courage

Mercy Cry

courage, doubt, Faith, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Boot camp warm up always begin with I guess a community type bonding circle where we all play a little beachball volleying.

The trainer usually gets the brunt of being the target and dodges a direct hit to the face.

The ball’s pretty flimsy and it doesn’t hurt, still we all put our hands up to cover our faces or the occasional and intentional ball in the chest.

Last week, I returned a volley with more force and intention than my normal sweet self.

I ran to meet the ball in the middle and then straightaway returned it from whence it had come, and ohhh, everybody was like, “whoa…Lisa!”

I smiled, told them I was the only girl in a neighborhood full of boys and I mostly stayed out of the way.

Sometimes, though I fended for myself, knew how to be defensive, my brothers surprised when I’d “had enough”.

This morning, I’m thinking about mercy and how God keeps on giving, keeps on taking me as I am and keeps on loving me when I’m not feeling lovable or worthy.

Like my brothers used to bend back the fingers on each other’s hands or twist one arm behind each other’s backs, stubborn and dead set on not giving in,

Sometimes I hold out as long as possible before I fall apart and ask for help.

For mercy. One thing will happen and then well, another and before long maybe another and I’m shaking my head saying.

“Lord, have mercy! Lord…have mercy.”

I’ll even text my cutesy little “LHM!” Joking or making light of some ridiculous something I’ve seen or heard.

When mercy is not to be received lightly, mercy is not to go for very long without asking for even more.

Knowing full well, mercy is always for me.

Always waiting my reaching out for it, my walking lightly and light heartedly because of all of it I’ve already known.

“For nothing will be impossible with God.””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭1:37‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Mary was told by an angel that nothing would be impossible with God.

Mary, the one whose womb wove together mercy, Jesus.

Mary, who assured us it wasn’t just a gift she’d been chosen for.

Mercy, oh, mercy!

It is ours.

Ours for the asking, ours to be remembered. New mercy to replace the doubt or the decisions we might have made that mercy is not for us.

Must have surely run out.

Like the stubborn refusal to bear the pain of an arm twisted behind your back or to bear the consequences of a misdeed or miscommunication, I decide sometimes in my miserable state, I guess I deserve it.

I suppose I’m meant to bear the pain. I might wallow, cower, hide or wear the mood of martyr.

Yet, I tire of my contemplations and contemptuous self-pity.

“Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us, for we have had more than enough of contempt.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭123:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Or, like this morning, I’ll accept the day and its possible difficulty and I’ll accept the mercy of Jesus.

I’ll cry “Mercy!” and soon, very soon I’ll be relieved.

And I’ll move more lightly, less angrily mopey. I’ll let go the wrongs and twisted ways of others I’d decided I must be duly punished for.

I’ll forgive myself and others.

I will give them mercy, give myself a little too, there is more than enough, it endures forever. I’ll linger as long as needed in my morning spot, the place I’m met my mercy,

My earthly “mercy seat”.

“For the Mighty One is holy, and he has done great things for me.

He shows mercy from generation to generation to all who fear him.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭1:49-50‬ ‭NLT

Quiet Voila’

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, courage, doubt, grace, Peace, praise, Prayer, Stillness, Vulnerability

Last week or maybe last year, sporadic in my notice and recognition, I decided “child’s pose” was very much like prayer.

The prayer pose in the dark of early morning beside my bed or in the middle of a day when my pacing feet and pounding heart had left me with no place to go but to

Go there.

To hide away on my side of the bed.

You’d have to walk around to find me.

To hit my knees and find my soul beckoning me rest and my shoulders, lower, lower until they too are closer to the bottom and to wait, my muscles groaning in extension, I’m reaching, now gently.

As far as I can and I wait for God to cause my hands to open towards heaven.

Like a quiet “voila!”.

Saying, this is yours God, not mine.

Like a child, my outstretched hands are both released from my heavy thing and opened for the pure embrace of God.

