Beautiful not Finished

Children, Faith, grace, Motherhood, praise, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Unfinished

The first time I put my feet on the little path to the place where love lives now, I thought, “I’d fix these bricks. I’d clean up these flower beds and I’d add some pine straw as a border.”

I walked in the empty house back then, high ceilings and wide open space, functional and sparse. I moved through the hall and tried with all my heart; but, couldn’t sense heart or home. I thought, “I’d put a rocker there or I might make this a mudroom.”

Today, in my daughter’s country kitchen, I baked spaghetti, thick cheesy pasta merged with a rich sauce as I looked out wide uncurtained window, a little rooster on the ledge. The clear glass, the length of wide sink,impossible not to gaze towards a misty gray sky flecked with blackbirds.

My daughter napped on the sofa under her worn soft blanket. I sat with journal on lap, glancing again, again towards the narrow window of the front porch and the one past the foyer, in her dining room. It perfectly frames what seems to be miles of trees and peach fields. This window unveiled too, thin gauzy fabric opened to the side.

The leaves on the trees in front were shiny wet, like oil painted canvas, still the cardinal and thrush were easy to find as they danced upwards and round and round.

The brick path greeted me again this morning. The welcome, an unfinished pattern, still incomplete.

I smile when I see the Christmas tree, the pillow on porch swing. I love the changes love has made, my daughter’s “touch” on the big house, their home for now. Even more beautiful will be the one that will come, in time and with plans prepared and waiting.

He has made everything beautiful in His time.

Ecclesiastes 3:11

Desires of Heart

Children, courage, grace, Motherhood, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Satisfied

Sketches in the margins of my Bible moved onto canvas with thick, layered color, white flowing fabric from empire waists.

The head may tilt or the arms rest, tucked with fingers laced and resting in small of back.

Waiting and satisfied.

Content in the waiting.

I’d always hoped to be an artist.

I’d always hoped I might capture emotion on canvas. I’m selling art and longing to know the place my angels call home.

I have a new favorite, this one with humble and patient expression, hair bobbed with bangs…this one, looking towards the place where faith waits, sure of hope in time.

I pray Lord, and I thank you that I’m satisfied with me, finally.

I pray, Lord for the two desires you know tonight,the ones I prayed when I prayed, believing… the weighty desires of my heart.

They matter much, the desires of my quiet heart.

Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4

The Story will Decide

Children, courage, family, Motherhood, praise, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Bible and Wisdom at day’s end

My children are no longer children and they may or may not read my blog.

They know I love words.

When they were little, I’d get a little elaborate in my explanation, get carried away in my telling of story meant to influence or remind.

Eyes rolled on little faces as the chance to tell them good things excited me so.

“Why do you talk that way?” they’d ask.

“Words are for using… if we have them, we should use them.”

And I never let up on my love of word.

So, to have a mother who writes, I doubt they’re surprised.

They may or may not read my blog.

I wonder sometimes; but, carry on regardless.

I like to think they do, maybe find time to scan my posts and smile to themselves.

Even on some level find it special or on another level maybe feel a tiny bit happy for me to be doing something good for me that I love.

I’m sitting here on a Friday with dusky sky signaling end to a long, long week.

I remembered a conversation I’d meant to never forget, this little truth from a conversation about my “book” last month:

“You should let the story decide the number of pages.”

This, from my son as I replied to his question…”Well, how many pages have you written of your book and how many is it going to be?”

I answered, “maybe 250 or 300.”

And he paused, maybe thinking, “Why on earth am I talking to my mother like a friend about her dreams?” and then he left this little morsel of wisdom:

“Let the story decide it’s length. Write it until you’ve finished.”

My daughter read yesterday’s blog post.

She loved it; loves me, she told me so.

Tucking In, Tying Shoes and Waiting to be Mama

Children, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Old rocker, new place and season, my daughter and her husband’s home

I took the country roads. Trees slightly curving inward with the wind and marigold hue of leaves gently loosened to fall to the ground, then lifted by breeze towards blue.

They were on the playground when I arrived. Chattering little voices becoming new friends, they turned to notice me, and my daughter tells them, “This is my mama.”

