curiousity

Remember

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, depression, Faith, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

At 5:30 this morning the moon was just to the left of the big dipper. The crescent base was like a cupped up saucer holding a scoop of vanilla, round and resting.

The stars were scattered. The air was pleasant. I’m the keeper of the puppy’s potty schedule.

I’m the middle of the nighter.

My husband asked me when he’d be like “Colt” the beloved chocolate lab who became impossible not to love, impossible not to miss.

I told him it would be a while, at least a year.

We didn’t forget, but it mattered so much less. How he destroyed the back porch door, ate the arm off the new couch and once ate an entire plate of marinating pork.

We somehow don’t remember.

I wondered this morning how the moon got back to my favorite, the crescent. I wondered not in a way that I’d search for astronomy books.

I just thought of the pace of its changes and how the circle and cycle is remembered.

I told my daughter, a new mother that with her and her brother, I know there was labor in their deliveries but I don’t really remember the details.

I remember how she as a baby lit up when I came near. I don’t remember not sleeping. I remember singing “You are my Sunshine” and making up new verses just for her.

I remember my son hated back seat car rides and so I drove one hand on the wheel and the other holding his. I remember how he’d turn upon my arrival, his little Keds filled with dirt, he greeted his working mama and ran with chubby legs to find my arms.

I remember my daughter laughing and unfolding all the laundry as we sat together in the middle of the tiny living room floor.

We lived in a single wide that was so old, there was plywood for the floor and her first room was a closet.

We loved there.

I remember the love, not the struggle.

By 7:00 this morning, the grass is still damp and chilly and the little crescent is barely visible above the halo over the pines created by the sun.

Today I read about comfort and sorrow, how we can expect to be somewhere on the continuum of the circle.

Same with progress and stagnation, a cycle, a circle.

The passage in II Corinthians, the very beginning reads this way.

“Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭1:3-5‬ ‭KJV‬‬

Tribulations and comforts, life and longings.

This from my “Joy and Strength” devotion today:

He is ever ready to increase His grace in our hearts, that as we live and act among all the sorrows of the world we may learn by slow degrees the skill and mastery of consolation. Francis Paget

Yesterday, I talked with someone about the creeping back in of anxiety and depression, situational. I mentioned I’m learning to fight against it, to get back to where I need to be, not drifting too far from my peace.

Self awareness that doesn’t get stuck, doesn’t defer to pity,

Remembers God and His ever ready rescue and mercy.

One sentence, a verse gave me remembrance of this, a mental picture not of my rambling, damaged and tormented life before I sought peace daily.

An image of my significance from God’s perspective.

And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders rejoicing. Luke 15:5 ESV

The parable of the lost sheep, the shepherd Jesus, not remembering our bad behaviors or our losing our ways, only overjoyed that we are found again!

Like the full moon remembering how to return to crescent or the parent literally forgetting the struggles, only remembering the bliss, God longs for us to know the circle, the coming back with ease to Him.

Back to peace.

Consolation and comfort never waning, always waiting.

Jesus, our constant.

Continue and believe.

Selling Our Wares and Our Ways

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, fear, memoir, mercy, Peace, race, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

I’ve mentioned before, my grandma was an artist. She created bejeweled Christmas balls and sold them.

I suppose she did this for two or three years.

She had a following.

If it were today, it might be said she had a platform, her art at Christmas was known county-wide.

I’ve not sold a painting in a month or so and today I was rejected twice via email, my bravely written and submitted words.

My words, my fingers easy on the keyboard or messy in the paint.

I saw the email, didn’t want to read it, held my phone at a distance as I scrolled as if the yes or no might cause my screen to explode or illuminate in my hand.

So many submissions, thank you.

Not selected.

Okay.

Less than 72 hours ago I was reminded of a favorite Old Testament verse, I admit I pluck out just a portion, my favorite part.

Don’t despise the day of small things.

“For whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice…”

‭‭Zechariah‬ ‭4:10‬ ‭ESV

Someone called me asking about a gift certificate for a painting. I said, sure, okay.

