Becoming, With Love

Angels, Art, bravery, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, grace, grandchildren, hope, love, mixed media painting, painting, patience, Peace, Redemption, testimony, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Yesterday, I chose the butterfly cup. As I daily do I considered which cup to set the tone for the day.

Groggy from fitfully sleeping at first and then sort of languishing, I had been still and quiet

waiting for the sunlight to come.

The butterfly mug was the choice and I waited for the coffee, frothed it with vanilla, checked on the dog and sat in my spot.

“Metamorphosis”, I thought.

I remembered the realization of why I loved a recent read.

What I thought was honesty and authenticity was something different, something I felt more clearly.

It was her “loving tone” and I decided quickly I want to be a writer with such a tone.

I want to be a woman whose tone is loving.

I realized it’s life that decides this for us. We just embrace the gift and most importantly be satisfied in it as enough.

I finished another collection of angels yesterday. The surprise of them being so intriguing to others at first surprised me.

I thought and debated on their titles, “Flourishing 1-7”.

Then I wrote down the reason for this name. I reflected on the process of their creation.

I paint paper.

I tear paper into pieces and I manipulate the shape.

I add colors in right places, I use what might have been thrown away to create a new thing.

These pieces, this process all happened sweetly accidental.

My granddaughter and I decided to make butterflies from pieces of some of my old and packed away papers.

And it simply began. This process that resulted in and continues to evolve into stories on canvas.

Happenstance has been the gift of this silent metamorphosis.

Sort of natural and more than sort of unforced.

Like the butterfly, beauty resulted from waiting quietly and still for it to ease from within

Spread gently its wings and fly.

Yesterday after church, my granddaughter held tightly a piece of white paper, folded and creased many times by her little hand.

Her mama held onto it like a prize as Elizabeth fluttered off to run circles with her brother.

I came home and added the final layer to the “Flourishing” collection, photographed them and added descriptions.

“Richly layered with color, these pieces represent flourishing to me. We think less about flourishing in the Winter months. We’re more likely to feel a bit “neutral” if we were to describe ourselves as a color palette. What if we leaned into the confidence that in what may seem to be a dormant season is actually a time of great internal growth? The truth is that whatever feels hidden or delayed is leading to our growth in lasting ways.”

I’m not sure others will see this on the canvas. It’s what I feel in the process and it’s my hope that love, that tone comes through.

My artwork, when unforced comes from within not without.

The postures, the colors, the movement and strokes so very often mimic wings.

I changed a piece yesterday afternoon late. It had been abstract, it had been soft and yet bold but only an idea of what I hoped it would say.

My brush found the lines, the curves that I know.

The tilt of the head in prayer, the waiting posture of one in the wings.

The patient figures believing, along with me, in the process, the secret one.

Calmly waiting to see what might develop, might say what’s needing to be said both clearly and lovingly.

And mostly to know that the process that both comforts and guides may offer hope to others.

This morning, after resting well, I chose the simple ivory mug.

The day is unfolding.

So is the love. Wait slowly.

Stay with it, the tone. Always hope.

We may know who we are.

We surely know who we’ve been.

But, we don’t know fully who we are becoming.

We should surrender to the art of us, not resist.

“The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”
‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭3‬: 25‬-‭26‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Always hope.

You are loved.

And becoming.

Boldly Quiet

aging, Art, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, curiousity, Faith, family, grace, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, worship

We left the gathering, an annual one that’s held in a building adjacent to a country home. The barn-like place is love-filled, its walls are covered with memorabilia and photos representing life and the life spans of family.

We arrive and we move from table to table, from people not seen in a year or so and maybe a couple or a few you may have passed in the grocery store.

The conversations are sweet, it’s a catching up and it’s a reunion for the cousins. They love it. They recognize many families neglect this type gathering.

The one who prays acknowledges this. I mostly observe. I join in and say words when it seems to fit.

That’s not because of the “rules” of the get-together. It’s simply my nature.

My mama used to tell us all that her husband, my daddy saw no need to speak unless there was something important to say.

Although, he was a quiet man, one of few words, I cherish the smoothness of his voice.

I remember the way he paused as he spoke. There was a sense of waiting for the hearer to absorb his contribution.

I listened.

A word woke me this morning.

