Hope and Strength 2020

Angels, Art, courage, curiousity, hope, love, mercy, obedience, painting, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I sometimes wish I didn’t love both.

Art and words.

I paint what I call “female forms”.

Some call them angels.

I’ve designed a 2020 calendar. Each month has a thought, a little nudge and a Bible verse.

11×17 on ivory, images large enough for framing.

More photos later and I’ll add to my shop.

For now….just writing about it here.

I’ve done something new.

Feels like a whim.

Is a whim a leap of faith?

Maybe.

Maybe.

More info on ordering this week!

Eyes Untainted

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, hope, Peace, Redemption, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

It is pretty far reaching to imagine seeing others always and only as God sees them.

Our vision spot on and untainted by our wrongs and by theirs.

I sat amongst others observing interactions, hearing bits of conversations.

Watching some speak with microphones and others being spoken of, spoken for.

I wondered if the ones unable to speak freely would have or could have said more.

The ones who were tentative in accepting an invitation to speak, were they prepared?

Were they as free in their sharing as they’d wished they could be?

Thing is, life is a stage and we arrive as audience sitters either hoping to go unnoticed or longing to just have a chance to share our “take”.

“Ears to hear and eyes to see— both are gifts from the Lord.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭20:12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Our experiences leak in and muddy our waters, most of us have an undercurrent of fear, of well disguised vulnerabilities that we mask when amongst others.

Then we’re alone and we contemplate our worth, we question our belonging.

We decide we’ve been tricked, wronged, not measured up.

Thankfully, we get quiet and recognize our vision blurred by pasts wrongs and chunks of time devoid of being known and acknowledged.

We decide to accept that we may see things wrongly, that we are looking through old dirty and damaged glasses.

Our notice of others in negative ways just doesn’t fit anymore.

We want to be kinder, gentler or at least, accept there are battles everyone is fighting we just will never know.

We’d rather be soft than bitter.

Hard words and harsh responses have worn us out, we don’t have time for remorse anymore.

We’d rather offer an open door, only if barely cracked than shut the door and lock it, forbidding any reconciliation, any chance at all of relationship.

Do you ever wonder, How does God want me to grow here?

How does God see what I am seeing?

Are my heart’s eyes wrong?

In a room filled with a variety of characters all vying to be known or to belong.

What, I wonder, does God see of the looked over, the forgotten?

The one who arrived but felt unwelcome.

I believe He sees them, sees me.

God sees weakness when I see arrogance. God sees grief’s lingering hold when I see nervousness. God sees fear when I see avoidance. God sees striving to maintain an image when I see condescension.

God understands people.

Oh, to see as God sees.

God sees my misplaced confidence in self when I beg for the notice of others.

What is it that God sees in you that may be misunderstood by others?

What would God say about how you’re seeing someone today?

Can our tainted vision of others based on experiences be rewritten, readjusted, without preconceived judgment?

I believe it can.

The surrender circle this morning?

Jotted adjacent, today’s note to self:

God sees differently.

Sees me, sees others.

Down deep flaws and faults used to cover or lessen their showing.

God sees differently.

What if my surrender included the surrender of “my take on things”, my perception of another’s behavior tainted by some weakness or harm I will never know they are carrying?

What if I see me and see others through the eyes of redemption, through the lens of hope that knows all and never says no?

We have this in common, all of us, humans seen by a compassionate God.

Our tainted selves, He sees untainted.

We, after all are His vision, His creation.

It can be so. It is not easy.

Oneness with God, closer to understanding others as we adjust our perceptions.

We have to want it, untainted vision that chooses not seeing through eyes that are old, not seeing the same.

Same old same.

Old.

Eyes that see in new ways.

Eyes untainted.

Continue.

Continue and believe.

Weathered Beautifully

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, hope, memoir, mercy, praise, Prayer, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:8-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Look around you. Everything can change in just days. Every little thing is God’s way of saying.

Notice the beauty in the weathering.

A lesson in everything, I told someone and she agreed.

Sort of like giving God the question, the messes we find ourselves in and the consequences of them.

Being intentional in the after of it, pausing and expecting to see the whole thing new.

If we will listen, we will learn from the God “reframed” whatever.

