confidence

Coffee and Morning

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, love, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

On our final beach day, I wake to the sound of lawnmower instead of sweet birds, the closest to sleeping in all vacation and the landscapers are I guess, trying to beat the heat.

Timely, typical.

I groan.

A dog, I decide small, someplace chimes in and it’s crazy because both our dogs left early, yesterday with the children.

Isn’t it ironic? …it figures.

Alanis Morissette

Redirecting the day, I start the coffee and go for the pretty cup, not a morning I’ve had quiet.

Today, I return to bed and inventory my prayer list.

Haphazard or just right I had wondered when I couldn’t squeeze it in, my typical time alone.

So, one word was all. “Insight” was my petition.

I’m looking over my list now and what I just experienced, thinking about what felt like literal stirring in my soul, an uncomfortable unrest.

We watched the waves last night under the crescent moon.

High over the ocean from the pier, the sound of the churning up from underneath, the bringing in of new and the taking out of old, the tide a gentle yet powerful change.

My word, again.

Insight.

Hoping for change; but, maybe scared that quite very possibly it is possible.

Scary, the reality that God is readying me for something different and I know it.

Say to wisdom, “You are my sister,” and call insight your intimate friend, – Proverbs 7:4

I know it because my chest is filled with stirring over the potential and it makes me just a little bit afraid.

Returning to my words and His word, I read about the way He carries me, helps me carry my load and I’m remembering His eye on the sparrow and I’m remembering He is the potter, I’m just clay.

And I’m glad for the storing up of these promises because I’m believing based on this stirring that He is preparing me and He is preparing new and new ways.

I’ll be strong, stronger with Him helping to carry me and my load.

Not Too Old To Try

Art, confidence, courage, grace, praise, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

In the beginning I only took off amongst the secluded spaces. The neighbors most likely I decided would raise their eyebrows or gawk at the thickness of my girth.

Now I’m in a rhythm and there’s no need to pause, no concern over possible crossing paths or shimmying thighs.

A year ago I learned what a plank was and I held it a minute and a month ago I decided I could run.

It’s not much at all to do with a number, the scale or the age.

It’s more about time to try because trying is timely.

I happened upon words drawing me in closely via twitter.

Modern publication, online and I imagined modern spaces with wide, high narrowly sleek windows with views.

Maybe teleworkers technically expert and polished

Young men and women committed to this publication and their enthusiasm to enthuse others towards Christianity using brave and open perspective…

I was intrigued.

I dropped down the “Submissions” page and I decided to try.

I introduced the editors to my art and to my words.

There was interest in my art, possibly maybe if I’d like to try, one day my words.

The best of all, besides the again, decision to try?

The best thing is that I said precisely what I felt God wanted me to say in response to the questions and I know there’s no way I will ever know how someone or some ones might decide to try as well.

Might become immersed in creativity of their own regardless of time or age or fear.

If you’re curious in nature and especially drawn to truths, you’ll want to read the articles gathered in a place called “Fathom”.

Overwhelmed, I’m overwhelmed.

Visit here if you’d like to see grace, all grace towards me, nothing but grace.

Fathom Mag

Never Walk Alone

Abuse Survivor, Angels, bravery, confidence, courage, grace, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I’m led to Matthew 11 and happen upon the words of Jesus I have over time found hard to relate to, difficult to apply and for me, a struggle to see as I am meant to see.

Over time though, my overthinking has thankfully become lessened,

over time.

Struggling still, to understand the “yoke”, I try to be visual of what it might look like for Jesus to have a yoke attached to his back.

Thinking naturally of animals: oxen, donkeys, maybe cows or a poor old countryman, thin and worn, breaking up the land for seed and pushing forward

Bent by what’s behind him, intent on going forward.

A posture I do understand.

Struggling, but determined, working hard, a hard working tired soul.

This morning, I opened my Bible to see a girl reminiscent of me in the border.

On a morning some time before I must have begun to understand the yoke thing momentarily

even more so, thankfully, now.

If I had my way, I might prefer to open my Bible and read the tiny words as if a guide or simple self-help.

I know now that it’s the drawing in that is God’s desire and I’m drawn to consider meaning, there is cause for me to get quiet.

It is God’s intent.

That I get again and again, quietly confident.

To read, reread, can’t quite relate and after a while, begin to understand.

The passage about the yoke, I’ve long been unable “to get”.

But, this morning, I see.

I see.

