Secrets Above

Children, confidence, contentment, courage, Uncategorized

I saw the white of crescent moon against the azure blue at dusk yesterday. I began today looking up and knowing a photo could never capture the beauty of the current constellation.

Now the place in the back corner is orange fading towards grayish blue.

“Good Morning, God” we will say.

I read last night of someone being uncertain of life after death, of eternity meaning Heaven or Hell, of thinking only what we do in the present matters. The good we do towards our neighbor is more to be believed in than Hell or Heaven.

I felt a tear begin, I sat still on my mama’s old chair, sad that others don’t believe in heaven and tender because I do.

Tender, because I didn’t always.

I understand.

It’s hard to imagine. I think of loved ones long gone. I want to imagine how it will be when I see them in heaven.

I believe, even though I don’t fully know how heaven will be.

Lately, that feels like courage and I’ve never really thought myself to be courageous.

Courageous enough to know everything I’ve prayed for, prayed about, prayed broken and burdened has been heard.

Jesus, seated beside God the Father has seen my sorrows, successes and haphazardness in belief.

It’s almost impossible to know it’s the same for every single human who has decided to be courageous is to simply believe.

Even when believing doesn’t take away the hard, the bitter, the devastating circumstances.

It’s hard to believe in heaven, easier to believe “above us only sky”.

I look up. We hear the breeze in trees, call out to the birds, examine the clouds and occasionally close our eyes in a silent, listening prayer.

A toddler and I.

Above me are my sorrows surrendered, my questions presented, my likemindedness with Jesus.

If heaven is hard, even impossible to imagine for you, try picturing all your secret sorrows, anxious questions, angry disputes, and tender moments when you prayed and you felt certain something bigger than you knew what no one else was allowed or could.

Imagine, above you only mercy, only grace, only strength to endure.

Only love.

Imagine your secrets being safe.

Endure.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen.”
‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11-12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

For the joy set before us, we endure.

Well Done

“God is breathing on me.” a two year old, her face turned towards the trees

All That’s Needed

Art, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, curiousity, daughters, Faith, family, grandchildren, hope, painting, Peace, sons, surrender, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

“The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭23:1‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I have everything I need. (Psalm 23)

I let my granddaughter run a distance ahead of me when we walk. There’s freedom in her feet, there is an overabundance of curious independence in her thoughts.

Taking care to watch her and yet, letting her be, letting her grow.

Letting her become full grown.

Watching her thrive.

My daughter has a plant called either “snake” or “mother in law’s tongue”. She asked my wise aunt, how to keep it alive.

My aunt quickly replied,

“Get up every day and tell it good morning and walk away.”

I suppose whatever it needs to thrive is somehow either inside its stiff leaves, woven together roots, or maybe it’s in the air around it. Maybe it is the home.

A parable in Ezekial, a rarely read book in my Bible was happened upon this morning. The clean page had a faint underlined place,

“Will it thrive?” Ezekiel 17:9

The parable was written to compare the ways of two leaders, a warning about the king of Babylon coming to Jerusalem and the importance of honoring The Lord’s covenant. History often confounds me. Still, the three words “will it thrive” caused me to sit with this passage.

A riddle to be understood, I sat with these several verses on this quiet Friday morning. I read and read again, God’s Spirit assuring me there’s a truth for you here.

Two vines planted from the branch and seed of a twig transported by an eagle.

One grew and spread near the abundant water and rich soil, it grew outward, freely, vines spreading and branches putting out new boughs.

The other wrapped its young roots around the eagle and became dependent upon it for water and its hope to become a noble vine.

Yet, when it needed to be transplanted, free to grow, the roots would be found weak, easy to be blown away, bent by the wind and eventually wither.

I think of my attention to things God has given me to contribute my part in their growth.

Naturally, I think of my children.

A daughter who’s a wife and mommy, a leader in vocation and learning, outspoken and deeply caring.

A son who is Colorado and lives near a park known for its majestic cedars. A son, who subtly agreed when I mentioned another mother saying “every child gets to write their own story”.

“That’s right.” he said.

Fully grown.

They are thriving and becoming even more fully grown.

It’s a wonder to me, because I surely often overwatered, fertilized with unsolicited advice and often looked on too closely to circumvent uprooting of what I felt meant thriving.

So, how does growth happen best?

Not getting too wrapped in the care and nourishment of our thriving, established long ago by our Father.

If growth is intended for us, it will grow when we let it be.

