bravery

Old and New

Abuse Survivor, aging, bravery, confidence, courage, creativity, family, hope, kindness, memoir, patience, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, writing

“Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old.
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭43‬:‭18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

On the top of my “to do” is to download my blogposts as I prepare to move my words from here to Substack.

The question mark is gone, I’ve decided to move. But the questions remain.

Do I print every post? Do I simply save them? Are there words that will cause me to cringe? Are they a spattering of wisdom worth keeping for later sharing, maybe publication?

Yes, to everything.

I sit with my list, the Labrador is so very chill; I believe happy I’m home and not hurried.

I view the YouTube tutorial again.

Okay, I’m gonna do it…

Later.

Not on the list is the closet, the tangled mess of costume, classy and funky necklaces, dysfunction!

I attended a Christmas party last night. I almost didn’t. My closet and its sad collection of not fitting or way too far worn and gone clothing set my tone towards dismay.

I pulled it together and had some pleasant and memorable conversations.

Back down the hall I went today. Before shipping sold art, before painting, before the WordPress cancellation that I must do by Friday.

I started in the back. I touched every garment. I charted the seasons and phases of me.

A period when I bought sweaters oversized and chunky because I thought I’d never be not “plus” any longer.

The too large pieces were jerked from the hangers and began the pile for donation.

Next the “dry clean only” executive pieces, pencil skirts, cardigan, fancy blouses for under blazers. These were the outfits for those days I took the stand in juvenile court to speak unwaveringly confident about the abuses children endured.

Those were the meeting clothes, board meeting or travels to Atlanta.

Interview for promotions attire.

Those are not me, these positions are no longer my calling or service.

Then the “statement necklaces”, a tangled mess were untangled.

A bunch of those were chunked along with a favorite black turtleneck that I decided to sit for “just a second” to paint and ruined the sleeve after an hour.

But a few pieces, I kept.

The Mother’s Day gift tunic, worn transparent from washing.

The fancy camisole I wore to my daughter’s wedding and my mother of the bride dress.

A red sweater because of my mama.

The bluebird blue structured top I wore to the Citadel graduation of my son.

The long sleeve black A-line dress I wore to my mama’s funeral, the shoes as well.

Another black dress, more of a sheath from my thinner days, the one I felt both pretty and presentable in for the first time going to church with Greg.

A necklace made of macaroni, painted purple and threaded on twine, a match for the one Elizabeth made.

A few other things that I treasure were kept.

More than I thought I was able to part with are now ready to be loaded into my car for donation.

The ease of this chore always surprises me.

We can let go if we just begin.

We can begin again if we will just will ourselves to let go.

I hope you’ll follow me to Substack. I’m just there as me, Lisa Anne Tindal.

I hope you’ll see the reason for my move, the decision to be more intentional about writing as one affected by complex trauma.

Writing from a place of my words an offer of hope.

To do no harm, simply be brave enough to be new.

Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭43‬:‭19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Thanks for being here all these years. I pray you’ll follow.

On Self and Suffering

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, family, fear, grace, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Redemption, rest, Salvation, testimony, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, walking, wonder, writing

December always makes me remember Merle Haggard, the hope of makin’ it until then and the days being brighter days once we’re there.

Yesterday, I thought of six words that I could call my December memoir.

Not a finish

A clearer path

There are places in the country I won’t walk with the babies.

Surprising, I guess because I’m sort of a rebel when it comes to strikin’ out on a walk.

“I’ll figure it out!” I’m known to announce.

I have memories of the year I lived with my mama and daddy, a period of seeking wellness from self-destructive eating.

I can’t tell you how many miles it was…

the circle of dirt road that began at my grandma’s house, through the peanut field, past the creek, up the hill, past the “shack”, past the farmer who wanted to date me’s house, through the weeds, around the curve to the lake where the rough people lived and past my Aunt Marie’s to be back home again.

It was way too far for a woman, young and with a reputation, to walk alone.