Jesus is saying, let me come alongside you, let’s walk together. Here, I’ll put one side of the yoke on my back and you take the other.

Leave your old yoke behind Lisa Anne, trade it for mine.

Mine is for you, not working against you and it is like me, gentle, not proud and not boisterous and burdened or stumbling along defeated by the arduous trek.

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.” Jesus -Matthew 11:28-30

Abide, stay near and in rhythm with me, your steps are now syncing with mine and mine with yours.

Today, and tomorrow and on and on, a promise here for your believing,

You never have to walk alone

There is rest here beside me

Rest for your soul.

Bearer of Sorrows and Healer of Horrors

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, memoir, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting

Matthew, Chapter 8 describes Jesus as a healer.

A healer of a leper, a servant fortunate to have a compassionate owner, a woman lying sick with unrelenting fever, and men tortured by mental demons.

The first was healed by an outreached hand, the slave healed from a distance at the request of his humble and heartbroken owner.

The touch of a fevered and weak hand and finally the exit of horrendous mental illness via a herd of pigs.

I’ve never experienced an unrelenting fever or been incapacitated by pain, physical nor evil, mental torment.

I have carried burdens for too long though and been bent by their load.

The words of the prophet Isaiah remind me I’m best when I’m quietly confident and now more than ever that I no longer should dwell on the past, that I should see all the good that is springing up before me.

And I have, yes, I have surely seen the springing up and I’m getting better at forgetting.

Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. – Isaiah 43:18

Everyday I drive by a tiny church. The sign out front remaining the same for weeks.

Do not return to the place God delivered you from.

church sign truth

I pass by, look either straight towards the truth or give a sideways glance.

Okay, okay yes, I know.

Matthew Chapter 8, is all about healing with reminders of rescue thrown in, a boat tossed by sudden storm and the disciples who’d just witnessed miraculous healing by the one accompanying them.

Jesus was sleeping like a baby.

They wake him and he calms the storm, a reminder to them and us of who He is, will always be.

25 And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.”

26 And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. – Matthew 8:25-26

Isaiah prophesied that Jesus would bring healing and that he would bear our burdens, that our heavy loads and sorrows would be His if we would allow it to be, that the cross would be the place of understanding, finally.

These horrors, this pain, these burdens, this trauma, we can leave them with Him, we can if we will, lay down our heavy loads.

This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah: “He took our illnesses and bore our diseases.” – Matthew 8:17

The yoke that is not ours to be bent by we can let go.

Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.

But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. – Isaiah 53:4-5

Someone skilled in understanding trauma posed the question to a group of us affected by such, her question about finally moving past…

How will you know? TT

And the answer, I believe quite possibly will be,

When you choose to truly believe in your healing. me

Lord, help those of us confounded by our pasts to believe and help not to be sidelined by the ever present reminders of our own making but, the constant conversations intent on igniting our fears, our memories, our fight or flight and mostly our tendency to carry our loads of sorrow again. Be our healer, Jesus, the healer of all, still.

May my healing journey bring hope to others. Because of your mercy, I am able to say,

Amen

Catching up on reading the words of others, I love the way Mary describes her inner scars and the suggestion that the ones that show now are the ones resulting from the places Jesus healed us. I’m late to the link-up but thought my thoughts here are somewhat similar.

Tell His Story

Beautiful in Time

Angels, Art, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting

I prayed and then I answered the questions of me, the ones that would be an introduction of me.

I’d been chosen as a featured artist.

But, on Wednesday, I’d decided it wasn’t to be and eventually settled into accepting that “It wasn’t time”.

And my stretch of running was longer, the trail bordered by new and unoccupied houses. The roots trying to burst through concrete making it necessary that I lift my feet in little jumps.

Down the last hill and I kept my pace, choosing the cul-de-sac lane farthest from eyes and running past the sprinklers misting my calves.

Frustration mixed with apathy, my fuel to press on.

Eventually, shifted to walking and the song in my ears said creation sings God’s praises and so should I.

The sky fat with puffs of gray and black shapes of birds darting across my path.

I said to myself what I felt in the sky.

“It’s not time.” I accepted this as truth. Simply, “It’s not time.”

Later, I recalled the conversation,  her reply to my inquiry over my art not selling “It comes in spells.”

The clamor over my creations had faded.

I considered it becoming just a hobby, cover the walls with bright or subtle, simple or not. Or just stack ’em in the corners, have people say “Oh” when they stop by and I could say, “Here, take it, it’s yours.”