Because of God, my growth and I have all I need.

Like the healthy plant that never gets watered. Whatever is within it has it thriving. Letting it be seems to be the answer.

I journaled in the margin of the smooth thin paper what God hopes I’ll let linger.

Roots that are planted in good places of abundance and then left to spread on their own are more likely to thrive than the roots I cling tightly to, so tightly they wrap themselves around me stunting the intended growth of my calling, art, writing, my contributions to others.

Roots allowed to spread without being overnourished, overthought or overworked are the roots of long living, lasting evidence of hope.

Of love.

Yes, it will thrive.

Let it happen. Let it grow. Contribute as needed, as led by the Creator of you.

Hope will grow and thrive.

Continue and believe.

“He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength. He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭23:2-3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Gentle, Be Gentle

Children, confidence, contentment, Faith, family, memoir, obedience, Prayer, Vulnerability

Out walking without music or talking in my ears, I thought of prayer.

I prayed for betterment of me, things I’d acknowledged and lessons accepted, although hard and jolting, their truth.

This is growth. This is good.

So, how I wondered, is the right way to pray for those important to you, because of blood, heart, soul, breath and truth?

Or those you care for either in person or just because of similarities.

How do you pray for those who believed, but aren’t so sure these days, these days that will be honest with us if we’ll let them.

truth that came

Or for those who refused to ever believe in a way too mysterious truth.

Gently, you pray.

“Gentle, gentle…” I said countless times to my granddaughter.

It was their second meeting and the kitten wasn’t quite sure.

The toddler was excited, emphatic and ready.

The kitten accepted her.

Give and take, trust building gently.

Friends

I thought out walking, no noise save my breath and my steps.

The best prayer?

The prayer that’s gentle, the one that asks God to come near, says it is safe.

You’re safe.

A prayer that flows from a thought and

either reminds or acquaints.

Either way, the prayer I will pray is the one I’ve only newly begun to know.

You are loved. You are known.

And like a P.S. after the amen

I’d say Lord, help them know this sooner than later even though any time is good.

Be gentle, my Heavenly Father.

Be gentle and come near. Invite a reunion or a relationship.

A remembrance, gently.

All along, you’ve been loved.

Glad you’re here. Stay near.

What a gentle Lord I know.

Lord, help those I love and those I don’t know to know your gentle love.

Something Small

Angels, Art, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, freedom, hope, Peace, Prayer, rest, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

“By trying to grab fulfillment everywhere, we find it nowhere.” Elisabeth Elliot

Morning Glories

I felt Fall wispy through the bordering trees on Monday morning.

August saying change is coming, change is coming, the kind that causes retrospect in the realization.

Small and sweet, the change.

God’s Hand
The Strangest Bloom
Early Color

The morning rain on Tuesday made the road a soft and sandy cushion under our feet.

We measured our bare feet and talked about the shape of them.

Walked towards the corner and remembered being brave and careful.

We stood still and saw the sunflower aurora against the blue sky border.

We climbed the little hill, twice the height of the two year old.

I’m thinking now of how careful she was, careful and brave.

I told her she was brave to climb the little hill to touch the flowers.

Told her I was brave too.

Later, I approached the room where I paint.

Brushes left soaking in murky water, a week’s worth of blue paint tinted water spilled as I chastised myself for being undisciplined, unsuccessful, “un” driven.

Cleaned up the mess and sat for a minute to add color to an acceptable but unfinished canvas.

Swirls, shapes, layers became a subtle oyster shell.

I left it, pleased in the satisfaction of enough.

A small thing.

Not a burden.

Rest for my soul.

Considered adding to the waiting in process angelic canvas.

Finish it. Share it, wait for the likes and notice.

No, not today.

Tonight, I chose small.

Gentle with myself.

Brave in small ways.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭11:28-30‬ ‭ESV‬‬

What are you carrying?

“Even angels must find their wings too heavy sometimes.” Helen Van Slyke

“Praise ‘n Worship” (prints available, comment to purchase)

I’ve missed the part about the shared yoke with Jesus being easy to carry, being light.

But, now I see, now I sense it.

It’s something so small.

So small and easy to miss.

Continue and believe.

A Children’s Book

Art, birds, Children, Children’s Books, Faith, grandchildren, Motherhood, Teaching, wisdom, wonder, writing

You are loved.

“Look at the Birds” is a book inspired by Matthew 6:26, a reminder for children and the people who love them.

