Robins, Ponds and Dreams On Purpose

birds, Children, courage, curiousity, Faith, love, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

“And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation.

And this hope will not lead to disappointment.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭5:4-5‬ ‭NLT‬‬

As quickly as possible, she glided just in front of me, eye level. The robin with the determined forward facing beak and the copper like an old country barn belly intersected my path.

Last night I dreamt of white camellias mixed in with the crimson ones, a dream that followed a nightmare so vivid I sat straight up and startled my husband. He called me from work, confused over the brazenness of a bad dream occurring after I’d had such a love-filled day. He was worried.

Told him I was better. Thoughts we hide away like to come to the surface, I suppose. They refuse to go unattended. They become weapons in the hand of our enemy until we bravely surrender them to God in a lamenting letter or prayer.

So, I journal. I sit. I give God time to come and comfort.

To teach.

Simplicity is calling. I heard the birds waking up early outside my cold quiet home and I let my pen rest, closed my journal.

Could this be prayer?

Prayer mostly listening, uncomplicated by words or prescriptive wisdom?

I listened as the birds continued singing.

We looked for ponds yesterday and found them on the narrow country roads.

The sky was as blue as a diamond found next to the ocean.

The ponds as flat as stepping stones, little rippling at all.

“Here’s another one!” I announced to my granddaughter and she gazed so sweetly satisfied in our togetherness in noticing the water.

Yesterday, the robin met me and I kept driving to see my daughter and hers, felt the determination of a bird assuring me, better is coming.

Soon, it will be Spring. I saw other birds on Saturday, but it’s the robin I’ll remember.

The robin saying, “Set your intention. Your story is not yet finished.”

Your teachers are everywhere, saying this is the way, keep walking in it. (Isaiah 30:18)

Life is a beautiful, simple adventure.

Plump robins, blue skies scattered with white puffs, happy green fields anticipating Spring and flat fishing ponds hoping to be spotted, evidence of good, evidence of God’s intentional nature.

And interspersed in the noticing, friends I feared I’d forgotten too long remembered me, separately in the same day and I was a tiny bit amazed.

God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.

Yesterday morning, I journaled a tender question. I asked God if my friends I call my “colors” are disappointed in me.

Time so quickly passing and I’d lost touch, gotten complacent with our stories and wondered if it matters.

One by one, I heard from four friends yesterday. Two of them, it had been over a year or more. I share such a tender question here so that you’ll see, along with me.

God knows. He noticed.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Radiance

Angels, birds, courage, curiousity, grace, hope, Peace, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder

On the curve before the yellow house adjacent to the bare tree peach orchard is a place of radiance.

Afternoons and occasional mornings, the cardinals flutter in front of me.

Several, seven or so.

A flash of happy crimson.

I love to think they know it’s me, that it’s not just their scheduled gathering that I pass by happenstance.

I love to believe, a group of red birds may be just for me,

Intentionally.

As if they know, Lisa will be passing by, she may have the baby.

She may be alone. She may be tired.

Perhaps, she’s hopeful.

A college of cardinals, waiting just for me.

Speaking bird language.

Here she comes! Let’s fly upward, let’s make a happy scene!

Let’s show her we see her.

Let’s encourage her to carry on.

“Jesus looked at them intently and said, “Humanly speaking, it is impossible. But with God everything is possible.””
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭19:26‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Majesty Displayed

contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, heaven, Peace, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

Yesterday, I paused at the end of the road, amazed at the sunset and the one first star. I snapped a photo (I thought) of it, but instead I captured the glory of life here against the heavenly sky.

All day long I’d been thinking of “your majesty fills the heavens” in between thinking of one sentence in Psalm 23…you lead me on paths of righteousness, for your name’s sake.

Often, a verse will captivate me all day. The truth of God placing me on a path that leads to righteousness and it being for the sake of sharing His goodness and name enlightened me in a new way.

Yesterday, I meditated on Romans 8:28, realizing again in the same way, God lays out our days and we often wonder why this interruption, why this lingering trouble, fear or frustration.

