There’s a verse I love that helps me make sense of both tragedy and unanswered questions…of longings for different.
“The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever…” Deuteronomy 29:29 ESV
Cooking to Remember
I’m standing in my kitchen remembering a verse I read earlier about “secrets”. A verse about the Lord hearing the cries of his children and also knowing the secret sorrows.
I pulled the big Bible from the shelf.
The one I gave my mama, New King James Version with hardly an underline or turned down corner or bookmark.
I’ve often wondered if she ever opened it or if she just accepted my gift because she knew I needed to give it, a gesture from a daughter hoping to help, to mend, to say something unexpressed.
I looked for the verse and then others I love to compare.
We all carry secret sorrows, longings too long expressed, spoken of so much we’ve exhausted the listeners.
Questions, emotions we cover because we “shouldn’t feel that way after so long or she’s just a dreamer”.
Today, if my mama were here she’d be eighty-six years old. She’s been gone for fifteen years.
I thought to watch the DVD given to us all from the funeral home and then put it back on the shelf.
I can’t really say why. It just felt best.
I have a roast cooking slowly in the oven, green beans very buttery and soon creamy mashed potatoes flavored with mayonnaise.
My husband will wake from overnight working to be met by this gesture.
That’s what I decided felt right on the day of mama’s birth.
That, and not rushing my day but opening again the burgundy large print Bible to the place where the Lord appeared to the amazement of Moses and assured him.
“…For I know their sufferings…” Exodus 3:7 NKJV
Closing the big Bible and deciding to leave it in a place beside me, a slip of paper fell out.
The sweetest thing, a little Sunday School coupon filled out by my daughter.
She’d printed the words and her name and then scratched both out to change her writing to cursive. 😊
It was a note telling me that along with other chores, she would “wash the dishes to honor God and me”.
And I began to feel the truth of being seen by her, the tender recollection of days as a mama that were both tired and trying.
They say the things we long for most that begin very early are
To be seen
To be soothed
To be secure.
Where do you feel you’re lacking? What is the secret ache you’re carrying?
What hurt needs soothing?
God sees you.
God offers a healing balm.
For me it was a note from my daughter that my mama kept tucked away,
the realization that my daughter’s a mama with just as kind and observant a daughter of her own.
Don’t look for answers, just know you are fully known and wait tender hearted and at rest for the evidences of love that will catch you by surprise.
I can recall most of the cakes I’ve baked in my 63 years of life, the number is that small.
I once baked chocolate cupcakes covered in peanut butter sugared up icing.
Chocolate zucchini cake was a hit!
I’ve attempted my mama’s pound cake enough times to know that’s not my skill.
Still, I decided to give a day a name, the Saturday closest to my mama’s birthday and eat cake with friends or family or people I’d make friends with on
Cake With Your Mama Day!
Today’s the day.
I’ll go out to the country to the best little not so secret restaurant called Juniper (in Ridge Spring, SC) and I’ll have lunch and then cake.
I’ll soak in the sweet joy of others who think it’s a good idea too.
Celebrate today over cake with someone you love.
Celebrate the legacy left by someone, anyone today!
To see more clearly, I must simply gaze more faithfully.
I’ve just completed an application to be an artist vendor at an April event.
I have a list of other places I and my art may “get to be” and one I was selected for and am a day late on the paperwork. I’ve just emailed the coordinator and said a solid silent prayer.
It’s okay if I’m not there. There are other places I should be and you know these, Lord.
Tiny Words
I’m of the age I can see far away only with my contacts in and to read I suddenly am learning neither glasses nor contacts are beneficial. I toss them off, they are no help.
I see best up close, reading or painting with simply my naked eye.
I see what is needed to be seen by me, nothing more and only what’s very close.
I see just enough.
My Place
My focus is on what is near.
What is now, not in the distant future, not beyond my reach or my vision.
And so, I can give myself grace and permission to simply and quietly do what is mine to do in my “present place”.
Cakes, Mamas and Remembrance
“Act faithfully according to thy degree of light, and what God giveth thee to see; and thou shalt see more clearly.” Edward D. Pusey
Walking, listening, with an attentive ear and vision only committed to faithfully see what’s not too far to see, only just in front of me.
