confidence

The Book of Luke – 24 Days of Jesus, an Advent Experience

Advent, Angels, bravery, confidence, Faith, family, memoir, mercy, Motherhood, sons, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I mentioned I knew little of Advent before. I acted as if I did when my cousin gifted me with a package containing images to display, to mark each day.

Now, this year I can’t find the Advent activity and most likely won’t be going back to search through the attic.

Instead, I saw something going around on social media. I’ll read and reflect on a chapter of Luke for 24 days, a look at the life and death and resurrection of the baby that became my Savior.

December 2, I began:

Reading a chapter of the Book of Luke a day, 24 days, for Advent, a new way to honor the tradition, to truly connect with Christmas.

In the 1st chapter, Elizabeth and Zechariah, although old, realize they’ll be parents to John, the one who’ll make way for Jesus.

Elizabeth feels her baby move as soon as Mary, with child, enters the room. Mary is surprised, uncertain, but settles into the surprise of being chosen. It’s the beginning, the beautiful beginning. Everything must’ve felt uncertain, maybe even giddy.

A baby changes everything.

December 3, Luke 2:

The chapter covers a whole lot of life. I wish Luke had lingered longer in several places. I’d like to have known more about Jesus in the manger, about little boy Jesus in the temple, about Jesus being described by his father Joseph, about the way Mary’s face appeared, her emotion as she took it all in, as she listened and pondered.

Jesus Found at The Temple

I wish I could have been amongst the people.

I believe for miles around the angels’ song was heard, the one that followed their calming of the throng, assuring them not to be afraid, through a song.

“”Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

One verse captivates me this year. Possibly because I will soon “go by grandma”.

It makes all of this divine story so human. After the angels announced the birth, they ascended back to heaven. The shepherds made way to see the baby and there must have been a commotion, a flurry of comments and conversation.

Like we are today, waiting room waiters, nursery window peering and chances to be invited in finally, oh, to see the baby!

I imagine there were questions of Joseph and a paparazzi like reaction. To be the first to see what had been spoken of, hoped for and possibly disbelieved…what a special occasion!

There he was, a baby born to a teenage virgin, the one God sent his angels to welcome into our world.

Mary, oblivious to the crowd, cradles her baby.

I love this part. the part every woman who has ever given birth knows.

I love the realization of the miraculous.

Mary swaddled Jesus and simply “pondered”. Luke includes no description of her expression, I imagine a serenity, a glow.

“But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Today, on this 2nd Day of Advent, I’m praying with “I will” rather than “help me”. I’m remembering Mary and her acceptance of what became her opportunity, the time she was chosen for.

I’ve decided to shift my mindset of “hope so” to deliberately so. It might be what I have been missing, might allow me to forgo regret over what I’ve not finished and replace it with resolve to carry it through.

That’s what Mary did.

She believed what God told her He would accomplish in her.

Luke may have left out their late night discussions, she and Joseph still so blown away by this pregnancy. Mary might have had some “hormonal” moments, fear, fatigue and even, dread.

She was human, she was uncertain.

But, I believe she decided to be deliberate.

Deliberate in her seeking

Deliberate in her surrender

Deliberate in her notice of God all along her journey

Deliberate in her quiet pondering

My prayer today.

Tell me what to say.

I want to be deliberate in all my ways.

Luke, Chapter 2 ends with their son becoming their teacher. He takes off on his own, they panic until they find him in the temple.

He tells them why he’s there.

And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:48-49‬ ‭

Mary begins to learn a lesson, a human one again, one I’ve learned of late, the need to allow our children to individuate.

Again, she’s quiet.

And his mother treasured up all these things in her heart.

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:51‬ ‭

It’s true, Lord. I learn when I get quiet. Help me to be deliberate in the quiet.

Changes in Just a Moment

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Homeless, Prayer, Serving, Vulnerability

When I told her I realized clearly a name for the feeling, I believe she knew, was surprised but she knew. I told her I’d been doing all I could with very little coming back in return.

I couldn’t name the feeling, fatigue like emotional drudgery.

But, on the way to work this morning, God named my feeling. Things happen a lot of times, you, alone in your car. Clarity comes.