You can purchase a copy by contacting me, in Aiken at 3 Monkeys, in Augusta at Sacred Heart Cultural Center or online at Amazon, Target, Walmart or Barnes and Noble.

I’d love to share this book as a part of your children’s ministry or VBS or summer reading programs by offering bulk purchases of the paperback.

Contact me at ltartandword@gmail.com for more info.

youareloved #lookatthebirdsbook #matthew626

Dedicated to Others and “Aunt Boo”

Angels, birds, bravery, Children, Children’s Books, confidence, contentment, Faith, family, grandchildren, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

The room, the little corner behind the sofa where she sews and sits was spiritual, the window towards the water, a warm aura.

The pauses between her words.

“Comfort” “Special” “This is special.”

“Oh, Lisa, these colors.”

I just listened, smiled, watched her hands turn the pages, fingers starting on the corner edges to move slowly down before turning.

I heard her soft sighs.

My aunt, the one known for the phrase “prayer and patience”, was moved by my book, “Look at the Birds”. It was a different response than I expected.

God with us in the room.

A study I’m doing on freedom prompted a thought last week, a question,

“Think back to a time when, because of a family member or friend, you felt seen and known…and truly loved.” In Touch Ministries, Freedom Guidebook.

I added my answer.

“Her hands on the pages felt as if she was caressing me. Her love for who I had become and seeing her being moved by what I was able to do, as if to say, I’ve been watching, praying, loving and now I see you becoming who I knew you were made to be.”

“Aunt Boo” the verbal and physical expression of God’s affirmation.

A children’s book written to help others know their value is just one of the many little things that is changing me.

I pray changing others.

2 year old Elizabeth does this thing now of let’s put all the babies and bunnies and blankets on the floor. “Lay down, Grandma, lay down.” and the fixing of covers and “babies” becomes a distraction from napping. She held “Look at the Birds” today. We didn’t read it. (No way, that might lead to napping). But, she turned the pages and still loves the hawk most of all.

Lots of people think I wrote this book for Elizabeth. It’s just not so. I’m happy she’ll know her grandma wrote a book. But, this book is for all children and babies. It’s my hope every little hand that holds it and listens to “you are worth more” will never ever forget that truth.

Yesterday, I got a message. A child in foster care carried this book to their new home. I pray it’s read often to him by someone. I don’t know this child. I know the special person who gave him a book.

I worry I’m not so good at this book marketing, spreading the message/promotion.

I promise, the knowing I had a part in helping a little boy in foster care believe he is loved.

It is enough, more than.

(The book is available in lots of places. Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Target, Walmart and my website, http://lisaannetindal.me )

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭15:13‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I hope my hope keeps growing.

I hope others see hope in me, my book, my words, my art.

May it not be about me.

Continue and believe.

All Things Together

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, hope, mercy, Peace, rest, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder
A Quiet Life

I woke with a worry that made no sense really, quickly setting the tone for what was fighting to be a heavy day.

I have been referring to these type things as “the enemy”, thoughts that fight to sway my faith the other way.

I’m becoming accustomed to the strange looks or pauses that seem to say, “Did she say enemy?

Is she really talking about Satan? Is she buying into the talk of the tactics of the evil one, the liar, the conniving thief of peace?”

Yes.

I am.

It’s no different though than the responses of some when you begin to say “Jesus”, begin to call him your friend, begin to believe the truth of his gruesome sacrifice and live and breathe with the purpose of knowing this Savior intimately, personally,

realistically.

The Son of God, the God who created me, created you.

“You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:16‬ ‭NLT‬‬

God sees you growing in wisdom and bravery. The enemy does too.

Yesterday evening, I walked the neighborhood trail, talk in my ear about a book, “Gentle and Lowly” by Dane Ortlund

I rounded the curve, alone on the trail, a distant dog barking and a teenager puttering with a putter in a backyard. I waved and continued.

The stretch of smooth bordering the wildflowers caused me to turn and look.

On the edge of the woods, standing in the overgrowth, I saw it staring.

I stood still.

A fox was fixated on me, staring me down. Its old eyes considering me, I looked back.

It never moved and I was captivated.

Not threatened, simply moved.

Its body seemed old and exhausted, the copper color of its coat mostly overtaken by grey.

It seemed intent on making a statement although its presence felt met by a resistance it didn’t quite understand.