$25

I heard a podcast interview that discussed the ministries of 30 or so years ago, sitting with others, talking about hard things and Jesus or helping someone on the cusp of not believing to believe again.

That’s what we called ministry back then.

Now we look at numbers, followers, visitors, and interactions.

Last week I quietly chastened myself. It stuck. I was changed more than momentarily.

My blog is my ministry.

My Instagram is my ministry.

My art is my ministry.

I felt like crap when I admitted I’d acted as if there had to be more.

Always more.

Almost three years ago I told a friend “I don’t want to be a cutesy trendy female Christian writer.”

It seems I’d forgotten.

I had made my readers small, the regulars who read my words, unimportant.

I realized all along and without me needing to know, my words are my ministry.

My words are always honest.

Are genuine, not prettied up hoping for selection.

These weekly, daily, maybe more are truly me, true me.

Brave and oh, the trendy word.

“Authentic”.

I prayed last week for some sense of direction to keep writing, trying or give up.

Specifically, I asked God to send someone to tell me keep going or settle.

Then I got the rejection of two pieces and I acted as if I’d never asked the above question.

God’s not saying quit writing.

God is saying quit chasing notice. Stop seeking acclaim.

Why are you trying to write anything other than what you started and can’t bring yourself to finish?

Because I fear rejection.

Yet, I fear giving up even more.

I’ll keep going, slow and with free speaking, thinking, praying and believing.

I’ll keep writing and I’ll keep painting and I’ll keep taking the same steps as before knowing I’m still headed towards forward, not the me of before.

Small things of my day today?

I finished a tiny watercolor painting, my three month old granddaughter on my lap.

We walked together, Elizabeth and I and when I mentioned the birds, her sweet face turned in their direction,

I prayed with my cousin and she with me and we helped one another.

Ministry.

Yes, I used what God gave me, small things.

My ministries today.

Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and God will lead my thinking. I’ll type a little something and someone might comment, “needed this today” and I’ll answer

“I’m just saying what God told me first thing.”

And I’ll sit and add colors to canvas and in my comforting of myself, I’ll make art for others.

I don’t know why I continue, rejection is a certain thing.

Small things, I won’t despise them.

Won’t despise the days full of them and what they are teaching me.

Rejection and joy, all in a day.

The Intersecting of You

Abuse Survivor, Angels, birds, confidence, contentment, curiousity, depression, Faith, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I got away from it.

Decided it was silly.

Began to discount its value, my fascination with feathers.

I’d been letting them lay, walking right past or looking closely to consider gathering up only to find them invaluable.

Worse yet, taking cute pictures and posting them.

I was faking.

It was a slow descent into believing that was crazy, finding a feather and proclaiming it prophetic or memorable in some way.

Worse yet, believing a feather on the ground meant God was watching and that He knew my steps would be passing this way, that my rapid walk would slow and my glance go sideways to find the loosened from goose, hawk, sparrow or bluebird, feathers.

I had become unaffected by discovery.

I could not seem to find God for a bit.

Thickly guarded and girded in old dark leather, my heart felt imprisoned by invalid disdain.

But, the softening would not let up, the grace of God wouldn’t relent.

I walked after skipping two days due to fatigue and suffocating heat. There had been a shower, the breeze was back.

I trudged on for the sake of the good it does me, wards off depression, affords time alone.

The white was glistening in the grass, a feather like the wing of an angel in the same spot as three days ago.

I had found it, held it for a second and then decided to let it land as I wistfully blew it loose from my fingers attempting a cinematic floating away of it towards heaven.

Instead it just fell and I walked on.

See, told you, I thought to myself.

What has happened? You don’t care anymore.

Until yesterday I saw it and I asked myself.

What’s happening with you? Why have you stopped being open to noticing, to deciding God is near?

I held the feather, turned it over to see the beauty of strong striated brown, ivory, black all perfectly curving upward from the sturdy white spine like unbreakable bone.

I walked on, holding it in my free hand. Passed another walker, phone in her hand, noise in our ears.

We nod and continue.

Good, no casual conversation required. Relief.

I think for a second. I wish I was more of a “peopler”.

And then I am surprised, this longing for people; this is new.