I felt useless.

Now for no other reason than to chronicle the way it all was so momentary, I record it here.

We’re close to broke. I’ve been asking for money like the boy crying wolf.

All the helpers and helping places are asking now.

I understand the conclusion drawn that we don’t really need it, it’s just time to ask.

I had a letter to write, the year-end appeal. I was circling round our homeless shelter, looking for angles to capture in a photo.

Our need is great. Our hopes are high.

An image that would convey:

We need you now.

I stopped in to the shelter, barged in, worried again over budget. I realized my tone was less than helpful.

I thought I bet she wished I hadn’t stopped in.

Her demeanor was slightly solemn, her posture different in a tired sort of surrender.

I listened. She was worried about someone she loves. I had no words. I felt compelled to hold her.

We hugged.

I returned to my desk to see a message left for me.

The Foundation funding representative calling, asked that I return the call.

I dialed the number then regretted not pulling out the application, anticipating clarity needed, budgetary explanation.

Instead, we’re fully funded, are you available for a pre-press conference?

My legs felt it first, the emotion and a sizzle-like current ran up and back down and I felt my eyes water, I felt the fullness.

The fullness of feeling useless, doing all I could with a less than favorable, feeling ignored return.

I called her, shared that the reviewers of the grant found her to be “phenomenal”.

She paused. I listened, her joy.

“Oh, I’m so full.”

And I added, it is not me alone.

Remembering the way the reviewers of the grant on our site visit were entranced by her sharing and her speaking from her heart about our work, I told her, it’s you, it’s us together that has made this program so strong.

Then I added. Well, I thank God for making me able to write about our work and for making you able to talk so beautifully and passionately about it.

I’m lying down this evening feeling significantly surprised by my usefulness.

If you’d like to know about my work, visit Mental Health America Aiken County.

If you’re compelled to do so, please donate.

We really do need you now.

Providence

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grace, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I suppose I should surely call myself with confidence, a writer.

Just because of the way I love words, the way God made me to love words.

I wake up with new plans and consider a bullet list Thanksgiving blog.

This little garland left unhung and it was cute in Target, but I’m not sure if it was right for any place in my home. I’ll let it lay, it can go undone.

Again, I’m thinking of the list, the thankful today list. I could fill several pages and yet, not include it all.

Instead, I love the idea of three, so three it shall be.

Thank you, God, you are patient and unconditionally present and tolerant of me and you help others also to be.

Thank you for the way you got me here, to a place of morning sunshine landing on my succulents as I disciplined myself to know you more in the years before and how now, like today it’s an unexplainable joy, my morning space I rush towards in my morning return.

Thank you, God, for your word. When I said to myself I want to know more about providence, you sent me straight to Job, Job who cried out to the God who “molded me like clay” and found himself in a place I only know as well but on a much smaller scale, saying I trust you God, I do because you and only you know me so well.

Lists and exchanges of thanks should surely rule the day.

For me, I prayed I’d be an encourager that those around me would know my love, would surely see my love in a grander more consistent way, only possible if I lean into and stay leaning into You.

Happy Thanksgiving my readers who comment just when I need it, unbeknownst to you, perhaps.

That’s God who nudged you towards encouraging me.

That’s providence.

Thank you, God

“You gave me life and showed me kindness, and in your providence watched over my spirit.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭10:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Thank you for all you’ve brought me, brought me through to be used to honor you!

Grace and Calling or No

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, grace, memoir, mercy, obedience, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, surrender, Teaching, Uncategorized, writing

I couldn’t guess if I tried how many bloggers are out there with words floating all about.

Occasional assertions like a “calling” to write or an unwavering assurance or this I must do. I must write.

Like so many other things, we’ve a sense of celebrity to it, we read what the successful ones publish, we lean in and listen, we get enthused with the possibilities or we slink away when the reality of luck and timing and perseverance cause us to crash.

I heard today that about 85% of people have ideas, believe their life contains a story that could be a book.

Yesterday, I came home from church and I read the words of Paul. I considered writing only momentarily. I rested instead and considered giving up my blog, print all of my favorite posts first and stack the stack of stories atop my desk and eventually pack away in a drawer.