I added it to my list, a list that came from a realization that in life and in Christmas, we often have grandiose expectations.

We expect Christmas be a certain way. Not to mention the comparison of others’ celebrations.

I wondered how my heart would settle if I decided to

“Expect less, acknowledge more.”

A list was formed.

Safety, Food aplenty, Gifts, Smiles, Gatherings, a sense of God’s nearness, Pink Dawns…

Quietude

Google informed me of the meaning, no surprise I loved it.

Another gift came from Google, a sweet surprise. This word has a color named for it.

A shade that’s a blending of grey and blue and green.

“Quietude” is the chosen name for the HGTV 2025 color.

I finished the 3rd of three paintings last night, large 30×40’s.

The first, “Now Found”,

the second, “Light and Momentary”

and the third, “Have Hope”.

Driving home from the cousin gathering, my husband wanted to talk. I told him I was talked out, let’s be quiet.

He insisted and prodded me with a well-thought question…

“Who would you like to talk to that you’d be just so captivated by the conversation, on the edge of your seat and just waiting for every word?”

Stubborn me replied, after a few seconds, “No one, that’s a good question but I can’t think of anyone I want to talk to right now.”

He believed me. He knows me well.

But, he spoke in the long pause of accepting my answer.

“I thought you’d say Jesus.”

“Yes, I just thought of that.” I smiled and answered.

We finished the Christmas Eve country drive home and I sat in my quiet spot with my grown son who is often quiet himself.

Understood, I felt understood.

“Accepted”, a word I’m adding to the list of acknowledgments.

“Grace”, too.

Just now, I revisited Christmases past through my photos. Babies have grown, changes have come, tough days have occurred, peace has been given and endurance has become even more a quiet strength for me.

Because I’ve learned and am learning a couple of things from my “telling it to Jesus alone.”

He giveth more grace.

I am loved.

There’s so much more coming for me.

Because I’ve accepted, I’m the “quiet one” and always will be.

“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭131‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Always hope.

I look toward my tall Christmas tree, the one ornament, a tiny home, my granddaughter insisted be for it and my uncertainty because it “wasn’t really me.”

And now I see, the bluish green, a pale teal that’s happy quietly although boldly, its pretty red door sort of calling, “open me”.

How can it be?

The color in me, the quiet color has become an invitation to me being me.

A little house accepted by me, inviting an even bolder acceptance of the strength in the choice to keep hoping.

“As for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭71‬:‭14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Hope and Other Words

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, hope, memoir, painting, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder

When I tweaked the words on the About page of my Artist website, I had really no idea of the reason.

I knew I wanted to “offer hope” to others through my paintings.

I also knew it wasn’t really within my power to produce hope for others.

Especially when I’d been in a season of waning hope.

Still, I embraced it as a brand, ordered stickers to use on my packaging and even put a sticker on the back window of my car.

I envisioned people passing by and in some small way, a little circle sticker might lead to a belief in the power of hope.

Sure, “Lisa Anne Tindal – Fine Art” is under the two words; but, my name is in the tiniest of fonts.

How do you feel about hope?

Is it just a fluttery little word like a tender feather or do you understand the weight of deciding its importance.

I’m beginning to see it more as a choice we can make, an outreached hand of goodness for the taking.

I’m beginning to understand that to “defer” hope doesn’t mean you decide “oh,well…maybe not”.

It means deciding to give up.

It’s so very easy to focus inward on all the secret longings and doubts, an inventory of inwardness. When I focus upward and outward, I notice things other than myself.

It’s a practice that seems small but makes a big difference.

What have you stopped hoping for?

God keeps bringing me to the phrase “deferred hope”.

Is there a secret you’re keeping? Are you doubtful and desperate but doing your best for others not to know?

Because God is a God of hope, if we postpone or decide there’s no hope, we’re essentially “deferring” our belief in God.

Hope today.

Decide to be intentionally hopeful that God is near, loves us and is only good.

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

For a woman who recalls little girl church being a place more of unbelonging than one of welcoming invitation, more of shouting than speaking…some words and concepts have always felt too special for me.

Being “consecrated” or living a life that can be defined as consecrated seems way too high and mighty and too out of my timid and torridly lived life to believe.

It was never taught that it was good to be strong, only honorable to be tiny and weak.