Lean a little deeper into the prayer like a languished stretch and then ease back upright to maybe a sort of sun salutation.

I rise. I’m better, Son of God, I salute you, your Spirit, now.

I’m better today.

“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:26‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Linking up for FMF prompted by “release”.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/04/05/fmf-link-up-release/

Oh, and by the way, my book review of Kate Motaung’s recently released memoir, “A Place to Land” is in a draft right now, I’ll be posting tomorrow and giving away a couple of copies!

or you can order here: https://www.amazon.com/Place-Land-Story-Longing-Belonging/dp/162707662X/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&linkCode=sl1&tag=headhome-20&linkId=3e098af8efaaaff2f28a716b3f563944

Trusting More

Angels, Art, Children, courage, daughters, Faith, grace, Motherhood, Peace, praise, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity

I barely heard him over the crowd. He mentioned “trust” to her as she shared their big plans and hopes. “You know the place, Proverbs 3:5-6…” he said.

Mentioned trust, then looked towards me, and added, “Of course you do, you’ve got her.”

It was a gift, to be known as one who talks of God and trust and love to my children so that they know.

They know.

Such a pretty night, just the slightest breeze and the aura of a singer and a guitarist had me optimistic.

The singer’s voice gritty, heart and soul in his movements and melodies. The guitarist, honed in on his part; both, phenomenal talents.

Doing their thing, for us; but, seemed mainly for themselves, the satisfaction of sharing their souls’ song and string.

The vibe was easy, the night was soulful and my soul was full.

Leaving the day behind to happen upon a friend, see an acquaintance in the distance, people who’d otherwise be postured with just a nod of notice, reaching out arms for an embrace and saying more than ever before, glad you’re here.

I was taken to a place of letting go.

She took me there, my daughter. The night was splendid, turned my day around.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:5-6‬ ‭NLT‬‬

A mom stopped by yesterday to pick up a painting, a gift for her mother.

I’d leaned it against an empty chair and had two days with “her”.

Checked it over to be sure the paint and layered words were sealed, added a card denoting my life verse and contact info to the back.

Then, saw the place where trust had been revealed from under layers of paint.

And smiled, fascinated by my creation.

“I love this girl.” I told the buyer when she arrived and explained I love her not in an accomplished way or even satisfied over technique or tradition.

I’d realized earlier that whether it’s a paragraph or a painting, there’s a joy that comes that I’m not sure I can explain.

You step back, sit back and you know.

“This is me, this is mine. I’ve conveyed something that is sincere, genuinely me.”

Then you trust it more, you trust this thing God made you to discover.

You trust that painting, writing, singing or strumming unfettered and unfiltered are a part of His plan.

‘Tis so sweet…trusting more.

‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,

Just to take Him at His Word

Just to rest upon His promise,

Just to know, “Thus saith the Lord!

O’ for grace to trust Him more.

They Rested

bravery, courage, Easter, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Never random when she calls, it’s always an interruption for both of us.

Still, we are rapt and attentive, anticipatory.

We pause, we interject.

We listen, we add to the conversation.

We are one and we call one another from the proverbial cliffs of our own anxious waiting.

Sometimes I call her down, sometimes she consoles, corrects, cajoles me.

Either way, there may be tears. There is always prayer and always, always we are both equally better.

Or at least, we’ve filled a big chunk of the space in our minds tainted by what we are dying to know, what we are willing ourselves to believe all will be His will or we are plain worn out from devising outcomes from which to choose and get ready for.

We are both willful we decide.

This morning, I want to know more. I’m reading my Bible like the good book it is, enthralled to know more, I decide to read each account of the day between death and resurrection.

I choose Luke because of one sentence in what amounts to no more than a paragraph.

Just a paragraph, a pause.

John, Mark and Matthew all the same, a resignation of accepting the death of Jesus and a business transaction on the part of a man named Joseph.