As if it had no strength to harm me, only make me know it was still there.

watching one

Dane Ortlund describes a loving Jesus who longs for us to remember He is with us, for us, we can stop striving to be good enough.

We can stop condemning ourselves, anticipating punishment for our behaviors. We can rest.

We can calm down.

The worry that woke me went away as quickly as I raised my weary body from beside my bed.

I prayed and my prayers were heard by my advocate, the one who came and lifted my head to say today is another new day.

You will see.

I searched for the symbolism of the fox. Found words like sly and conniving and some that reframed those words to skilled and thoughtful, able to get itself out of dangerous places.

Jesus used the word when he referred to Herod who was trying to halt his mission.

“Jesus replied, “Go tell that fox that I will keep on casting out demons and healing people today and tomorrow; and the third day I will accomplish my purpose.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭13:32‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Words in red in my Bible, relevant still today.

Jesus saying to us.

Tell that fox you still have a purpose.

The strange waking worry found relief. I saw a photo of a painting, the one above. As it happens on occasion, I saw shapes that weren’t intentional. Today, I stare at the painting in peace. Brushstrokes and blending it seems led to angels hovering near, protection and peace.

All things come together, the fox, the special painting that came with angst in completing.

Miracles to me, tiny things God causes us to see.

Because of Jesus, we have peace.

He holds all things together.

Listen here.

https://youtu.be/EIe0jOhopyI

Geraniums and Guitars

bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, daughters, Faith, family, memoir, Motherhood, Peace, sons, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

The window box of my kitchen window was flowerless last year. Summer 2020 had only half-heartedness as far as color, bloom and tradition.

Days of sanitizing my arms, my car, my doorknobs, my conversations in a way, all caused by a virus.

Life was compromised by fear, animosity prompted by that fear and questions that seemed very unfair until I remembered no one knows what to do.

They don’t know either.

Fear is so much like anger.

Down the hall, leaning against the wall are two guitars, both in need of repair, one only worth fixing most likely. I’ll take it to my friend’s shop today.

I believe in its redemption after several hard years of refusing to let it go, but maybe uncertainty over whether it has importance.

This year, the geraniums are planted already.

Bordered by soft white tiny flowers, the vibrant red in the center tells me good morning and good evening as I stand in the kitchen.

Geraniums were my mama’s favorite, not necessarily mine. My daddy played guitar although I have only one vague memory of hearing him.

I only have the stories of others, stories of how he loved it.

How it loved him.

My mama taught me about plants, water early before the sun gets hot and again before it goes to bed.

Commitment leads to beauty.

I’m close to my parents long passed away because I plant red geraniums and I keep a guitar next to a nightstand.

It’s a weak substitution for conversations we never had, for reconciliation and resolution of hurts I may have caused them and they caused me.

Still, it feels perfect, the comfort of a red geranium and a silent guitar.

I’ve had chances to use the word “imperfect” as a description of my parenting with my children.

It feels like a balm to be able to tell them what they already know.

I pray that’s the way they see it, a gesture unlike stuff or sacrifice of sleep or even monetary indulgences.

I pray they’ve seen my heart quite a lot and enough.

The way I see the heart of my mama in my window box geraniums and in a quietly resting guitar down the hall.

It feels like honor. It feels like they are near, like peace. I embrace it.

“Dedicate your children to God and point them in the way that they should go, and the values they’ve learned from you will be with them for life.”
‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭22:6‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Praying While Standing

Angels, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, Motherhood, Prayer, Vulnerability, wisdom

“You perceive every movement of my heart and soul, and you understand my every thought before it even enters my mind.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:2‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Kansas City Angel

On Thursday, I woke with the weight of a rock on my chest and acknowledged it by lying silently. I shifted the blanket and thought of the questionable source, the concern that I felt was my fault, realizing it was something other than me, the reason I had reason to worry.

I stayed with the revelation and accepted that it was not mine to change.

The change would come in a healing God may bring or in acceptance of the thing I named unmanageable becoming not best, but okay.

I thought of prayer, of prayer when worries are best left secret.

I read Psalm 139 again, the Passion translation, the confidence of David that God is love, that God is listening.

Because of travel, my mornings are different, only pockets of alone time, no journal, no books, just quiet finding me when it knows I need to be found.

I wrote the morning’s thoughts and shared them on Instagram. I was better then, hoped someone else was as well.

How often do you keep your feelings to yourself? Is there wisdom you have for others that might be better left unsaid?

Prayer is the place made for secrets.

