Advent

The Book of Luke – 24 Days of Jesus, an Advent Experience

Advent, Angels, bravery, confidence, Faith, family, memoir, mercy, Motherhood, sons, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I mentioned I knew little of Advent before. I acted as if I did when my cousin gifted me with a package containing images to display, to mark each day.

Now, this year I can’t find the Advent activity and most likely won’t be going back to search through the attic.

Instead, I saw something going around on social media. I’ll read and reflect on a chapter of Luke for 24 days, a look at the life and death and resurrection of the baby that became my Savior.

December 2, I began:

Reading a chapter of the Book of Luke a day, 24 days, for Advent, a new way to honor the tradition, to truly connect with Christmas.

In the 1st chapter, Elizabeth and Zechariah, although old, realize they’ll be parents to John, the one who’ll make way for Jesus.

Elizabeth feels her baby move as soon as Mary, with child, enters the room. Mary is surprised, uncertain, but settles into the surprise of being chosen. It’s the beginning, the beautiful beginning. Everything must’ve felt uncertain, maybe even giddy.

A baby changes everything.

December 3, Luke 2:

The chapter covers a whole lot of life. I wish Luke had lingered longer in several places. I’d like to have known more about Jesus in the manger, about little boy Jesus in the temple, about Jesus being described by his father Joseph, about the way Mary’s face appeared, her emotion as she took it all in, as she listened and pondered.

Jesus Found at The Temple

I wish I could have been amongst the people.

I believe for miles around the angels’ song was heard, the one that followed their calming of the throng, assuring them not to be afraid, through a song.

“”Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

One verse captivates me this year. Possibly because I will soon “go by grandma”.

It makes all of this divine story so human. After the angels announced the birth, they ascended back to heaven. The shepherds made way to see the baby and there must have been a commotion, a flurry of comments and conversation.

Like we are today, waiting room waiters, nursery window peering and chances to be invited in finally, oh, to see the baby!

I imagine there were questions of Joseph and a paparazzi like reaction. To be the first to see what had been spoken of, hoped for and possibly disbelieved…what a special occasion!

There he was, a baby born to a teenage virgin, the one God sent his angels to welcome into our world.

Mary, oblivious to the crowd, cradles her baby.

I love this part. the part every woman who has ever given birth knows.

I love the realization of the miraculous.

Mary swaddled Jesus and simply “pondered”. Luke includes no description of her expression, I imagine a serenity, a glow.

“But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Today, on this 2nd Day of Advent, I’m praying with “I will” rather than “help me”. I’m remembering Mary and her acceptance of what became her opportunity, the time she was chosen for.

I’ve decided to shift my mindset of “hope so” to deliberately so. It might be what I have been missing, might allow me to forgo regret over what I’ve not finished and replace it with resolve to carry it through.

That’s what Mary did.

She believed what God told her He would accomplish in her.

Luke may have left out their late night discussions, she and Joseph still so blown away by this pregnancy. Mary might have had some “hormonal” moments, fear, fatigue and even, dread.

She was human, she was uncertain.

But, I believe she decided to be deliberate.

Deliberate in her seeking

Deliberate in her surrender

Deliberate in her notice of God all along her journey

Deliberate in her quiet pondering

My prayer today.

Tell me what to say.

I want to be deliberate in all my ways.

Luke, Chapter 2 ends with their son becoming their teacher. He takes off on his own, they panic until they find him in the temple.

He tells them why he’s there.

And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:48-49‬ ‭

Mary begins to learn a lesson, a human one again, one I’ve learned of late, the need to allow our children to individuate.

Again, she’s quiet.

And his mother treasured up all these things in her heart.

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:51‬ ‭

It’s true, Lord. I learn when I get quiet. Help me to be deliberate in the quiet.

Not Stolen Joy

Abuse Survivor, Advent, bravery, Faith, grace, memoir, mercy, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

More and more everyday, I’m shrugging off, tossing aside, assuredly changing my understanding of what my faith should mean, should be to me.

