“Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us…” Hosea 6:3 ESV
One of the surest ways to finding yourself back in what I call that “deep hole” of feeling aloneness or burn out over things you thought you could control and learned that you couldn’t is this…
You don’t have to tell anyone. Just tell God alone. You may be surprised over all you’ve been holding in either because it seems trivial or you believe you should’ve long let it go.
Sit in silence. Let your disappointments come to the surface. Be honest with God.
If tears come, let them. Actually, be glad they did.
Don’t hide your disappointments, express them so they don’t keep you hidden.
“Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us…” Hosea 6:3 ESV
One of the surest ways to finding yourself back in what I call that “deep hole” of feeling aloneness or burn out over things you thought you could control and learned that you couldn’t is this…
You don’t have to tell anyone. Just tell God alone. You may be surprised over all you’ve been holding in either because it seems trivial or you believe you should’ve long let it go.
Sit in silence. Let your disappointments come to the surface. Be honest with God.
If tears come, let them. Actually, be glad they did.
Don’t hide your disappointments, express them so they don’t keep you hidden.
Disclaimer: There’s honest mention of eating disordered behaviors in this post. My intent is always, offer hope, not remind of harm. I pray so.
A large painting in progress leans against the fireplace. A practice of mine is to gaze over at an in progress piece or a finished one to decide if “I like what it says”.
This one began subdued and starkly pure in tones, white, ivory, subtle gold and the strong dark grey.
Now, it’s in a different in progress stage, almost done and more strong in color.
A Corner Detail
Years ago, I wrote a blog post chronicling an encounter with a man who was a splendid storyteller. He was very much a fan of the word “nevertheless”.
He shared his life story in incremental pauses introduced by the word.
I’ve since learned to love the word.
Last week, I stared at my unnamed painting. I knew its story was unfinished and I’d need to be intentional; nevertheless, not force its completion.
As I pondered the piece, a thought and words came.
“You’re worth fighting for, Lisa. You may have never heard those words, but you are and you’ve been ‘worth fighting for’ for all of your life.” Journal entry 5/10/24
So serious. Yes, I know.
Too serious to write about has been my thought.
Nevertheless, there was a new clarity in those never before uttered words.
And I saw the figures in the painting, two angelic and others onlooking in strength and love and that’s what I saw in the little brown-haired girl.
Me.
Her sweet and shy acceptance of that truth she’d made progress in believing but still had a ways to go,
To keep believing, nevertheless.
To keep believing so that she could overcome even more.
Not overcome to be bold or brave or boastful but because overcoming symbolized more.
Led and leads to more.
You are worth overcoming whatever is trying to overcome you.
Worthy of Overcoming
A few weeks ago I had my first physical with all the bloodwork in several years. A new physician, one recommended by two trusted friends, asked me a question I’d not been asked in decades.
She asked “How is your eating disorder?”
And I sat quietly, I looked intently into her kind face and I answered.
“So good, I am doing so good. It’s been close to 35 years since I’ve had any of those patterns. I’m so glad.”
She nodded.
And waited and I added,
“But there was a moment a few weeks ago. I was home alone. I was feeling less than, feeling the rejection that comes sometimes when we are vulnerable in life and art. I was standing in my kitchen and thought, eat all the butter pecan ice cream and balance it with a bag of burgers and then just throw it all up.”
She listened.
And I added,
“But, I didn’t even though for a moment…not more, I could feel in control, I could punish myself and I could treat food like the love I felt was missing.”
I thanked her for asking. I meant it.
For believing I was worth the question.
And for the way the question led to the remembrance of this realization.
You’re worth fighting for.
Another Corner (in progress)
What are you battling that requires the lasting embrace of this truth that God has never given up on you?
Don’t give up on yourself.
Get back in there and fight to be aligned with His sweet and sovereign idea of you.
Because I’m convinced this is the key that will unlock the door and that the big deadbolt that keeps the door barred to wellness in our bodies and souls is this…
Insecurity
Insecurity is the voice of your foe. Insecurity blocks the door. Insecurity says “You’re not worth fighting for.”