Joyless bartering for validation, the way I’d become.

I looked closely at the newest piece, still oily and moist, her expression was mine and yet, she was patient, more serene.

Aspirations and need for notice had begun to taint my treasure.

It was good to finally hear God and know there are still plans for my future.

“It’s not time.” I heard it again.

Then came Thursday and still waiting to hear from something still.

I walked around all day with a heavy sense of lost hope.

I was honest and told God first thing, I don’t know how to do the thing I thought I was made to do, how to do everything for your glory, not mine.

I was clear, I mean who really knows how to do these things, to surrender to His plan, to wait and not grow weary all the while feeling useless and filled with doubt?

It’s hard for me, I realized and I owned up to my not knowing how or if.

Then, I left that there with Him and I carried on still carrying my load a little.

Then I named it later, my apathy.

It was my “sense of possibility” I had lost.

Lying on the gym floor, staring at ceiling tiles and I figured it out, the loss of “possibility” thinking.

Round two, same thing, same tiles and this time a but…”you can do everything through Christ” and “everything is possible if you believe”.

How had I forgotten that promise and the one about all things through Him?

And Jesus said to him,

“‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.” – Mark 9:23

Worn and sweaty, we stretch and we’re done.

I settle in to my car and checking my phone for messages, none.

I go to my mail and my thumb moves quickly to swipe and delete junk and same old same ol’ and there it is…the reply,

the next step.

“…got your artwork and we’re excited to have you featured in the next edition. Just need you to answer these questions.”

It is time.

I said Thank you, Lord, no more, no less.

Prayed about my replies and replied.

Now it’s Friday and like every other evening, I unclasp my bracelet and remove my ring, take my earrings out and let them rest safely.

I reach for my watch and loosen the leather from the loop.

I lay them all down and I discover something new I’ve never seen, the underside of my watch’s face, in the center engraved.

A gift for my birthday from my daughter and son in law almost a year ago now and the words I’m so surprised to see, I call her and she says, “Yes, I had it engraved.”

Everything is beautiful

In its time.

Soon, I’ll share the pages of the publication that will be sharing my art and I’ll share my reply to the question of why and when and

how to continue in this craft, this treasure, this thing God made yours,

the words that came at just the right time.

Maybe others might need to know again.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. – Ecclesiastes 3:11

I’ll thank God for not ever letting me go, and for lessons and grace and more, on time.

I’ll cherish this happening of something I never thought likely and I will pray.

I will pray, I get better at waiting.

Able to Run

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, eating disorder, Faith, grace, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Almost 100 degrees and not expected to drop until around 8:00, so I lace up my shoes and I set out.

Thought of the earbuds but chose silence thinking is there any good thing extra I might hear and benefit from?

Striving for every kernel of truth, every recommendation for continuation or confirmation that the things I’m doing I’m doing right.

Instead my arms are free, the pavement too hot for the Labrador, I’m energized by the thought of just the one thing, the decision to walk swiftly until I reach the spot at the top of the long stretch of hill to the place that is level, obscured and a straightaway.

It is hot. My breathing rebellious against my plan and pattern and my legs, large and weighty as I try to be rhythmic in their lifting. “I just can’t run.” I’m known to say and today I was told “It’s a mental game.”

So, I remembered the days of before, the steep hills on the North Georgia campus, early morning my roommate and I starving ourselves in the cafeteria and running three times around the campus.

That was a different determination.

One contentious and filled with a fervent need to control at least one thing I could, my weight, my body, my fear in a strange and new environment.

“But forget all that— it is nothing compared to what I am going to do. For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭43:18-19‬ ‭

I make it past five fences and houses and give in, I walk and then turn the corner towards the road shaded and step it up again.

Different now, I notice my feet lightly falling and my forwardness more at ease.

Cars pass and I’m unconcerned by the shape of my shorts riding up, crooked and cornered. I continue.

Different, my pace, softer.

Quiet thoughts become prayer.

Lord, thank you that I’m able.

Help me to be more willing.

me

I considered the things I’ve decided of late, bravely trying and being unconcerned with how far I might go or if I might not be invited to participate at all, knowing I’d not go anywhere at all

Unless I stepped out.

Stepped forward. Changed some things, cared less about who is watching, waiting for my fall, surrendering back to the sameness of me.

I told my cousin that I’d decided to put my art out in a new places, broader landscapes, it seems it’s not as popular here, or maybe it’s run its course.