Believing joy might be for me.

You won’t understand unless you were raised with harsh reins and criticism meant to be corrective counseling that was more control and sometimes coercion.

I’m not accustomed to traditions like Advent and I had no clue until I began to seek to know, the meaning of so many beautiful traditions.

I’m realizing the church of my youth considered itself independent and non-denominational; but, what they taught me were lessons like you’ll never be as good or good enough or those people don’t love Jesus as much as we do otherwise they’d walk around like us, looking miserable and solemn and bent under their inventory of guilty sin.

I messed up the Advent tradition. I started yesterday instead of today.

It’s okay.

I’ll begin from the beginning again, I’ll glean from the glory of the story of the newborn Jesus, even more new and life changing things.

I shifted to a jog in the stretch of straight on the trail. I thought of my morning journal and my note to myself.

His joy remains in me.

This new comprehension of joy, it can’t be taken. I’ll know fullness in my relationship with God when I have joy no matter my circumstances or successes.

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭16:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Up ahead the birds are flying from tree to tree as if the trail is a river below them and they’re crossing to get to the forest. I get closer, they flutter away and then one, just one remains, as if to be sure I see. Bright red and healthy, sitting on a branch up high like a king.

A beautiful presence.

Yes, I see.

I finish with a song that allows me to go all the way back home, my version of a run, the rhythm of the song, the timing is right, I have no inclination not to go on.

I’m as light as I can be, the thought of struggling so very far removed.

The foxes in the vineyard will not steal my joy. Audrey Assad

‘Cause you are, good to me, God.

And every time I hear the words about the foxes in the vineyard, I’m stronger than before, all those sly and conniving distractions and distractors …no more for me,

no more stolen joy.

Good to Me

Believing

Abuse Survivor, Advent, Christmas, contentment, courage, freedom, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

I smiled when I saw the few seconds of the scene, the little boy who didn’t believe and then

Believed again.

The child who was intrigued enough to board the big train and then challenged with whether he’d stay on board. “The Polar Express”, I love its many lessons story!

Satan has been using some things to silence my story. I can barely conjure up the magnificence of my hopeful plan of before. Circumstances and choices make disbelief make more sense than believing.

Blinders have been placed on my eyes and my heart seems a little muffled to the miraculous now.

I’ve noticed I’m no longer noticing like before.

Restore my ability to see you, Lord.

I wrote it down, I believe God loves it when I pray this way,

He knows it’s really me.

Restore the woman filled with wonder, filled with hope, filled with ideas and the idea that possibly it could be.

Set my feet back to following and my footfall a happy little bounce with intention.

This Lord, is my request.

Like the little boy who believed, help my unbelief. The child almost yanked from the top of the perilously traveling train, show me the same.

The same joy that comes from believing, the same confirmation that the seemingly crazy trip’s worth traveling.

To arrive back at the place of wonder and to find a treasure like the bell he thought he’d lost in his pocket.

Yes, show me that believing makes all the difference!

Be my conductor, Heavenly Father.

Get me back to the safest destination, the place of believing!

“And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭1:45‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Yes, I believe!

Cats, Cards and Christ

Advent, courage, Faith, grace, heaven, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability, wonder

Christmas cards fastened by clips to twine looped like a garland and no idea why, but I left this little kitty cat on the shelf.

Except it’s where it’s always been and I believe I brought it home from my mama’s or I picked it up when we all went “junkin'”.

I pulled a piece of greenery from my centerpiece and decided the cat should wear it around its neck.

Made a little circle, too small and decided oh well, I’ll add some twine, make it fit.

Now the black cat with polka dots who lives on my shelf looks different, looks like Christmas.

This morning, I read a verse from John. Lots of people know it, children can recite it; it’s a simple one that has another that follows and expands its meaning.

So many times I read only part, retain only a portion, there’s always more for me to know, more to surprise me by my knowing.

