bravery

Older Now

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, fear, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

When my granddaughter balanced on the highest beams and danced on the lofty walls up the playground equipment, I imagined her losing her footing. I was ready to drop all my stuff and catch her. Instead, she offered joy. She shared her confidence with me.

She demonstrated faith in herself and faith in me and reminded me of God that she sees, clearly more clearly than me.

“I’m older now. I can do this.” ELB

When I read about the man who was blind I can’t help but see a boy. I don’t know why.

“As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.”
‭‭John‬ ‭9‬:‭1‬-‭3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Jesus is saying exactly what he means.

As God’s Son, the “light of the world”, it was God’s plan that this man, blind from birth would have an encounter with Jesus and be healed. That he would follow the “doctor’s orders” and go to a pool called Siloam and put muddy water on his eyes.

This man, a beggar before this day, all on his own with no hope for better and no hope on the part of his parents.

He was healed and everybody thought it was impossible. So they refuted, doubted, questioned the simplicity of it.

And he told all the protesters of his sudden sight recovery that he didn’t fully understand either. He just knew he could see them.

In the margin of my Bible I have written,

Can it really be true? I am healed?

The next chapter over, John details the story of the death of Lazarus and of the way Jesus tarried in attending to his friend.

When Mary and Martha, who were friends of Jesus, worshippers of him, came to tell him about their brother, he didn’t immediately go to see about him…he waited two days.

What was he thinking? Isn’t Lazarus dead? What is the reason you’re not hurrying to heal this man, your friend…don’t you love this whole family, Jesus?

Valid questions.

Jesus told the disciples essentially, I know what I’m doing…you will see.

“Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.”
‭‭John‬ ‭11‬:‭14‬-‭15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When Jesus saw for himself, he wept.

“Jesus wept.”
‭‭John‬ ‭11‬:‭35‬ ‭ESV‬‬

As the Son of God, he was broken over the death and yet, He knew God’s intention. This death and resurrection will be recorded. It will make a difference in the lives of others.

It will help others make sense of their own unattended to and lingering sickness of heart, mind and body.

When Jesus says “this illness (trauma, circumstance, abuse, neglect, poverty, anxiety, fear, addiction or unmet longing) will not lead to death, he’s not saying it won’t be difficult, He is saying, if you will allow me to enlighten you, to heal you.

You will be light for others.”

And that is the why, the worth, the reason for suffering.

So that we grow into who God knows we are, that we are resurrected from the lives of before.

That we live like a rescued adult, cushioned by grace.

No longer like that child with hurts, questions and or mistakes.

Joyously.

The intention of Jesus for you.

“These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.”
‭‭John‬ ‭15‬:‭11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Keep going, higher than ever and with joy and hope.

Continue and believe. You are fully known and loved, have been all along.

You will see.

Choosing Better

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, creativity, doubt, Faith, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mixed media painting, painting, patience, Peace, Redemption, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

Countless times I’ve known “goodness by surprise”, things continued and finished and left alone to develop or fizzle actually come back around to close the circle in response to that sort of open-ended question.

…let us run with patience the race set before us. Hebrews 12:1 KJV

in green pastures

I lifted the kitchen window. I’m home alone and it’s a Sunday morning rainy song.

Which do you think matters more

Skill or endurance?

Pursuit or acceptance?

I’m not a runner but I’ve heard pacing yourself is important.

Last night I dreamt I was running. It was a dream layered with threats and pursuit and one that ended with comfort.

Deeply personal and I guess likely will never be fully understood.

I opened my devotional to read an unknown author’s letter of encouragement to Christians during trials…words about endurance and about the things of life that entangle us and impede our ability to run the course set for us with peace and ease.

So many times, scripture seems nonsensical.

How is it humanly possible to run with patience?

I mean, isn’t the point of running to get there more quickly with faster dropping feet on the ground or pavement, of pushing past everyone else?

Or maybe the reason we run with patience is because there are no competitors in our race of life marked by our faith. It’s just us on our own pre-decided by our Maker trail.

The spirit of God invisible to others, but within and beside us.

A solitary race, an especially intense one not because of its importance, rather because of the very tender and personal reward.

Peace, often by surprise.

