Art

Inspired

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, courage, curiousity, Faith, freedom, memoir, mercy, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder

A call for artists’ submissions to illustrate a poem entitled “Exhale” caused me to sit with paper, pencil, water and color.

Especially the part about

…after waiting so long. Maggie Swofford

I was moved by the image of a jubilant one fleeing.

My illustration was selected by Fathom Magazine. Click here to read the poem and view the other images

Exhale

It’s not wasted on me that the poet and I connected and that our creativity and maybe similar experiences have been ours.

Flee freely,

Continue and believe.

Accomplishing Little with God – Blog post #821

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grace, memoir, mercy, obedience, painting, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

Have you ever known a leaf to sprout from a tiny brand new planted seed?

A seed like the ones we planted in paper Dixie cups and watched to see the bright tiny green come up from the black dirt?

The butter bean plant would sprout and then we’d watch granddaddy put it in the ground to wait expectantly for the beans.

Waiting back then was so sweet, shellin’ peas and beans and pulling up dirt covered peanuts to pluck them from the green stems as we sat in the back of an old truck.

And later with dirty hands and bliss, we’d eat huge bowls of briny deliciousness.

Maybe children understand process, maybe waiting was learned through simple participation.

Anticipation was not anxious, it was more moving a little closer to what we’d grown to know.

On Monday, God offered an option, pointed me towards a reprieve from my incessant seeking to hurry up and become what I had yet to see.

Pending needs were not being met by responses from others.

Getting things done meant waiting for others to deliver on their part to me.

Then Tuesday came like a gift of a day and I accepted it like the joy it was indeed.

I let unfinished business lie in the places I’d left it, the tasks, the obligations, my initiations towards finishes.

I stood in my morning kitchen and stared at my feet.

Fascinated by the calm colors, the image of me, steady and still, planted.

Told myself, today is for the baby, baby Elizabeth and your girl.

It was a good day for sure!

And now, here’s half a day gone, middle of the week Wednesday.

I’m at a standstill, a snail’s pace, dependent on others.

My to do list with no new strikethroughs!

Unfinished tasks on my mind and underfoot and uncertainty over the current vagueness of my vocation.

Paint, write, assist, consult…which way, which road?

Dropping hints about my skills and being available, my multiple seeds.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” Jesus

‭‭John‬ ‭12:24‬ ‭

Have you ever considered “waiting and trusting” a sacrifice?

The sacrifice God wants is my trust, for me not to meander away from who He says I am in futile attempts to hurry up and be a better version of me.

Have you let God plant you in the soil He intends to grow you or do you resist what seems like nothing, impatient and worried?

Has your identity changed, what you were known for been taken, now different?

Does it feel as if your thing you thought was yours has been stolen?

Is it hard to see that God has better for you because you’re so attached to before?

To accomplishing much?

My mama used to say “Turn the page.”

God is saying, I think to me, “Plant new seeds.”

He knows you, knows me. His ways are deeper and higher. His soil is richer.

Know Him, know the best version of you.

Also on Monday, I discovered I have 820 blog posts out in the world.

I have no desire to perform any sort of comparative analysis of me when I began and the me I am now.

I sure hope I’ve stayed honest through them all, that if I leaned toward know it all or cutesy commentary that the handful of readers gave me mercy back then.

And the ones who hung around when I wrote about loving the sky and the sounds of the birds.

No worries, that Lisa Anne is still here.

Here on this Wednesday when I’m at a loss over what to do for an income.

No set vocation and it’s noon and my husband just stood in the doorway to say…”You’re still in your pajamas…”

He smiled when I answered “Yes, things are not coming together again today.”

Strangely for him, he offered no suggestion. He let it rest.

And as he left the room to cut grass or hedges I reminded myself the third day in a row, you’ve done your part, just wait for God to take it wherever it is meant to go.

To grow.

Where You Stay

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, freedom, grace, mercy, painting, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

We choose where we stay.

We get back and we see.

Why did I not return sooner?

Why did I flee?

“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” But you were unwilling, and you said, “No! We will flee upon horses”; therefore you shall flee away; and, “We will ride upon swift steeds”; therefore your pursuers shall be swift.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:15-16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Pursued by everything others say you need, promising it will turn your door’s key to peace causing confusion, exhaustion until you return.

Return to the place that simply lets you be.

The place God says this is you.

This is yours.

The places with no parameters, expectation or restraint.

I stood in front of my new easel for three hours last night. I, thanks to the newlyweds, have a proper easel.

It stands tall to accommodate large pieces.