And insecurity hides in depression, loneliness, hides in a careless attitude about our unhealthy choices,
It hides in the belief that to advocate for oneself is prideful and not humble, is haughty, not meek.
Insecurity says God’s tired of me, tired of listening to me battle this thing,
Insecurity says maybe God doesn’t care anymore, why should I?
“As long as I live I’ll keep praying to him, for he stoops down to listen to my heart’s cry.” Psalms 116:2 TPT
I promise you, I’d not be sharing these words if God would’ve let me forget them by now.
Nevertheless, I sat in my morning spot, quiet and a little sullen and I heard deep in my soul, the words I’d never heard…
You’re worth fighting for, Lisa
And I answered, wrote him a note with a little girl tone, like a bedtime prayer.
“Thank you, God for helping me be stronger now, to decide I’m worth fighting for.”
You are too.
Believe it.
Continue and believe.
(Sermon to self always first because I stumble too. We all stumble in many ways and most every day.)
Surrender.
“The Lord preserves the simple; when I was brought low, he saved me.” Psalm 116:6 ESV
I had a dream that felt sort of silly. The blip of remembering was simple, I looked in the mirror and saw myself having a day of “good hair”.
My hair is super thin and greying. My hair and I have always had an unhappy relationship.
What an odd dream, likely birthed from two conversations.
The first, a fun exchange, the second an honest answer.
I arrived early for my appointment with the doctor. I had my information and privacy forms completed in advance. The receptionist sort of celebrated that and smiled.
“I need an insurance card and her I.D.” she added. I provided both and she said…
“Tell her to have a seat and we’ll call in a few minutes.” One last question,
“Does she have an emergency contact, is it you?”
I answered yes and sat back down.
In a minute or two, I went back to the counter and in a sort of hushed tone I said…
“I’m Lisa.” And she was clearly puzzled.
I added quietly still, “You said “she” and “her” and I’m just curious why…is this a new protocol?”
And then to my surprise, she raised her eyebrows and mouthed an “Oh”.
She didn’t think I was the patient, she did not think I was 63 years old.
We both smiled and continued to chat about age and wrinkles and I told her so excitedly, she had “made my day”.
To know that I had been seen in a different way was the sweetest thing.
The kindest conversation.
Not like one that questions your age in a flattering way; no, one with sincere surprise that I was the patient, not the companion to an elderly parent.
“Lisa” they called and I was escorted to the scales. I slipped my shoes off, had to step off and on twice, the nurse said the scales were “being difficult”.
Mismatch Socks
I acknowledged the seemingly unchangeable number was the same at home and casually said, “Good to know.”
And I had my check-up, scheduled another and went on with my day.
I bought a new bathing suit, one size smaller but seemed it may fit, lined in lavender and covered with painterly abstract flowers.
It was a bargain, really pretty.
Bought groceries, caught up with a friend and her husband who are grandparents to their second, a two-week old.
Then home to cook supper.
Decided to ask my husband a question, a sort of curiously brave wondering.
Not sure why, he’s super late to the game and needed a little education, but he decided to create a Facebook profile.
Now, he’s all in.
I warned him, it’ll draw you in. It seems he’s reviewed as far back as a few years ago, all of my posts, all of my content.
No worries, he’s often read this blog and he knows I can be a little deep, sometimes pitiful and I hope, always honest.
He mentioned a particular post of him recording a little song for one of our granddaughters on her little karaoke toy.
It was sweet. It was a few years ago.
Knowing he was familiar with my Facebook presence, I asked
“I post a lot about my faith, my struggles, my hopes, my learning to trust…The things I post are mostly about faith.
When you read those things, do you say to yourself, they don’t know the real Lisa, or she’s not really that way?”
Brave, right?
He answered, “No, not at all. It’s good that you’re that way. It’s good.”
Grace, right?
Just last night, I complained about something trivial and apologized for being “hateful” right away.
And last week, I came clean about my in general self-centeredness. The me that had become miserable and often, mean.