I was thin. I was lost. I was lonely.

Thinking back, it wasn’t health I was seeking, it was simply more self-destruction.

Trying to have my life match what I decided it was worth…not much at all.

That’s a hard pill to acknowledge. This meandering search I’ve sought, mostly taught, some stubbornly chosen.

“Self-destruction is an addictive behavior.” Rita Springer

I heard this truth last week.

And I’m kinda blown away by the resonance.

The truth that it’s not one specific or stereotypically thought addictive behavior that is addictive. Instead, it’s any and all of our choices and responses to life and our people and places in life, that lead us to this well worn and not so safe path.

I made a list. I love a list.

A list with words that may either seem too normal, not destructive or may seem like they aren’t choices that can become addictive, intentional choices we continue that are self-destructive.

I suppose I should soften this…no one wants to be told they are “self-destructive”.

How about behaviors that aren’t good for our bodies and souls?

Choices that don’t cherish the truth that our bodies are the temples of the Holy Spirit. Paul doesn’t sound too positive when he warns us.

But, have you ever noticed that he begins and ends his letters with a prayer that we’d all have the knowledge of God’s grace, His love?

“Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him. For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple.”
‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭3‬:‭16‬-‭17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Not so soft a warning, I thought.

So, back to the list, maybe an inventory year end of subtle and not so subtle self-destructive behaviors.

I chose a different header, kinder wording.

I chose

“What is NOT giving you quiet confidence and strength in God, in your choices these days?”

Accepting unkindness (abuse) in relationships

Taking on too much to please others and thereby determine your worth

Bad health, diet habits

Too much looking for good on a phone

Procrastination in regards to God’s nudges

Habitual time with God without reverence, sort of rote

Junk TV that takes my focus on God in me and puts it on the crazy or interesting lives of others (I love reality TV)

Clutter (mental and otherwise)

How are these self-destructive? Mostly because they have a tendency of putting God’s voice on “mute” in my daily life.

So, how do we move through our days, through December with a hope for the coming days.

I’m learning there’s one more important thing.

See suffering as fellowship with Jesus.

You may have heard all things are worked for good and you might have actually known people who say so.

But, do we really believe that they believe this?

Paul wrote about this fellowship.

“Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death,”


‭‭Philippians‬ ‭3‬:‭8‬-‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Suffering has its gift.

Faith not in ourselves but in Christ

Sharing in His sufferings.

Becoming Christlike, a privilege really, not hardship (?)

That’s hard, not easy.

I’m not great at this. I avoid suffering with a well learned and established skill to be hyper vigilant.

Yesterday, baby Henry wanted to walk, not be strolled. He burst forward on toddling feet in socks, not shoes on the rocky path.

In the distance, a black thread laced across the path. I stood and watched, turned the baby back towards home and turned him back again. He was intent on forward, moving steady down the path.

The dog didn’t bark. The black snake made its way into the brush.

And we lingered and walked slowly in a rhythm of walking away from home and then turning back to home.

There was no need to hurry.

No need to fear. We were safe.

God was near.

There was no fight to be fought, nothing but us and the breeze and wide blue sky above us, God enveloping us and our faith in His ever present love.

“When we wrap the language of war around our suffering, it becomes a battle to be won rather than our experiences to be processed.” Katherine Wolf

I’ve never been good at fighting, only at sullenly retreating.

We weren’t made to fight, only to be faithful.

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

But you were unwilling, 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. A thousand shall flee at the threat of one; at the threat of five you shall flee, till you are left like a flagstaff on the top of a mountain, like a signal on a hill.

Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭15‬-‭18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In quiet confidence is your strength.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Go In Peace

Abuse Survivor, Art, artist calendar, bravery, calendar, courage, creativity, Faith, Peace, Redemption, wonder

“I sense God bringing a truth to me, a reminder or a nudge to consider the value of just a few words, often the words of Jesus and I just decide to share them, thinking someone else may need them too.”