About God’s ways, His love, His wants for me, for us all.

This verse is best left simple, best brought to mind at Christmas. We may revisit Luke or Matthew or Mark; maybe Isaiah, looking for the story of Christmas.

We might remember the prophecies of old or cling to and listen more with an idea of hopeful truth that yes, a baby was born a long time ago and it was a sweet, sweet story, so spectacular it seems a fairy tale.

But, simply not so. Spectacular yes.

But fairy tale, no.

Our lives are changed because God made it possible for them to be changed, made new.

Because God loved the world He created.

And since it all got and gets a little sideways still

And He knows it. He gave His Son, His only Son.

Jesus.

Christ.

So, we could have eternal life, not perish in the mess we’ve made of what He created.

In the Book of John, Jesus explains his purpose to a Pharisee named Nicodemus who was a ruler and had a very hard time believing what Jesus made so simple to hear.

What is still so simple to hear. But hard to believe for some, hard to accept.

“For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.”

‭‭John‬ ‭3:16-17‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I sent a few cards this year, not nearly as many as I should.

Small and simple little cards with a sweet tree on the front unadorned with lights, just a tiny tree.

I added to the message of Merry Christmas

only the beginning,

For God so loved the world…

And then I signed, “love in Christ, Lisa”

Hoping I’d left room for longing to know more or that I reminded all who already know and like me can always, always use reminding.

That God is love and that Jesus was born to save all who will believe.

believe, life will surprise you…

Brandon Heath

(lyrics I rest with)

I Say I Believe

Advent, Angels, courage, Faith, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I just spoke with a precious soul who says she feels stuck. She says she can’t fathom how things might be because all she can think of is her guilt over what has not been yet.  All she can think of is this possibility that it might not turn out right again, that what she knows God wants her to believe might not be true.

She calls me her angel and I tell her  “Oh, I’m no angel.”

She said she read this morning about waiting and she felt the most real feeling that clear skies and days are coming soon. She said she felt God telling her that.

And so I told her, then hold on tight to that. Feel the feeling you have when you’re sure good is coming, when you believe what you’ve just said to me, silence the voices set up by your past that say nothing good is ever possible and all your dreams are empty promises.

That’s tough for one conditioned to expect hardship, tough for one accustomed to trauma and only beginning to climb the ladder of seeing more clearly what she might take the chance of believing.

She cried and she cried, streams of tears I thought I should lean towards her and catch in the palm of my hand.  Stop using “stuck” I told her, that’s not a word God would use to describe this time; God might use wait or trust or believe; but, I don’t believe he told you this morning you’re stuck.

She agreed and was better, only momentarily I know, still waiting to see if things will come true. We’ll talk again soon and I’ll remind her of taking steps and I’ll tell her not to be afraid, this time next year,  your life is going to be very different. Her eyes were brighter than before. She smiled, nodded. She knew.

I believe it.

The Book of Luke opens with the account of a righteous couple, Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah. Both of them old and with no children.

Elizabeth was barren. Zechariah had no son to carry on his name.

He was a priest and a dutiful man. I would imagine had accepted their marriage would be childless and they were set in their ways.

The angel Gabriel appeared to Zechariah and told him, you’re going to be a father.  Elizabeth is going have a son. He should be named John and he has a purpose, God is giving you this son and this son, John will prepare the way for Jesus. His purpose will be to ready the way for the Lord.

Zechariah was afraid. He questioned the possibility of this outlandish announcement by an angel who appeared as he carried out his priestly chores.

And then he was silent.

Zechariah said to the angel, “How can I be sure this will happen? I’m an old man now, and my wife is also well along in years.”

Then the angel said, “I am Gabriel! I stand in the very presence of God. It was he who sent me to bring you this good news! But now, since you didn’t believe what I said, you will be silent and unable to speak until the child is born. For my words will certainly be fulfilled at the proper time.” Luke 1:18-20

This passage stirs my curiosity. Did Zechariah persist in his argument? Was he made mute because of his arguments and insisting impossibility?