God is doing something, making me less okay with lonely.

I continue walking and I decide I’ll not keep the feather, I have so very many.

But, something else, maybe.

I walk towards the end of the trail. In the center is a short pole that keeps cars from entering.

I position the feather there and I leave it, uncertain if it will stay, if the breeze will catch it, if it will simply fall to the hard ground of trail or if someone will come along behind me walking and find it, to say.

Oh, wow, a feather. Wow, this seems significant, my finding.

I imagine them feeling a peace.

I believe it will make a difference for the discoverer and this has me hopeful again.

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭30:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

This return to my sure noticing, this return to my embrace of God, of lying my head on his shoulder, being held by His grace, wonderfully.

And wonderment, again.

To return to a simple joy that few speak of but find it too.

I believe.

Lord, may I remain pliable, may I welcome the breaking of my hard places to be approachable and to never grow so thickly guarded or burdened that I don’t welcome the intersecting of you.

With me.

And with others.

No Plan Me

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, contentment, courage, curiousity, doubt, grace, memoir, mixed media painting, painting, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Since I’ve changed my blog site up just a tad…naively and fantastically I think I may add three or four more chapters.

And hey, someone may look, may be curious, is her brand hope, is this her message?

Does her presence match her proposal?

Is her connection the hope of redemption?

Do enough people read her?

In the book idea that lingers, a memoir, stories of women who loved me like Jesus despite the disaster of me.

One about redemption I’ve received, finally.

No, maybe today actually it’s more eventually I’ll believe it was and is for me.

I read yesterday that doubt shouldn’t be disguised by incessant quote of scripture.

It’s better to be real about your occasional disbelief than to hide your dismay and eventually implode.

The heart can only hold so much.

We all gotta get quiet sometimes, tell God what it is we need to know.

img_6506

Oh, Magnolia

I won’t despise the day of discontent because I know the content will return in a quiet and almost out of nowhere whisper.

What I’m not finished may be complete, I’ll have an entire manuscript and what if, what if nothing happens when the “piece” is done?

Perhaps, I buy several big envelopes and I mail the pages stapled together to quite a few people, maybe some family.

Or, I don’t because wouldn’t it be a shame to know they probably wouldn’t read it anyway?

This, I have decided is why I paint and get closer and closer to no longer writing.

I’m alone in my room, my canvas, the puppy satisfied at my feet and I dab the brushes on my apron, I wipe the excess color from my fingers.

I paint.

I don’t write, I fear returning to what I’m quite scared to death I might give up.

It’s actually a little incapacitating ridiculousness, that I continue.

Yet, I do.

I continue and maybe a tiny bit believe.

Or I paint little brush shaped squares in varying texture and width and length and

I think.

And I add color with no set plan.

And before I know it, I decide.

“Oh, Magnolia”.

And I’m satiated, satisfied, singularly successful.

Just me.

img_6491.jpg

And I can’t think of a biblical reference other than waiting doesn’t mean quitting, maybe just means reprieve from me being all about me and back to quietly trusting

In who and what I believe.

Eventually.

We shall see.

Encumbrances

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, Homeless, hope, kindness, memoir, Peace, praise, Redemption, rest, Salvation, surrender, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I like words that make you feel their meaning, words like “encumbrance”.

Words that cause pause, make you want to be sure you honor their meaning.

I told my husband what to say to the puppy and how. “Good Boy” or “No”.

Same tone I told him.

“Don’t make him cower.”

“Cower?” He paused and then understood.

I like words. That’s why I like that he calls me an enigma. It’s descriptive, a little mysterious.

Me.

I landed in the word encumbrance in devotion this morning. Accurate and timely in a time I find myself intentionally less burdened and more aware of useless stories of shame.

When I read encumbrance, I can almost see myself bent over and trying to trudge on exhausted and hopeless with my carried way too long bag full of bad choices and less than certain trust.

“Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12:1‬ ‭NASB‬‬

Where I walk has lots of hills and turns and the steps back home are up a final steep hill. I push myself til I’m done, sometimes try to jog it. Rarely do I just ease back home. I want to finish strong, get all the benefits of the exercise.