Stay teachable, allow change, don’t resist growth not despise the maturity most disguise, don’t want to own their own “aging”.

I’m wiser now because I am more open to God’s wisdom, not my own.

Learning is not a harsh or punitive lesson.

Sometimes it’s a surprise, an acknowledgement that your take on something was spot on, now continue, confident in a graceful way.

Your lesson is not a license for remorse, your accurate assessment is saying,

You matter to me. I’ve noticed you. You have great value, your longings and your confusion as well as your questions, they are valid, significant. God

Yesterday, I thought to tell my husband it felt “tropical”, the air early morning.

Instead, I told him the air felt stormy.

Today, there’s a difference of about thirty degrees and the air is fresh and cool, rain rejuvenated.

I’m likely to speak artistically, to be descriptive in an odd way.

My legacy may include that, “Lisa loved to use unusual words.”

That may be spoken of me when I’m no longer here.

Legacy.

I scribbled next to my “surrender” circle, “my thoughts”.

Left it there and then felt it float above my head most of the day.

How simple it was to jot it down. A challenge or a big heaping helping of peace if it were to be so.

That my thoughts would be only good or at least not so overdone, rewritten, transposed on my heart, the beating down of unknown.

If every single thought was hemmed in, buffered, not allowed to run off course on its own rabbit chase…

That would be what I hope is my lasting legacy.

Quiet Confidence.

Confidence in God.

My life verse? It evolved from the words “quiet confidence” a very long time ago.

I looked for a description of my daddy for a tiny little ad to memorialize him. I rarely read my Bible then. I’d seen others use verses as a way to remember the deceased, to honor them.

Since my daddy was quiet, it was my hope that in heaven he was confident finally.

At least that’s what I hoped people would see, that my father wasn’t so well known in small town Georgia, in terms of success.

But, in heaven he at last was confident.

I kept it for myself. I’ve tossed it over in my mind, made it my brand. I’ve pondered its true meaning.

Quiet Confidence.

“For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” But you were unwilling,”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I cling to the two words most.

My granddaughter and I walked again on Wednesday. We didn’t venture far and our pace was a little lazy. I held her and we pivoted from tree to field, from sky to other end of unending open sky.

An ancient grey tree caught my eye. Maybe hidden until the space was cleared for a family’s home. A tree that had grown up years ago and not planted by man. These trees, this forest grew up over time, naturally.

Not by force, not even pruned or cared for. The tree with the weather making it tough, changing its appearance to what I decided is beautiful.

Is strong.

We change over time too. Circumstances can toughen us, make us either angry or resolved.

I wondered what the tree stripped bare of the fuzzy growth would be, thought of peeling back the layers.

Left it though, the beauty represented the years, rooted and strong, weathered.

Wow, me too.

I am weathered.

We look for the lesson in hardship, consider God’s perspective or we bend under the weight of our fragile attempt to be unchanging, immortal and untainted by the truth of life and death, unavoidable events.

Trees yearn towards God. Brittle arms, branches with tiny offshoot branches…open hands, fingers knowing they’re getting closer to heaven.

So, I’m deciding not to waste any of it. Not complicated situations, doomsday environments and even more proof that I’m not able on my own.

Legacy.

Quiet, confident, teachable.

Weathering beautifully.

Last week I discovered that it is only found in an ancient and out of print Bible translation, the words “in quiet confidence” instead of “strength” or “quietness and trust”.

I’m clinging to the ancient version, confident because of it.

Us With Others

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, freedom, grace, happy, hope, love, memoir, mercy, mixed media painting, obedience, painting, Peace, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Stillness, surrender, Uncategorized

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My Bible is open for the first time in almost a week and I’ve found the scriptures’ take on an expression I went to bed with.

I had been thinking of how I’m perceived, in a crowd of strangers who don’t know me, amongst artists and shoppers, women, their children.

For the first time in the bulk of my years it wasn’t about my shoes, my hair, my jewelry, my purse, or even my perfume.

I’ve been without my favorite scent called “Happy” for a bit and so the scent on a not so clear and cool day? I’m hoping it was “Dove” laced clear and clean aroma.