She replied,

Even Jesus wasn’t popular in his own hometown, he had to leave, go other places. VC

So quick was her retort, a few words in a lovely and long conversation, wise kernels sprinkled in through her from God.

I arrived home, red faced and t-shirt clinging to my chest, my face sweaty and making little trails on my cheeks, I go for cold water.

Saying to my son, “I ran more than before.”

His reply, “Keep adding to it. Every day add more, that’s what it takes.”

I thought again about the thought becoming a prayer, thankful at my age and with all the trauma of my past, its potential toll on my body and my mind, my soul, that I am able and I’m more willing than ever.

So, my prayer will be that God sustains my able state while I catch up on my willingness, while I continue at a smooth and steady race towards the ideas He decided were for me a very long time ago.

Remembering it was art that landed me in that place of my youth and I faltered there, I was harmed in some horrible ways and yet, it remains the determination to create, the words, the colors, the love of expression.

I am still able.

Thank God, I’m able.

Able to move forward, sporadic spurts or long stretches strengthened by ability and a new decisive willingness.

Through Him.

He is able. He is willing.

LINKING THIS STORY UP WITH OTHERS WHO LOVE TO TELL OUR STORIES OF JESUS. LINK HERE:  http://marygeisen.com/laughter-is-the-best-medicine/

img_5038

All Sinking

confidence, contentment, Faith, grace, kindness, love, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

“Write prompted by the word, ocean” the Thursday tweet announced and I thought, well, that’s different, broad and seems neither inspirational or instructional in a faith kind of way.

I gave my own interpretation of something yesterday on “selfie day” being celebrated and too late, I realize now it may have been a tad bit haughty, self-righteous,

My parading my words via the social sites on how God wants our focus on Him and not our own ways and wills, our “selves”.

I mentioned how Peter stepped over the ledge of the storm shaken boat and seeing Jesus in the distance began to walk that way, forgetting his humanity and his own feet incapable of standing on the surface of the ocean, much less walking.

He remembered though and he found himself human, he realized he was just a man and he began to tremble, his legs close to folding and sinking.

Jesus helped him up, said come on…let me lead you the rest of the way.

Lord, thank you for helping me walk your way, for rescuing me from the places I’m particularly close to falling back into.

Me

My sister posted a picture yesterday of my nephew strategically getting a good swift start and diving from a cliff into some beautiful ocean somewhere I’ve never seen.

I “loved” it; but, I was jealous. I’ve seen oceans only a half a day by car and less than two States away.

Another person posted a photo of their husband, his arms wide open and she doesn’t say it; but, because the sea is a sea near the places Jesus lived, walked and prayed,

I pondered the beauty of this woman’s husband in that place.

I imagined him praying, quietly, privately praising

The ocean wide and vast and immeasurable.

My afflictions, self-pity and the like…thank God…they’re eclipsed by His glory!

How He Loves

If His grace is an ocean

We’re all sinking.

Crowder

Someone else posted a need for prayer, and I momentarily questioned it, their need or their “neediness”.

Today, I’m close again to quietly breaking up with Facebook because of all the negativity and all the unnecessary.

All of the fodder for hopelessness and questionable happiness, I’m toying with the idea of stepping away.

Social media, the place where comparison lives, tells me either my life sucks or someone else’s does and at least I’m not that crazy or that less than enough.

A seesaw of needing more and being depressed over our lack or celebrating decidedly haughtily at least I’m not as needy for notice as they are!

We judge others, we judge ourselves using glimpses, only teeny tiny glimpses of lives on screens.

In today’s, devotional from Oswald Chambers I read a stern message.

I read that Jesus tells us not to judge others, not because it’s wrong or because it doesn’t fulfill the one thing He said, we must do;

But, because we need to know this:

Our conclusions drawn of others and our methods that measure them are precisely the measures that will be used on us.

The greatest characteristic of a saint is humility, as evidenced by being able to say honestly and humbly,

“Yes, all those, as well as other evils, would have been exhibited in me if it were not for the grace of God. Therefore, I have no right to judge.

Oswald Chambers

I suppose like most things, we don’t truly get it until “it’s about us”.

Someone suggested, several times a day, we say it.

It’s not about me. It’s not about me.

Those of us who prefer the written expression over the verbal, we open our Bibles and think “Oh, this is significant, I’m enlightened now! I must say a few words and thereby possibly enlighten another.”