“Now there was a man named Joseph, from the Jewish town of Arimathea. He was a member of the council, a good and righteous man, who had not consented to their decision and action; and he was looking for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down and wrapped it in a linen shroud and laid him in a tomb cut in stone, where no one had ever yet been laid. It was the day of Preparation, and the Sabbath was beginning.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:50-54‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The women prepared the spices, they’d taken care to continue in their parts. Verses before, they’d been told of promises.

Jesus saw their longing, their lamenting. He spoke of our own longing, our lamenting when and will and how and how long?

“But turning to them Jesus said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us,’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us.’”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:28-30‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Told them days of blessings are a sure thing. Every single word of Jesus was purposeful, was promise.

Was a promise he kept and still keeps.

As if saying, Believe. You will see!

That day in between, sad but serene resignation, accepting, doing what we can do.

They did what they could, they made the preparations.

They were careful in their role as ones who cared.

They did what they could and then rested.

“Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:56‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Today, I made a new to do list.

I’m in charge of some things and I’ve promised to do another. My children will be with me tomorrow for lunch and I’m ditzy when it comes to hosting and cooking and timelines.

I’ll read the narration for our cantata and I’ll sing and worship.

I added a bold bracket around my list and asked God to use me and my abilities as He sees fit.

And I remembered wisdom from another:

“I will when I can.”

Today, I’ll rest in my waiting. I’ll do my best to embrace the time, the day between.

Sabbath, I surrender to you. I’ll give grace to me and to those around me.

With anticipation and excitement I’ll celebrate the life and newness and resurrection tomorrow.

Like Mary and the others, I’ll hold on hopeful and wholeheartedly to your promise that it is not finished with me, there are still mountains to be moved and beautiful blessings from barren times for me and for the ones I love and humbly pray intercession for.

Prayers spoken and answered, she will call and we’ll sing together because His glory has been shown.

Yes, we have seen God’s glory!

New life!

Closer Walking Words

bravery, courage, Faith, Good Friday, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

It’s fitting I believe, that the morning outside is dreary, a dull gray film making my time feel like mercy and slow acceptance that all will be well, the atmosphere already has changed.

Holy Spirit reminding me, no fear in love.

Walk more closely.

Continue, speechless.

His loss for my words that come.

Good words on Good Friday,  the day marked by suffering.

His suffering for my words, words that come like mercy every morning.

Wordless

I follow my daily guide that gives words in my Bible, a passage about a husband and wife who allowed greed and insecurity to go against what their souls knew they should do.

They chose to hide the excess of what they’d profited from, hid it away possibly insecure over their future, doesn’t say why.

The husband and then the wife died. Makes me wonder if this is where we get the phrase, “can’t take it with you!”

Peter asked them why they’d not trusted the Spirit, why they chose to hide their mistrust, revealing their lack of belief in God’s provision.

“But Peter said to her, “How is it that you have agreed together to test the Spirit of the Lord? Behold, the feet of those who have buried your husband are at the door, and they will carry you out.”

‭‭Acts‬ ‭5:9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Today is Good Friday, two days before Easter services, sermons and celebrations.

I open my Bible to understand its significance, longing for the perspective of ancient writers and recorders rather than countless commentaries and insight of others.

I long, thankfully so, to be closer to the heart and soul of the day, to glean more significantly my conviction and my certainty of the suffering for my sake.

I consider the Books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John before finally resting on the page that I penciled in my calculation of the time the world was dark for three hours.

Dark because God could not watch His Son suffer.

“And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭15:33-34‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Observers felt surely rescue would come as the reply. But, it didn’t.

Jesus died.

“And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭15:37‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Good Friday, I woke again asking for mercy and mercy, again met me like so many days before.

Today, easing its way reminding me kindly to test the Lord less often, to trust His graceful provision.

To not hide away, insecurely the disguises of my fear.