“And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.” Isaiah 30:21 ESV
I’m joining other writers today in the Five Minute Friday community, prompted by the word “Far”
I wonder if it’s a common feeling, the juxtaposition of two pursuits when you become a certain age…
A collector and cherisher of “small things” or an avid “go-after-er” of “limitless”, of all the longings of your heart you’d thought might not be for you, possibilities.
Maybe it’s both in a gentle and knowing of yourself as your Maker made you.
I bought myself two gifts yesterday on my 63rd birthday, a pear shaped candle and a bangle the rich color of jade, the same shade in the “Restoration” collection now available.
There was nothing I needed, I said with ease.
I just wanted those two things.
I came home to birthday cards and there were flower deliveries on the porch that were surprises and only found because my daughter asked “Is there something for you on the porch?”
And there sat two of the most boldly happy arrangements you can imagine, the colors complements of each other.
My son, my daughter ordered flowers, neither knowing the other hoped to brighten my day, yellow roses, lilies and sunflowers.
Patient, on my porch while I piddled around my solitary home, added touches to a canvas I’ll soon take away because they’re too contrived, too hard, not gentle; curled up with an actual book under my quilt and then moved with small and slow steps for the arrival of my daughter and her family.
For birthday swimming.
Dinner and cheesecake with cherries on top.
Later, I sat and lit the candle, knowing it wouldn’t be the same, the waxy drips changing the shape no longer to pear but possibly just a blob.
No telling.
My sister called, the last of my siblings to wish me a Happy Day and we talked past my husband going to bed.
About life, about children, about books, about hope.
About knowing we can never know how our lives or the lives of our children will unfold.
But we can know that to teach them not to expect to always know, only to confidently and gently continue on.
And we can live from that knowing for ourselves and we can carry on, enlightened by life in all the ways hard and soft.
So that we can be our truest selves…mamas, sisters, wives, friends, grandmothers, aunts and whatever our hope without limits leaves on our doorsteps.
We can be where we are because of all we’ve come from and all we now know.
We can love small things and we can believe in the limitless beauty of brave pursuits too.
I saw the man again on Monday but, yesterday I wasn’t paying attention. I neglected to glance over to find the front yard of the trailer hidden in a shady hollow place.
Overgrown it was the day I saw the pair standing so far apart they would need to raise their voices.
The grass was high like wheat and a man with a flock of blonde hair all crazy stood with his hands crossed and a positioning of his torso saying “I ain’t staying much longer.”
Facing him was another man, his head tilted to one side in a way that said sincerity.
I wondered about the relationship.
Father, step-father, mama’s friend, uncle or older brother.
I wondered who had caused the crack in relationship and who was resisting more the reconciliation of it.
I also wonder why I wonder. Why I see humans in conditions that are fragile and why God made me to want those conditions to be better.
I know God made me this way and somehow I know the intervening is not for me to accomplish, only God.
So, I pray for strangers. I just do.
And I think about them. I still pause to consider.
“What’s their story?”
I woke with thoughts about love this morning, about the importance of “for my part” demonstrating love.
Love that doesn’t put us in danger of emotional harm is just a positioning of our hearts and mind, we can stay safe in showing love when it’s hard by just deciding we want restoration for someone, we want them to know they are loved by their Creator and if they’ll allow it, by others too.
“Relationship, especially family, requires a commitment to relationship despite differences, dysfunction, and most importantly delays in the other person longing in the same way for relationship.”
I laid still in the place of very good and needed rest and questioned why these words came.
I figured it must be that I’m still curious about the family in the overgrown yard.
I saw the older man a second time. Tall and skinny, a bearded man with baggy britches and an oddly colored pipe dangling from his mouth.
He was swaying in a rhythm with a weed eater as he cleared and cleaned the high grass and weeds.
He was making the situation better.
There was contentment in his movements.
Maybe in the knowledge that he tried and is trying. So, I’ll drive past the place of these two people again next week and I’ll believe the best is being done to restore what’s been neglected or wronged.
And I’ll believe more strongly in the truth of love being demonstrated in small ways to invite change (even if we don’t get to see it).