God knows everything about us, our fears, our nagging worries, our catastrophic endings we write to stories based on fear’s perception.

Fear may be valid. Fear is not helpful. Fear forces one of two choices. Join in a conversation with God. Pray and tell him the secrets you keep from others that He already knows, just wants us to be open in sharing. Or let fear strangle your thoughts and hope.

Tell God where your faith is feeling shaky. He will rekindle your hope and He will increase your quiet courage.

Everyone has a secret sorrow waiting to be changed to trust and joy when brought to God in the quietness of prayer.

God knows and loves us so well.

David understood. He strayed, struggled and was deeply honest. He never stopped returning to the place he knew and was known, the presence of our sovereign God.

The morning became purposeful.

I walked a couple of blocks for our coffee and returned to a load of laundry, my clothes would be straightened and organized, this would be better.

I walked down the narrow stairs to the basement. Quietly, I passed the door of another tenant and turned to hear the washer still rumbling.

Five minutes left in the cycle according to the little green light on the old coin fed washer.

I stood facing the dryer.

I waited.

I prayed, the freely coming names and needs of others and I passed the time by passing them one by one to the ear of my Father.

Five minutes, unselfishly motivated, my attention completely turned to others who God brought up.

Thank you, God, for reminding me that you are more than enough when I feel I am incapable. Thank you for turning my thoughts to others to say to me your grace towards me is enough.

Is still enough.

Tree in City Park, Denver

The small suitcase is lying open on the floor of my son’s new home, the one he decided has “soul” and I smile now, happy that my tendency towards loving words that are fitting, is a part of him too.

My friend and counselor talked me through the airport in this big city.

She prayed for me and is praying.

I am borrowing her carry-on even though I had one already.

I am confident because of her and others and because I’ve kept my promise to my son.

There’s been no crying.

There have been photos. He’s kept his part of the promise.

Fear is such an angry emotion, so disproportionate to faith when the enemy takes over.

Fear likes to get a head start, likes to overtake you when you’re groggy, tired or lonely.

It has you siding with thoughts that destroy you, causing you to think you’re simply preparing your defense.

Fear is not pretty.

Life fully embraced is.

I’m researching trees in the quiet this morning, fascinated by the one in the park and the similar one anchoring my son’s new home.

I want to call them cedars because of what God says about those. I want them to be special, memorable, like a charm God kept secret knowing I’d be here to be captivated.

Comforted.

But, I think they may be spruce or a particular pine not known to southerners.

Either way, their beauty is peace and their standing is strength.

Strong by the Water

“He will be standing firm like a flourishing tree planted by God’s design, deeply rooted by the brooks of bliss, bearing fruit in every season of life. He is never dry, never fainting, ever blessed, ever prosperous.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭1:3‬ ‭TPT‬‬

God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.

Say your prayers.

Continue and believe.

Purposefully Believing

Art, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, hope, Labradors, Prayer, sons, Stillness, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

Early morning Tennessee rain has changed to an aura of grey as we move towards another state.

Yesterday’s drive was different, big city construction on roads and a sense oh how and when will the traffic ease.

But, we made it and were welcomed by the quaint little house in the city known for music.

We didn’t venture towards the fame. We had quesadillas seated under walls with screens of baseball games.

And talked.

This morning the interstate is a soft ribbon through a border of trees leading us towards an arbor of even more.

I’ve just turned to notice horses in a field and a newly plowed place for seeds.

I told my son how I love how he loves good music.

Serenaded together, we are.

The Labrador door is sleeping well.

“We have become his poetry, a re-created people that will fulfill the destiny he has given each of us, for we are joined to Jesus, the Anointed One. Even before we were born, God planned in advance our destiny and the good works we would do to fulfill it!”
‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭2:10‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Last night, we turned in early. Me earliest, allowing my son his own time. I paused a podcast at the place of it becoming annoying chatter. I closed my eyes and prayed myself to sleep as I heard the jet it seemed very close overhead.

I thought of flying. I thought of the comfort I felt and I slept.

Thinking I believe God’s promises. I believe the writers of the promises they saw come true too.

I believe God knew I’d be traveling across the country with my son and his dog and I believe He knew there’d be an Air BnB an exit away from the Nashville airport.

And that I wouldn’t hear the airplane until I’d finished praying.

I believe these things.

I believe I am fully known and loved.

I believe this way and when I do I am quite okay.

Continue and believe.

This way, purposefully.