Their faces turn, pause as if they’re wondering, “My teacher has a mama?”

The first pair was a faded red.

The laces gray and soft from wear, I asked, “Do you want me to tie your shoes?”

He answered, “yes ma’am.” with a timid upturn of lip as I leaned to listen, and so I knelt to tie his shoes. Double knots, I remember we always did the double, sometimes triple. My son’s little legs, tanned by the Georgia sun, white crew socks and navy blue Keds, I saw him there.

I was visiting my daughter’s Pre-K class for the first time this year. I tied his shoes and he smiled, then another pair and another took their place in line, bent their sweet faces to watch me tie and each with a little pat on the tips of their toes, turned and ran off to play.

My daughter called them over, her tone firm and loving, “Line up and go to the rug.” Some lingered, some called out, “Mrs. Brown…he!” and one had left his shoes under the monkey bars.

A tiny little girl, her long blonde hair hanging in her eyes, went and brought her classmate’s shoes to my daughter, helping Mrs. Brown. So, my daughter stopped and calmly responded, “Thank you, Sunni.”

I wanted to thank her too. Embrace her and gather up her feathery bangs into a clip, away from her face to show her pretty eyes.

I remembered my little Kindergartener getting so frustrated with her cutesy bows slipping from her silky hair, she chopped her bangs, off and told me “Mama, I told you I was tired of that mess in my eyes!” always resourceful, independent and resilient, my daughter.

Still is.

I waited until all of them had settled on the bright rug. I’d scanned the playground, seemed like more than eighteen children now. She introduced me again as her mama, “Miss Lisa” and said “I picked out a book for her to read, so get ready to listen.”

I watched as they all adjusted into “listening body” position which Mrs. Brown had taught them apparently and I took a seat on the stool next to a poster sized note from her to the children.

She’d written in fat neatly formed letters, “It’s a marvelous Monday!” followed by a list…”Today we will…love, Mrs. Brown.”

I read to them, their sweet little faces turned up towards mine and we all giggled together over the silly story. With a quick “the end” from me, Mrs. Brown instructed the girls to get their mats. One of them, the day’s leader was told to turn off the lights and then the boys rose to follow.

All around me, boys and girls dispersed to cubbies and then appeared with mats and soft blankets. The room, soft with sounds of gentle song, my daughter looked towards a child and said “She needs to be tucked in, can you do it?”

I went over and met a little girl’s sweetly waiting gaze as she turned to her tummy. I unfolded her blanket, then tucked under its sides and bottom, rested my hand on her arm, and asked, “Is this good?” She nodded and I looked towards my daughter, thinking she must’ve remembered I was good at tucking in real tight. Must have known I’d like to tuck her in.

This time last year reading to preschoolers would have had me a melancholy mess! My son was just beginning the most challenging year of his life for more reasons than I imagined. Daily talks, prayers, and responses to texts were heavier than I’d prepared for.

Planning my daughter’s wedding was a beautiful distraction; still a seesaw of joyous celebration and thoughts of how I’d be with empty nest. My son texted to tell me this week he’d passed his Physical Training test, a big deal. He added that this year is hard. I replied that I knew it would be hard, just a different hard and that he’s stronger now, and so am I.

Will be even stronger.

My daughter will have a cardiologist visit next week. I won’t be there, her husband will. I could go, told them I would… it’s up to her, her husband said.

Not this time. It’s okay, we’ll let you know.

I’ll wait to hear; wait to embrace.

Wait to be mama again.

I happened upon a story this morning about swans and I was drawn into the beauty of her words. Linking up with my most “captivating” story from last week. So,so trying to better at this “community” thing.

http://anitaojeda.com/2016/10/30/what-happens-to-the-cygnets-of-an-injured-swan/

Eighteen Years Today

Children, courage, family, grief, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Daddy and I

Yesterday I uttered, “Grief is insidious and mean.” when my cousin told me about her loss, her husband’s loss of his mother.

Grief is insidious.

It’s sneaky and mean. It lingers long.

It slips away quietly and comes back without invitation.

Today, eighteen years ago, my daddy died.