Peace that sometimes awes.

Run with patience the path that has been set for you alone.

Now, here’s the story of this I know.

Grandma, your angels…

This painting came to life after being layered and pondered many times. I’d been asked to “live paint” as an accompaniment to my artist story for a women’s event.

I was wise enough to choose the better, to not talk and paint at the same time. I’d tried that before and I decided to learn from what was not me nor easy.

So, this large piece traveled as a backdrop to my story of what had been not so easy lessons in my artist as business endeavors.

I spoke of how God was teaching me that my value was not acclaim, gallery shows, representation or sold out collections.

Rather, my value is my story of continuing.

Fast forward, I get all excited and choose this piece for a prestigious exhibit and am thrilled and a little too obviously excited when a couple decided it should be in their home…and then reconsidered.

Then, I submit “Of Lasting Value” as a part of my portfolio for an Emerging Artist Show.

Again, giddiness over the possibility of acceptance and “fame” convinced me I’d be “in”.

Not selected though and I’d actually decided not to enter this piece in a local show. I was so confident, I’d decided…well, I can’t enter it if it’s committed someplace else.

A simple decision, an afterthought led to entering it in the local show because of the tenderness of its story and it came full circle, a tearful surprise.

Of Lasting Value, detail

My husband and I entered the gallery for the opening reception and I scanned the room to find my paintings.

“There’s a ribbon on one of mine.” I said quietly, almost a whisper.

Then discovered and later heard the juror’s reason why

My painting had been selected, “Best in Show”.

Congratulatory chats continued and I told a friend, “There’s such a bigger significance to this for me.”

Later, I made a promise to myself, or I guess I should say a request of God.

Don’t let this fade, the blessing of this honor, the many layers to the story of me written by You

This affirmation clearly that I am your beloved, that I am loved by you, God.

I don’t know where the story of this painting will go from here, whether I’ll stop by the gallery to see a red dot saying she’ll be gracing someone’s home or whether she’ll be coming back to me.

I don’t know yet. I’ll be patient. I’ll keep walking with a stillness I can’t create or maintain on my own. I’ll be shepherded on this path I am on.

“He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭23‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We stopped by the gallery, my granddaughter and I. We love to decide on a “favorite”.

We had the whole space to ourselves and after she’d pointed out “my angels”, said “Hurry, hurry, look” and turned the corner to gaze long at a brilliant painting of the ocean.

A textured piece with vividly and perfectly rendered sea grass with a background of water and sunset.

And this one, she told me was her favorite because it was “shiny”.

And I told her, my little artist and watcher of all things, just how spectacular I found it to be too.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up.

And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.”
‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12‬:‭1‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Run with patience the path made for you.

Others are watching, not following, not chasing you.

Simply watching your pursuit of peace.

Not easy but better.

Continue and believe.

Oh, My Goodness

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, painting, Peace, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭21‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My friend, Susan gets me, the way I share a story that goes down every path possible and then I circle back around to the point of my sharing.

God has placed wisdom in the form of listeners and those who notice me and mostly unbeknownst to them lead to clarity.

Many years ago on a Thursday morning, a question lingered, had been lingering long. I asked God what to do and added that I knew me and I’d be confused and conflicted forever if He didn’t show me in a big and clear way.

And He did and the course of my life changed.

I accepted that I would be a single mother.

I may never have a prayer answered so promptly and sure again. Or I may.

Wednesday morning, the country road was quiet, the half moon moved with me and fields on either side, sprinkled with cows and crops were striated by thinly layered fog.

Like a canvas changed by an artist who intentionally used light spectacularly well.

I’d been thinking of that same sort of application in new paintings.

seeing goodness

I thought of my words in a journal, the research into what the phrase “honing my craft” truly means.

I was happy. I love words and I love when they are like little secret gifts.

A term I used as a nonprofit professional came to mind, “mission creep”. New to the leadership field, I inherited a mess of misuse of many things. Funding was failing, the agency facing catastrophic losses and necessary changes.

I had no skillset for this position other than compassion for others and a commitment to that call.

There were talks of “adding programs” for which grant funding was freely distributed. If we did more, there might be more money.