To not cover my sins of doubt, of shame that lead to paths uncertain and unsafe, paths that might find me falling down, falling back.

So I rose to the dim morning light and He met me again; Jesus, a merciful advocate showing that indeed, Friday is good.

Not just this one; but, all of them Lisa Anne!

All of your Fridays are good when you live in light of My goodness and my grace.

And if you look you will surely see good in every waking day, every day that you choose not to hide your treasure from me, that you choose not to hide your heart away.

Every moment that you are bold enough to believe!

Every day you choose not to blur your visions, your senses, your walking in agreement with my will and way, not yours.

Just a closer walk.

“”Agree with God, and be at peace; thereby good will come to you.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭22:21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

 

linking this post up with other writers who love to tell His story. Visit here:

Tell His Story

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Purify my Intention

courage, Faith, grace, Peace, Prayer, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Morning is the purest time and

I’ve become cautious over its treasure, careful not to be simply habitual.

Four or five books and my Bible

A pattern, a little system to my journaled prayers.

If I’m not careful I’ll jinx it, do this then that, then this…afraid a misstep or missed morning might lessen God’s notice of me.

Slippery slope down the path of my believing my measure of worth depends on what I do, what I continue to do…

“When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your unfailing love, Lord, supported me.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭94:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Protected time. My little spot. I’m safe again.

I’m remembering yesterday morning tonight.

Yesterday morning, I was sparked by remembering that I’d written somewhere else. I scanned my emails for notice of a comment telling me I’d been noticed by others.

Anxious for accolades.

Then, stopped. Suddenly, I stopped myself. Sat still and sat quietly, clearly and in tune.

Told myself my words will go where God has for them to go. My words will be seen by those who need to see them.

That is all.

This is enough. This is me, now.

Then I skipped reading my devotionals and began my day. Mid morning, found my little book and turned to the page marked March 20.

And I was met by intentional, intuitive and gradual grace through words of another.

The words in the book titled “Joy and Strength” are a little quirky in an ancient centuries ago way. The fonts are so delicate, the pages fragile and the verses are numbered a forgotten Roman system.

The words of a French Roman Catholic mystic convinced me that impatience is the disdain of prayer, that grace has a quality so clearly, gradual.

Gradual, God’s expectations are and accepting are His allowances.

He shows us the way forward, slowly not regimented or rigid. Not ever habitual or rote.

“Be content to go on quietly.

When you discover somewhat in yourself which is earthly and imperfect, be patient while you strive to cast it out.

Your perceptions will grow, at first, God will show you very obvious stumbling blocks; be diligent in clearing these away, and do not aim at heights to which you are not equal.

Leave all to God, and while you earnestly desire that He would purify your intention, and seek to work with Him to that end, be satisfied with the gradual progress He sets before you; and remember that He often works in ways unseen by us.”

Jean Nicolas Grou

Tomorrow morning, new thoughts, prayers and wisdom will meet me here and

Content, I’ll go on quietly.

Closer to Healing

bravery, courage, doubt, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability

If you could see it, you’d either laugh so very hard, take pity on me, or either be bored after awhile with the whole scene.

I carefully walk to the end of the diving board. I bounce only slightly, I step forward then back then decide, oh, well not this time either.

Every summer, the same.

I’m thankful again today for chances to write. I’m thankful that God puts us all here, one amongst the other to say, I understand, here’s where I am on my journey…here’s how I got this far. I pray my words help someone.

I’m a guest writer at Beloved Prodigal today.

Visit here and see why the diving board is so scary to me and why I’m closer to the water than ever before, I’ve been healed.

Room for Healing

Not Sought After

courage, doubt, Faith, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

I almost hurried to finish what I only had one day to complete. It would be my first time not submitting, my first time not trying, my first time not getting all optimistic and hopeful that this time I’d surely be selected.

“Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭27:14‬ ‭NLT‬

Almost midnight, I get a message with just a question, “What has become of “Colors”?

