I will pray

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

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On a blue, blue summer day I drove to see a friend, one of the women who’d colored my life.

I knew all would be okay, would be good actually, when I turned off the highway from the usual road. I’d traveled before, this road towards home, countless times.

The vicinity of my destination for today was close by, just a different direction.

Others might not understand the nervous place in the hollow spot adjacent to my heart or the need to go back to a place of then to acknowledge now.

So, I’d been praying as I drew closer to now.

I’m taking this journey in increments, circling back to be reacquainted. It’s a challenge of my faith in me and an act of gratitude for them.

The road just a few minutes from my friend was a thin grey thread towards a needle, narrow because of wide sky and corn field borders.

Its curves were easy, not sharp, its little hills and softly, forwardly coaxing me, like God’s hand resting on the small of my back, saying

“Getting closer, keep on.”

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There were big houses along the way set back behind fences and oaks and there were small little white ones, tiny porches and trailers up on cinder blocks, cool under shade of fully grown and lush July green.

A small brick home, a couple of old cars and a bed of roses at its entry made me wonder.

Off to the side, a simple sign like garage sale or politician’s was positioned just so, leaning only slightly despite storm I’d been warned of.

Bold, simple, intentionally brief; but with exclamation at the end.

“I will pray!”

Yesterday I prayed, most days I pray at set times and randomly.

My heart sought assurance and in return I noticed the sweetness of answer.

I welcomed answer and prayed in reply with a slight smile no one might notice, “Thank you for that, God. Thank you, Lord.”

Some would say, if I shared my prayer and the evidence of its hearing…that’s silly, you just worry or that’s no big miraculous reply.

It is and it was and it’s why I believe.

In God who is just as majestically sovereign as He is miraculously small, attentively swift.

Yesterday morning and again last night, I prayed. “God, help our country.”

And I wondered about the past, my parents, my grandparents and those recalled in history, when times looked as bleak and scary and incomprehensible as they do now.

I wondered why or if there are people like me who pray about children, friends, husbands, or a heart’s desire…but are now, just now we are praying… God, help our country and maybe, like me, are torn between

“Come, Lord Jesus” and “Trust and Obey”

And our prayerful mama hearts want much for our children and theirs…want time and hope and good things. We long for happy futures, faith-filled lives filled with smiling babies and beauty.

I wonder if there were times like these before.

Times when all felt lost and uncertain. Times of Job, of Isaiah and of Moses, of David, of Martha, Mary and Paul.

I listen for their cries for help in the words of my Bible and I search for God’s replies, finding them in thousands of places, replies of good and everlasting joy and of protection and favor in midst of struggle.

I hear God saying to them, to me.

“Choose me. Choose joy.”

But let all who take refuge in you rejoice;
let them ever sing for joy,
and spread your protection over them,
that those who love your name may exult in you.

For you bless the righteous, O’ Lord; you cover them with favor as with a shield. Psalm 5:11-12

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I embraced my friend, told her I expected I’d cry and we cried and talked and shared onion rings and fries.

I prayed and she told me she’d been praying and we reminded each other of ourselves and our unanswered prayers for our good and we prayed, we pray. We will pray, we agreed.

It was easy and good and love. I left her sweet house with emotions that beg for holding onto, the description of our time and our talk resting safely for awhile in a place so closely real and beautifully raw.

So, I drove back towards Carolina, indescribably, thankfully good, especially glad.

The pretty road just as pretty and the view different only because of direction and another house…white, small but with big trees, tiny porch and front yard sign proclaiming,

I will pray!

Let us pray.

I will pray.

Linking up to Tell God’s story with Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/what-we-all-have-in-common-tellhisstory/

Encounters, Grief and Joy

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

I was more than a little excited to see her. She and I, I realized when we met almost four years ago now, had the same long, slow southern accent.

I was sure she must be from Georgia and even more sure, I decided, we had to be distant relatives. Her dialect, her slow and lilting sentences ending with just a slight upturn. Well, she sounded like me I decided and so, I was happy to know her.

So, when I saw her on an early morning estate sale venture, I couldn’t wait to say, “Hey” and “Oh my Lord it’s been a really long time.”

I was joyous to see her there.

I wasn’t prepared for her response, she leaned back, was hesitant. I figured “Oh well, she doesn’t remember me” or does but, can’t remember how. Still, I was just so happily surprised over seeing her again.