I like the message it teaches me, yeah you made it back home, you finished today’s walk; but, your walk has only just begun and so the steep hills and the struggle causing curves, keep taking them, they are good. They are teaching you to endure and to throw off the heavy holding you back things…the thoughts that say oh, it doesn’t make a difference anyway and the physical choices that make you not fit, lazy and unable, body and soul.

God wants us to be able to keep climbing higher, he knows we gotta be lighter, we gotta let go of our encumbrances, our heavy loads.

Less us, more Him. Less heavy junk like shame and worry and more freedom from constant prayer and trust. He wants endurance from us, finished races and joyful victories are what He purposed us to see.

#finishwell #thecolorsofmybible #quietconfidenceartandword

The Way We See It

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, doubt, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, kindness, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

It would be quite the writing skill to describe the sky as eloquently as I saw it.

As spectacular as it spoke to me this morning.

I know, another sky inspired post.

Yes, I’m unafraid to say it is so.

Thanks to Charlie the pup I’m outdoors in the morning before and as the sun appears and into the revelation of the day.

I stood in my spot, remembered to look up.

Rain predicted later, sky currently bright blue with sweeping up dust of white sheets.

The clouds are shifting quickly, I mean really quickly.

A silent plane pushes through thick ones and past the barely there half moon.

I watch the silent wonder of its flight and I decide then,

I’m gonna fly one day.

I want to watch the movement longer but decide it could consume my entire day.

Standing outdoors until the rain comes later, all because of being entranced by the shifting space of my world.

I notice clearly.

I am shifting.

Back inside, there’s coffee rich with cream and sweet with honey.

I added a header to my subject line:

Shiftings ~

  • I notice I make things bigger than they are.
  • Movement is occurring and I see it today.
  • I am less afraid.

Thinking now how growth only is possible when we are willing to accept a shift in perspective.

I read this morning in three places, the recommendation that I not harden my heart.

The psalmist in the 95th psalm implores us to remember we are God’s people, a cautionary reminder not to let our hearts be hard and wandering, 40 years or even just an hour, a day.

Looking for Him in other places, moody over our maladies.

“For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand. Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah, as on the day at Massah in the wilderness,”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭95:7-8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Book of Hebrews, a book by an unknown author written to encourage Christ followers in trying times, tells us the same.

Do not harden your heart.

I thought of what may cause a heart to harden.

Not necessarily anger, resentment, unreconciled wrongs, lack of remorse on the part of an abuser, harsh words used against you that were untruths, or happenings that happened to those you love when it appears others get miraculously easy, free passes daily.

My mind and soul went elsewhere and I followed the new path.

I began to ponder what it would mean to be “malleable”.

Not being sure the description was fitting, I searched.

Saw immediately, oh that’s referring to metal, to hard surfaces and to industrial type objects, not the image of a potter reworking clay or massaging a heart grown hard in a calm and loving sort of way.

I realized though that malleable might just be the way to be willing in change.

Malleable, capable of being controlled or altered by an outside influence, the capacity for adapting to change.

I thought again of hardness of heart and considered its result from other than the hateful circumstances of our lives.

We harden our hearts when we give up on the shifting.

We harden our hearts when we don’t believe in the possibility of different.

We harden our hearts when we decide to live in dismay rather than trusting promised deliverance.

“Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭4:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I said a prayer last week.

I remembered all I had been saved from and sustained through and each ugly truth and hard admission, I offered one by one…

Thank you, God. You sustained me through __________ and you will sustain me again.

Fill in the immeasurable blank.

May our hearts be malleable, be softened by our seeking rather than our grumbling or self soothing choices that are futile.

May we remember our wilderness days as a constant reminder of God’s sustenance.

I’m not a theological scholar. I read my Bible as if it were a great mystery just waiting to give me my life’s next clue.

And it does. It surprises and engages me when I allow it.

I understand in new ways things I read before or had been taught in a hammering hard critical shouting tone and way.

Like there are hearts so hard even God can’t soften them and like people like me who made mistakes who can’t really know redemption, only say they do as they depressingly conceal their expected doubts.