But, here I am. I’ve returned.

I changed my tagline because someone skilled in blog traffic and “search speak” assessed my site last week.

Why not, I thought and then like an optimistic student hoping for a B, I was deflated, my report came back with the number 72, a D!

I added grace to my tagline, really just shuffled the letters in the line. Least I could do, the only thing I understand how to do.

I’m learning. I need to be open to the shifts, the sways, the steady steps forward. I need to grow.

Yesterday, about the time it is now, I sat alone at home with the dog at my feet.

The sun was warming the edge of the sofa and my Bible on the arm.

Today was different. 4:30 in the afternoon and it was dark and grey.

Raining, cold.

A writing task abandoned, I felt so little like a writer. Feels unlikely, this thing I thought I might do. So, I’m pushing back.

I tidied up my space, let the next tutorial pause a quarter way in.

Two sheets of lined legal pad are filled with potentially captivating titles, subtitles, notes and asterisks.

I put it away and stopped and thought again, you’ll soon be 60, you’ve been talking about this and refusing to give it up since almost three years ago.

I’ve got notes from church yesterday rewritten twice in three places today.

Most likely I’ll be writing them again.

It’s not trying harder. It’s surrender.

Share your story, yes.

Who you were and who you are.

But, mostly notice and follow what the Holy Spirit shows and tells you.

There is something in me that is greater than me.

I didn’t nap yesterday, I read Romans 8 instead.

I have no idea if a book is in me. I thought I surely knew before.

But, I never surrendered the outcome, the beginning nor the end.

I never asked God directly.

I never, in fact even asked at all.

God, is it your will that I write?

A book?

A book that I already gave a title, named and numbered the chapters, and planned the dedication?

I’m asking now.

And I’m not trying as hard.

I promise.

I surrender my words either stacked up in sheets or bound together in a book, my name across the bottom.

I pray you will help me, God, teach me to be content either way.

“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It occurred to me yesterday what a joy my blog is to me. I thought of the feeling when thoughts become words just descriptively fine and I’ve cherished the kind words in comments.

I thought of how sweet it’s been realizing thus far it has been all me.

I paused with the idea of what might be. What might be bolder, sweeter, truer when it’s not just me; but, the power, the power of the Holy Spirit in and through me.

Coming through my words, surrendered for his purpose.

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:28‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m curious and excited now, surrendered to his purpose.

We shall see.

Requirements and Resistance

bravery, confidence, Faith, fear, grace, obedience, Peace, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

img_1539

Last Sunday, I said to myself, I miss the reverence of church.

I wasn’t looking for justification to just stay home.

Because the pieces and experiences I miss are not the popular way…are not really the way of our world now, the “world world” or it seems sometimes to me, the “Faith world”.

I’ve been conflicted, in a season of bending while longing to belong again.

 

There is a trend, my friend, a preacher’s daughter and I agreed.

People are not going to church.

We know it’s not good.

For us or for them.

This friend whose daddy has long passed, this friend who I rarely hear her call her daddy “daddy”, always calls him “Reverend Harper”.

I’m smiling, I see her reverence for him, her daddy and her Heavenly Father.

This morning I feel burdened because I feel so different.

Like thorns among the roses wet with rain, I’m particular in my picking of the right words to say.

I read a thread of replies on Twitter prompted by a young woman’s boasting of leaving the F***ing church of her childhood.

The church that held the memory of her favorite song back then, “They’ll know We are Christians by our Love”.

Several comments followed in agreement with her over her courage to leave the church that she felt never truly loved others, maybe encouraged judgment and hate.

I know that church, I’ve been there amongst the fear promoters and the stone throwers.

I rejected it too.

But, I’m burdened because I don’t think it’s good to use obscenities in the same sentences with God, or love for that matter.

To say so here feels bold, bold in that belief.

We can love boldly and be obedient boldly, I think this is the key.

I am bending, I am less resistant to other than what I’ve always known.

Requirements, though, I still need them.

Need them firmly spoken to me, answers when I ask for the way.