Because, it’s not about us anyway, it’s about the one who’s messed up and in need of love believing it may be possible…
Restoration.
“God is a restorative God. He is restoring all losses.” John Eldredge, author of “Get Your Life Back”
Continue and believe.
“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8 ESV
I discovered yesterday that 2023 marks a “Jubilee” year for me as I approach my birthday. It’s surprisingly tender, this discovery…almost too difficult to put into words. Maybe I will, maybe I’ll just rest in the discovery of a year symbolic of release and restoration.
The way it shimmered caused me to pause. If the movement made a sound it’d be like the rhythmic lapping of the water caused by my body in the pool.
The slight breeze from the air conditioner vent caused a silver dancing curlicue in front of me as I drove.
I was captivated.
What before would prompt brooding, a sign of acceptance, I saw as beauty.
One or three thin strands of my hair, not brown but grey.
Dancing in my periphery.
I’m talking about turning 63 like it’s tomorrow and at the same time overjoyed to discover the biblical meaning of August, my birth month, is “restoration”.
I’m considering the bravery of not feeling old, instead feeling ready.
I have thoughts to share with others, I encounter people who engage with my story and with others whose plight tells me my story might bring comfort,
Might compel them to keep living
To keep growing older.
To continue and believe.
This month I’m leaving WordPress.
I’m thinking of change, of blogging about not just art, but my thoughts on faith on my art website. I’m tender over it.
I love my blog. Still, it makes sense as I acknowledge the overlap, the connection, God’s instrumental hand on my life. Maybe he’s calling me to simplify,
maybe he’s calling me to growth.
My writing and my art will abide together in the same home.
I don’t know which direction my art or my writing will go.
I just know I’m captivated by the glimmers.
Glimmers of hope
That say “keep going”.
If you’d like to follow me as I move forward, visit the About page at http://www.lisaannetindal.me and SUBSCRIBE.
One of my favorite things to see is the expression on my son in law’s face when I talk about art or life or I’m uncharacteristically funny.
We were sharing our Saturday plans, “cake with your mama day” and the whole idea of it.
Mama baked, January 30th was her birthday, still is and so, we’ll celebrate it by eating cake and telling other people about it.
He smiles, looks at my daughter. I walk towards my car and say, I guess most people think I’m weird!
My daughter shouted back,
“No, just crazy!”
And I saw them smile and I drove away, knowing they think I’m crazy in a good way, the way God made me.
“I thank you, God, for making me so mysteriously complex! Everything you do is marvelously breathtaking. It simply amazes me to think about it! How thoroughly you know me, Lord!” Psalms 139:14 TPT
Crazy for fun ideas and for sharing them?
It’s the way God designed me.
Linking up with others here prompted by “design” and I’m hoping they’ll have cake with their mama tomorrow or cake by themselves or with someone to honor her!
A deer jumped from the field onto my path and I slowed. I expected another and then, yes, a young one skirted on wobbly legs all by itself into the woods.
I thought of the season, not being a hunter or having knowledge of why they were out walking so early, feeding I assumed, preparing for something, going some set aside place or looking for seclusion.
Later, instead of the regular “walk around the block” I saw an opening. A deeply wooded path, narrow with a valley and then a slight curve that made me curious about where it might lead.
I stepped in with the baby. Very quiet, very careful to watch my feet. We looked together up towards heaven in an enchanted gaze.
The brown ground was covered in seasoned oak leaves. I moved slowly with intention and walked unafraid.
Standing still to see a pair of cardinals and hear the rustling in the branches of others, I listened.
I thought. I am sixty-and a day years old today. It’s okay.
I saw God there and I felt him see me. Thinking towards the next things because of uncertainty of where the path may take me if I choose the more wooded way at the top of the hill.
I turned back, the peaceful way called my name. I chose to take the simple route, the one I had barely begun to know.
I turned and was greeted by the view of an opening like a garden entrance, a glow of gold and green that begged me to see.
You discovered a new way today, now step back into the old path forever changed by your seeing.
The settled way, the way without accomplishment, goal or agenda.