The house at the end of the road has a brilliant Christmas display. Santa Claus on one end and Reindeer the other. In the center in vivid gold glistening with white lights are two angels over a manger. In the middle of this impossible to ignore yard decor, is Jesus.

God with us, Immanuel.
The Lord is near.

“Your righteousness, O God, reaches the high heavens. You who have done great things, O God, who is like you?”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭71:19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Notice God today.

Juxtaposed.

Grace, Even More

Christmas, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, grace, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, Peace, Salvation, Stillness, wonder

There was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:7

Flipping through the pages of this worn book, I’ve been anticipating today. Before it was December 24th, my thoughts have been on this one verse.

There was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:7

There was no place for Jesus to be welcomed, no place that could have possibly made space for him, Mary and Joseph. So, they walked on until they found an obscure place that would be suitable. Although no one would take them in, Jesus was born and Mary sat and pondered the majesty of it all.

Nothing could stop God’s plan, no earthly inconvenience or obstacle.

I think of “no room in the inn” as a metaphor for the busyness of life, the inconvenience of accommodating Jesus. That may sound harsh, but I believe it can be true. As hard as we try, we fill our schedules and our spaces until we don’t have space for our Lord and Savior.

There was no room for them in the inn.

Yet, he came and he continues to come, born in us as we continue to believe into our being born again

Or maybe you decide to let him in brand new today. Ask for his nearness. Believe he is God’s son who died for you. Confess your sin, the truth that you’re not able on your own.

Let him in.

He giveth more grace, astounding unmerited favor.

On this Christmas Eve as day turns to dusk and then clear starry night, give God room. Let his peace live in you.

Merry Christmas all!

He giveth more grace. Grace to those who refused space to a young woman pregnant and weary, she and baby’s father.

Grace was given those thousands of years ago as Jesus came and they with all the others, the innkeepers, the shepherds, the scholars, the wives and children saw Him, Immanuel.

With them, with us.

Surely, many believed firsthand in this grace, this light of the world.

Maybe some did not.

May it not be so with you.

Selah.

Light and Life, These Days

Angels, birds, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, grace, grandchildren, memoir, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

I wonder if I’m more observant of the light because of darkness so early or if it’s a needy seeking of quietness with myself leading to peace with God.

I found a feather next to the pretty bottle we store our found feathers, my granddaughter’s sweet solution I adore.

“In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
‭‭John‬ ‭1:4-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

And God said, “Let there be light.” and there was light. Genesis 1:3 ESV

Thinking of light and darkness like knowledge vs. mystery or questions vs. answers, certainty vs. doubt, I found John 1 and had a quiet little cry.

We don’t know it all, but we do know light, love and hope.

Light is trust.

“We are conformed to Him in proportion as our lives grow in quietness, His peace spreading within our souls.” T.T. Carter, Joy & Strength devotional

In quiet confidence is your strength. (Isaiah 30:15)

Heritage

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, curiousity, daughters, Faith, family, grandchildren, memoir, Redemption, sons, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

There’s comfort in understanding more clearly. There is new perspective found in new knowledge.

I calculated the years of my daddy’s life events one evening. I recalled the information about the grandfather I never met, the details of his murder.

My older brother is good at research. He is skilled in looking into causes of things. He’s intelligent and a seeker of knowledge.

As I read of the circumstances of my father’s father’s death and then his mother’s passing later, I felt a veil lift, a veil that brought empathy, greater understanding.

From my calculations based on my father’s obituary and the details my brother shared,

My daddy was 13 when his daddy was taken from him. He grew into adulthood with his mama and siblings then went to Korea for how long, I don’t know.

He came home from war. Two days later, his mama died of a massive stroke. The grandmother I wish I’d known, along with the grandpa who contributed to the handsome man with the gentle spirit

And at times, tortured soul. No surprise.

I began to think of how life is such a mix of mystery and truth, vague recollections of family dynamics we just gloss over, afraid to look bravely enough at the vulnerability and pain of those we knew and know.

There’s a story buried, deeply concealed under most everyone’s story.