I painted a piece in a newly free way of layering. Colors in little prism like squares creating ideas of form and figure.

I’ll layer a little more later.

This morning I pondered the biblical idea of abiding.

Of remaining confident when there’s no reason to be sure simply because you know you are close to God.

You slow down long enough, briefly at first until you discover, I am okay, I’ve been at peace a little while now.

Of being where you are even though you can’t see clearly where you’re going.

“For we live by faith, not by sight.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5:7‬ ‭

Of starting and allowing God to lead, much like a blank canvas you approach and begin with a certain color to continue with sweet consolation.

I like what this is saying. I am content with what I’ve conveyed here.

I’m so glad I began again, taking away what was planned and letting another idea develop.

Mercy Mornings

Stripping away the too many perfect layers to leave the impression of a beauty, imperfect and spontaneous.

Yes. I cannot wait to be back there.

Abiding is simply staying in the place you feel most safe.

The place of the little corner room, soft songs about grace and love blending blue-grassy vibe with truth about staying here.

Where you belong, the place God made you for, the place of quiet confidence.

Present with God.

The place you sense most clearly that you are known, your longings have been observed by God, the place you believe you matter, you are a part of God’s story.

The morning story that reminds you, mercies are new all the time and His faithfulness has surely been great every moment.

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love.” John 15:9

‭‭

Where do you go that causes you to wonder why your return was delayed?

Do you sit with your fingers on keys finding soft notes at first becoming clearly stronger as time passes, you and the piano, maybe a guitar or a horn?

Do you put your hands deep into the soil and seed of flora or bright vibrant leaves?

Do you allow them to linger when you realize your hands are mingling with growth, God’s glory?

Do you sit with no agenda watching the anticipated rain come in?

Linger longer in the places that mean abiding for you.

Rest for our souls, maybe long overdue.

Space enough to remember.

You are strong.

Stronger than you know.

Continue and believe.

This piece is a mixed media collage using acrylic, paper and oil pastel. It is 20 x 38. Comment if interested.

The Road Blurry

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, daughters, Faith, fear, grace, memoir, painting, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Truth, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, writing

Maybe knowing God is better than knowing me.

I found this accidental photo just now.

Funny how it happens, happenstance making sense.

Last night the air cooled slightly after just a showering of a misty rain.

I walked, listening again to informative content on the number of me, the Enneagram 4.

I finished up my walk, showered, ate, settled on the sofa and with nothing else worth my time, watched college softball’s big game.

I’d seen a young woman earlier, she made it to collegiate level and now she tells me she’s expecting her third baby.

She continues to ask how I’m doing, what I’m doing,

how I’m feeling in my new role, “#goingbygrandmanow”

I tell her it has been an adjustment, some things not easy.

I add when I see baby Elizabeth all of my anxiety fades.

She smiles. “Oh, I forgot something!” she says in her excited and bubbly way.

We are standing in the crowded post office and she begins to talk about church.

She tells me about their sermon series and how it was suggested everyone find a “spiritual mentor”.

She has chosen me, says I was her first choice.

Of course I said yes and I’d call her for coffee and yes, we can talk about Jesus.

I was not prepared at all.

Should I have answered no, I wonder?

Should I have said “Oh, I’m not the one, you just don’t know!”?

Because I’m not feeling so suitable for such a place in another’s life now.

I walked and thought again about validation, understanding my tendencies a little more and thinking I should ask a professional…

Is this a breakthrough for me? Have I figured out something transformative and new?

Do I seek not only the validation of the positive of me but, also habitually choose the patterns I know that sustain the negative of me?

Thereby destroying any possibility that life can be different, can be better?

Is this typical I wonder, for anyone approaching 59, knowing 60 is just up ahead?

I believe we’re inundated with advisors and we are at a loss over whose truth to soak in.

Someone wants to edit my website, has a proposal she wants to present, claims she can make me more visible, increase sales, build my numbers.

A creative has seen my art, beckons me to join her next series of marketing courses. I consider, almost jumping in, signing up for yet another hope that feels false after a bit.

They’re a business after all, I tell myself.

I unjoined a writing community, yet the content continues to come.

And yet, writing and painting don’t hold the same place in my heart as before.

Have become like a chore.

This morning I made a list of concerns lined up with contentment, two columns, thing is nothing was listed under contentment at all.

Yesterday, I heard a mom talk of her little girl’s big girl dreams and goals. I smiled as I listened to how she was schooling her own mama in teaching her marketing strategy.

This child already knowing the value in believing she is capable and she can do anything when she combines her confidence with her courageous talent and selling of her self.