The trusting way, the way to allow God to show me instead of anxiety’s need of always knowing, forever second guessing and harboring remorse because they did and I didn’t.
The better.
Mary, the sister of Martha chose to be settled, to choose the better in a time women were expected to be fixers of things, holders of it all together, preparers of perfectly orchestrated outcome things.
Perhaps, I may be exaggerating here. Naturally, I didn’t live in the days of the sisters who had Jesus come to dinner.
But, I have lived in days of huge expectations and pressures and I am beginning to understand, allow, most of all believe in the better.
“There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:42 NLT
To linger longer in the places God calls me, to slow down and believe he sees me.
Late in the afternoon, I watched from the windows. The trees that were far from me reminded me of a stormy ocean tide rolling on. The rhythm of their sway and the brushing up of the trees was a dance with the wind.
Synchronicity. I had said a quiet prayer, a pause and I opened my eyes and sat still.
I sat and rested my eyes on the horizon of dark cloudless sky, the gathering of trees.
Knowing it’s impossible to stay here for long, there are many things to do.
But, for a moment, and more moments later.
I can choose the new and the better, redemption this side of heaven.
This is one of those posts that needs a disclaimer: Memoir type personal plus possibly all over the place rambling, one of those that simply recording it cements the value of it all coming together.
Oh, and about aging and accepting it and not being caught up in regret.
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. II Corinthians 4:16
I made a scribbled list of verses that comforted and confirmed my hopeful thoughts. I read a familiar passage, one used to reassure or comfort others after a disappointment, tragedy or just acceptance of unexpected change.
“God will make good of it.” Christians are known to say.
I cried the night before in front of my husband, not a horribly uncontrollable weeping, more a soft release. Tender, it felt.
We were catching up on things, I needed a few minutes of his attentiveness. Earlier, I pulled into the driveway and he greeted me and the only reply I gave was, “That did not go very well at all.”
He asked for an explanation. I said “later” and realized I was worn out from sharing how this unexpected thing made me feel, exhausted over trying to have another person understand my needs, my secrets, my reasons for anxiety.
Psalm 107 caused me to say softly this morning, “Wow”.
I’d found one verse and it fit and then I turned to read the chapter entirely, the one with the header in my Bible, “Let the Redeemed of the Lord Say So”.
“Some wandered in the wilderness, lost and homeless.” Psalms 107:4 NLT
I still have things to say, the optimism of this truth met me.
I thought of my years of wandering, most of them not a misleading of my own making, but of being caught up, trapped, lost and to this day surprised to be a survivor.
I paused to pray. I thanked God for keeping me safe, for preserving my life.
Some things have happened in these pandemic panicked days that have triggered me.
Felt similar. There are requirements of this time that remind of control, of powerful demand, of being silenced; the mask I wear as mandated shields me for my health and others yet, reminds of being held down, told not to yell.
Last month, my dental woes began. A bridge that made up for four lost from damage teeth shifted and broke from one tooth that was an anchor.
I stood up in my art room, felt the slight change and it fell into the palm of my open hand.
“Bewildered” is a word my precious cousin used to describe me as a child. At gatherings she says she remembers seeing the expression in my preteen eyes and thinking, bewildered.
I was relieved that someone had seen it.
Here I find myself, a few days from 60 and bewildered again. Having to be reminded of the blows to my face and the hard slaps on my cheek over thirty years ago. The dental surgeon displayed the elaborate 3-D images of the jawline, the place where the cheek makes a little circle when I smile, the place that is now in resting mode as I prefer not to smile due to this gap of only gum because of broken bridge that covered missing teeth.
The surgeon seemed empathic, so I felt I should give an explanation as to why due to past trauma I was not a viable candidate for dental implants.
Why someone who looks pretty okay now at one time was not.
So, I spoke of my past. Soon after, wishing I hadn’t. It was not safe to share. Not that it was taken lightly or not heard, it was not safe for me to hear my own sharing.
It reminded me of being unseen and unheard in my past and deciding to stop asking, to change my expectations.
So, that night my husband sat and I told him how I felt in the dental chair and how the trauma of my past was being reborn and fighting to be thought and overthought. Saying this to him helped.