More careful, considerate and even calculated maybe I should be, less me.

Not condescending,

Late last night, I scrolled through the sweetest selfies on my Instagram, bubbly faces with friends and single souls smiling widely!

I regretted my judgement of the day being unnecessary.

Who am I to say?

I’m glad there’s more than an ocean full, grace.

Enough to just rightly so, fear my sinking, only to look up, look inward and recalibrate my wondering thoughts, to focus on truths of Him.

Drawn to redemption, welcomed actually.

“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭7:1-2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Happy Way of Life #10

confidence, contentment, courage, happy, memoir, Peace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Thick, thick steamy not yet even summer day and

without much thought

at all

I decide against a meeting,

not necessarily required but expected.

And go straight home.

Peaceably, later I walk alone.

Intentional, the swing of my arms and the strength of my stride

The sun fades making shadows and settles warm like ocean tide

Shallow, against my legs treading back toward home

As I press on and on

On my own and better

For choosing home over expectation.

“Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after wind.”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭4:6‬ ‭ESV‬

A happy way of life.

Linking up with others at Tell His Story

Are We There Yet

Hope of Glory

bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, heaven, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, suicide loss, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

If you google “glory” there’s not a word, synonym, noun or verb that would be close to heaven.

Maybe it’s the mystery, the mystery of it all that we can’t quite grasp.

Even when we believe, heaven is our hope.

It is our glory. For me and I pray, you.

It’s our eternity.

A long time ago, I began a support group for people who lost loved ones to their choice of dying, suicide.

The initiation of the group coincided with a piece I was asked to write, a Community betterment series, my choice of a topic and I called it, “The Tragedy of Speculation”.

I had been changed, many times over now, by those who sat around my table recalling the death of someone close.

My piece essentially said “Let’s stop talking about the suicide in a way that’s not helpful. Let’s stop faking our sympathy when we simply want to point fingers and say who missed the signs, how far the person had swayed off course or how the family, the parents must not have been doing what they should have.”

My commentary was a little softer back then; but, the thing is, people want to dissect something they don’t understand in hopes they can be certain “never me”.

Thus, the tragedy of speculation

Suicide, a tragic mystery.

About the same time, I got a phone call.

An older man with gravel in his voice, assertive and impatient it seemed with this task he was tasked to do.

To call me and give his input.

I answered, confirmed I was the author of the article and he announced:

If you want to prevent suicide you need to start telling people if they do that they will go straight to Hell!

A tad but unsettled; but, prepared because of my childhood exposure to preachers spittin’ orders and threats all over the pews,

I replied, calmly, I would never tell someone that because I don’t believe it.

Silence on the other end, I sensed his surprise by my candor.

Several years later, the numbers in our county and our country keep growing.

Could such a declaration change that? Possibly, no, probably not.

Would you tell someone about a sure place called Hell over Heaven and compromise the character grace and mercy of Jesus to save a life?

I’m thinking this is not what God means by salvation.

No, not I.

I wonder what Bourdain thought of God. Kate Spade, as well.

If momentarily in the deep place of a resignation not to go on they simply could no longer sense the wonder.

Much conversation is occurring now about depression, about suicide.

I’m no licensed professional. I’m just a noticer.

And I suppose if my sometimes seemingly naive approach could add anything to the discussion.

I’d say, let’s think empirically.

Let’s come forth for that person from all perspectives, friend, family, faith, medicine, aspirations, accomplishments, addictions recovery and reminders of possibility.

Let’s do better at coming alongside in whatever our way and staying beside.

It’s a battle they most likely are waging war against and became weary with all the shots coming at them from every imaginable direction, internal and external.

Wounds not fully healed, maybe they’d grown tired of the reoccurring reminders.

And depression, a deep hole, maybe it becomes a safe bunker and maybe the choice to surrender, to finally, finally retreat.

Their decision.

This is why I continue.

I continue to try to understand it, suicide.

Why I say faith in God is not the cure for depression or the saver of those suicidal.

What it is is a certain and steadfast complement to healing, to have a reason to live.

“For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”

‭‭Colossians‬ ‭1:13-14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

To believing new things are possible.

A hopeful complement in this crazy, horrible and often hindered world.

Paul and Timothy told the Colossian believers, you’ve come so far, I know it seems mysterious; but, it is what God created you for, the riches of a glorious mystery.

“To them God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.”

‭‭Colossians‬ ‭1:27‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The hope of glory.