This is my response when someone tells me my honest reflection or interpretation of scripture was timely for them.

Often, it is surprising.

“Go in Peace” feels like a gentle well wish, a suggestion or saying.

But it’s more like a commandment.

You came, you believed, you sought healing, you were healed.

You are healed.

Go in Peace.

To purchase this calendar dedicated to my granddaughters and every woman created to live freely in the embrace of God, to go in peace, click the link below.

Purchase here

Expectant

Abuse Survivor, aging, Angels, Art, bravery, courage, hope, memoir, painting, Peace, Redemption, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing
Hope

I barely missed a couple of deer. Now that morning is coming sooner, I was less observant, less cautious.

Less expectant.

The couple ran together to my left in the harvested corn field. Flying through the air it seemed.

Yes, like dusty brown doves, not deer.

When the timing was right, they danced over the road in front of me just as the curve turned right to my daughter’s home.

Then, I watched expectantly for them to run back the other way, to cross the lane to the more wooded field.

But, they didn’t. They must’ve decided to continue to a better place, maybe one that felt safer.

Possibly down in the corner, the valley near the creek.

The spot I’ve set my gaze on from the kitchen window.

The place where just one tall tree in the mix of many beckons me to be still.

To notice the vivid gold.

When I understand the meaning of hope without knowing, simply hoping.

I can live expectantly.

Not expectant of celebratory good nor of sorrowful negative or even tragic.

I can understand hope as being a promise that will be kept because the Spirit of God knows.

Knows my longings. Knows me.

Knows all.

“But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness.

For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.

And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called

according to his purpose.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭8‬:‭25‬-‭28‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Often, I’ve remembered the words that instruct, that compel me to believe that no matter what, God brings good from all circumstances.

I’m afraid I’ve embraced this as a sort of consolation prize, a fourth runner up in a pageant who gets no crown or announcement.

A decision that all is always well for others, just not for me.

But, that’s so very distant from the truth.

The truth is, I just do not know it all, all the secrets I’ve been shielded from, all the recalculating of my directions and choices simply because that accurate and oh so loving Spirit inside me

Has said, this is the way.

It may seem wrong or not for you.

It may resemble hurt.

But, keep going.

Keep being you listening to me.

Keep being surprised by me.

In progress, I have 22 paintings commissioned that will be gifted to women, a reminder to me of something I never set out to do.

In 2015, I was given a Bible at Christmas. It was designed with space for thoughts and color in the margin.

This Bible began my journey into being an artist and it started with women from the passages who felt like women like me.

Sketches, simply sketches.

It’s now falling apart, the pages are more thin than makes sense. I should, I suppose put it away for safekeeping, stop using it.

This Bible led to painting angels for people who were grieving or needed encouragement and then to painting other subjects.

Not angels, but landscapes, abstracts, animals and trees.

And figuratively strong women standing, leaning, postured in a position that conveys battles won, grace remembered and mostly, I hope,

A decision to live with expectant hope.

To hope.

Their gazes fixed on hope.

Hope we can’t see; but, fully known because of God’s Spirit in us.

And along with all the nudges and the pauses.

The changes and questions.

I’m seeing the purpose of the visible pain and the invisible questions I’ve carried.

I’m finding my way to be guided by hope and endurance rather than questions of why and a constant looking back to a decision (even if feeble) to live “now” not then.

Knowing I have no idea what is coming only that what comes to me through my Father is always good.

Always has purpose.

We’ve come a far distance, those of us harmed by the uncertainties over why it seemed life chose to hurt us.

Keep going.

Keep hope.

You are loved.

31 days of good things

aging, anxiety, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, jubilee, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wisdom

Day 31 – Trying

If I could’ve driven on up the circular driveway and felt confident I hadn’t been seen on the Ring camera, I would’ve just timidly left.

I sat in church on Sunday next to a woman who invited me to join her women’s small group. The time of their gathering would work for me. The leader of the group, the host called me on Sunday afternoon just as I roused from a nap.