But, maybe it’s different for some.

Maybe I’m one of the some.

Maybe nothing more than now is the best place for me. Maybe I’ve blinded myself of the goodness of God by seeking what everyone else says is better.

What if we overwhelm ourselves with so many virtual mentors we lose ourselves in their midst?

God spoke to me this morning saying it is okay to consider the wisdom of others but you must never forget the wisdom you’ve found of me.

Your one story is now shelved because you have filled your mind with the details of so many others’.

Your fear has unintentionally buffered your courage.

So, there comes a choice to be made, slow down and take a breath.

Eliminate the unnecessary content.

Listen to God more than anything or anyone else.

It happens when you don’t deny the evidence of that.

A friend of your daughter says be my spiritual mentor and unknowingly prompts your return the place you had left.

The place where one person in this great big world sees you face to face and says I want to know the Jesus you know.

“Is that possible, do you think?” she asks.

And I answer, “Yes.”

It is possible.

I’m thinking of my grandmother this morning who was industrious and talented but rarely talked about her craft.

She created intricate Christmas ornaments from discarded jewelry. She boxed her creations up in big flat boxes and her work room was a dresser and a bed.

She made deliveries to people who paid her and I suppose she was known for her creations.

But, I never remember anyone encouraging her to go bigger, maybe put a sign up in the IGA or even an ad in the Statesboro Herald.

She provided what was requested of her. She was compensated, yes; but, only enough for what she needed.

She was content in the act of creating, it was her independent venture that I saw, that instilled in me the truth of possibility.

My grandmother taught me that being yourself is all you need.

Is there a book in me?

Will a gallery be inclined to display my art?

Will I be a better me or finally decide I’m enough as I am?

Content in the waiting as I rest in what comes not forced or rushed and be amazed by paths crossing and opportunities that unfold unexpectedly.

Next week or the next I’ll have an iced coffee with “Sam”.

I may tell her what a mess I was when I saw her or I won’t.

I may just tell her what I was learning on that and any other day.

Learning that the advice I need is found in the quiet place beside my bed or in the wide sky, the bending road or in the palms of my beautiful granddaughter’s hands.

God is everywhere, I will tell her.

Continue and believe, I might add.

Knowing God is better than better knowing me.

Learn as you go.

I’m on the morning road to my daughter’s, her husband’s, Elizabeth’s home.

The fog is lifting.

Remembering the thing that God just told me, an awakening of sorts and how one day I may tell Elizabeth or not.

How her grandma began to come into her own…

Maybe just live it intentionally for her to see.

Rest in this self awareness you’ve so keenly acquired and continue now easily into the you God has always known.

Discard all calculations to change your course or set new direction.

Become who you were becoming the very day you were born, God’s unique and capable child.

It is well with your soul.

It is well.

Peace and Water

Art, contentment, Faith, grace, painting, Peace, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder

Art

The owner of the shop that sells my art said,

“Landscapes, Lisa…more landscapes.”

I answered, “Okay, I’ll bring a new one every day!”

Then commenced to continue, the serene scene of sea.

Too dark, too gloomy, too dismal.

Reworked it for three hours,

Then color, just got happy with shape and color

And

Peace and Water, 22 x 24 mixed media

Peace and water.

Promised Plans

Angels, Art, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, heaven, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I’m writing prompted by FMF and the word “promise”.

Not originally thinking of Jeremiah, I was reading from the Book of John, Thomas the one called the doubter asking why should we believe in a place we don’t know.

Jesus replied essentially, because you know me and thus you know my Father, God,

and you can be certain.

I don’t really think Thomas doubted as much as he was just intrigued. Heaven and God are intriguing, after all.

So much to know!

Believing, according to Jesus was all they needed to know.

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.”

‭‭John‬ ‭14:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I flipped to Jeremiah on my way to the day’s Psalm and started touching up and coloring in a place I’d been before.

I added the female form in the other margin and I found the familiar words about plan and purpose.

Then I found the promise.

The unwaveringly certain promise.

I will always find God.

There’s not a promise more significant.

I look for God in confusing times, I wait and clarity comes.

I look for God, seek Him by interrupting my day to kneel down to pray.

Momentarily or much later, I find Him.

My circumstances change.

Here’s the promise.

We are seen by a God who loves us. He waits to be found again and again.

“You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord…”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:13-14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Linking up with others here: https://fiveminutefriday.com/2019/05/16/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-promise/

Vulnerable Afflictions

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, fear, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, heaven, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Stillness, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I read the response of another the other day… “Who would you like meet?” His answer was “Jesus.”