Accountability, an unexpected “ding” and my reply was ready. “Work in progress. Truly.”

He replied with thumbs up.

The message sent by someone maybe seeming an unlikely supporter, wise one, writerly and truthful.

He’d read the first chapter of “Colors” as he calls the book, and he understood clearly when I spoke strongly of wanting not to be just a cute little inspirational writer, I wanted to be true, honest, brave.

All those things and now, most of all though humble and hopeful.

Closer to me and my story for them, for others, for God.

Ready to convey Hope and Healed in a way others see healing as not just possible but potential and probable.

So, I didn’t submit for the fourth time (actually, maybe fifth) to the well known platform for Christian women writers.

I wasn’t prompted by God with anything to say. I knew the words would be just mine and they’d be impulsively conjured up and confident only in me, not Him.

Yesterday, I told someone I’d always found humility to be tough, tough for people who have already had such a hard time with finding themselves worthy.

It can be so conflicting sometimes to believe in good things, to believe ourselves deserving and hear voices that shout loudly inside that warn of pride.

Thinking less of ourselves does not mean thinking ourselves less than what God says.

Maybe humility is simply thinking more of the me God sees and knowing oh, my lord how much more that is, and is not pride it’s just believing without stopping believing.

I decided I make humility harder than it is.

When all it is, is focus, keeping right my focus. Humility is simply modesty aligned with prayer and an open mind to God’s ways more than mine.

Unexpected encounters are the confirmation of why the best things are never sought, always unexpected.

It’s our seeking that leads to pride, the seeking that starts with hope, starts with maybe just an innocent sweet yearning for good.

We might even call it God’s blessing because we know He loves to bless His children.

But, we’re human. We get off track, get impatient over the wait. Insecure over our worthiness.

We get driven and determined over what started as a meek imploring, hope for something to quickly off the rails crashing towards an object or accomplishment that we can NOT live without.

If it doesn’t happen this time or doesn’t happen at all, who am I now?

Who was I ever to God?

We ignore God maybe, then. We begin to believe we should have it, whatever the it is and our motives change.

Our motives change from humility to pride.

No longer do we want what God wants.

We want what we want.

And if we’re not alerted by our soul’s stirring, we act impulsively, we react from our ingratitude for what hasn’t happened yet.

Because we’re human and we can make our way work, we decide to handle the matter, we get things done!

So, two encounters unexpected last night. Two people sought me out in a noisy boisterous crowd.

The first to tell me she starts every day with my Instagram post. I hugged her and I hugged her again. Such a small offering, a few words, maybe a paragraph that’s all I give.

We hugged again and I told her, “It’s just God every morning speaking straight to me and I just share it.”

She smiled as if she saw that, she saw that

I’m imperfect and seeking.

The best place to be.

Humility is no more than that.

The more we find God, the less we look elsewhere for our worth.

Another person, I believe maybe four hugs this time we shared. Overwhelmed and feeling guilty, she decided to resign from our Board of Directors.

I told her I would miss her, I understood, I still hoped to see her.

My husband was standing with us and she told him she just “felt so guilty” about all the things she should do but, she knew she couldn’t.

He pointed towards me and said, “She knows.”

Then she told us what her husband said to her, a comfort and confirmation.

“If you’re feeling guilty it’s not because of you, that feeling, that discomfort, it’s God trying to tell you something.”

Esssentially, her guilt and her discomfort were negative emotions and God never wants us to feel badly about ourselves. He wants us to come to Him to ask for understanding, for guidance, for ways forward.

We don’t need to make tough decisions on our own, they’re always going to leave us conflicted, angry, resentful and divided unless we align with Him, diligent in prayer.

Closer to knowing Him, His ways, His will.

I told her I’d just come to this truth recently, that God does not bring us guilt, doubt, dismay.

We are human in this human and imperfect world. We grasp for understanding when we’re not capable of ever understanding all.