I cried a little and then decided to change my thoughts. I decided to resist the downward plummet into always a victim.
This is transformation, this intention to be aware of my safety, to begin to see that this is what Paul meant when he wrote all things God makes good.
And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them. For God knew his people in advance and He chose them to become like His Son. Romans 8:28 NLT
I saw this often quoted verse differently. It is not that God wants me to accept that the bad things were bad and somehow I am to accept that they will be made good. It is not that we don’t have sorrow, are expected to hide our longings for our mother and father who died before seeing a grandchild. It is not that we are naive thinking a crisis that leads to pain will magically feel better, be considered a good thing.
No, this passage is about the good that comes with acceptance of the bad and to continue to thrive, to continue to move towards a likeness of Jesus, to decide not to be pulled into misery over trauma, to be intentional in your speaking to your self, “You are safe. You made it and you have so much more making. You have still more story of redemption to tell.”
You can feel it. You are being called towards God’s purpose.
The purpose? Transformation
Your body is aging, shifting, even moving towards failing. All the while your spirit is blooming like a wildflower spread!
You were lost in a sad wilderness long ago. You decided on a different path, there were helpers but you set out at first on your own. You were and remain found!
A blind beggar lingered roadside as Jesus walked by. He and the disciples had just discussed which of the twelve would be most important of all. Jesus did not entertain the conversation as they continued on, only telling them not to be surprised that the last will be first.
The blind man spoke out, shared his plight and asked for mercy. The onlookers told him to be quiet. Jesus heard him and told him to come near. He jumped up from the dirt and went straight to Jesus. Jesus asked him how he could help and the man, blind Bartimaeus told him he wanted to see.
Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”So they called to the blind man, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus.“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him.The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.”
“Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road. Mark 10:49-51 NIV
There are many stories of healing in the Bible with similar endings, people in need are made well. People who’ve been harmed are healed. People who have been wronged or been wrong receive mercy.
Their faith, our faith has healed us.
And so they move forward in that very faith as followers, not backward glancers filled with regret or question of why and how and what was that sorrow’s purpose anyway?
He brought them out of the darkness and the shadow of death, and burst their bonds apart. Psalm 107:14 ESV
Shortly, I will be back in the dental chair. I will begin the process to choose a partial (oh, that word!) over implants and I will accept what seems, feels and sounds so bad is best for me, is better. Better, than I expected.
Yet another list I’ve made after completing three little things yesterday. This list is different, a note to self about enduring, about this time as a time for living.
Eternally Valuable Days
Mend fences and repair barbed wire barriers and hurts in relationships.
Make them stronger by your willingness to work harder, to dig down deep to prevent future toppling.
Commit to loving for the long haul, a firm decision.
Laugh, it is allowable.
Sleep without guilt over long sleeping.
Be mindful in your use of time, not mindless.
Look up to the wide sky and see the vast possibilities and the actual purpose of you. Open yourself up to it.
Look at the birds. Consider the lilies. Fixate upon the ebb and flow of water, the power of the ocean. Go to these places.
Endure the delay that comes with the decision to do the big thing that requires simply moving forward.
Believe in Jesus. Believe Jesus, not just the idea of Him. Believe.
“Do all things without grumbling or disputing,” Philippians 2:14 ESV
A month from today, I turn 60. The truth of that day is accompanied by the truth of that number. Age and learning, age and realizations of time, times remembered and the brevity of time allotted.
I’m on the fence really, a contradiction as usual. On the cusp of beginnings and still surprised by bright ideas.
Still able, still trusting and still willing.
So very willing to discover fully God’s idea of me ordered long long ago that I’ve only see faint peeking in the open door of!
Hopeful, set on hope not fear because of this disgruntled world.
Eternally valuable, I’ll use as my days’ choices.
“A repining life is a lingering death.” Benjamin Whichcote, “Joy and Strength” devotional
we run away from our discomfort... but it doesn't leave us. to heal we need to turn around and face it, experience it and once we truly do we are out of it. We heal and we grow.
2 Timothy 1:7-8 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. This blog is about my Christian walk. Join me for the adventure.
Lisa Anne Tindal 