Or was Zechariah silenced for fear that his questions might lessen the magnitude of the angel’s appearing, of God’s plans for the coming John, making the way for Jesus?

Zechariah could not speak until the baby was born, required to wait until what he doubted was fulfilled.

Was he simply not prepared to share a story of such magnitude?!

Everyone must have wondered. He exited the temple to a throng of confused faces, tried to express what had happened using his hands in motion and then went home to wait with Elizabeth, hidden for five months. Was she afraid of announcing her miracle, was she waiting to be sure she was far enough along to make known she was with child?

Was there evidence of what the angel said?

Did she wait for the feeling of tiny foot in her torso or the flutter stirring up next to her soul, that mother thing we call intuition?

After six months the angel appeared to Mary, told her about Elizabeth and told her she too would conceive a baby. Mary was afraid, how could it be possible? I am young. I am a virgin.  The angel told her of Elizabeth’s conception, told her “nothing will be impossible with God.’ Luke 1: 37

And Mary began to believe and hurried to visit Elizabeth to see.

She walked through the door and the baby inside the womb of Elizabeth sensed the spirit already in Mary and responded with joyous movement.

Sort of an affirmation, yes, it is true.

They decided themselves both blessed.

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice, she exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy.Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!” Luke 1: 41-45

Meanwhile, Zechariah remained mute.

I imagine he had things to say, just couldn’t figure out how or maybe a welcome relief to be unable to speak.

Nobody waiting to listen, oh, his words would surely need to be profound.

An excuse for being sure enough of his words, certain of his proclamation, excited over his announcement.

I met with a friend last week. Gave her the first chapter of a book idea and asked her if she found it too brave.

I’ve asked her to be my writing accountability partner.

Told her I’m stuck.

We talked of how I’m conflicted over some things, write brave and authentic truths or water down and make pretty at least for the few minutes someone reads it to feel they might make it through.

I expected her to say don’t unearth everything.  Don’t be too hard, don’t cause others to worry or to feel uneasy. She said let God bring you the things needed to remember, don’t fret over what you can’t. Time has passed. Good will come from recollection you’re supposed to tell.

We talked about one memory and I shared with her what a revelation it was to hear a long ago memory of me, not at all pleasant; but true.

It was strangely affirming.

We both smiled and she said “How many women have felt the same way, regretted the same behavior and yet, long for someone else to say “me too?”

I’m more silent now and okay with it really.

I’m not unable to write, just waiting to be sure that the words I write will be the ones that God wants others to hear.

Like Zechariah, when questioned, why are you not naming your baby after yourself, to carry on the name, this is what’s expected and you finally got your chance?

Not just doing what’s expected.

“No.”, Elizabeth said and he agreed, we will do as God has planned. His name will be John and when asked to record the name in writing, the name Gabriel, the angel had advised them of, Zechariah’s voice returned, he could speak of his son.

He waited and in time, found his voice still there.

I will not give up on the story, the one I call “The Colors of My Bible”. I’ll just not rush it, conflicted over how it will be welcomed or whether others will approve sufficiently. I’ll wait until the words come back, until the time God knows I truly believe in His design, not mine.

Because, I’ve not been visited by an angel; but, I refuse to believe this idea just came from nowhere, the telling of my colorful redemption story and the women who gave me hope.

I may just write about the dogs for a bit, paint some angels, jot down my prayer list, being sure to include “walk closely with Jesus”, a new daily one.

I may simply write about geese that fly over or the funny way it sounds to tell of “my embroidery” hobby.  I may slip in some stories about my family. I’ll continue to write about hope and heaven.

I’ll write about noticing God still.

Until I’m able to write the words so clearly, so truly, so hope-filled that I will be able to say Yes, this is my treasure, thank you for this treasure I thought impossible.

I’ve just written over 1400 words here and I’m betting someone’s gonna say, “Man, she’s all over the place!”