I have a history of not belonging, of being the poor girl in the too tight pants, of being the one longing to stay hidden.

I said yes.

And I sat in the dining room with other women discussing the study of the week.

I spoke up when I felt I had thoughts to contribute. I suppose it was okay.

We don’t talk much about this thing between “women of faith”, this thing of sizing one another up and being curious over what secrets the others hold.

I was welcomed.

And I will find the courage to believe I’ll be welcomed again next week.

Trying is a good thing.

A hard thing.

A brave thing. Women of faith, I’m afraid can be intimidatingly perfect in a sometimes beautiful, sometimes not so beautiful way.

I’ll keep trying.

I won’t hide the colors of my Bible.

I’ll be tender and careful over who sees them.

Happy November tomorrow.

I likely won’t be writing every day.

31 days of good things

aging, Art, bravery, courage, doubt, Faith, hope, kindness, memoir, patience, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

Day 26 – Early Morning Acceptance

Before bed, I read a verse about being cared for. I read that the shepherd takes care of his sheep overnight. Sheep don’t have to worry about being fed, of waking rested and ready.

I woke too early on an “off” and open day. The moment I sat with coffee, a thought came.

I’ll share it here as the “good thing” today.

Morning Thoughts

“What are you building and why when I’ve already established your dwelling place?”

I wrote underneath 10/26/23 and my children’s names in a thick circle, is this question.

I pause to consider why, I question the significance of “dwelling” and I imagine eye rolls and even laughter over the “depth of me”.

The more I thought of this question God gave me, I compared this world we live in, these lives we lead of striving and comparing ourselves just to stay “caught up”.

We don’t have to build ourselves up.

We may topple under the weight of the hurried addition to our first or second floor. We neglect the foundation and we envision mansions that represent our lives, when we’d be better as a quaint little three bedroom with a porch.

After all the building for appearance and to comfort ourselves in being enough, we just might find we don’t want to live here anymore, it’s just too much.

And that’s good

That’s a kindness of God to be shown that you are enough, more than and that although you feel worn thin and the structure of the dwelling of you is feeble and tired, there’s still a little corner that’s waiting for you to find yourself acknowledging the exhaustion.

You matter.

The condition of your body and soul, the place where God dwells even when we can’t find Him in the clutter.

Surprisingly, that’s a sweet place, the most beautiful place you’ve known all along.

Maybe, its name is acceptance.

I think so.

God gave me this today. He wants us both to know. We are enough in our dwelling with Him, we don’t have to wear ourselves out in building, renovating or leveling ourselves in destructive manners because we don’t think our “dwelling” measures up.

God has more than we can fathom in the place of us He long ago established.

“I will give you hidden treasures, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the Lord, the God of Israel, who summons you by name.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭45‬:‭3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

You are loved.

Continue and believe.

31 days of good things

Abuse Survivor, aging, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grandchildren, memoir, patience, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

Day 24 – Bravery

Last night, I responded to a question,

Can you explain what you meant by that?

A sentence in my post about “Listening” that was all jumbled up sounding like wisdom but really only just a pretty forming of a sentence.

I answered her.

After rereading the blog post over again.

I’m not sure what I meant…

some sort of metaphor about editing a painting and redeeming the mess(es) you make because you rushed ahead or you were led to doubt because of comparison.

Maybe redemption over our mistakes as well as our challenges comes when we are brave in our approach to life in general.

Acknowledgement of God

When I scurry out to my daughter’s porch to see the morning, I say “Let’s tell God, Good Morning!”

The grandchildren listen, go along, unbeknownst to them, a seed (even if silly in memory) will pop up for them on occasion, maybe as adults, maybe today.

Today, I woke up and thought of bravery, a good thing.

This old dictionary I like says bravery is “the quality of being brave; fearlessness…magnificence.”

Magnificence seemed odd.