Most of us want to be found “worthy” of good things, pleasant to be with, able to hold a good conversation.

We want to have comparable lives to the ones we are with.

We want to be okay being with most everyone.

Before sleep last night I followed a thought trail to the question of what it means to walk worthy of Christ.

What a life that throws out all other measurements of worth held by society and individuals and simply is focused, content, and well, really just happy to only have one assessor of worth so to speak.

Then I wondered how walking worthy would really look, not me looking at me, but others’ views.

The Book of II Corinthians has four chapters spread across two pages in my Bible.

On the left margin I’ve sketched what looks like a steep hill going up a curve and towards a tunnel. I must’ve been reading Paul’s words about how we may think we are irrevocably affected by our pasts.

But we have lives resurrected, we have hope.

“Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭1:9-10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There are some things I shouldn’t have survived. Before, I questioned how and why I made it through. Now, I’m quite certain my present life, the nearness of God, is the reason.

On the right hand margin, there’s a sketch of what I’ve begun calling “margin girls”.

This pencil sketch is an early one with no color and at her feet, I’ve drawn a clay pot and a beautiful rose.

As Paul continues his writing, Chapter 2 is about triumph over our pasts. This is the place where the verse lives that describes what our walk is when we believe, what our aura and aroma will be amongst others.

He also owns his own horrible and murderous past and writes that if we’ve been forgiven, the best thing we can do is to forgive others as well.

“But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things? For we are not, like so many, peddlers of God’s word, but as men of sincerity, as commissioned by God, in the sight of God we speak in Christ.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭2:14-17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It occurs to me now, I used the word “peddler” just last week as I described how I detest convincing, imploring someone through my own neediness that they need to purchase a painting.

” Peddlers”, I think of insincere and unconvinced vendors.

That’s not who I want to be, when I offer up my belief in Jesus as something others are open to believing.

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No, I share the meaning behind the layers in a piece and onlookers are captivated, drawn closer, decide they’d like to own what God has helped me create.

The idea of the painting, the aroma of Jesus in me, inviting curiosity, not unpleasant.

If I’m found worthy, I want to be found a gentle, confident, pleasingly consistent scent of grace and mercy, salvation through my belief in Jesus.

Years ago, two or three, I heard the Holy Spirit say to me

This is your treasure…your art and your writing.

I was thrilled to be found worthy of such a calling! Impressed that I had progressed to such a place, excited…okay, finally it’s my big break kind of thinking.

But, I’m learning slowly, a treasure is small at first and may never be grand or spectacular at all or in an earthly way.

Instead, the treasure only increases in worth when it’s given back through uncertain and timid hands to the one who made it after all.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:7-11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The thing about God and His teachings through the words of people like Paul is that we don’t understand it fully all at once.

Over time we ponder what is the aroma of Christ that those around me should sense?

What does it really mean to be clay in the potter’s hand waiting to be made into a vessel in which can rest our undeniable faith?

What does it mean to discard all self and others’ assessments of our ability and worth and walk only with one goal.

I want to walk worthy of the God who gave His Son and gifted me through grace to have the Spirit of Jesus in my own very soul. I want to live worthy of this, nothing more.

I suppose if their were a new scent, maybe the Clinique scent called “Happy” I loved so much before, I’ve outgrown.

I’d wear a new aroma, one called “Content” if I owned another pretty bottle.

How are your growing, measuring your worth and your worthiness?

Are you content?

Are you learning?

Content in not suddenly complete and completed?

Content in the balance of caring for the treasure of you, the treasured things you were created to share.

Continue and believe.

You are God’s treasure.

Keep learning.

Strong Standing

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, confidence, courage, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Salvation, surrender, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I ease up slowly and turn to plant my feet, sockless, on the floor that my husband warned of germs. I don’t sleep well in socks, have to have space for moving my toes, can’t be entrapped.

It is not lost on me that the day before I lose my footing, I listen to a podcast about trees, about God’s plan for trees to be meaningful, have significance for us like they do in the Bible.

To not be cut off. Like hope in God, rooted deeply, strong and reaching.

It is not lost on me that I’d been pondering how mysterious is our God, how necessary my dependence on Him is, and that for days I’d been encircling the word “Surrender”.