But, we had two employees and no capacity to carry out additional programs. I said no and I had a board who trusted me.

I offered, “No, let’s figure out what we are known for, what matters and what we do well and let’s get better at that.”

That naive assertion on my part redirected the course of the agency I oversaw for ten years and I suppose as I write this, it’s the actual first time I have given myself credit for that courageous “no” to chasing after new at the expense of forgoing good.

Abstraction

Choosing better over bigger.

Lord, I see you refining my jagged edges.

A prayer I offered on Wednesday morning, the fog striated in the sky, layered like paint in varying thickness on the canvas of an abstract painting. The sky wrote a beautiful note to my soul that morning,

told me to slow down, settle into what you love about writing and painting and do what is you, not anyone else.

A friend later surprised me with what she’d been seeing in me.

“With your painting -it is beautifully abstract-it does not have to be “perfect”. I sense you feel that your writing has to be “perfect” whatever that is for writing which trips you up. I see Holy Spirit lovingly pouring what looks like liquid gold over and into your mind. I feel that as you continue to explore God’s unconditional love for you. His words are going to flow out of you.” K.

My friend’s response to the question that wears me out (and probably others).

Should I just paint and not write?

If you’re still reading, you may be tired of this old weary question.

Me too. ME TOO!

I stopped by the gallery of a friend. If you’re anywhere near Augusta, Georgia, you must stop in to CANDL on Broad Street. The photographer and curator, Drake White is someone I described as just “happening upon me and my art”. I am honored to have been photographed by him.

I committed to seeing the current exhibit of the acclaimed artist, Ed Rice on the final night of the show and so I drove over yesterday evening, scurrying into the gallery without an umbrella in the sprinkling rain.

I was greeted by two gentleman, one an artist and the other Mr. White. Fascinated by the works, I commented on the emotion of the subjects, not people, rather 18th century dolls.

Still, I decided one was demure and another had been “harmed”.

I was introduced to the other artist with words about three things…

my faith

my writing

my art

faith

I stood quietly and accepted the kind commentary of me.

The me I’d been losing, sort of like a “mission creep” in creative endeavors seeking to be known.

“This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: “Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength. But you would have none of it.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I hadn’t lost my faith; but, maybe I was losing “faith in me” as in the Holy Spirit answering in the most unexpected ways and quietly, a ripple of wisdom that barely changes the stream.

Involving others as teachers, as witnesses of you.

For the sake of you.

For goodness sake and to contribute to the question…with the surest and sweetest answer.

Faith, writing and art, Lisa Anne…for the goodness of others, share my goodness in you.

Is there a place you’ve ventured away from what is for you?

Are you missing the goodness because of grabbing for grander?

Pay attention to what others notice in you and be reminded by a certain little phrase my granddaughter is quite proud of saying…

“Oh, my goodness!” Elizabeth

Oh…my goodness, yes.

Continue and believe

thank you for being here.

Desire and Hope

Art, bravery, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, family, hope, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭37‬:‭4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

What are the desires of your heart? Or as Jesus asked,

“And stopping, Jesus called them and said, “What do you want me to do for you?”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭20‬:‭32‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I keep a very old dictionary next to my morning spot. Its pages are thin from age and dark like dried clay.

I researched “delight” this morning, it’s a word that is defined as “to gratify or please greatly”, “high satisfaction”.

So, the psalmist tells us we will have whatever our hearts desire when we delight ourselves in God.

How do we delight in God? I think we set our hearts on pleasing Him and we couple it with joy that expresses to Him and others…”I’m satisfied with God.”

Then over time, our desires might surprise us or they may continue to be deeply important and personal, may seem like an impossible hope.

I get that.

I have a couple of those. But, my heart is at peace knowing, God knows and He has heard my prayers.

God knows the desires of my heart and He desires that I delight in Him…not just what I want. Maybe in a little while, what we desire most will be God and maybe that’s the discovery God knows we need and He’s so sweetly patient as we discover this ourselves.

He’s gentle and loving that way, isn’t He?

We can hope,have hope.

Not long ago, someone devastated by an injury and a woeful prognosis for her son had a tone of hopelessness in her voice.

And God brought a verse to mind.