He led me here today.

“Joyful are people of integrity, who follow the instructions of the Lord. Joyful are those who obey his laws and search for him with all their hearts.

They do not compromise with evil, and they walk only in his paths.

You have charged us to keep your commandments carefully.

Oh, that my actions would consistently reflect your decrees!”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭119:1-5‬ ‭NLT‬‬

 

I went to church last week.

I heard a gentle nudging saying, No, you need to go, you need to go for YOU.

And I thought on the way over about the loud music, how I missed the quiet days when the children never made a sound and when people weren’t sitting down with their latte cups

When you could hear the hushing sounds of mamas and the clink of the coins and dropping of dollars, tiny noises during the offertory hymn.

An atmosphere that made listening easy, pleasant, required little of me.

I thought of all of this and sat down next to my pretty girl who offered a vanilla latte and then, the lights, the loud welcome of the band, the crescendo.

Seconds before and as clear, clear as a bell, I thought.

What you resist most is what you need most.

And I was different from that moment, the way I took it in, accepted you might say.

I sang, I opened my heart and I sang, softly.

This season of un-belonging, of conflicted resistance, is changing, slowly shifting.

I still believe in requirements. I still need them to know and grow.

I’ll ask God to show me what I need, to point out my resistance, to enlarge my heart to be more willing and open, to grow.

Let go.

IMG_1546

“Open my eyes to see the wonderful truths in your instructions. I am only a foreigner in the land. Don’t hide your commands from me!”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭119:18-19‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Linking up for FMF, prompted by the word “burden” which means a particularly heavy load. I went over the 5 minutes, it took longer than that to lighten my load!

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/11/08/fmf-link-up-burden/

Lord, help my words to honor you, not confuse others about You and help me to grow in this season, so that they will know You because of my love. Because of mercy, Amen

Grace and More

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, freedom, grace, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Grace is a lot of things.

It’s big rescue and big salvation and big last chance chances when we are caught before our falls.

It comes when we decide to think of ourselves less than He says we truly are.

It asks that we see others as Jesus sees them.

Like he sees us.

Like he saw the woman with the expensive oil who wasn’t showing off her efforts. It wasn’t her plan to defy the others.

She just wanted to love Jesus when all around Him was persecution, ridicule, doubt and the question of His intent and the day of deciding His death.

She was focused on worship and she poured out her worship freely.

In unashamed and unexpected worship, she gave what she could to Jesus.

She gave what she had.

When the people standing around ranted over her waste of what in their opinion could have been sold.

Jesus accepted her gift, her worship, her grace towards Him and He used it for all the others to know the power of giving, the power of humble and creative opportunities to give and receive grace.

Jesus told them all to leave her alone, that this would be her legacy, this choice she made to be bold, to give what she had and to trust God with the rest.

“And truly, I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.””

‭‭Mark‬ ‭14:9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Now thousands of years later, this passage is in my Bible marked with red.

For me to really remember grace for all it is, not just a sweet and easy sounding word.

Help me to do what I can when I can, to allow interruptions, to ignore human reasoning of my ways. To acknowledge where you place me as places you will use me, to not hide away in my introvert ways.

To do what honors God, to simply pour out what I have and leave it there.

Help me to act accordingly as if I’m listening closely to hear my Father say.

Oh, to hear Him say to me, the same!

She hath done what she could.

Mark 14:8

Forgive me, Lord, when I make less than amazing your grace, when I am prone to hiding away and when I forget to walk in it, exhibit it, simplify it, this timeless and phenomenal gift, your grace. Because of your mercy, I pray in Jesus name, Amen

Jesus, I Believe

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Peace, praise, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

Craziest thing ever!  My boot camp instructor told me I needed to get right!

Last night I was grouchy and told her so. I dragged myself to boot camp, told the trainer  I’m here and I know I’ll feel better afterward, so, yeah I’m here, that’s all.

If I moved I’d feel better, if I left the house I’d be less worried. My workout was intentional, I was not there for fun and games, I just wanted her to know.  Not in the mood for conversation, there to unravel my day, let my blood up its flow, let go the things needed to let go.