But, it’s good, good for me to write. Good will get better, better will get right.

For now, I’ll hold onto that feeling, the feeling that good is coming.

Not stuck, but waiting.

The truth I say I believe and told another the same.

Good things are just around the bend.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story.

Peace – Conscious of Christmas

Advent, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Is it harder now to find places to sense peace, to be conscious of Christmas?

Most things we do feel like a production, a scurrying, a hurried and hectic undertaking.

I spoke a little too sternly yesterday about all the noise driving me crazy. Another person said they were getting “addled” and I was thrilled to know someone was likeminded.

She quickly told me though, not nearly so much as you.

Yes, I know.

I knew.

Others just waited for the noise to settle down as if they all were resting in a bubble of peace, a comfortable and softly draped wrap of serene.

This week of Advent, the preparation for the birth of Jesus, asks me to consider peace.

On Saturday morning, I stood close to the edge of wooden dock on a misty cold marsh. Large oaks all around and their branches fat from age and layered with growth of bright green fern.

I considered and am still, could this be my church? Is this place and sometimes others I find, the place I am made to worship God?

I assure you it feels quite so.

Free of busy and business, just me and sometimes one or two others approaching whole body and soul a place we are called to by our longings?

A congregation consisting of white birds trying to avoid our cameras and a wide, wide sky?

I’m sure that’s not God’s desire, a solitary island dweller, he didn’t design me to be.

But, oh how at peace I am in the places I get alone with quiet and Him.

To notice God.

I’m different, I suppose, craving quiet and being made anxious by disorder.

He is my peace.

Not my surroundings nor those in my midst.

He himself is my peace.

I’m reminded in the quiet.

Peace that can’t be manufactured, demanded or insisted upon; but, that emanates from within me keeping me calm when all around is so very uncalm.

That’s the call to Christmas, the call to seek peace, surround ourselves in it and get immersed again in the story of the starry night, the Holy Night when peace was born.

“Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth”

The weary me, the weary world rejoices.

Night, divine. A night divine.

The night, the day, the moment divine when peace came near, made itself clearly known.

Still does, I call it ” noticing God”.

“In sin and error pining, until He appeared

and the soul felt its worth.”

O’ Holy Night.

Oh, to be seen as one with worth because of the Holy night, the Holy one, not at all because of what I do or anything I’ve done.

It’s been a tough couple of days with shifts and situations gone awry.

Not sure why things happen, wonder what might could have made it different.

Things that made, make no sense.

I bolted from church last night, it had become too noisy, too busy, too much a feeling like a clamoring for what might make one feel worthy.

I drove under the starry sky back home like escaping.

And I rested once home and woke this morning to read about peace, this week’s Advent focus.

Found myself peaceful, again. It was a welcome, I assure you, to come back to a place of peace.

A friend heard I’d never read a special book at Christmas and so she gifted me last week.

I’m grateful for her deciding to send it my way, gifting me in an intentional way.

I love her for it.

I broke my rule this morning about pencil marks on pages and I underlined and circled the words that spoke peace to me, made me more conscious of Christmas.

More understanding of peace

More conscious of Christmas.

And peace because of Christ.

So, if you’re alive today, sing redemption’s song.

Louie Giglio

Sing your song.

Do your dance, your quiet sway of peace.

I know I’ll do mine.

Us and the Angels

Advent, Angels, Art, Faith, grace, heaven, rest, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

She arrived before anyone else, at 10 instead of 12, dropped off in the parking lot and then wouldn’t accept our offer to wait inside.

We walked past and past again unloading our cars, setting up the luncheon and Christmas festivities.

She waited, her notepad propped carefully, her arms balanced on the arms of her rolling walker.

She waited, I began to sense her an observer.

“Was she making notes about her observing of us now?” I wondered.

Today is the fifth day of Advent, the focus on the hopeful waiting for Christ and Christmas.

I painted last night, it was a must.