I can tell you, this astounds me. Much of the Bible is still a mystery to me and I can’t recite the books in order or articulate truth accurately with confidence.

Still, there are things that pop up and I share them, the promises of God.

I told this mom that she could not stop hoping, that she couldn’t postpone, pack away or defer her hope.

That if she did, she would only be more heartbroken, heartsick and well, hopeless.

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

And as with every word I speak or write, every canvas I create, I’m telling myself the story first, the story of hoping.

The truth of a God who loves us, the embrace of a greater understanding of His faithfulness to love, protect and guide.

Desire and hope, such precious and fragile,

Secrets, mostly.

Don’t let go. Keep hope, wear it like a necklace. (I think that’s a verse). Treasure the knowing that your desires are fully known by the Maker who knew them way before you could.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Seekers

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, hope, memoir, mercy, painting, Peace, Redemption, Trust, wisdom, wonder, writing

“But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭28‬:‭5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The rhododendron, magenta in soft color cups its petals upward from a thick branch, thick as a tiny tree.

The leaves that flare around and about it are dark green, thick and waxy. I believe it’s a rare flowering shrub. Three years ago, like a child finding a treasure, I found it. Now, I wait with a blissful anticipation to see the display again.

The spectacularly elegant flower, I believe a cousin to the azalea but so much bolder.

I had lunch with a friend not long ago. It was a first time sit together, want to know you better sort of thing.

She is an artist. She and I shared our stories, the alikeness and the differences.

I admire her strength, her intelligence and what I see as a determined grace to flourish.

After talk of art, childhood and what comes from the heart more…writing or art comparisons, we began to talk about what it means to be female.

How we’d like in our lifetimes to see women not seen as less capable, less worthy, “less than”.

I thought of this conversation for days.

I thought about what feels like futility in efforts and endeavors if one is a woman not man.

Today, I discovered why the conversation lingered, the one that wondered why we are valued.

Here we again, that whole seeking value conundrum I’ve been trying to quit.

Last week, I wrote myself a very honest note.

“The more you achieve, the more you receive, the more you are known for your art, your writing, your appearance, your family or some other surprise special thing…the more you are known for these things, the more it will never be enough. Because the “more” of you, the value others need is the true story of you …you seeing your value according to Jesus.”

Because, Jesus is more. Jesus is better.

In a flash of clarity, I almost heard my very thoughts.

Women need to know that their value is according to God and they need to know sooner than later.

I need to somehow tell them.

Then, I thought of the women Jesus empowered.

I thought of Mary Magdalene, the woman healed from evil debilitating spirits. I thought of how there were no requirements of her to be the one standing beside the empty tomb, to hear Jesus say

Mary, it’s me, go tell all the men.

And I’m thinking now of the woman at the well, the woman sick for years, the women who in those days were supposed to be little and be belittled never were seen that way by Jesus…so, why must we think we’re supposed to feel small?

Or worse even, find our value in any other effort or acclaim.

I’m a work in progress here. Today, I painted a piece with women scattered “At Rest” and I rested too.

Strong like a rhododendron, beautifully fragile in its display, held up by strong branch, deep, deep roots,

Seekers of strength, light and love us all.

May we settle and sit quietly and remember the peace that never leaves and the value decided by God of us all longer before than we can ever know.

Continue and believe.

I will too.

Power and Prayer

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, freedom, hope, memoir, Peace, Redemption, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I finished a short book, a memoir I was asked to endorse. I committed to read in its entirety at first because I’ve heard endorsers of books rarely read the book fully.

And then, because I couldn’t stop reading. I’ll share more about this book soon.

For now though, a little about this little prayer, the graphic I offer you here.

Maybe, I thought, a more acceptable prayer, one more able to help tie the loose ends of unanswered questions, to heal wounds still festering, a prayer more conducive to strength and with less shame.

“God, turn it for good.”

The book I finished caught my breath with its honesty, made me pause overwhelmed by the author’s words of wisdom and mostly, empathy.

It’s a memoir about child sexual abuse, a woman detailing her faith and counseling journey as she bravely reveals her secret, confronts her abuser, her father.