I should have read her cues, should have seen it for what it was.

Instead, I added, “Remember, from the group?” She said, “I remember.” nothing more. It was clear she wished I hadn’t reminded her, refreshed the memory.

It was humid; awkward and cramped, standing amongst the trinkets, treasures,and big patterned armchairs.

She’d moved away, opened an antique shop in a pretty little town. She’d come back, was in charge of the sale that day.

Someone offered a fan, she replied “I’m fine.” and turned to look towards the drive so I wandered to the back porch and into the little house.

I continued to explore, found a pretty little bud vase and a bird for me and a rooster for the sake of memory of mama. I held my little things close to my chest and went to pay. Her eyes met mine and I said, “I hope you’re doing well and I apologize if I overwhelmed you when I saw you.” She said, “That’s okay.” Nothing more. I added, always the one trying to fix the messes I make, to undo the damage, “We were in the mountains and I was so close to your antique shop; but, couldn’t find time to come.” Again, no reaction really, just another nod.

Finally, I said what I should have said in the beginning and maybe again as I left with a simple goodbye.

“It’s so good to see you again. I hope you are doing well.”

My happiness over seeing her came from a place of recalling our connection, of remembering her sincerity and kind, kind heart, although grieving.

Her seeing me changed the course of her day, turned back the clock, flipped the page to the time and the memory of loss.

And mine as well, to the night she talked and I listened.

To her story of a sorrow I dont know, haven’t felt, only have heard.

Each heart knows its own bitterness,
and no one else can share its joy.

Proverbs 14:10

It was so good to see her, I hope she is doing well.

All is Grace

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Prayer, Uncategorized

When it happens you will sense it. When a gathering brings a chance to pause and the evidence of grace looms large, an aura of God will capture your eye, captivate your thoughts.

You’ll find yourself immersed in a grace God promised all along.

You will know this time is one to treasure. You’ll not dwell on the doubt you had so long and so often expecting such grace and good in things that weren’t for you.

You might have decided to settle for less, half-heartedly longing for more. Perhaps, adjusted high expectations, dreams, regrets and accomplishments less than what you’d dreamt of, even driven towards.

You may realize that letting go and letting God was not as much struggle, just reluctant acceptance still sort of wishing for whatever. Eventually you accept a different way with only small little moments of wondering why or why not.

Looking so intently, striving for what amounts to joy that we chance missing the grace.

But, then grace, not one to give up, finds and overwhelms with its delicately powerful and undeniable presence.

“…we could never learn to be brave and patient if there were only joy in the world.” Helen Keller

On an evening to gather in the country for supper, the sky so wide and stormy, I’ve no desire to go inside. But, I do, offering to help prepare. The kitchen window, wide open to sky, I’m distracted by glory.

Looking through windows covered by gauzy linen, I pause again. The beauty of this place astounds me.

All is grace, I think.

To me, it was a heavenly occurrence here on earth, a soft nod of grace and assurance, remembering the words I’d scribbled on my husband’s Father’s Day card…”We are blessed.”and sitting in room with assurance of grace.

All is grace, I know.

Giving Them Back

Children, courage, Faith, Motherhood, Prayer, Uncategorized

…She continued praying before the Lord.
I Samuel 1:12

The wonder of the Bible is that you may have heard or read something before, but read again and just one verse will stick, maybe your ears are different, your situation or your place of mind and heart.

The telling of another’s struggle, their story read again or attended to in a new way as if written just for you.

And you might not be in that “place” right then, but there’s a familiarity of there that astounds and resounds.

Hannah was a woman of great endurance and there must have been times she quietly trusted, but others she cried out; she cried out to the point of people thinking she must be either drunk or crazy.

Seriously, this is why I love my Bible! Because haven’t we all been there? Longing for what our hearts told us could and should be a part of our life? Longing for resolution?

These not so quiet prayers make us anxious, a little crazy and might cause others concern.

These are not the easy prayers. Offered up and left for fulfillment.

These are the prayers for good in bad or hopeless, exhausted. These are the prayers of women, of mothers.

Hannah endured. She made it clear to God that she would be a good mother, she’d be thankful for His blessing and she’d give it right back to Him.

How did you endure? they may have asked.

And her reply was my reply.

“I opened my hand, my fingers relaxed, my palm towards heaven and said, This is your child, God, have your will.”