Last Saturday morning the house was quiet.

Ornaments I’d reimagined and repainted were laid out and tied with gold ribbon.

The morning light was pretty. I photographed them one by one on a white backdrop of poster board.

Carefully edited them and added to my website. Then I settled on the floor and moved to lie down, my face resting on the carpet.

I prayed an honest prayer:

“Lord, I consecrate these ornaments to you. I consecrate my art to you.

I don’t know what that means, Lord. It feels too out of my realm, too out of my reach. Still, I consecrate my life to you…even if it feels too special for me, too much for me to understand.”

I rose from the floor, gathered up all the pretty ornaments and moved to the next thing of the day.

Then the collection of Angel Ornaments, numbered 1-7 sold out in an hour.

I am beginning to understand the simplicity of simply giving something to God and going on with an internal hope.

To believe such pretty words could be mine to trust in.

Because deciding not to hope or deciding a life in rhythm with God is just too special and unattainable is deciding to live in scarcity

rather than abundance.

And it’s a choice we’re invited to make, never one made as the result of a harsh or heavy-handed or demanding God.

That’s the truth.

The truth we can believe.

“The consecrated life is a life let go of …a life that opens its heart and hands to the Sovereign God’s knowledge of me completely. The consecrated life trusts that the Maker of me knows me best and knows best.”

Maybe you’re still that little girl with the ingrained rants in your head that you’re just too impure, too damaged, too from the wrong side of the tracks, too destined to repeat the things genetics and environment said you would…

And maybe you have.

And maybe you survived it all.

The reason is that hope and that tiny flicker of purpose, the light that may have dimmed.

But never has and never will go out.

Let yourself let it shine.

Hope always.

Always hope.

Not a single one of us is unfit for being drawn closer to that consecrated life.

It’s a choice without exclusions or preselected expectations.

If hope “deferred” (decided against) makes our hearts sick, how much more well will we be if we believe in hope

If we “always hope”?

Hope does not put us to shame. Romans 5:5

New Things

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, courage, creativity, hope, Redemption, Vulnerability, writing

Typically, I’m not a follower of “bright and shiny” trends. I like to stay in the safe and familiar lane.

Not to mention, I have stories of life and all sorts of things here. I felt risky and sort of disloyal to change.

I’ve moved my writing to Substack. It’s user friendly and it feels more suited to the blending of my art and writing.

It integrated very easily (and it has to be easy for me) with my established email list from art website.

I’ve been writing Notes here and there but am moving to more frequently Longform posts which are much like what I’ve posted here.

Here’s my most recent post. I shared the experience of a professional branding session for my art.

If you’d like, please follow along.

Writing on Substack

Nurture the Yes Ones

Abuse Survivor, aging, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, self-portrait, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

I have a t-shirt I rarely wear, never in public.

It’s not covered with paint, not a stain or a splatter. It’s not folded and stuffed in a drawer, it’s on a hanger.

Soft material, sort of beige and in a classy black font, one word “influencer”.

It was given to me, not a purchase. Someone thought it was a good fit.

I woke this morning recalling a beautiful dream and contrasting it alongside a question waiting to be responded to.

I journaled,

If I am quiet, I will be able to know which things and which people align with God’s will for my life.

In a way, I was wondering which influences in my life point to hope and which do not.

I asked God to help me see others clearly and to be able to know which influences are healthy and which are not.

I recognized in my soul that just as God sees the vulnerability and weakness of me, He sees it in others and those weaknesses in them cause them to not be a right now good influence on me.

So, I made a bullet list, not one that says “you don’t belong”, just a quiet inventory of those who contribute to my hope and those who don’t.

Not a cancel type thing, just a recognition, a nudge of clarity so that I don’t give up hope.

I have a bookmark in my Bible.

“Only speak words that make souls stronger.” Ann Voskamp

I’ve been trying to commit to this as a filter in all I speak, write or even show in my facial expression.

I’ve been set on being at peace so that I can bring peace into every room I enter.

So that through me, the light of Christ and the voice of hope is observed and considered,

Not simply tolerated.

And so, I quietly asked myself, right now which conversations and interactions are making me

Hopeful?

Which are contributing to

Doubt?

Which feels like a reverent posture of pure and humble wisdom.