Intertwined in her coming to terms with the abuse by her father, she comes to terms with her questions about why she wasn’t protected by God and how the ripple effect of her sexual abuse separated her even farther from the God she was raised in every Sunday morning church to know.

Because she wasn’t protected, she believed less that she was “wronged” and that all along it was her that was “wrong”.

As I read, many comments were added for my benefit. I became teary eyed when I read of her circling back and back again to the why of God, where and why and how was it allowed?

Her counselor gifted her with words I’ve learned to treasure.

God was there too. God was not pleased. Evil took over. But, God was there with you.

Just as He is today.

Still, it is close to impossible for this truth I choose to be less mystery than reality.

I am learning. God saved me for this.

I’m learning to hold in one hand my questions while balancing in the other the evidence of God in my life, the promises that have been fulfilled.

All of the trauma, the unfair treatment, the less than storybook childhood, the abuse, the grief, the slander of my name by others.

The lack of rescue until I was numb to having a hand clench my neck or throw me against a wall. Stunned, I was stunned into submission of things that should never have happened at all.

That I did not cause.

These hurts are long gone and the thoughts they’ve birthed that I share here are for your hope.

These redemptive thoughts.

So, I offer you this little prayer, a phrase you can say on repeat for whatever wrongs you’ve known.

God, turn it for good.

Once, a few years ago (I’ve thankfully come so far) my counselor asked me if I ever asked Jesus where he was.

So, I asked and He answered slowly, not audibly or enormously, instead so fittingly, an image like a painting.

A familiar place where hard things happened and beside me in a grassy place, Jesus kneeled.

Jesus was with me.

I offer you this prayer.

A precious one, really and not an attempt to right wrongs, a gift of retribution, or a magic eraser of pain.

No, a leaning really. Just a leaning as you learn, as you see God with you.

Continue and believe.

Your story is special.

(Mine is too.)

Befriended

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, contentment, courage, depression, doubt, Faith, fear, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.”
‭‭John‬ ‭15‬:‭13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I asked my friend to counsel me. She invited me to dinner instead and we counseled, consoled and decided some things.

Considered why there’s no 12 step type group for those who are questioners, often to the point of despondency, despairing and the other “D”, depression.

There was healing in our agreement, there was laughter over our recognition of that need.

There was the knowing of ourselves and of one another.

Befriending.

I had dinner with a friend I hadn’t seen in close to two years. I was scurrying to make it and almost cancelled. My hair was dirty, I didn’t feel too “spunky” and well, I’m older than the last time I saw her. I’m not sure why, but lately I’ve been thinking about aging.

But, I made it to the spot, dry shampoo and mascara plumped eyelashes with blush on my cheeks.

I beat her there. She arrived and we held each other long, long, long. “I love you” was the greeting as well as the goodbye.

We talked, we laughed, we counseled one another. We ate pizza over a glass of good wine.

When I woke the next morning, my first thought was “God’s not disappointed in you.” and as the day became sunny and pink with azaleas, I took to heart that I shouldn’t be either and I smiled as I remembered my friend’s hands in mine as we caught up with each other and decided.

“We’re gonna make it after all.”

Two days later, I’m recalling the likemindedness in our chatter. I’m remembering her inquisitive patience. I’m reminding myself of the gift of affirmation, the bravery of listening when listening is more important than adding to the conversation.

Early today, I rethought a familiar prayer, the one prayed by Jabez, (I Chronicles 4:10) the son who was labeled by a name that made his future seem grim.

Lord, help me to trust you to enlarge my boundaries, extend my reach and keep me from chasing after things that will lead to pain, things fueled by insecurity and fear.

I readied myself in the dark for my day, interrupted by the nudge to pray.

A prayer with a shift in perspective.

Jesus, help me to accept fully your befriending.

Because all sorts of songs and trendy Christian talk will proclaim friendship with Jesus.

But, oh to be honest, it’s not up to us at all.

No effort will sustain the relationship.

It’s really much more simple.

Acceptance. Belief.

Be befriended by Jesus.

I’m not sure where I’d be if there were an expiration date on my understanding of such things.

I’m old and I yet young in this friendship actually.

You’ll likely hear this song soon or hear about it. Lauren Daigle’s tender voice and truth admitting she’d be a mess without the friendship of Jesus.