It is not lost on me that I’d become a little entitled, sure and pompous over my good and strong health.

Everything happens to have us consider the lesson of it.

Yes, I believe everything does happen for a reason.

On Tuesday morning, vertigo came like a hurricane.

I was leveled. Sick, panicked, scared. I was unable to regain my footing, I was swept away on the waves of nausea and sad, sad frantic anxiety.

You’ll maybe laugh over the simplicity of my conclusion.

I was humbled.

Two nights in the hospital to be sure the panic wasn’t cardiac related chest discomfort.

I fell asleep aware of my standing.

Across the hall, a man with dementia who kept prompting the nurses with the erratic pressing of his button.

He cried loudly through the night.

Maybe next door, or close at least, another loud shouter, violent and a threat due to mental condition, he prompted announcements across the hospital speakers of a particular code.

The man with dementia had a visitor with a peace lily in hand and then later a quiet uncertain visitor, looked to be his same age, he knocked timidly and then entered. A third visitor told the cafeteria people the door was closed because we were praying.

I listened. I considered my condition.

Somehow the other man calmed down eventually.

At night I pray for my family and friends. I recall them by using the alphabet and I include all the M’s I know for example, before moving to “N”.

It’s not lost on me that until the scary vertigo episode, I’d never included my well being in the “L” request.

I never pray for my own health other than in a way that always calls to account how I’m certain I don’t deserve to be here.

Or is it because I felt others needed it more? A bit of pride, a big mindset of control?

So, I prayed God would help me navigate this new condition and that He’d forgive my thinking I was “all that” because “I’m 59 and all I take is melatonin!”

Yay me!

Don’t you wish you were so lucky, so fortunate, so fit?

It’s not lost on me that for weeks I’d been getting closer and closer to really seeing that

I’m not able on my own.

Don’t you see it all comes together?

God has been weaving my path to this current understanding for longer than possible for me to comprehend.

You can be strong but you can’t stand alone. You can be stubborn in your perseverance but you’re not without vulnerability nor are you invincible.

You’re not completely well all alone, independence, a fault.

The sunrise on the second morning of hospital waking was so splendid I just waited. I postponed my experimental testing of my balance, my rising to stand and walk and I simply stared, gazed, considered.

You’re still standing. Still standing strong.

Even if you had to be shaken to attention.

God holds out as long as possible to teach an important lesson.

He’s more patient than I deserve.

The lesson? Rest and trust.

Slow down, Lisa. Your body cannot keep up with your erratic physical schedule and not enough rest mind!

In the book Reforesting FaithMatthew Sleeth, a former medical professional, atheist, carpenter discusses trees and their significance in the Bible. He shares his seeking and beginning to believe in God on the Annie F. Downs podcast. You can listen here:

Dr. Matthew Sleeth

I can’t decide if my favorite part of the conversation is that he stole a Bible and began reading with Matthew’s book or the quote that describes how God had been with him all along even when he didn’t believe.

If you don’t believe in God it doesn’t mean God doesn’t believe in you. Matthew Sleeth

I woke at home this morning having slept okay after falling asleep with a Proverbs verse.

“In the same way, wisdom is sweet to your soul. If you find it, you will have a bright future, and your hopes will not be cut short.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭24:14‬ ‭NLT

I walked with puppy, back on routine and I paused at my little spot with one chair under the pine situated in the corner.

I hadn’t thought of it until this morning, this not so grand pine is growing, enough for shade and to be the arm outstretched for a bird feeder.

This very pine, the source of me questioning my husband to myself. Why does he insist on replanting, why is he putting that puny little branch in the ground…I mean, the whole back yard is filled with strong pines?

Why can’t he stop adding new growth? Why does he insist on keeping every tree?

But, now, now this one is mine and it is still growing. It is not towering; but it is strong.

Strong standing, after all and welcoming the surrender to sun and rain and whatever wind might blow.

Strong standing.

Planted a long time ago and quietly surrendered.

Walking on level places, not stoic in the steadiness of my own feet.

Strong standing because He made me, kept and keeps me.

Continuing to believe.

Your hopes will not be cut short. Proverbs 24:17

Able, just not on my own.