She’d remember her answered prayer.

Others thought she shouldn’t be so vocal, so steadfast, so committed to her request.

But, God heard and God answered.

So, may we remember prayers like that and may we remember God’s answers to them.

May we remember He blessed our endurance.

With good things like children.

Student, Mother, Wife

Children, grace, Motherhood, Prayer, Uncategorized

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I suppose the teacher appears sometimes even if the student isn’t ready. If years, phases, times of learning could be measured, this year would be one of wisdom.

One of faith, hope, prayer. And if readiness of student is like gratitude, life or ability in that its all about perspective, I suppose I, the student, was quite ready and yes, the teacher…life and God, appeared.

By wisdom a house is built, and by understanding it is established; by knowledge its rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches. Proverbs 24:3

My “story wall” has new chapters. The syllabus of the first semester of empty nest complete. Greater knowledge of prayer, of faith of hope, this has been an enlightenment.

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Today is Mother’s Day. Greg gave me two plants.

I told my friend on Friday that he would. We talked about the predictability of our husbands and both agreed that’s “just their way”.

But, today Greg gave me red flowers, geraniums cascading over the basket and a big red gerber. He said, “We miss our mamas don’t we?” I said “yeah.” and gave him a kiss then opened my card.

Thinking, how could he know about the geraniums, the red, the basket.

Perspective and God and grace.

Red for my mama…for me and a card thanking me for showing him faith, love, prayer. Thanked me for blessing him.

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I’m glad he gave me plants again.

Predictable, appreciated and cherished, finally. I’m humbled.

Student, Mother, Wife.

I’m learning, a student more ready as I grow.

Cake

Children, family, grace, Motherhood, Vulnerability

I’ve never heard of it and truly can’t imagine.

Coconut in red velvet cake

Or anything other than cream cheese icing

Pecans on top.

Mama and her sister, Sue Nell, my Aunt Boo, wedding cake and keeping things straight. This was them…is them.

Or a pound cake without a pound of butter

Or chocolate cake not thin like pancakes as layers.

I talked about my mama today.

Talked about her cake.

I had a moment where happiness became a tightening of my chest

And a catching in my throat.

A filling up of dampness in my eye.

But, mostly love.

Mostly honor.

The most amazing baker of cake I know, no disputing.

To my mama.

I miss you.

I love you.

I talk about your cake.

Talked about it last week with your sister, my Aunt Boo.

And today with two women who will

Never bake cake like you.

Coconut’s for birthdays, not red velvet.

It’s big tall cakes, fluffy white, opulently rich.

Special, it was mine.

Every year.

Your granddaughter, my daughter, bakes cakes.

Cooks with love like you.

That’s the secret, you said.

Love.

Happy Mother’s Day in heaven, mama.

I hope you’re bakin’ cakes.

Coconut, caramel, red velvet and pound.

Seeing my Children

Children, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

So, it must be what others have known.

The simplest of things that remind you of them little.

My daughter, a beautiful woman, ecstatic over the joy of dogs…

That’s the way she was. The way she is.

Little girl, giggly lovely woman

over a dog overjoyed.

When Heather comes home..

It was, I thought, the best part of the day…remembering dogs and her.

Little girl and dogs.

We hug goodbye and then I walk with him, “Colton Dixon” I call him.

There’s time left in the day, so I walk.

A slight loneliness in my step. There’s a glancing towards sky, a noticing of green trees swaying…looking to fill the space they’ve left open.

A small void….not such a pitiful or gaping hole

just a place you didn’t expect

to be so obvious.

Nothing to wait for…no one to anticipate coming in back door, down the hall.

Walking to clear the mind has become walking to fill the time.

I’m intent though and I walk on with prayers and thanks.

We turn, the set path and Colt turns his body towards the steep hill.

So, we go this way instead… to cut across the grassy field past the homes.

Topping the hill, a soft sound, a door shuts and I turn.

“Hey” he says. I smile, meeting the look of little boy with light brown hair, damp with warmth of day over his eyes.

“Hey”, I say. Then, “How are you?”

“Fine.” he says, reaching down to tie his shoes…then bounces up, looks towards me and waves his hand…”Bye.” he says.

I saw him there, my son. Little boy legs, bounding out into the afternoon…little blue Keds on white socks and happy suntan cheeks.

Texted him later, one more exam he answers. “Did well on the one today.”