I believe this.

There’s me and three siblings who have raised wise children, children who are resilient even if they’re unclear how come. There are grandchildren who deep within have a yet untapped stream of strength from whence they don’t yet know.

I believe this.

Today, I sit with a sleeping kitten close by. I smile as I think this wouldn’t surprise my mama or daddy, even those long lost grandparents.

I smile because I imagine them wondering what took you so long to accept the truth of you.

The quiet one who is most satisfied quiet, the complex one always hoping someone will understand. The creature much like a cat, letting others near on her own terms.

I imagine my grandmother seeing me making notes and writing in my Bible. I see them all content in their contribution to who I am and who I’m becoming.

I see them happy about the heritage I’m creating for my children and grandchildren, even if messy or often unsure, always unseen, but hopefully remembered, my prayers.

They see, alongside my Father, my secret prayers.

Mystery and truth, I’ve come to believe that’s life,

life as a follower of Jesus who keeps following and life as a human in this wrought with pain world.

In the margin of Deuteronomy’s chapters, I find sketches of women, underlined reminders of being humbled by God.

I find a drawing of a door with the words above it “the secret things belong to the Lord.”(Deuteronomy 29:29)

I see notes to self to “pray big prayers”. I discover a sketch of the earth with my words “In His hands we dwell.”

The book of Deuteronomy, a retelling of the teachings of God by Moses, a reluctant teller of stories, a rescued child chosen by God although he was certain he was unworthy.

I see God in the history, mystery and truth of my family. I pray the same is said in the mystery of me.

“The Lord heard you when you spoke to me, and the Lord said to me, “I have heard what this people said to you. Everything they said was good. Oh, that their hearts would be inclined to fear me and keep all my commands always, so that it might go well with them and their children forever!”
‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭5:28-29‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Continue and believe.

Overcomers, we are.

A heritage.

“And he brought us out from there, that he might bring us in and give us the land that he swore to give to our fathers.”
‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭6:23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Finding Words

bravery, confidence, curiousity, fear, memoir, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

Among a crowd of frenetic students changing classes, a presence walked up behind me. I’d found myself caught up in a crowd that made no sense, I was just searching for the hallway to the laundry room in what others said was a nonsensical place.

I lost the landlord, a woman with a snarky pride over her Air BnB that she denied was in disrepair. She scurried through dark hallways and then she wasn’t there. I returned to the place where the others had complained about my clothes left in the dryer. There another led me through the toddler nursery. A cat slipped by my feet and joined in our fast walking. Suddenly, I’m in a room filled with cats and dogs. We pause to confront the property manager who asked “Where the hell did you go?”

I gave no reply. A cat vomited on my foot and the frustrated helper sighed.

I struck out on my own again, ready to gather my laundry next to my chest and begin the long trip back home from this less than idyllic weekend getaway.

That’s when the students were thronged together, they chattered and marched or had heads down persevering.

The man measures his steps to match mine. Asks, “Why the sad face, are you lost?” He comments about the owner, agrees with the rooms being in disrepair. He walks beside me.

I’m hesitant, but turn to see an easy smile, a jawline in need of a shave and a glint of hazel eye.

He points me to the door that leads to the laundry, has my warm clothes in the dryer.

Quickly and cautiously I say, “I gotta hurry, gotta get back to South Carolina.”

He walks on his way.

I gather my laundry and think of describing the encounter with the stranger who showed me the way, of the satisfaction of finding words to fit emotion. In my dream, I wrote a story about the kindness of a stranger.

The kindness that gave me comfort in the finding again of just the right words.

I decided to write here about this dream not as an invitation to interpretation or to cause you to consider how deep or a little crazy I might be. On both I concur. No, I had a dream that made me think of writing as beauty and I woke to think, maybe, just maybe I will write. I haven’t shelved that dream altogether. It’s still a joy.

The Gift

Angels, Art, bravery, curiousity, Faith, hope, memoir, painting, rest, testimony, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

On Sunday, I felt the tone in my voice change to excited, the chance to tell again how it all started, women in redemptive poses, muses of my art.

