, we wait anxiously, hopefully, and faithfully.

We keep waiting.

“When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭94:19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Between question and answer there is a void, a great abysmal place bordered by anxiety and affirmation.

The tension between doubt and deliverance is the required dwelling place for far longer than we would choose.

It’s our tolerance of the inner turmoil, of the unanswered plea and it is our posture that secretly and with subtlety, changes our course.

We wallow in the waiting or we wistfully wonder just how we will be changed, more wise, experiential difference makers in the telling of our waiting stories to others.

That’s what faith is for.

For changes in us that are best for us

And for others.

Necessary and best because God promises it to be so and His promises are kept even when it seems not so.

There can be joy.

We can choose it as our in the waiting posture.

“Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.”
‭‭Habakkuk‬ ‭3:17-18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Like a promise ring on the left hand of a teenage girl, we know our future is marked by a commitment of love that will grow.

The love of our Father through Jesus for us.

So, we sit with our notes, our bullet list prayers and gratitudes and we mark our places in the place of waiting.

Maybe we turn our left hand to rest in our lap and with ink mark our wrist with a delicate cross, underneath it we write, “Believe”.

We wait with hope.

And when hope is not met by what we hoped for, we still have faith.

Because of the unseen things to come, we have faith.

We journey on.

We wait willingly.

His mercies fail not. He gives more and more grace.

Continue and believe.

Radiance

Angels, birds, courage, curiousity, grace, hope, Peace, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder
The Cardinal Tree

On the curve before the yellow house adjacent to the bare tree peach orchard is a place of radiance.

Afternoons and occasional mornings, the cardinals flutter in front of me.

Several, seven or so.

A flash of happy crimson.

I love to think they know it’s me, that it’s not just their scheduled gathering that I pass by happenstance.

I love to believe, a group of red birds may be just for me,

Intentionally.

As if they know, Lisa will be passing by, she may have the baby.

She may be alone. She may be tired.

Perhaps, she’s hopeful.

A college of cardinals, waiting just for me.

Speaking bird language.

Here she comes! Let’s fly upward, let’s make a happy scene!

Let’s show her we see her.

Let’s encourage her to carry on.

“Jesus looked at them intently and said, “Humanly speaking, it is impossible. But with God everything is possible.””
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭19:26‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Esther

bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, fear, hope, obedience, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

Story one in the series of “Weak Made Strong” monthly blogs

Recently, I heard someone speak of the “Strengths Finder” assessment and I remember years ago taking the test, being given the guide book to better understanding your strengths and making changes to make your weaknesses less weak.

I can’t recall my scores, but I began to think of attributes of mine that I considered weaknesses.

Naturally, I made a list. Just as quickly, I countered each trait with a contrast, a different view.

Sensitive, too transparent and “in my head” became empathetic, authentic and contemplative.

I reframed my barriers to the real life evidence of my tools. I rethought the hardships life had caused me to be avenues towards resilient strength.

Esther was orphaned by both parents and raised by a cousin. She found herself amongst a bevy of beauties competing to be chosen. She was a listener and an observer. She paid attention. She recognized that courage often cannot often be delayed.

I think of the well known verse,

“…Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?””
‭‭Esther‬ ‭4:14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

A verse that’s prompted many of us to be brave, be wise, be responsive because we believe whatever circumstance that is calling forth our bravery

We were chosen for it.

And that acceptance of whatever brave thing it is, is strength.

Is weakness moving towards strength.

I am far from a theologian, even less a historian. I simply love reading the stories of women who had lots to overcome or lots to move beyond. I rarely expound on the interpretation of scripture. I’m not wise enough, but I sure do love seeing myself in others.

Women who had weaknesses, but became strong.

What holds you back?

For me, it’s age.

I decide I’m not “on my mental game” enough to be the things God keeps telling me not to pack away. So, I keep them close, I don’t give up. However, I am very slow to try again.

What can you resume or bravely begin that you’ve convinced yourself it’s not yours to do, you’re just too weak, too old, too unskilled

too ___________.

I hope you’ll follow me here for a new story of a woman in the Bible each month.

Women (and men) like us,

Weak made strong.

In Peace I Go, Again

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, freedom, grace, grief, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, rest, traumatriggers, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom

After a very long time, I pulled the stubby stems from the dirt. The four times or more repotted “lipstick plant” was not thriving.

The plant sent by my fellow choir members at the time of my mother’s death. Inside, then outside, repotted and revived, try and tried again until it was decidedly time to let it go.

The forest like ferns in the window box were just there, not thriving either. My master gardener cousin suggested them and I liked that she called them “Fall ferns.” To me they looked like a walk in the woods, a reminder of creeks and pine trees.

My husband’s recent hospitalization (he’s greatly improved) reminded me not then, but yesterday, I’m good at operating on auto-pilot.

I’m skilled at begin subtly hyper-vigilant, of draping myself in sort of an emotional bubble wrap.

And praying throughout it all, praying believing in the power of prayer and the nearness of God,

Until I’m not.

Until I remember, “this feels like that”.

While I believe in my healing because of my faith in Jesus, the physicality of past trauma and memories are remnants and threads in my tapestry. I’d love to believe I’ll one day not be affected, but I’m more hopeful in knowing my hopefulness in this regard is real progress.

Is peace, is going forward in peace.

Again.

Still, conversations about options for life, long days hoping for turnarounds, ICU waiting rooms with siblings taking turns to visit and calls with the announcement “gone” are realities I have experienced.

No wonder it all came back to knock me off my feet when I quit trudging forward in a fog, when I finally slowed down.

Grief catches up. Trauma is skillful in its tactics.

It’s best that we not avoid it, rather go down the road again and again to the place where the view is more clear, better, an invitation to known peace and comfort.

Allowing the intellectual revelation that my life has been affected by trauma and loss, I have an understanding of the fallout rather than falling apart because of it.

I am in tune with myself.

I can grieve what happened back then in a way that brings a tender resurgence of sadness, but not one that destroys me.

Because I know Jesus told many “to go in peace because you’re now well, you are healed”, but the brain often rebels.

I’m not a clinician.

I believe understanding leads to disciplined healing and I don’t think remembering our hard things is always detrimental. I believe it leads to both understanding and to gratitude for who we are now

Despite what happened then.

Remember my mama’s broken pot with the miraculously spreading succulents from her funeral?

Well, they withered like an old flattened tire. The December frost took them. I brought the pot inside, too late, maybe.

I ran my fingers across the soil and tried to help the plants perk up.

Just one tiny plant like a miniature palm is standing. I’ll wait before adding more. I’ll hope more will rejuvenate on their own, find the nourishment to keep on.

The window box ferns are limelight green in the terra cotta pot. They’re happier on the porch in new soil. They must love the chance to grow in the place where death was accepted to invite new flowering.

Life continues. Life reminds.

New days bring new acceptances of our responses that hinder our acceptance of hardship or hope and invite us to know which are best.

To be brave enough to know ourselves and even braver to invite a new perspective.

Or not so new, just remembered.

Redeeming our days, because we’ve been redeemed.

Knowing ourselves in light of knowing the God who knows even more deeply and says I’m with you here, I was with you there.

Go in peace, daughter.

Go in peace.

Be gentle with yourself. Keep growing.

“For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭55:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