I flipped to the “M’s” to see that magnificence is another word for splendor.

Bravery, less than and at the same time so much more than a jaw-clenching choice, a splendid way of living, an opportunity to really believe this life you’re living,

have been given is splendid.

Bravery is accepting slow progress as better than rushing an outcome based on others around you. To be brave is to decide the acknowledgement you need comes every morning when you open your eyes to find the morning.

Bravery is knowing yourself, body and soul, good and not so great and choosing what helps you maintain it over what threatens to wear it down.

Saying no to that second glass of red wine, so pretty in the settling down evening place, end of the day.

Bravery is not having the chocolate pudding topped with salty pecans in your daughter’s pantry…adding crumbled cookies atop a peak of whipped cream.

Bravery is knowing that this innocent indulgence felt like rebellion and subtle self-destruction and that it may not feel the same for others; but, for you it was something other than a treat.

Bravery is attentiveness to the nudge from God’s Spirit inside you that says

“You’re getting too close to the edge, be careful, be still…don’t go on without me.”

Bravery is conversations with others in which you speak your peace and truth, not turn your cheek, close your mouth with just a timid nod, “It’s okay.”

Bravery is delaying good for better.

Bravery is expressing a tender observation to someone you love, knowing they need to hear it. Most often, I’m learning, this is to the adults I cherish, my children.

Bravery is saying,

“I love you.”

And bravery is believing in God, the Creator who chose to give up His Son, Jesus so that we’d spend eternity in what Eden was supposed to be.

Bravery is asking yourself (and others if you have opportunity)

Why are you afraid to believe?

“God always makes his grace visible in Christ, who includes us as partners of his endless triumph. Through our yielded lives he spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of God everywhere we go.”
‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭2‬:‭14‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Bravery is telling your redemption story, often rambling and more often grammatically errant.

Bravery is keeping on anyway.

Continuing to believe.

To triumph over whatever defines your fear.

31 days of good things

Abuse Survivor, aging, bravery, contentment, courage, Faith, hope, memoir, painting, Prayer, Redemption, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

Day 22 – Joy Found and Remembered

I saw the copper color on the carpet and thought, “penny on heads, yay!”

Instead, it was a piece of cereal, a circle shaped flake.

When I read the parable of the lost coin, I can see myself as the widow. She’s searching every corner, maybe like me had to find her glasses or maybe she resorted to rubbing her hand along the floors, the corners, the spaces where the coin may have landed.

“Or what woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and seek diligently until she finds it? And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”


‭‭Luke‬ ‭15‬:‭8‬-‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’ve lost many things. I’m sad because a pair of earrings disappeared (twice, one time I found them) and I can’t find the one charm for my bracelet. It’s long lost.

More than those treasures though is the mystery that many events and interactions in my life, I have no recall.

No memory.

Someone told me after all these years, willing myself to remember, sitting in silence trying to recalibrate my brain,

That complex PTSD often results in memory loss. A chronology of hurt has this result.

Now, you may think this is heavy, sad, upsetting, even depressing.

No, it’s a gift, a joy to know that life is an invitation to simply cling to the joyful and to make more joy, if you can.

So, what is joy?

What is found treasure?

It’s found in listening.

Acceptance of every tiny moment.

It’s found in observing. It’s the evidence that who you are now is so much more important than who you were or what hard things happened to steal chunks of remembering.

The widow in the parable rejoiced.

Was it because she was poor?

Was it because she simply celebrated her not giving up her search?

Or even more, because she realized the essence of the truth of Jesus.

She mattered.

She was not one who’d ever be given up on.

Nor am I.

Nor are you.

I know the parable is about Jesus caring about every single lost soul.

To me it’s about joy.

About never giving up on being found by it and by it finding you.

I’m 63 years old with a timeline of trauma. But, not until today did someone say to me, the memory loss is because of what happened to you, it’s really just brain chemistry, neuroscience.