Thank God I Do

I encourage you to listen. I just did with tear soaked cheeks while feeding a baby.

I hope you’ll allow the befriending of Jesus.

It’s a beautiful education of the soul.

Lightly, Loosely

anxiety, bravery, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, freedom, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, surrender, Vulnerability, wonder

Waking thoughts…early morning’s drive.

Settle your mind.

Reacquaint with your soul.

My trainer friend answered, “It’s from use.”

I have a pain in my upper right arm that wakes me at night. It’s caused by the way I carry things, she says.

I think, yes. Right.

Life, questions, concerns, and the baby

Close to my chest like prized possessions.

She suggests I alternate arms, shift the weight to the other side. I can.

That’ll be easy, remembering the words I’d been thinking all day.

Cease striving.

Cease striving, it’s not all up to you and

you’re not on your own.

Stop carrying so many things alone.

Rest.

Lighten your load. Carry what is yours to carry, to treasure, to hold sweetly to your chest.

Put the rest on the shelf.

Don’t pick it back up.

Be still, and know that I am God.
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭46‬:‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Be still.

Loosen up, live lightly. You’re strong but stubborn.

It’s not all up to you and you’re not alone.

Settle your mind. Reacquaint with your soul.

Rest will follow. It’s Gods promise.

Lay your hand softly on your chest.

Remember God.

Already Known

anxiety, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

It’s both awesome and awful to realize just how completely we are known by God

From our first breath to here.

I stood at the kitchen window and noticed the lime green glow of Spring on the grass.

The trees.

I remembered the sycamore tree, the hand sized leaves and the broken branches.

Thirty-plus years ago, I cut down branches heavy with green leaves and decorated a tiny cinder block room.

There was a grand plan. I’d be teaching children about the man who climbed the tree to get a chance to see Jesus, Zacchaeus.

It would be my first time as a Vacation Bible School teacher and I was intent on winning best decorated classroom.

The first night, a line of children trailing me down the hall, I giddily swung open the door to discover a disaster.

Leaves wilted and woeful covered the floor and the stench was unbearable in the poorly ventilated room.

I don’t remember teaching the children about a greedy man who got to see Jesus and then fed him supper.

I remember who I was then and am grateful to be not quite the same today.

Just as Jesus knew Zacchaeus was hated by many, was sneaky, corrupt and greedy, He knew I was just learning back then.

Just learning what matters to Him.

Not fully grown, but fully known.

We are already known. The secrets, the shame, the actions we take wrongly motivated,

Jesus is not surprised and doesn’t keep a record. It’s we who do.

My mama used to say, Lisa, stress’ll kill you. I’m here to say I believe its not so distant cousin, shame is more fatal.

The Woman at the Well in the heat of the day encounters a man who shouldn’t be there. She calculated her replenishing of her water to go to the well when she could go unnoticed.

She is surprised by a man who tells her he can help. He has a certain kind of water that won’t run out, she’d never have to be sneaky again in coming to the well.

“Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭13‬-‭14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

She’d never have to be thirsty again. She decides to accept the stranger’s offer.

“Please, sir,” the woman said, “give me this water! Then I’ll never be thirsty again, and I won’t have to come here to get water.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And we know Jesus wasn’t talking about a cool drink of ice water on a humid day. He was talking about the refreshing peace of an abundant life.

Jesus tells the woman to go and get her husband and come back. She tells him she’s not married and he answers with “I know.”

Then he tells her what he does know. That she has a reputation and is well known for being with husbands of others and is now with a married man.

Whoa! or “How dare you?” she could’ve said.

She was brazen after all.

But he continued to enlighten her and she listened, connecting his gentle wisdom with the possibility he might be the Messiah.

So, he told her that indeed he was.

“The woman said, “I know the Messiah is coming—the one who is called Christ. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.” Then Jesus told her, “I Am the Messiah!”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭25‬-‭26‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Then she is overjoyed and goes to tell all the townspeople what they already knew about her she’d tried to avoid.

The reputation she tried to cover was now a proclamation…you’ve got to meet Jesus!

“Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me all that I ever did.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭39‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There was no shame anymore, only her story.