She responded with her usual firm motivationally cocky type retort, not allowing me to be pouty and then firmly added, “Get right with God!”

And it was odd because we don’t talk about Jesus at boot camp, she and the others if I’m honest only vaguely know of my faith, only vaguely know I believe.

So, I took it as important, her reply so important for me to hear, to adhere. I was tired of waiting for things to happen in my life; beginning to believe some things will never change and some breakthroughs have gone another direction, not coming through for me anymore.  Work stuff, work worries.

Before I even read from two different perspectives about Martha, I was wondering already this morning about how and whether I believe. Do I believe for others; but, not for me?

Like Martha, maybe,  the sister of Mary and of Lazarus. It occurs to me now,  she must’ve been the middle child, the one who kept an eye out for discord, the one who anticipated family drama, the one who got all concerned and withdrawn when there seemed to an issue. She was perpetually on the edge of coming unhinged.

But, she didn’t see it, I don’t believe. She saw herself as the keeper of control, she was one who believed in Jesus yet made it her role to be on guard against trouble, to be prepared when it came.

Jesus compared her to her sister, Mary.

He’d come to visit them and Martha was busy cleaning, preparing, ready to put on a show. She was frustrated when he noticed Mary. He told her to notice too. Mary sat in silence, she waited unworried, just wanted to be with Jesus, somehow knew nothing more was expected.  Her lack of activity, of anxiety, of frantic expectation, led Jesus to tell Martha, I’m sorry to tell you but her choice is “the better”.

I imagine Martha knew her patterns, like me, sporadic in her change, but determined to let them go.

Slowly breaking the habit of questioning everything and keeping in control.

Some time passed after Jesus sat with them in their home and they beckoned him to return, this time to perform a miracle, their brother was dead.

They believed through Jesus he could live.

Do you believe this? Jesus    John 11:26

When Martha settled into the unlikelihood her brother would be revived, she answered Jesus’ question with a yes that was sort of a but or an even though…I guess, still.

I imagine her demeanor was calm, her resignation confirming her fear that became acceptance. He would be healed and he would live, her brother would see heaven.

Belief is sometimes just acceptance and with acceptance, there is always a hint of sullen. Acceptance isn’t usually accompanied by joy;  just an okay but I really hoped it could be better.  It’s a settling for less than we believed and I believe it’s because of what we believe about ourselves.

I wonder if Martha remembered the time she spent sweeping up the kitchen instead of sitting beside her sister and Jesus. If, because of her cleaning compulsions and her less than enthusiastic worship, she had no right to believe in miracles.

 Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.  But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.”  John 11:21-22

Jesus had other ideas.

Ideas to reveal His Father’s glory.  He kept no record of the ways she viewed herself as wrong.

I do this sometimes, sell myself short on God’s glory and greatness.  I decide in comparison to others, I’m not quite so worthy.  Like Martha, I believe in good for others, not so much for me.

And I surely believe in heaven but sometimes not so much at all, do I believe in now.

Intention, felt wrong when I wrote it, like a word that didn’t belong with the others: rest and attentiveness.

But, the day is almost done and intention has finished the sentence, is the conclusion to this morning’s story.

Believing with the intention of trusting.

Now I see.  Now I’m right in my thinking.

 Jesus responded, “Didn’t I tell you that you would see God’s glory if you believe?”  John 11: 40 NLT

 

Right with you…God.

 Father, thank you for hearing me.   John 11:41 NLT

Jesus, I believe.

 

 

 

 

Have This Hope

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, freedom, grace, memoir, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, writing

Sometimes, I’ll pray,

Jesus, be my editor.

I want to be observant of Him, my life and my art and words, purveyors of Him.

I want to cause others to consider my present hope in light of my previous trauma.

No day is the same as any single day before. Our days might be framed and arranged with similarities, coffee, and quiet and an awareness of a bird waking up outside your window, but it’s never just the same.

Our days, never the same, the exact time the birds begin to sing, their type and from whence they have flown.

The words I write, the way I consider my schedule, I’m slow and achy or optimistic or something in the middle.

I repeated a tough time yesterday; but, only in my retelling of its story.