Because the woman who arrived two hours early was left without a ride home and we were together for more hours as she called those who’d promised to be there and then called again to be met by straight to voice mail answers.

We were together, she and I and another person left without a ride.

We were together in the parking lot of the place where the promised person said they’d meet us.

So, she asked about my children and I asked about hers. This led to asking about my life and then, finally led to asking about Jesus and her telling me about heaven.

You see, she said she died once. The doctor said for 17 minutes. She went to heaven; she saw her family and yet, she said she was given the chance to come back and live.

Now, if you know my job and know this event, you may be thinking, I pray not, “Well, that woman’s crazy.”

I pray you don’t think that, say that.

Ever.

Because, here’s where our talk went next.

After reaching a family member late in the afternoon, we moved from one parking lot to the other and were confident she was on the way to meet us.

Her telling me of heaven continued, she told me about the angels.

She said they are beautiful; but, have no wings and that’s because they’re not nearly as far from earth as we’d assume.

They have no wings because they’re only just a little above the ground.

I looked towards her, she’d rarely looked my way, her conversation a retelling, a divine appointment, I am sure.

I sensed her calling, her calling to be with me.

I, with her, not my normal way.

Because I’m guilty of being grouchy at the end of the day and I’m sorry to admit, I’m the first to accept an offer for someone else to stay behind, handle the loose ends like giving rides to stranded people.

But, not yesterday, I decided to be the one who helped this woman.

Help, not the best choice of words, more like simply being with, seeing it to the end, not so much like helping at all.

More divine, my day had been ordered by God I began to see, see even better looking back on.

I’m sure I was beaming when I told her I painted and that my angels have no wings and most often no expression on their faces.

She smiled only slightly like “Yes” and I looked towards the car to our right, “Is this you ride?” I asked and it was, she answered, how did we miss them pulling in?

Her daughter thanked me, her grandson smiled, said “Hey, Nanni” and we unloaded her gifts and helped her from my car.

I walked over and hugged her softly,

“Merry Christmas.” I said.

She paused and finally, she turned and saw me straight on and open, told me she will be praying for me, that she is going to pray for my angel paintings to become as God has planned.

She meant it, I know.

I thanked her.

Then went home, dark by now and changed from Christmas red outfit to paint splattered apron.

I painted a new layer over the frantic looking wings I’d painted on a new piece, thinking I’d try something new; but, certain it was all wrong.

And now I understand.

Understanding what it means to have God mindful of me, of us down here amongst one another, just barely below or maybe even sitting beside the angels.

“When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,

what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?

You have made them a little lower than the angels and crowned them with glory and honor.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭8:3-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Joy Finding

Advent, Faith, family, grace, heaven, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

We have the same reason for joy as they did way back then.

I pray I’m intentional in my choice to let Christmas be all about Jesus. Here’s the truth, I believe, the joy stealers don’t rest at Christmas, there’s no reprieve from those set on negativity and strife. And then there’s unexpected sadness that makes no sense and seems to happen more at Christmas. Or maybe in our seeking to be joyous, we’re thrown off by its unfair interruption.

I’m not sure. I only know that we each can choose joy and like someone told me yesterday, I was caught off guard, “your face seems happier.” And I had prayed earlier that God would put someone on my path, literally wrote this in my journal,

“God send someone to my path who needs to know about your grace.”

This person who told me she saw a difference in me, I said to her, smiling over her words, “I’m getting better at understanding God’s grace and it’s no longer a striving thing, I am not working so hard for something that requires nothing of me, God’s grace.”

My day started this way yesterday. How can I not proclaim the joy as I circled prayers today, some still praying and this one given an asterisk for answered?

I consider it joy.

You know that joy when a longing you’d gotten a little disheartened over slips in and comes true in a way unexpected?

That’s the joy and joys I’m keen on noticing now.

If it takes writing them down or slowing my morning to be certain I give them their due, my time and attention, I am more aware because of doing so.