Only a tax collector’s, a disciple’s who denied and regretted, a woman’s wearing shame and a lascivious reputation.

A woman like me who didn’t know anything about the value of the story of Zacchaeus, only wanted to be noticed because of trees in a room.

God is patient. He already knew and knows our journeys.

Yesterday, I stood in the parking lot with a woman. As women our age do, we caught up on the lives of our children. We compared wisdom and we exchanged worries.

She asked me to keep writing.

Said she needed my storytelling.

My story of rescue and of tripping and getting back up gradually as I learn.

Today, when you recall your own mistakes, missteps and wrong motivations, will you pause with the truth of being known?

Will you accept the grace that has never said give up, go your own way or isolate in secret shame?

And he gives grace generously. James 4:6

Will you decide to know that being known is love?

You’re already known.

Continue and believe.

Resonance

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, hope, memoir, Peace, Redemption, rest, testimony, wisdom, wonder, writing
like an echo

I stared out the window, the tops of pines golden in the early light. A mysterious sight, a dab of different color caused me to stare.

A pine branch must’ve splintered and the light color must be the underbelly of the bark. Then, I looked again. The object was gone.

I concluded it had to have been an owl or a hawk and naturally, that led to even more romanticizing this enigma in the trees.

Mid-morning, I looked again. With a baby on my chest, I discovered the object was a balloon that had gotten tangled and deflated and the wind had it dancing in and out of my sight.

Then, I began to get excited.

My granddaughter’s butterfly balloon had escaped her grip and “gone up to heaven” never to be seen again.

She arrived home with her mama and before I could tell her, her mama spotted it.

A hurried gathering of jackets began and I listened as she asked, “I gotta show you something, remember us asking God to help us find your balloon?”

She nodded with a smile that said she knew the surprise already.

Then baby boy and I watched from the window as they struck out through the hay field to the very back corner, a valley.

From a distance, I saw my daughter grab a broken limb and somehow dislodge the tangled ribbon and the flattened balloon.

Then, they took the long way back around the field, the walk I call “around the block”.

I asked my daughter, “Was it the butterfly?” anxious to join them in the mystery, the answered prayer.

“No, it was a Valentine’s one from who knows where.”

I watched my granddaughter, ever the listener as she quickly announced that it was hers anyway, just not the butterfly, it was her Valentine balloon (imagined).

She decided it was worth celebrating, special and unexpected even if wasn’t exactly the miracle we thought.

And then she moved on to something else, balloon adventure forgotten.

This morning, I discovered a pretty word I love and had big plans for I may have misused or slightly made wrongly “mine”. (I do this.)

Resonance.

I suppose it has nothing to do with feelings and mostly with science.

Like my granddaughter, I think I’m gonna think differently and decide on my own.

I don’t know why this happens. I decide to pull out the beginning pages of my long ago decided memoir and I go to the library and I run my fingers across the familiar words and the tenderness is so tender, I begin to cry.

I’m not sure what this means.

I’m not jumping to any conclusions as to whether it means close that door or throw every window and door back open. Step back in and don’t ever pack it away or fold it like a letter and seal the envelope forever.

It’s just an observation.

Library, window view towards the blue sky, laptop open, pages ready for pen and then…

Soft, never harsh tears.

I’m in the library, a place I love for two reasons though. My husband is painting cabinets and needed me not to hover.

More importantly, someone I know only through blogging is publishing her memoir and sent the manuscript to me. She asked me to read and endorse her book.

We’ve never met. I know her story and she knows mine through our blogs.

I’m forty pages in to her memoir which begins with a note to the reader, to women like me who’ve had their lives complicated by uninvited trauma.

Resonance.

An inaudible echo in my soul as I read her story, pause to be amazed by her knowing my feelings.

Resonance, a pretty word I love to decide is mine to choose sort of like the mystery balloon not being completely true and yet, choosing to believe.

Sort of beautiful really, the license love affords us to use when we decide life is and can be full and we fully immerse ourselves in the good, the bad, to the no way it’s true…we can choose.

I hope this is a soft echo for you.

Life lived fully known and open to the enigma of you and others who privately or not say “me too” adding to the resonance in ripples.

The echo of you.

Me too.

Continue and believe.