The story of a new Bible for Christmas, the trend catching on of filling margins with notes, colorful stickers or maybe drawings.

I was reluctant. I remembered warnings of never let your Bible touch the floor, leave it somewhere safe, underline some things and write on little pieces of paper tucked away, the sins you keep sinning.

That’s what you need to remember most, I was raised to think. Keep track of your wrongs, only consider the tiny chance you are worthy of grace.

I was in awe of the mysterious unattainable gift of the Holy Bible for many years.

Gradually, when time alone brought comfort, I began timid sketches of women and stories I could see myself in comparable pain, joy, messes made or willingness to learn.

Willing to come nearer to God.

Brave enough to trust His love.

“And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”
‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:14‬ ‭ESV

I heard love in my voice on Sunday, felt it in the fluttery words lifted into the air as I stood surrounded by my art.

This thing I get to do that leads to stories of a Bible filled with drawings, the word “trust” in dark pen to greet me.

Listening as a passerby stops to say, “This one speaks to me.” I listen and am grateful for the gift of their emotion, their interpretation of the canvas.

Thank you seems insufficient and to add “it means so much” seem like the reply of an amateur, not a “real” artist.

But, I tell them. I tell the ones who see themselves in my art that their purchase, their kind words are a gift.

Because, I mean it and rare is the occasion I say something I don’t mean.

Share your thoughts, words and trust.

You never know what a gift to them it may be.

The gift of you sharing “your Bible”, your life.

Open your Bible, let it speak then speak it through your story.

Redeemed

courage, curiousity, Faith, family, hope, memoir, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder

“Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he has redeemed from trouble”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭107:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When this kitty cat came to me as a homeless sort, sleeping in a horse stall because she got separated from the litter and the mama, she hid under the house.

Imagine me lying on my belly in the overgrown elephant ear plants in the corner near the kitchen.

There was no coaxing her out. She came to me reluctantly the next morning.

Last week someone suggested I might not be the best kitten mother, maybe I don’t have the time or patience to tame her.

I considered it, that I’m not a real animal person, that she’d be better in another place.

But, I persisted.

I approached her with the understanding of her lack of trust, understanding she felt more safe all alone, she could only trust herself, she’d learned.

I had empathy with a tiny grey cat and changed one thing.

I became unselfish with my morning quiet. I made it her time first.

I allow her to find my lap. I don’t reach for the journal, the Bible, the pen or the stack of books.

I cup my warm coffee cup and I sit quietly. I think. I breathe.

I pray. We sit.

Early on, I considered the kitten sheltering under the house, hidden and afraid and I decided to see her perspective.

This new place, these new noisy people, this warmth inside, this back favorite room where the sun warms the blanket.

This woman, this man, these people plus a little toddler, a bit overwhelming.

The person who cautioned over the adjustment was also adamant not to allow my granddaughter near.

I wondered. I decided it will be okay. Because my grandchild understands the need for a gentle voice, a gentle hand.

She’s not bothered if kitty cat runs away, we’ll just try another time.

Gently.

Gently and with our persistence she sees we’re redeeming her uncertain beginning.

Same with us, the invitation to the Savior’s call, the gentle beckoning of us to come near, be safe.

“And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.”
‭‭1 John‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Be taken care of.

I pray you don’t resist the call to be rescued by the sacrifice provided by God, our Father

His Son, our teacher, our Savior.

“Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore,
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love, and pow’r.

I will arise and go to Jesus;
He will embrace me in His arms.
In the arms of my dear Savior,
Oh, there are ten thousand charms.” Come Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy J. Hart, 1759

All That’s Needed

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

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

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

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

Letting her become full grown.

Watching her thrive.

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

My aunt quickly replied,

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

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

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

“Will it thrive?” Ezekiel 17:9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naturally, I think of my children.

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

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

“That’s right.” he said.

Fully grown.

They are thriving and becoming even more fully grown.

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

So, how does growth happen best?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of love.

Yes, it will thrive.

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

Hope will grow and thrive.

Continue and believe.

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

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