Very clear, the memory I shared to express a time of a prayer, a plea.

It was pleasant to tell of an unpleasant time, as if an accidental reminder to myself, you got through that, you are strong.

All is well.

Just the reframing of a recollection we’d never aim to repeat.

All of our regrets, our remorse, and resentment over wrongs done us or by us.

We need only repeat them as a reference, a reference of how different we are, how decidedly committed to reframing our trials in light of knowing God saw us then and sees us now.

“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.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Pressing on, not repeating old stories, only reading the chapters of our lives, rewritten, edited by God.

Prompted to write on word “repeat”, remembering times I’ve been brought through, times I don’t ever have to repeat but will recall them in ways to carry on.

Read other thoughts on “repeat” here:  http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/11/01/fmf-link-up-repeat/

31 Days, Freely – Close

Abuse Survivor, Angels, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, freedom, grace, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Life and God are in constant intersection.

Places you find yourself standing other than you planned and in locations you’ve become accustomed to, you are close to God, when you take stock of forgetting and finding again, what is there.

You meet a little lady by mistake who is tiny like your grandma, neat as a pin like her and she smiles and forgives you for ringing her doorbell, going to the wrong address, she tells you she wishes you’d stop back by.

And you think, now if that’s not God, I have no idea what it is.

To see your grandma when you needed her kind of gentle assurance, yes, that was God!

Being close to God, being where He wants me to be and doing what He wants me to do.

With my being mama, wife, executive, writer, painter, friend and follower.

These are things I will know clearly and eventually, adjustments like shadows of color to accentuate an angel’s waist or taking away a showy word to be simple, succinct.

It is work. It’s okay, though. God is in it.

Never an anxious seeking, always a contented watching unexpectedly yet ever hopeful wait.

I heard the geese and thought “Here they come.”, the acknowledgment of my mama, her words when she heard them.

I slowed my steps as the V shape turned away and then smiled and watched as they turned back my way.

It was a small thing, to see geese fly over and remember my mama.

Remember God’s pattern.

I forget and I forge ahead making mental and pencil note of things to try, challenges I should continue and I take some off the list, cross through their name, thick leaded takeaway, giving myself permission to let that one go.

To keep taking small, deliberate steps and to know that when I jump in to pressuring myself to join in, to hurry up and finish or to feel afraid I might not catch up,

That’s anxiety talking, that’s fear and I feel it in the place that the counselor noticed my trauma liked to dwell.

Noticing now, let that go,

That will not serve you well.

Be still.

You are close now, close to what God wants you to know.

He is close.

We are His work.

“The works of his hands are faithful and just; all his precepts are trustworthy; they are established forever and ever, to be performed with faithfulness and uprightness.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭111:7-8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Closing out 31 Days with some sermon notes from myself:

Write bravely.

Write from small sweet experiences.

Try not to veer back to pitiful.

Recognize when you do.

Write what you’ve been avoiding.

Follow through.

Notice God’s answers in your day.

Pay attention, you’ll know clearly, what to say, what to paint, what to write and

Where to go.

God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.

31 Days, Freely – Voice

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Yesterday, I listened differently. One voice I heard was as smooth as the cream in my coffee and deliberate in its pauses. She waited between words. I got the impression that every syllable was special.

I joked and told her she should give training, her voice was so pleasant to hear. She explained it was just Southern and I answered well, I’m just as southern as you.

We were helping someone, one voice on the phone and the two of us trying to listen in light of emergent need. I wanted to ask hard questions, scold missteps in my concern for her condition.

“But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.”

‭‭James‬ ‭3:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Instead, I watched and waited and tried to line my parts up in the conversation with what she might receive as compassion not concern.

Her voice was quiet and it wavered. It was sure and then it was scared. It was willing and then it wished it had not spoken.

I listened as my colleague offered coffee and then calmly led her to talk about her boys, then at just the right moment as I turned to tell her, she voiced her agreement with me, assuring the young mother.

You can get back to the place of okay.

We saw her smile, softly repeat our belief using her voice and repeat it again, believing, I believe,

She will get there again,

Back to

The place of okay.

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