The stance God desires.

When this journaling began this morning, this inventory of the “yes’s” I need to nurture

I had not opened my Bible.

I turned to today’s date in “Joy and Strength” and was led to Deuteronomy.

Wisdom that complemented my own words.

A warning for a woman like me, a people pleaser, a longing to belong “belonger”, a person who is easily manipulated in ways that seem innocent, that aren’t harmful, just not best.

“If a prophet or a dreamer of dreams arises among you and gives you a sign or a wonder, and the sign or wonder that he tells you comes to pass, and if he says, ‘Let us go after other gods,’ which you have not known, ‘and let us serve them,’

you shall not listen to the words of that prophet or that dreamer of dreams.

For the Lord your God is testing you, to know whether you love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul.”

‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭13‬:‭1‬-‭3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Get quiet with God. Silence the naysayers. Listen to the voices that speak hope and healing.

Those who softly warn you of your straying rather than string you along.

Those who love you, not just court you.

Nurture the “yes’s” while not discarding the “no’s”. Tend to the hope God planted inside your soul so that it becomes bigger than anything about you.

So that your offering is first and only…always

Hope.

In the Waning

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, mercy, patience, Peace, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

Seconds after my dream was of lying in bed with a grandchild close by, my phone let me know I had a message.

I didn’t respond immediately because the dream was so real.

A small cardinal, bright red had flitted into the room and rested in the hollow place of my neck.

In my dream I got the attention of my granddaughter and then “ding!” I was awakened.

“For this reason the Lord is still waiting to show his favor to you so he can show you his marvelous love. He waits to be gracious to you….Overwhelmed with bliss are all who will entwine their hearts in him, waiting for him to help them.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭18‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I answered the text, a long hoped for desire was decided would come true for a child today.

She’s been longing, hoping and waiting.

It’s exciting, the planned surprise!

A memory will be made.

There will be more “waited so long for” ones to come.

What have you longed for that’s already been given and yet, led you to long for something bigger or simply just left you wanting?

I sat in my “art room” with someone I love. What a mess, papers everywhere, started and stops and pauses, the evidence of where my art journey has come from and where gone

Is hoping to go.

Fascinated by a box full of artwork, I invited her to choose as many as she wanted.

We went through the stack together. I loved the ones she chose and the reasons she shared.

I told her of my certain belief that it’s God who kept me for art and kept it safely waiting for me to enjoy it, to share it as a part of my faith.

I have surely achieved more, been afforded more opportunities than I ever thought, given my history.

That’s why I know it’s true, I told her.

This is what God made me for.

What began with the timid tagline “quiet confidence” has become more brave.

Now, “always hope” coupled with my truth that “art offers hope”.

This morning, I wrote “hopeful” under the date, the gift of the cardinal on my pillow invited the tone longing to be expressed.

And I wrote myself a note that’s as true as my very breath.

Whatever and whomever (other than Jesus) you make your everything, your tipping point to measure worthless or worthiness, will continue to frustrate you with its dependability as far as not being enough.

So, wait for the one who is always and unchangingly enough. Be amazed by what comes with that commitment to will yourself to wait.

Success shifts.

People change.

Excitement is powerful and yet, it wanes. It’s supposed to.

God makes life this way so that we remember the only “enoughness” that never changes

Is Him, our Sovereign and often mysterious Maker.

Not since the world was made, Jacob was told in a dream of protection and little girls like me became women who waited even if imperfectly to recognize the providence, protection and promises of God…

has the gift of waiting been more an unchanging promise.

“Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭28‬:‭15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It took three trips in and out of the Art Center to retrieve and load my unsold paintings yesterday.

It was hot. They were heavy.

I won’t deny the emotion I fought to deny. It was difficult.

Still, it was beautiful, the experience and the exhibition.

“Believer”, “In Every Season”, “Mercy Remembers”, “Secure” were a few of the unsold pieces.

Now they’re safely waiting to be found.

“It’s all in it, Lisa” my mama

This artist journey is a teacher. I’m still like a child learning.

For this reason,

I have hope.

Always hope.

“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭131‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

(P.S. I’m meandering my way back to writing from both losing the desire and I believe a bit of ability. I hope you’ll be forgiving as I decide to learn to write again.)