We grasp for what measures our success and what we gauge our contentment by.

Our grasping is always striving, never submission, never settled and waiting for what comes when it is

Not sought after.

The deadline came and passed for the submission. A half-hearted morning prayer was uttered that day “God, give me words that mean in courage.”

Moments, really were all that happened between the reluctant ask and the confident decision, not now, not hurried, not for you, Lisa Anne, not for you.

Because all of my encounters with people and places and platforms that hold my words close and up for others to read have thus far been unexpectedly given, I am completely sure they came from God.

Humility is most of all, prayer and patience. Closer to being the one He knows and Has wonderful unsought after plans for.

Prayer and patience…

Aunt Boo

And I Can See

bravery, courage, Faith, praise, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

All the things that held us back,

hold us back,

cause us to want to stay in the places our troubles and trauma, causing us to believe wrongly

have made us feel disabled or unable.

Even the troubles we were born into, had no control over.

Jesus says it’s not your fault nor your parents’.

The thing holding back, limiting your vision, troubling you.

That’s the trouble that will reveal in you, bring to the light for the world to see

my great plans and purpose, your transformation from this troubled past through me.
Those are the places we’ve been healed

are still being healed from.

Those are the things that God wants to use to show himself evident in our days.

The places He wants us to show others His glorious healing for them too, to say

And I can see.

“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.”  Jesus
‭‭John‬ ‭9:3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Acquiescing

courage, doubt, Faith, grace, Labradors, mercy, Peace, Prayer, rest, Serving, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

“So the Lord must wait for you to come to him so he can show you his love and compassion. For the Lord is a faithful God. Blessed are those who wait for his help.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:18‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Of all the things I love, I love to catch him thinking.

Waiting.

Something I heard the other day about dogs, I still don’t believe. I believe it was a well known speaker/preacher and he was talking about us in the world and oh, I don’t remember.

He was trying to amuse us I think, comparing man to dog, interjecting a point to cause a chuckle, caused me to ponder, I might have even tilted my head to the side, possible eye roll. (?) My facial experiences have a mind of their own.

For the life of me, I can’t remember where or who or why he said what he did.

But, I do remember he said that dogs don’t have thoughts and don’t really have roles or purposes on the earth like we do.

Expectations like being kind, loving, non-judgmental, welcoming to those in need and serving where God places us to serve and doing so without demand or self-seeking.

I was thinking this morning about my prayer yesterday. It was uncomplicated and it was almost happened upon, unsolicited, unquestionable.

A prayer of surrender, which is typically oh, here I go attempting again to be everything for everyone so that I can say my all is everyone’s all and take what you need because I have everything I need.

Work, commitment, a task…surrender has always felt like work.

Never felt like open ended sentence, open minded acceptance.

the action of surrendering.

synonyms

capitulation, submission, yielding, succumbing, acquiescence; fall, defeat, resignation

“the ordeal ended with their peaceful surrender”

What came from my heart yesterday was a sureness of God being purposeful in my life, an acknowledgment that He always has been; but, now an acceptance of this truth and a joining in of my part.

My prayer, simple:

I surrender to your preparing, Lord.

I am acquiescing. I am subtle in my surrender, accepting, allowing, waiting with calm and quiet confidence.

Lord, I am acquiescing.

What a beautiful word, the thought of it, a new favorite.

acquiesced; acquiescing

: to accept, comply, or submit tacitly or passively

The morning told me right away, your sleep was more settled and you are slightly changing, surrendered still, not striving and stressing. Continue here.

Colt waits for me to rise from my morning place.

He expects my rising slowly for a second cup of coffee and his food poured and fresh water given.

He waits. He knows my lingering, accepts it and joins in the mood. He sits for a minute, oblivious to me and looks towards the morning, surrendered to our day.

The day that has become his, this I for one believe, he’s happily thinking.

Colt and I, acquiescing.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/jesus-really-enough-2/

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