Or don’t embrace the shifting of perspective, the embrace of promised peace.

A final prayer:

Lord, help me keep longer the soft spoken lessons you are teaching me, may I speak and live the way you prompt me to write about believing. Yes, Lord, I want to believe the way I write believing. me

May today our attention turn to you as we stand in our crowded and noisy fields or our vacant, empty and at times lonely places.

May we know without doubt that you know our names.

May we know you as our patient and persistent teacher, the shifter of our hard perspectives.

“And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭42:16‬ ‭KJV‬‬

Click here to read Mary’s take on the summertime blues. I was happy to know I’m not the only one who’s occasionally moody for no reason.

https://marygeisen.com/tellhisstory/

Tell His Story

Church on Sunday

Abuse Survivor, birds, bravery, confidence, contentment, curiousity, Faith, freedom, grace, heaven, hope, kindness, love, memoir, mercy, obedience, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Truth, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I’m happy for the secluded corner, shady under the crepe myrtles.

How was church yesterday?

Were you moved?

Were your hands lifted high, even if only internally lifted?

Did you sense the spirit through the words of a Spirit filled messenger?

Did you cling to the assurance, God is faithful?

Did you sense the same elsewhere, in the simplicity of small earth underneath big sky?

“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭19:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Barefooted and with a whole day to fill, I walk out with the pup watching to be sure he pees.

I plop down on the moist grass, thinking adults don’t sit on the ground in the shade, not usually.

But, what a gift. Because I decided church would be via my laptop, I sat and just sat, no hurry, just wait.

Warm breeze, birds singing, nothing much else.

I said my prayers there.

And left them.

This Monday morning, up early with puppy, my husband pauses groggy with his coffee and turns to ask me, “What you ponderin’?

I answered, “Nothing, just dozing.”

Which wasn’t totally true because I’d been wondering about the word “faithful” and whether that was true of me and whether it was attainable in the way I believed it to be.

Looked it up and confirmed by its definition, “loyal, constant, committed, steadfast” that I’m only faithful sporadically or truthfully just momentarily.

I walked outdoors, the pup and I, saying “Go potty” and standing at a distance to confirm that he pooped.

I waited. Looked up and waited.

The heavens opening up, clouds spread thin like marshmallows melting or foam of tide going out and leaving the fluff of the stirring sea.

I laid down on the grass in the same spot of my prayers, thinking no one my age lies down on the ground to see fully the heavens.

But you do, Lisa Anne you do.

Because you’re the pondering kind and you’re not concerned over being caught being childlike, sitting with your hands resting in your lap to pray or looking up lying down because that’s the only true spectacular view.

Church on Sunday was backyard prayers in pajamas.

Church on Monday was being captivated by heaven and realizing my faithfulness is to such activity as this.

Childlike lingering to ponder unashamed out in the backyard.

Yeah, I’m faithful to such things as this.

Listening for birds, hurrying to see the geese, hoping for intermittent promptings to pray prayers that are not spectacular and yet, flow like sweet supper conversations.

Monday morning findings of just one tiny rose bloom left for you to view.

I am learning, these are the faithful sought after traits God knows are mine and are mine to honor Him.

Be faithful in.

Noticing Him.

Being certain of heaven.

Less performance for God and more contemplation of Him.

More learning of acceptance and less calculative striving for answers.

Because the greatest answer is not a reply that says you’re worthy, we chose you, you’re our selection or show us more!

Maybe I’m only meant for little based on human definition.

For now, little consistently and faithfully is feeling much like much.

Thinking of heaven while still on earth, I’m faithful in this.

“Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭25:21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Distance Pursuit

Abuse Survivor, birds, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, freedom, hope, memoir, Redemption, rest, surrender, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

The geese were all gathered on the new neighbor’s lawn.

Looking one to another, they sort of sashayed towards the water.

The newly laid squares of sod already thick like a 70’s shag, I watched their heavy bottoms shimmy as if to get their fins loose.

The water was near, the path was no longer tree filled, the pond was just down and behind the new build.

The environment had changed, still they were intent on their annual season of pursuit.

Same with me this morning.