October Newsletter

Art, confidence, courage, doubt, hope, Redemption, Uncategorized

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Maybe small change is God’s idea, subtle. shifts of just not quitting.

Here’s October’s Newsletter:

Redemptive Stories

If I’m honest, my newsletter is just a blog post in a different location…and most of the time my blog posts are just diary, (blogging pros say this is not good).

Still, quitting because you’re not big and strong or fancy or famous enough is never good.

Continue, continue and believe.

 

 

No Notes

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, daughters, Faith, family, fear, freedom, heaven, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, surrender, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

I’ve misplaced yet another good pen. The lead in the mechanical pencil isn’t working, keeps slipping from the cylinder.

Is that what it’s called? Cylinder?

The part, under the pressure of my thumb and an erratic clicking to yield the grey lead?

Probably hid the pen from the puppy, yet another thing inedible eaten.

My journaling ritual,

Habitual or healing?

I barely made a note on this blessed stormy morn, just repeated the word “surrender” and circled, circled, circled.

It’s day 7 of 40. When I get to 41, I’ve decided I’ll circle “surrender” again.

It’s an unending thing.

Not specific. It covers what’s needed, encircles it all.

Twice since yesterday I’ve heard things that are more than enough, simply profound, stand alone philosophy and determined mindset.

My grandma used to say “pass and re-pass” meaning get along with others and my mama always said things like “pick your battles”, “turn the page” or “don’t stress”.

It really is a wonder she found words to encourage us. She was tormented by life and at times, my father.

Then there’s my aunt, who is now my mama. “Prayer and Patience”, her answer for life, for everything.

A mother who had a daughter die. She lives by the “2 p’s”.

My father, on the other hand was a man of hardly any words.

He abhorred nasty and condescending puffed up men.

He was kind to the often downtrodden in need of a cheap six-pack on Sunday people.

He always told the truth.

He just kept trying.

Told us “tell one lie, you gonna have to tell another”.

Occurs to me now, this may be why I’m so honest with others, getting better at honesty with myself.

Back to the two things:

1. Fear always stems from and centers itself around what we love most.

2. Strength is found in weakness.

My greatest fears have always been related to the loss of something, usually someone I love greatly.

My weaknesses are ironically where my strengths are after fifty plus years, emerging.

Bursting.

Too sensitive? I don’t think so anymore. I’m owning my sensitivity, calling it observing.

If fear is a result of loving fully, give me fear in abundance because I want to love with all I got from here on.

No notes needed for either.

Know your “weakness” fully engage it and encircle your fears with like a ginormous comforting hug.

That sounds/reads ridiculous.

Oh well, it’s Saturday and I’m too comfy to find a pen for journaling.

Thus, the unraveling is here.

We do not know what life will bring us.

Even Jesus asked His Father God for other options.

Jesus was human amongst humans til his thirties.

He loved fully, knew fear. Taught fairness, non-judgment, honesty and love.

He knew his life had a purpose but hoped there’d be a less tragic demonstration.

He asked to be excused three times from the ultimate demonstration of love.

His disciples were with him in the Garden. His only request of them, stay awake, I will be pleading. I will be asking My Father if my death is His will or if there is some other way to make heaven possible for all.

They slept while he prayed and then he told them again, be vigilant, my death is coming.

It wasn’t His Father’s plan that he avoid a sacrificial death. The bitter cup would be His.

“saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. And when he rose from prayer, he came to the disciples and found them sleeping for sorrow,”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭22:42-45‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We don’t know what life will bring us, what we will be forced to endure, when freedom from endurance will be delivered.

We only get to choose whether to see fear as a sign of love, weakness as the soil for the strongest seed waiting for water.

Everyone has a story.

This I believe. Will continue.

No notes needed.

I’m not an expert in theology and don’t anticipate late in life education of the seminary sort.

What I know is life is a teacher. God is my life’s author.

I can believe from here.

No notes.

No pen needed.

Winds and Wills

Art, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, grace, heaven, hope, memoir, mercy, painting, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

From the window I watched a cloud-like gathering of mist rising up. I could see it drift and sort of fade and then it was evident again, dancing in an upward slow swirl and sway.