18 years is a long time. It’s a span that allows little boy to become a man, little girl to become beautiful wife and a daughter to become more brave.

We shouldn’t be surprised by grief over people of such significance, our mamas our daddies, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, cousins or friends.

Our immeasurable love and connection deserve nothing less than a significant remembering, even if hard, heavy and solemn.

So, today I grieve my daddy well and with significance in my gaze towards the world around me.

I look for him. See him in my children and in me. Know him in my thoughts, reactions and stubborn mindset.

Grief is onerously huge; but, I won’t sink into its miry isolation.

I’ll let it be big today…as big as it wants.

A heaping measure equivalent to my love.

Big but not scary…just big enough to never forget.

My cousin texted me just now. Today’s her mama’s birthday. She really misses her, she added. I texted her back, in awe of God’s timing, both of us grieving over a parent.

“I have had grief on my mind since we talked yesterday and today, 18 years ago, daddy died. My thoughts were, grief is huge…how on earth can we expect any different when we are flesh of their flesh and after all, love is so big!? It’s bigger than fear and I will choose to make it bigger than grief. Happy Birthday in Heaven, Aunt Birdie!!!”

Grief, be big today.

As big as love and its lessons.

Lessons like never lie, quiet people are thinking people and words aren’t always necessary just for the sake of talking.

My daddy was a quiet man.

Mighty and Well

Children, courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

img_2661_kindlephoto-426000

I saw them twice tonight, the geese that give me pause and give me reason.

I planted my pansies in pretty pots today and thought of my grandma.

Fragile little faces on tender stems, purple, lavender, yellow and a rich burgundy; I dug little holes and crowded them in all clustered together like a crazy extended family.

The hurricane will bring rain and heavy wind this weekend; but, I planted anyway.

I soaked them real good and thought I’ll move them to the garage should the storm get rough.

The geese flew over, twenty or so, as I pushed the wheelbarrow back to its spot.

I’ve not seen so many before, they must sense a storm. I took my hands off the wooden wheelbarrow handle, turned as they flew into the distance and I prayed.

Opened one hand toward heaven as the storm cooled air brushed my face, I said

“Trust.”

The Lord your God is in your midst,
mighty one who will save…

Zephaniah 3:17

Someone I don’t know commented to me about our storm here in S.C. as we shared thoughts on not enough time for writing.

Told her, “My weekend’s full, I’m watching the storm and my son’s home from college.”

She left a reply, “Oh goodness, Father, keep them safe. May this time be one where they look back and see your mighty hand. Amen.”

I’m praying in agreement, that this storm and this time will be one we look back on see your mighty hand, God.

That we understand you as protector with purpose.

I thought to tell her, “There’s more storm now than a tropical threat of flood.”

There was a call and a crisis and now the aftermath.

There was a time to be thankful all is well and to ponder what could have been worse.

So, I walked with dogs like usual, I planted my pansies and I looked towards the sky altered by pressure.

And another bunch of geese, a few lagging behind flew over and it was good.

It was good for me to walk as on any other day, to see that all is well.

A bunch of geese, five of them…nothing majestic or awesome; yet, a mighty sweet sight and a sign of all very well.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/knowing-god-sees-changes-everything-book-giveaway/

Effort, less

Children, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

img_1909_kindlephoto-11049611

I finished a grant, resubmitted a report, calculated the number of homeless in need of shelter and hugged a mama who wants to see her daughter left in another state because at least there was a home there.

Chasing grants, projecting budgets, tweaking outcomes.

I helped another mama figure out how to search for a surrendered child and I requested items needed from donor.

Finished up screenings, collaborative efforts in recognizing depression and inventoried supplies, worried over funding loss.

Came home, reached for leash, ready to walk. He pulled, on a scent, resisted me all the way.

We walked, out of synch. I was annoyed.

Unregulated in his walk, routine off, he calms finally.

So anxious to begin, worn out and panting towards the end.

Leash off, water bowl filled.

Not at all refreshed, renewed.

So, I put out food for the birds. I can do this at least.

Then painted, finishing a landscape.

I love it so!