Continue and believe.

Possible Things

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, hope, patience, Peace, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, waiting, writing

“It is possible to see the will of God in everything, and to find it, as one has said, no longer a sigh, but a song.”

Handley C.G. Moule

“Jesus said to him, “‘If you can’? Everything is possible for the one who believes.”
‭‭Mark‬ ‭9‬:‭23‬ ‭

Yesterday, I thought about the promise of “possibilities” and this morning one bird woke me up early. I remembered being drawn to read about the Samaritan woman at the well over and over, really drawn in by Jesus’s offer in just one verse.

That life could be different for her if she’d understand and accept His offer despite her history or her confusion and questions.

“Jesus replied, “If you only knew who I am and the gift that God wants to give you, you’d ask me for a drink, and I would give you living water.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭10‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I sit in the quiet, books all around me and coffee in my cup and just like yesterday, I find a promise in one verse I could “live with” all day.

And I, like the daddy of the boy in need ask…

I believe, help my unbelief. (Mark 9:24)

Can you imagine all the things that may change if you’d be brave and a bit innocent enough to simply believe God for the possibilities and breakthroughs He’s waiting to bring?

It’s a simple little shift really. Just decide to believe all things are possible when we ask God,

Is this your will for me? And then take the next steps onto the path of unexpected possibilities.

Or wait quietly when the answer is no, not now, not for you.

Possibility is born in the heart of one who believes. God’s will becomes a song, not a sigh.

Continue and believe.

A Listener Believing

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, grief, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, writing

I’m a fan of phrases, a few not several words strung together that I can remind myself of.

Maybe write in sharpie like a tattoo on my arm. Praying this morning, I was thinking speculatively. I was afraid of something going wrong.

I said three, maybe four times in my solitary prayer…

“You’re a healer, not a harmer”.

Less than an hour passed and my mind went to the loss of my mother. A loss I’d just heard about, cancer being its ugly self.

And a friend who thought she’d told me the timeline of her husband’s death and I listened; oh, how I listened.

Her pauses were peace giving, her recall was resonant. I listened to the telling she thought she’d already told.

Knowing somehow each telling made her and her captive listener more strong as well.

So, I thought about my morning declaration:

You heal, not harm. Lord, you are a healer not a harmer.

And I just spoke it over myself

Over and over

And over.

Strengthening my believing muscles grown weak from the realities of human struggle and unfortunate sorrow.

I went for a walk, barely missed the storm and answered a text from a neighbor who said they’d seen me walk by.

They were checking on me.

I was seen.

I am seen.

Have been all along and always will be and this is truth that builds strength that will stay.

Knowing we are seen

That’s a strength that will remain.

That and being a listener who is also a learner and who longs to strengthen the teller of their story.

To bend down, to pause, to be compelled to understand.

To listen like a believer.

To listen like Jesus.

“Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath!”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭116‬:‭2‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Fragile Breaths

Abuse Survivor, aging, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, family, fear, grace, grandchildren, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, testimony, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:”
‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3‬:‭1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Before sleep, I rethought the day. All the places and things squeezed in, the storms, the back country roads to my people, my childhood territory.

My aunt caring for my uncle, prone now to suddenly falling. His sweet conversation comparing himself to his soon to be ninety year old brother who “falls more.”

My aunt with her pink soft shirt, leopard print loafers and nice coral colored lipstick lips

I remembered my daughter describing my grandson’s tumble off the porch.

I remembered her saying he cried and was scared but wasn’t hurt.

He likely will fall again.

Likely, my uncle will too,

Unfortunately.

I remembered my granddaughter’s sweet smile. I recalled her intuition.

I drifted to sleep knowing I’d need to decide on an artist trip, an adventure I could learn from the anticipated mostly younger artists.

I thought of the wavering of my feelings.

I remembered a word I read early in the morning.

“There comes a moment when you throw caution to the wind. There comes a moment when you need to go all in.” Mark Batterson

I strangely thought of resilience, of being strong and sure in “my walking” while there’s time.

Because life is so wrought with fragility, likely to include falling and deciding to remember,

The rising you’ve known.

You can rise.