“Love you, call me if you want to talk” I say.

“Okay, love you too.” he texts.

The newlywed and the rising college sophomore…

Austin- Recognition Day – a culmination of perserverance

I saw them as children today.

It was sweet and timely, good.

It was just enough.

Seeing my children, dogs and smiles.

Pretty girl, Beagle puppy, little brother

Extraordinary Monday

Children, family, grace, Motherhood, wonder

On a Monday like today I might do more laundry, ride my bike or change my mind about healthy, jump in the car to ride across town for milkshake, burger or both.

‘Cause it’s just us, me and the dogs anyway.

Then, a question in a text after working late…”Come out for a walk?”

“Sure.” I say.

Stop by, quick as I can, change clothes, grab dog and leash and we go.

Twenty minutes or so, all it takes, big fields on both sides and big sky all around.

A slow ride for the sake of the view and the windows down.

Labrador ears flipped back with the wind.

We round the curve, the big Brown Lab and I, welcomed by the open fields and my daughter.

We stride, dogs excited, through the peach orchard, down a rough paved road, turning back… back through sandy fields with tractor tire ruts and trees.

The dogs are more sporty, their walk a saunter, happier in the soft earth and rows of peachy beginnings.

Almost there, we turn towards the yellow house. I notice there was once a chimney.

“Remember, it was a shotgun house.” she says, then points out where there had been pigs and a place for a fire pit, but we didn’t get to see the cows today.

Always loved cows and country roads, my girl.

They walk ahead, my daughter and the dogs. “I’m coming.” I say and pause to wonder where a new path might lead.

I’ll wait. Soon, enough I may know.

But, not now. The place amidst the peaches and sky is the place where love lives.

Where love grows.

A place of treasured invitation to take a walk on an ordinary Monday

Now, extraordinary.

Grace and Open Space

Children, Faith, family, Motherhood, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

We turned the sharp turn towards the little house.

Dinner with the newlyweds, the planned welcome home.

I can see the roof from a distance on the long, main road.

Looking towards the right, in the distance past the wide field.

Yellow house under blue sky embraced all around by border of green.

I turned towards peach fields, all leaves now, blooms becoming soft, pretty fruit.

Wide open fields lined with trees for miles.

This is the place God graced them.

I look again, again, again.

Same place.

Same grace, still I look again and linger.

We eat together surrounded by ribbons, paper, china…talking, laughing, remembering bliss of the day they wed.

I look towards window, I can’t resist.

Almost night now, the trees lit low.

My daughter is a wife.

I’m a surreal kind of floating happy, like not believing I was chosen to be an observer of her joy.

It’s a new happy, a graciously quiet content.

We say goodbyes to newly husband and wife.

And turn towards the sharp curve home in the road.

Almost cobalt dusky blue sky love, grace, and God.

I’m captivated, yet again

By the grace of their open space.

Nuptials and Prayers for Happy

Children, family, praise, Prayer, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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I’d chronicle the wedding from rehearsal to sparkly exit if I could.

Still, I’d miss special details, deficient in my description.

If I could, I’d have thought to sit and record its sequence.

The room where we dressed together, laughed together, cried, smiled and circled together in prayer.

A ceremony with sunlit windows, guitar strumming, low voices.

Softly falling, sharp sounds of her heels touching the polished floor as she walked towards her love.

And he, jaw clinched, eyes shut spontaneously as if to look,

Then look again.

She joined him there. IMG_1823_kindlephoto-180313

The words to their song subtle buffered softly…

“Sweet love of mine, I have surrendered to your design.”

And his eyes never left hers.

Nor hers, his.

He spoke softly, assuredly to her only as the preacher paused and we all said as he suggested, “love”.

Then, they smiled.

They kissed twice…then once more, her idea.

And we all danced in the pretty lights, delicate white flowers, layers of lush green filled the room.

We were silly, were happy. I danced without knowing the dances, holding hands with the bridesmaids.

And danced the last song of the night, for a minute or two with my daughter, Heather Analise, to “You are my Sunshine”, our song.

My sunshine and I.

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Until I paused, noticed him close by, her husband and I placed her hand in his to finish our dance.

I’d love to say more; but, words are not sufficient.

I prayed for light hearts and memorable moments.

And happy, I prayed for happy.

Prayers were answered and God was there…as always in the details.

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