I think of my grandma’s little hands, her practice of keeping her “memorandum” book and I look towards the jewels she meticulously pinned into bright ornaments, I see her joy in her art.

I see joy, find it here.

Most especially when it comes in a way surprising me, a way that speaks truth to our Father’s all-knowing.

Like an angel I suppose, saying hold out for it and hold on sure but tenderly to this hope, your joy is coming.

You shall bear the light of this truth, that when you believe what you can’t see, you will get to see it come true.

Bear light of it just like young Mary, a mother unprepared and untouched by man, bearing the Son of Man, light of the world.

Remember the time another Mary and her sister Martha chose to believe?

Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”  John 11:40

I’ve not known joy quite so miraculous as the risen dead, still I’ve known the joy of Jesus coming through, on my behalf, the behalf of those I love.

Known the joy found in what we believe will be true.

Jennifer Dukes Lee shares her thoughts about how to “Prepare Him Room” and a story that is oh, so very relatable, the task of Christmas decor and how we should simply rest in the beauty of our homes, stamped and shaped by our hearts.

Visit here:

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/prepare-him-room/

Linking up with Kelli LaFram, at Quietly Through

http://quietlyreminded.com/2017/12/07/confess-sins-quietly-thursday-link-20/?ct=t(RSS_EMAIL_CAMPAIGN)&mc_cid=68c27bf7bd&mc_eid=8fccf10d46

Hope First

Advent, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I forgot what we did the Christmas we were last with my mama.

It startled me, my forgetting and then I remembered.

I remembered the beauty, her beauty that day.

I reflected on how things felt tragic and unusual; but, so very special.

Tomorrow begins Advent, something I know so very little of if you consider scripture and scholar as basis for my knowing.

Tomorrow begins with hope and hope is meant to cause our contemplations, to give notice of our waiting.

I’ve arranged my Advent cards, not the place before, not the grand garland the width of our fireplace.

Instead, a corner dimly lit and a chest of drawers I got from my mama’s. The top of it cleared to be adorned with hydrangea stem stained mason jars, now containers for bright tiny ornaments.

The backdrop, an abstract ocean piece painted by my daughter, the cards looped with copper wire and positioned in a peak and valley sort of way.

I’ll glance that way, have been since I couldn’t let be til it was done and finished late night last week.

It’s a simple arranging of Advent decoration.

More hopeful than before it seems. No daily task of studious examination of each day’s card.

I’ll not do this this year.

Instead, I’ll love its entirety.

I’ll enjoy it as is.

This Christmas, I pray and prayed this morning.

“Remind me of you, Jesus”

“May I remind those around me of you.”

May my gentleness be evident, so much so evident, one may sense

The Lord is near.

I texted my cousin, the one who gifted me with the Advent Cards, a surprise two years past.

Told her I loved her, wished her traveling mercy and grace.

She thanked me, said “oh, thank you dear Lisa for being in my life.”

And strange you may think, my strange reply I replied

to which she answered, “Amen”.

Let it be, Jesus. Let it be Jesus in me, my December prayer. Me

So, the first Sunday of December says be still.

To consider hope.

To gaze upon our pretty spaces and places and find it there, in our midst, our hope.

Our hope that was born in a place hidden and curious, but long ago ordained by God.

A place surrounded by a starry sky you and I’ve most likely not seen the likes of.

May I never lose that wonder.

May I ever hope for the wondrous wonder of Christmas, of Christ.

May I linger unlabored there.

Looking upon reminders of my hope.

And memories recalled and cherished even more, strangely hopeful now despite the sorrow that accompanies them.

It’s all wonder.

It’s hope and it’s grace that’s brought me thus far, to here, to now to celebrate Christmas untainted by sorrow and more painted in soft colors of hope.

Hopeful.

“The sun will no more be your light by day, nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you, for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory.

Your sun will never set again, and your moon will wane no more; the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of sorrow will end.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭60:19-20‬ ‭NIV‬‬

You as well, I hope and pray are

Hopeful this Christmas.