You can go forward.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Nevertheless, Worth Fighting For

Abuse Survivor, aging, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, depression, doubt, eating disorder, Faith, grace, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, painting, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder, writing

Disclaimer: There’s honest mention of eating disordered behaviors in this post. My intent is always, offer hope, not remind of harm. I pray so.

A large painting in progress leans against the fireplace. A practice of mine is to gaze over at an in progress piece or a finished one to decide if “I like what it says”.

This one began subdued and starkly pure in tones, white, ivory, subtle gold and the strong dark grey.

Now, it’s in a different in progress stage, almost done and more strong in color.

Years ago, I wrote a blog post chronicling an encounter with a man who was a splendid storyteller. He was very much a fan of the word “nevertheless”.

He shared his life story in incremental pauses introduced by the word.

I’ve since learned to love the word.

Last week, I stared at my unnamed painting. I knew its story was unfinished and I’d need to be intentional; nevertheless, not force its completion.

As I pondered the piece, a thought and words came.

“You’re worth fighting for, Lisa. You may have never heard those words, but you are and you’ve been ‘worth fighting for’ for all of your life.” Journal entry 5/10/24

So serious. Yes, I know.

Too serious to write about has been my thought.

Nevertheless, there was a new clarity in those never before uttered words.

And I saw the figures in the painting, two angelic and others onlooking in strength and love and that’s what I saw in the little brown-haired girl.

Me.

Her sweet and shy acceptance of that truth she’d made progress in believing but still had a ways to go,

To keep believing, nevertheless.

To keep believing so that she could overcome even more.

Not overcome to be bold or brave or boastful but because overcoming symbolized more.

Led and leads to more.

You are worth overcoming whatever is trying to overcome you.

A few weeks ago I had my first physical with all the bloodwork in several years. A new physician, one recommended by two trusted friends, asked me a question I’d not been asked in decades.

She asked “How is your eating disorder?”

And I sat quietly, I looked intently into her kind face and I answered.

“So good, I am doing so good. It’s been close to 35 years since I’ve had any of those patterns. I’m so glad.”

She nodded.

And waited and I added,

“But there was a moment a few weeks ago. I was home alone. I was feeling less than, feeling the rejection that comes sometimes when we are vulnerable in life and art. I was standing in my kitchen and thought, eat all the butter pecan ice cream and balance it with a bag of burgers and then just throw it all up.”

She listened.

And I added,

“But, I didn’t even though for a moment…not more, I could feel in control, I could punish myself and I could treat food like the love I felt was missing.”

I thanked her for asking. I meant it.

For believing I was worth the question.

And for the way the question led to the remembrance of this realization.

You’re worth fighting for.

What are you battling that requires the lasting embrace of this truth that God has never given up on you?

Don’t give up on yourself.

Get back in there and fight to be aligned with His sweet and sovereign idea of you.

Because I’m convinced this is the key that will unlock the door and that the big deadbolt that keeps the door barred to wellness in our bodies and souls is this…

Insecurity

Insecurity is the voice of your foe. Insecurity blocks the door. Insecurity says “You’re not worth fighting for.”

And insecurity hides in depression, loneliness, hides in a careless attitude about our unhealthy choices,

It hides in the belief that to advocate for oneself is prideful and not humble, is haughty, not meek.

Insecurity says God’s tired of me, tired of listening to me battle this thing,

Insecurity says maybe God doesn’t care anymore, why should I?

“As long as I live I’ll keep praying to him, for he stoops down to listen to my heart’s cry.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭116‬:‭2‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I promise you, I’d not be sharing these words if God would’ve let me forget them by now.

Nevertheless, I sat in my morning spot, quiet and a little sullen and I heard deep in my soul, the words I’d never heard…

You’re worth fighting for, Lisa

And I answered, wrote him a note with a little girl tone, like a bedtime prayer.

“Thank you, God for helping me be stronger now, to decide I’m worth fighting for.”

You are too.

Believe it.

Continue and believe.

(Sermon to self always first because I stumble too. We all stumble in many ways and most every day.)

Surrender.

“The Lord preserves the simple; when I was brought low, he saved me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭116‬:‭6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

And continues to save me.

	Under the mask.. on Held
	Lisa Anne Tindal on Seeing and Being Seen
	Ray V. on Seeing and Being Seen
	Cathy Rigg on Come What May
	Lisa Anne Tindal on Curiosity