And then another in a different place, oddly the same question posed. This person answered “Paul”.

Paul, the writer of, with certainty, eight books of the New Testament. Paul, who was a horrid man who was known as Saul who met Jesus and commenced with the telling of his truth from there.

At some point, I pencilled in clarification on a passage.

The verse describing the life of Jesus in me,

“We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:10‬ ‭NIV‬‬

We carry around in us what Jesus died to save us from, our human tendencies, our vulnerabilities, our bends towards atrocities even. We carry with us the humanity of us and we simply seek to lessen its hold.

Paul knew who and what He had been. He celebrated when the “outwardness” of him was being overshadowed, wasting away by the developing of the inner him, Jesus in him.

He was focused on eternity and driven to tell others so.

That was his story line, the telling and retelling of his rescue for a purpose story.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:16-18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The words I wrote in the margin are barely visible, words forming a question about my own vulnerabilities and the display of them making me more aware of the human me… a gradual revelation, the changes to the heart of me.

I won’t say I’ve come a long way. I just know I am not the same, not who I was.

The same as Paul.

The margin as of today has a sketch of a girl in repose.

She sees how far she’s come and she knows she has a big part in how far she will go.

The coming to terms with her story being incomparable to any other.

She cares less although not quite enough yet about herself as she does others.

What’s your story?

She is accepting that her part is just to keep telling in written and painted creation, occasionally or eventually maybe before an audience or in a small circle.

Who knows?

We will not know fully unless we go, simply go forward to the places we get to glance back on and say,

I did it.

I kept going.

My story is not so scary as before, not so tinted by affliction colors.

Stronger.

Strongly, we step forward.

We leave behind us for others, through our stories.

We just prompt another to wonder.

We cause them to consider why we believe in something we don’t yet fully know, why we yearn to keep learning.

And given opportunity, we answer to tell,

We believe because believing is the closest thing to hope.

And because we our story of before, all of our vulnerabilities and afflictions only mercy references and notes for the rest of our story.

Believe and continue.

5 Women Redeemed

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, daughters, hope, Motherhood, Peace, Stillness, Vulnerability, waiting, writing

My May Newsletter is all about choices we make to allow God to redeem your messy and or miserable situations. Use the little pop up form to sign up and read more. I learn as I write and I am learning as I go.

We are never unaccepted by Jesus. 

His offer is redemption. Our choices are our own. This month rather than focus on one certain story, I happened upon five and each story of a Jesus encounter came with a chance to make a choice. …

Thoughts on Heaven and Mamas

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, birds, Children, courage, daughters, family, Forgiveness, grace, grief, memoir, Mother’s Day, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, sons, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, writing

This morning I cleaned out my “Saves” on Facebook, stuff I thought I may read later, there were over 50 various things I considered useful at the time.

Same old same, healing from trauma, posts about family, even more expert recommendations to grow my blog, have my voice heard, write the book, don’t give up…

I deleted almost all. I have to be honest, I am on writerly advice overload.

At the bottom was a note, the Facebook kind, I suppose my idea of blogging before I blogged and it was called 30 Randoms…things I’ve learned since mama died.

It is a list compiled 10 years ago come November.

Much of it is the same.

I suppose the ache began when someone said change your profile pic to your mom’s, one of those FB things that make you either go along or rebel.

I rebelled in a kind of pitiful, mulling over pondering way, my way.

I don’t have a photo I haven’t shared before and the one I have is dated and it doesn’t portray the mama I want to portray.

Grief changes its hold on you over time.

I miss my mama, see the cardinals all the time that say she is near.

I’m afraid though it’s simply not enough. Well meaning people will say oh she sees you, she’s looking down and you stand silent like a big dumb block not replying to their little kind words or something to say remedy.

I believe my mama is in heaven; but, I do not fully understand what it’s like for her there.

Possibly her spirit still lingers near me, possibly it’s my memory and longing for her involvement that manufactures this comfort and assurance for me.

Here we are over 10 years and there’s so much she should know.

Updated here are 30 randoms I’m offering up as prayers to heaven in hopes that someone else up there runs out to find you and you sit together and you laugh and cry happy heavenly tears over what is going on, how we’re doing without you and daddy down here:

1. The grandchildren are something else altogether and individually, they are just enough you to be stubborn and outspoken and often irreverently rebellious in being themselves!