And the truth of that felt like a coin I’d been crawling around on my knees, scouring the floor to see

For a very long time.

Trying to squeeze the memories from the layers of my brain and all for naught.

Except the realization of the present and the chance to add to memories.

God is so good to me.

I surely don’t deserve it.

There are countless things I’ve agonized over not being able to remember.

I’ll never find those memories.

Maybe, though I can feel deeply the way those crises and celebrations made me feel and I can honor those times and myself by feeling all the feelings now.

Found, not lost at all.

31 days of good things

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, hope, kindness, mixed media painting, painting, patience, Peace, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

Day 21 – Listening

It’s helps that it’s catchy, the wise words for remembering.

Listen, Lisa

Works I Love

I stepped lightly to assess where I may have gone wrong, rushed to edit, didn’t leave “well enough for now and maybe always” alone.

Now, I see.

I should’ve listened to that pull, the voice that said.

This is you.

This is good. Let it rest. Let it be.

There’s no need for a rush to redo. There is no expectation for anything other than that you listened.

Listened attentively.

Listened with no plan of action or scheme.

Listened for the opening that never comes like a bursting, more like an invitation.

Listen and learn.

Contribute to the redemption of where your listen wasn’t necessary at all or steered you wrong.

Remembering, you can’t hear the gentle tone of directions spoken if you’re thinking you got it on your own.

Listen and then, welcome your role in the redemption that made a mess and muddied your message.

Always a good one, led by patience and surrender.

“From of old no one has heard or perceived by the ear, no eye has seen a God besides you, who acts for those who wait for him.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭64‬:‭4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe.

Listen for the love.

31 days of good things

Abuse Survivor, aging, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, family, kindness, love, memoir, Redemption, rest, testimony, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Day 20 – Being Seen

There wasn’t time for a deeper conversation. There wasn’t the space nor would the talk about the state of my heart, my mind have been able to find space in all the other chatter.

Someone I love and who loves me and is wise, told me later on the phone…

“You looked so tired that day.”

And I did my best to decide whether to say that I was in fact tired, to share with her all the reasons of how I had just been pushing through

or to wait and see if her observation may have invited

a more beautiful conversation.

If she might have time to listen, if I might be brave to clarify. If she might be courageous enough to share her own heart.

Being honest is risky.

I try to recall that day. Was I exhausted or was I just me at 63?

Likely a combination.

But, wouldn’t it be beneficial in a loving way, I thought if she’d have said,

“How’s your soul, what’s on your mind, what’s causing you to feel unwell, what’s brewing underneath that’s about to boil over and you’re trying to keep it under wraps?”

“What’s the thing under the thing”

Then, I would have sensed an offer of hope.

This morning, before I threw off the covers, responded blurry eyed to a ding on my phone, I thought of this longing…to be seen,

to have a sweet conversation about why she thought I “looked so tired”.

I thought of Martha.

I thought of what Jesus told her and how women especially, decide even if in secret, “Mary was his favorite.”

And we know that Jesus was simple telling her to see her sister’s choice to rest as a better choice and still, I wonder…

Could he have elaborated, could he have spoken with more clarity and could Martha have used different language?

“And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭10‬:‭40‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Could Martha have been more vulnerable?

Could she have simply asked the question that prompted warm tears on my cheeks today?

“Jesus, do you see me?”

We likely don’t know the entire conversation, Jesus beckoning her from the kitchen to sit beside her sister.

What if what he meant was simply…you seem so tired, I know your gifts are serving, working, preparing and fixing…

So, come and rest with your sister and I and if you’d like to tell me more I’ll listen.

Many beautiful conversations have been had with the one who pointed out what she saw as my exhaustion.

I know she sees and saw me.

We’ll talk about it soon.

So, today’s good thing?

Being seen.

Who can I truly see today and in an honest exchange allow them to truly see me and then in a conversation that offers hope.

Then, we go on our way

seen, known and loved.

Continuing to believe.

You are loved (more than you’ve been told).