The breeze had gathered together it seemed, what was left of the misting rain and it wasn’t collected in anything that could contain it, just danced a bit and then disappeared.

Mystery, in a way.

The seasons, a metaphor maybe God uses to lead us, redirection or reinvention.

The gray rain sky changed to fog and mist and then later the sun landed on the daisies next to the sill.

The day changed.

Crisp, it called and my granddaughter and I went.

I watched the big brown leaves layered on the soft path and then their unlayering, leaning and lifting together with the notice of afternoon’s wind.

We talked about God making things, not sure what else.

We must’ve been listening.

Now today has delivered Autumn, the shift of season made the sky more transparent yesterday late evening.

Seemed that way. Translucent from my perspective.

It may be me.

Believing clarity is cusping.

No longer bold breaking through just responding to pending invitation.

Change, no longer resisted at all.

Direction? Now just a calm consideration of truth not fully revealed.

Shoes on my feet and my arms drawn in tight acknowledging the change.

Embrace the shift, the change, the lack of understanding of everything. Your path will be directed. Look and listen.

You will see.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:5-6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

He will.

Sort of Knowing

Uncategorized

There’s a sort of knowing we only sort of believe and mostly for others.

Most people who at their core believe in a Sovereign God still aren’t always sure that they know.

Back when I sat with families who were numbed by another’s choice to die, a gunshot, pills, or suffocation from hanging, I wanted to talk about God but I didn’t.

I did pray for them without them knowing and I wanted them to stop struggling, stop searching, stop aching over what they didn’t prevent.

Difficult to articulate. I wanted them to have the comfort that something they’d never understand was understood by God.

I wanted them to believe that God knows. That things that come to fruition or never come true, we are not to know.

We can believe, always believe

God knows.

God know us.

I take a pencil every morning and I make sways and lines on paper. I add a lean one way or the other, a simple bob with bangs or a low bun.

The figures represent what God has told me. I don’t call them angels. Others do.

Yesterday, I wrote about waking thoughts and why I believe they’re important, God’s promises.

Today, I said something in my bedside talk with God.

Thank you for my salvation.

Because I have a way of shame-laced praying in which I grovel at God’s feet, as if to say well I don’t know why you love me, did you see I almost did that again, one thing or other…

God’s not that way. He waits for us to see Him, know and believe Him.

These female forms are becoming the evidence of this for me.

A calendar currently being finished up will have one for each month with a sentiment and a verse.

On Friday, I came up with an answer to a question from the buyer of a painting.

What is the story of the girls?

The calendar will have an “About the Artist” inset. I’ve never used the wording and then I realized, this is my Mission Statement.

I emailed the printer:

I’m still contemplating cover image.

Could this be added to the back?

The Artist’s Story

Colorful images of girls in gowns began to develop in the margins of my Bible a few years ago. If reading in the Psalms, a joyful figure would be drawn and shaded softly. If I found myself reading again and again the story of Jesus healing a woman from lasting illness, defending one against attack or comforting one who’d almost given up, I added a reminder to myself, these are the same places Jesus found me, finds us all, brings healing.

I write and paint as a way to convey what I call “Quiet Confidence”, the evidence of strength and hope. Find me at https://atomic-temporary-57112528.wpcomstaging.com

Isaiah 30:15

Lisa Anne Tindal

Sent from my iPhone

With art, writing, living…there is mystery. There are peaks and valleys. Death and birth. Win and loss.

I take comfort in the truth, what I now believe, not just hope.

I believe I am known.

God longs to have us all know.

When there’s nothing we truly know and when we’re blown away by the truth of what He knows.

I swore I’d never sketch in my Bible.

Not me, prim and fearful church raised girl just hoping to be enough.

He knows.

He knew.

Setting up Shop

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I’ve added a product page to accept orders notecards and art.

Just shared this on FB .

Christmas Cards are ready for orders! Please visit the site below as I’ve set up a way to receive orders, collect payment and most importantly, be organized! When you visit this link, you’ll see a place to order. Depending on the number of cards you’d like, you’ll need to scroll to the bottom and you’ll see an arrow that will take you to the “product” page for each size order. Let me know if this is confusing…I’m a work in progress, y’all!

These are the cards in the set.