I remembered my son’s call, just when I’d decided to be okay without his call…he called.

Oh my.

Reached for the phone to text my daughter then,

She called me first. “I was just about to text you!” I said.

Oh, the joy of things unexpected.

The things that happen without effort.

Effort, less.

I filled the bird feeders and then noticed the seeds had become moist, clumped all together.

So, I left a little more, expecting it not to last.

But, happy to know it was discovered.

Better is a handful of quietness than two handfuls full of toil and a striving after the wind.

Ecclesiastes 4:6

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story. http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/

Watching God’s Children

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Teaching, Uncategorized

All it takes to be changed and moved by God’s word is to read the stories of people and places who knew Jesus, to read the stories of Jesus.

I believe the writers of God’s ancient yet beautiful words had in their minds that for generations to come, scripture would change us. Stories and teachings are different in small ways each time we read them. We’re softened in areas we need softening and corrected in the areas we’ve fallen prey to doubt, lost our way, maybe need a little empathy, not sympathy.

We come to God, to His word in different ways, different places each time we pause to read our Bible.

My house has no children now.

I pause a minute here.

They’re doing good things, learning new things, are doing them in new and bigger places.

The story of young Jesus in the temple had me standing right there with his mama, our arms linked. Her son amongst scholars and leaders, was holding his own.

I read the verses and all I could do was think how overjoyed his mama must’ve been to find him; yet, wishing he’d never left her side, didn’t have to venture in new directions.

I wonder if she longed to cradle him in her arms again. If she could go back to the miraculous starry night, would she if she could or did the sight of him speaking of His Heavenly Father overwhelm her?

Mary, the ultimate giver of roots and wings, an empty nest beyond compare.

Every year Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem for the Festival of the Passover. ⁴²When he was twelve years old, they went up to the festival, according to the custom. ⁴³After the festival was over, while his parents were returning home, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but they were unaware of it. ⁴⁴Thinking he was in their company, they traveled on for a day. Then they began looking for him among their relatives and friends. ⁴⁵When they did not find him, they went back to Jerusalem to look for him. ⁴⁶After three days they found him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. ⁴⁷Everyone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers. Luke 2:41-47

I imagine Mary, when after losing her son for three days, walking up to the temple and there he is!

She’s standing still, overwhelmed as she catches her breath.

I see her there, utterly enthralled.

His character, his voice and his pursuit of knowledge.

I can sense her knowing, her understanding, her acceptance.

There are things he will do, places he’ll go that she’d never know, not be able to go along. He won’t need her there.

Captivated, she listened and watched.

Something happens in a parent when the child they’ve raised speaks up, speaks for another or simply stands tall in crowd we’d be intimidated by.

It’s a beautiful moment to see.

Watching your child teach children with love and authority, speak with confidence, or demonstrate some act of kindness to another.

Take on a challenge you didn’t expect,

expecting to see it through.

Or maybe, if your children are adults like mine, they notice a place you could do better, tell you about it and you’re not offended by their truth.

You’ve taught them well, you decide.

So you, stand in the distance and watch when you can.

Finding joy in finding them again after being apart.

Captivated by them, God’s children, knowing

He’s watching them now.

And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me?

Luke 2: 49

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and her story of a time she thought herself as less than and now she knows so, so much better!

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/put-brakes-today-happiness-hijacker/

Lifted up

Children, courage, Faith, grace, Motherhood, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

At 7:11 on August 11th, I’ve overslept.

Lingered on crisp cool sheets too long, praying before rising.

Lord, let my words be love, fix what needs to be fixed draw me near, keep me near so that others draw nearer too.

Feeling 56, I stumble towards coffee, look at my phone and see my cousin’s text:

“I know you prayed for me regarding my career. Just wanted you to know that God answered. I love you and hope this is the happiest birthday yet. Thank you for your prayers.” Lara

I replied to her and myself really…

I love you. This is amazing! Prayers take longer than we like but are answered in Gods way. I needed to remember that this morning!!!!!
You deserve this. Love you.

Then went about my day, ending with a birthday cake colored sky and my prayer, the one I longed for most in the smiles of my children, it was answered.