I found an old photo from a seven year ago beach stay, with the quote by Mark Twain.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines, Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.

Thinking about the distance since then.

The space between what caught my attention and inspired my imagining to only beginning and recently tangible taking initiative.

That space is not seven years worth of big, not necessarily but sometimes true.

It is small. Small like making it through the uncertain woods to step gingerly over river soaked rocks to reach the other side.

The side that causes you looking back from whence you’ve stepped across and recalling the overgrowth, the rocky places, the spaces with sounds like sissing snakes underfoot.

You stepped over and you sense the importance.

You’re being distanced from the you you once only imagined being brave enough to pursue,

The landscape has changed.

You pursue it, the brave world of being, seeing, living…

different!

Continue and believe.

Go the distance.

“This is the way you should go,” Isaiah‬ ‭30:21‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Linking up with others on Five Minute Friday, prompted by the word, Distant.

Peaches

Art, confidence, contentment, curiousity, grace, mixed media painting, painting, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Here’s how it goes around here. I paint abstract landscapes or girls angelic, occasionally a flower and a couple of days ago, 3 peaches. I have pencil sketches of a nude figure with a slightly askew bun. It’s beautiful, graceful and free, a departure for me.

Me: What does this painting make me you think of?

GT: Uhmmmm….A sky? Water? A woman? Sunflowers?

Me: Did you notice the peaches painting?

GT: Yeah, I saw the big peach, it was big.

Me: No, there are 3.

I suppose it’s a good thing he doesn’t get too much into the sanctuary of my “business” and that whatever I paint, yeah that’s good.

Like the time I spent a week trying to paint the likeness of Jimi Hendrix only to consistently find myself staring at James Brown.

He swore it was Jimi. It for sure wasn’t.

That piece was covered over with freedom and resulted in a woodsy set of illuminated pines.

I love the peaches, the three of them.

Sigh.

“Three Sweet Peaches” is available now. Other art can be purchased at Artisan Market and Decor in Aiken or at the award winning spot with Chef Brandon Velie, Juniper in Ridge Spring, SC. Y’all, you must dine there!

Sitting With Your Reply

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, doubt, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, memoir, obedience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Trust, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Two men sat on the ground listening to the chaotic excited and curious crowd.

The disciples and Jesus coming into town welcomed by onlookers, critics and seekers.

Two blind men gauged the steps of the approaching healer. They shouted for his notice.

Others told them to hush their mouths!

Their shouts continued.

They were blind.

Together they must have decided it’s worth a try.

I think I would have too; taken the risk, especially if a friend said “Let’s try. I’ll ask if you will. We have nothing to lose and everything to gain. This is our chance. Let’s do it! We might be healed! We might open our eyes and see!”

So, they likeminded, replied to the question from the mysterious healer.

“When Jesus heard them, he stopped and called, “What do you want me to do for you?”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭20:32‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They told Jesus they wanted to see.

And they were healed immediately.

We can go either way with our take on this and other Jesus stories.

We can recall prayers we prayed a long time ago that must not have made it high enough for healing, we suppose.

Or we can sit with this question, imagine ourselves in the presence of Jesus.

Hearing his question.

We can sit a little longer, we can maybe close our eyes and notice only the whirring sound of the room’s electrically run things.

We can notice the quiet as if something’s being offered and if the offering is waiting our taking or our forfeit.

We can sit even a little longer, our every day habitual journal, our little trinkets on the table lamplit, and we are still very quiet.

Settled amazement over this very question awaiting our own current answer.

We can take up our pencil and we might begin on a clean page without other requests, doodles or gratitude tracking.

We can begin this way.

Jesus, I want you to…

Then we can express our secret thing then, the thing others have no need to know or to tell you it’s ridiculous or unrealistic to request such things.

What do you want Jesus to do?

Then we can go on with our days knowing we encountered Jesus today.

When He asked, I answered in a paragraph or two and summed it up with believing.

Jesus I want you to help me believe and to follow where my belief is leading.

To continue.

“Lord,” they said, “we want to see!” Jesus felt sorry for them and touched their eyes. Instantly they could see! Then they followed him.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭20:33-34‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Followed him to believing.