2. We are all still married to the ones you saw us with before you passed away.

3. Baby Brown is due any moment of a very soon day. This will mean three great grands. Our home has a baby room.

4. Your grandsons are strong, just enough cockiness of your daddy cushioned by the gentle handsome ways of our daddy.

5. I left my job that was destroying my health. I am an artist. I get “pissy” and I’m sure have a certain look when someone says a painting is “cute”.

6. I am a writer. I will be going by “grandma” just like you and I will be helping my daughter with her baby, just like you.

7. I am less afraid but still prefer to stay hidden.

8. I left the church that made me feel I’d never be enough.

9. I sit every morning with my Bible, a pencil and a memorandum book.

10. When I’m sad or angry or anxious, I clean the whole house, rearrange stuff.

11. People call me an open book. I reply with only certain stories.

12. I reunited with Melanie and revisited the times I fell apart and she helped you and daddy hold me together.

13. I regret going home the night you passed away.

14. I understand you probably wanted it this way.

15. I love Jesus the way you lived it, love everyone the best you can, not more than you should to those who love themselves so much they don’t need yours.

16. Be kind to your husband, as he ages you become everything to him.

17. Love a dog, this love will sustain you.

18. Love food, not its control over you.

19. Delicious things are only delicious if savored not embellished or used to satiate empty bottomless places.

20. Accept God’s grace.

21. Being pitiful is not pretty or permitted.

22. Wear more red. Paint your toenails red, learn to wear a hat.

23. Don’t stress.

24. Stress will kill you. (I’ve told you before, Lisa Anne).

25. I’m going by Lisa Anne now mama, occasionally “LT”.

26. I sold three paintings last week and I gave one expensive one away.

27. One painting found a new home, it was inspired by your high school photo and I called it “Heaven Meets Earth”.

28. Today, I will believe there are better days ahead, I’ll not long as much to have you here to have your hand touch mine, to see your face when you see ours.

29. Today, I’ve decided I’ll ask again and if you’re listening, maybe you can soften the way. For Mother’s Day, I want a dog.

Yes, how fitting, how perfect, how precious it will be. A puppy or a rescue, a new home with me to represent and honor you. Yes, I’ve decided, I’ll ask again.

Don’t you think it’s time, Greg? Time for us to get a dog? If not now he might say soon and I’ll let it go, trust it’s just not a good time.

30. Better now, I’m better. Grief is a mystery and an unexplainable thing. Words from others who don’t truly know are better left unsaid.

There’s really no right response other than remembering.

When Mother’s Day is without a mom, a mother, an outspoken and gone too soon mama!

The greatest gift is to allow all of the remembering you can stand!

P.S. I joined the Artist Guild and there’s an exhibit tonight I don’t think I’ll be attending. One, possibly two of my pieces will be displayed. Some artists will have ribbons on their works. I’m not going because I still don’t care for spotlights or attention.

Remember the time you and daddy drove four hours because a piece I created was chosen for a blue ribbon?

I remember it well and the years that followed dulled my shine and the gift of your being there.

So, if I didn’t say so then, thank you for telling me back then that it was possible,

I could become an artist according to you!

I finally believe you.

Happy Mother’s Day. I feel you near, do not fully understand it, I do believe you have become an angel.

Lisa Anne

What Are You Hoping For?

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, writing

I turned to Proverbs.

A thing I used to do, one a day corresponding with the date.

Proverbs 13 begins with talk of integrity and wisdom and continues to a verse I’ve heard and read before.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭13:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I stayed there a minute. I quickly underlined the verse then decided I’m not really sure I understand the word, “defer”.

I google to see.

I discovered I’ve been wrong all along, thinking defer is like an out of my control detour caused by circumstance.

Actually, it’s not that at all!

What are you hoping for? What are you heartsick over?

Hope deferred is a goal discarded, a dream, a treasure you’ve decided was not a part of God’s measure.

That maybe, after all, His provision of what it takes to follow through, He just ran out of that inspirational juice when He got to you.

What a crazy thought. His love never ends. His providence is immeasurable.

That’s not up for us to decide. Who can fathom the mind of God?

Hope deferred, postponed or cancelled like on the back burner plans,

makes our hearts sick.

I rise now and I shall go and sit at my desk rather than my morning spot. I will work on the pending words that represent just one of my hopes.

I won’t put off my hope today

Nor, tomorrow. My April newsletter will continue. (sign up form popped up here, hopefully 😊)

What are you postponing, forgetting, deciding “not God’s plan” when we really mean I simply don’t believe.

Don’t defer your hope.

Continue and believe.

Desire fulfilled is a tree of life. Proverbs 13:12