Most everything about God’s word feels mysterious to me at times.

Like, how I pray and because I believe in Jesus, he intercedes for me.

It’s a mystery to me, a glorious mystery I’ve seen to be true in the simplest and grandest of ways.

A chubby freckle faced little girl grows up and begins to believe God is for her and she prays for opportunities every single day and they come and she continues boldly even when afraid.

Because she believes now, finally that her hope is Christ and He sees her settled, finally surrendered and new things, new things keep springin’ up!

“Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭43:18-19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’ll not talk so much about glory with one considering suicide or one trying hard to prevent it.

But, hope, oh I’ll surely tell them of hope.

Lord, help me to never hinder, always to remind of hope!

To use all you’ve given me the opportunity to know and to complement my knowledge with your grace and mercy and my strength only through you, my hope.

Because of mercy, Amen

Our county has a Coalition to Prevent Suicide, yours may as well. We are all concerned about the increase in numbers and continuously increase our efforts.

Visit here: Coalition for Suicide Prevention of Aiken County

Or the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

Know the signs, intervene and if Hope is a thing for you, a sure and steady God thing, pray with those who are sad and suicidal.

Dog and Pencil and Promise

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, Homeless, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Like yesterday, I open my pretty journal. It’s the exact color of soft tangerine, like the chair from my husband’s mama’s home.

A list, oh, how I love and live by lists.

A new one every morning, today with new names and needs, two of them unexpectedly hard and two more most especially and welcomingly hopeful.

I thought the other day, is prayer the most simple of things, another of many we make laboriously complicated?

Even if I hadn’t carefully jotted down using my rose colored mechanical tool and strategically added a dot beside each need and name…

Wouldn’t God know, isn’t it true it’s not at all necessary that He see, read?

Practice, though, it’s a practice for me.

Today, my list includes

  • WRITING
  • PAINTING

Opportunities and assignments await, one a farewell piece to a monthly column, two others submissions for possibility, actually three and one, an in the works more probable than possible featured artist in a publication.

This one, a wow, the kind comments from an editor. I shared it with my son, surprised by the reply, as if to convey,

You must do the thing you think you cannot do.

Eleanor Roosevelt

I sit with my today list for a moment then suddenly, opening paragraphs are completed with pencil notations of subject and submission.

I have begun.

“My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭131:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I turn the page for empty spaces and discover a funny face of a child I began. I must’ve then handed the pencil over hoping to entertain her while her troubled mama and I met.

Lines all over my page, I’ll not tear it out or trash it, simply fill in the blank space and remember for a moment.

A little baby named Shyla, came home from hospital to our shelter, now a vivacious toddler with a smile that cannot be ignored.

A toddler with a passion and her mama with a purpose and me, us, our work a chance to be a part.

She called me last night, the mama. Things are going well, so very well. She’s a believer and she’s a bulldog to not give up or give in. She’s passionate about her progress, gives all the glory to God!

She’ll stop by, she said, with her daughters, one we got to help her bring into the world and the one we helped only a little with her reunification.

Then before goodbye she said “I love you.” first and it followed my reply, “I love you.”

Amazes me every time, drives me, compels my compassion.

So, I’ll not tear the scribbled all over page from my journal. I’ll remember on those days when I resent my work, when I’m grandiose in my ideas of being a painter and a writer only.

Lord, help me remember your equipping me for opportunities and your timing and your purpose. Help me remember I can do all of these things through you.

Forgive my resentment of what I see as obligation, work, and remind me again of my little spurts of writing that come all the more authentically when I sit and your spirit is evident becoming thoughts, words that flow.

Stop me when I justify my mood by reminding myself, my family, my friends, “I’ve been a helping professional almost 25 years!”

Remind me of days that flow like grace and days that are hard and filled with opposition and strife that all of a sudden settle and I’m met by the face of one whose countenance is now content.

Remind me again to wait, to wait for it to come. Make me passionate yet again about my work.

Flow so much all the more genuine, authentic and true.

Art and word, painting and writing, passions that feed and fuel me.

Thank you, Lord.

For a child’s scribbles in my journal, for opportunities and for potential in places that remind me to endure.

To be confident.

“So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭10:35-36‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Thank you for passion, enthusiasm that compels me to continue.

For

  • WRITING
  • PAINTING and
  • HELPING

Amen.

Linking up with TellHisStory writers.

http://marygeisen.com/tellhisstory/

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