I’m learning to catch it quickly, see it for what it is, the enemy trying to taint the essence of me so that my light is too dim for others to see,
my story fading back to grim rather than walking towards the brilliance of light and living water worth sharing.
Healing from old mindsets is not a snap of the finger,
(I hope you know that)
It is a choice to choose the work of being a participant in healing, not a parader of our trauma as a reason to be hopeless or an excuse to be hateful, the darker side of you enveloping you.
A meal, a sort of gesture
When I bought groceries on the day my age was mistaken, I had in mind a gesture.
I cooked a meal for my daughter’s family, the meal (one of them) my mama was famous for.
My grandson and I sampled it.
It was lovely.
It was a small thing.
It came from that reservoir of grace God placed in my soul, the bubbling brook of mercy I don’t deserve, and the meandering path of my beautiful inheritance through salvation that I sometimes veer from because I get caught up in the before of me rather than the moment, the day.
And I find myself by the slightest ugly little pull, questioning the details of my life and I focus on what I don’t want to accept, the dark days of me and I’m prone to plop down in that dark dank place of not remembering good, only horrific
until I pray and count the gifts of today.
And I walk in the light, the place where my story, the lightness of it may give a little light to others on my way. And I notice and cherish unexpected light that came my way.
I felt old, a stranger blessed my day.
I felt hopelessly overweight, I was met by my own acceptance and a bathing suit that fit.
I felt ashamed of my self-centeredness. I apologized quickly and I cooked a meal with a nine-month old playing “drums” with a spoon at my feet.
All of my life, I have been loved.
I’ve often slipped and come close to falling.
I’ve been kept.
This is my story.
“The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand.” Psalm 121:5 ESV
“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13 ESV
I asked my friend to counsel me. She invited me to dinner instead and we counseled, consoled and decided some things.
Considered why there’s no 12 step type group for those who are questioners, often to the point of despondency, despairing and the other “D”, depression.
There was healing in our agreement, there was laughter over our recognition of that need.
There was the knowing of ourselves and of one another.
Befriending.
I had dinner with a friend I hadn’t seen in close to two years. I was scurrying to make it and almost cancelled. My hair was dirty, I didn’t feel too “spunky” and well, I’m older than the last time I saw her. I’m not sure why, but lately I’ve been thinking about aging.
But, I made it to the spot, dry shampoo and mascara plumped eyelashes with blush on my cheeks.
I beat her there. She arrived and we held each other long, long, long. “I love you” was the greeting as well as the goodbye.
We talked, we laughed, we counseled one another. We ate pizza over a glass of good wine.
When I woke the next morning, my first thought was “God’s not disappointed in you.” and as the day became sunny and pink with azaleas, I took to heart that I shouldn’t be either and I smiled as I remembered my friend’s hands in mine as we caught up with each other and decided.
“We’re gonna make it after all.”
Two days later, I’m recalling the likemindedness in our chatter. I’m remembering her inquisitive patience. I’m reminding myself of the gift of affirmation, the bravery of listening when listening is more important than adding to the conversation.
Early today, I rethought a familiar prayer, the one prayed by Jabez, (I Chronicles 4:10) the son who was labeled by a name that made his future seem grim.
Lord, help me to trust you to enlarge my boundaries, extend my reach and keep me from chasing after things that will lead to pain, things fueled by insecurity and fear.
I readied myself in the dark for my day, interrupted by the nudge to pray.
A prayer with a shift in perspective.
Jesus, help me to accept fully your befriending.
Because all sorts of songs and trendy Christian talk will proclaim friendship with Jesus.
But, oh to be honest, it’s not up to us at all.
No effort will sustain the relationship.
It’s really much more simple.
Acceptance. Belief.
Be befriended by Jesus.
I’m not sure where I’d be if there were an expiration date on my understanding of such things.
I’m old and I yet young in this friendship actually.
You’ll likely hear this song soon or hear about it. Lauren Daigle’s tender voice and truth admitting she’d be a mess without the friendship of Jesus.
“Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” John 14:5 ESV
Good Morning, God
Last night, this verse kept coming back up in and out of my sleep. I didn’t have it correct though, I thought the “soul at rest”.
“For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.” Romans 8:6 ESV
I made a list of ways I try to quiet my soul when I’m troubled or worried. There was a trend; overthinking, overeating, over drinking that glass of wine, over exercising, over scrolling on my phone, over comparing my life to others, over imagining catastrophic things.
I remembered the peace of adding thick paste on tiny canvases and manipulating the shape into crosses.
Remember
There, in the messy place scattered with stop and start paintings and in progress projects, I sat the small crosses aside to rest.
Anything I use to rescue myself becomes so noisy, I can barely hear, sense, remember God’s Spirit in me, much less imagine him holding my left hand with his right.
We add noises, actions, resolutions and solutions to our lives intent on well-intentioned improvements.
We forget we were never expected to nor are we able on our own. The flesh is so weak, but the Spirit so strong and sweetly longing to be stronger.
“It is not He who is far away from us, but we from Him.” Mother Francis Raphael
Not Able on My Own
“But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” John 14:26-27 ESV
Once I was a member, although not fully eligible to join, of a community of people who gathered over grief.
I was the leader, though never feeling equipped. Often, I thought to advise or redirect which led to empty gazed expressions from those mourning a loss due to suicide.
It was simply better that I just sit with them, that I listen.
Often listening lasted too long for me.
Moments between a gut-wrenching story and the responses of others stretched out long around the conference table.
Still, sitting still together in silence was best.
On Tuesday, my granddaughter who’s two and a half going on twenty asked to get closer, get closer to the little birds.
I saw one bird on a thin branch. She spotted its companion nearby. We walked carefully, me instructing her, “Step up high, high knees, watch your feet, be careful!”
We walked over limbs, pine tree remnants and broken up soil in the place where the land is being cleared for changes, her future and her family’s.
I thought of, am thinking of David, of the psalms. One in particular I cling to and others so honest we’re reluctant to say we can relate.
“I lie awake; I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop.” Psalm 102:7 ESV
We found our footing atop a little high place she called the mountains and we saw the sparrows before they flitted away.
In the margin of my Bible there’s a sketch here, a rooftop with a solitary bird brings me comfort, tells me others understand.
I have a very old Bible, an estate sale find. Once I thought to find the owner’s family, now I have decided it’s mine.
In this old Oxford Bible, a leather woven cover soft over the thin yellow pages, I find papers, a teacher’s identification card, and a lesson plan marked “January”, a typewritten script for 5th grade students on the color wheel.
The owner of the Bible I found was an art teacher.
Underlined in faded red, she must’ve wanted to express the importance of colors developing, merging, being strengthened when placed alongside or blended together.
I found it fitting to tuck the funeral pamphlet of my mama’s service here.
Here in January.
“Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me: thou shalt stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand shall save me.” Psalm 138:7 KJV
Today, I journaled prompted by more ancient words, the quote in my “Joy and Strength” devotional.
Let them be strangers, your dark thoughts. Believe them not. Receive them not. Know them not. Own them not. (Joy and Strength, Isaac Pennington)
“For the Lord is the Spirit, and wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” 2 Corinthians 3:17 NLT
Continue and believe. Share your sorrows. Listen and agree.
“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Philippians 4:7-8 ESV
Whatever you can depend upon, think of such things.
Last night, I realized I hadn’t shared “lovely” things in a while. I started posting pics with the simple words from Paul…whatever is lovely, think about such things, way back in 2019.
I get to watch the sun come up while the toddler is stirring. This morning, it made me want to add a phrase to Paul’s instruction…
Whatever you can depend upon
because I remembered my Father in heaven is as dependable as the sunrise and sunset He made.
The closer I get to Christmas, the more frantic I feel and I remind myself of the hope, the internal goal…peace, joy that is evident in me whatever room I enter. I’m a work in progress, I’m thinking it’s evident.
I recalled my life verse (Isaiah 30:15) early today. I jotted it down…paraphrasing. I’m best when I’m quietly confident, when my repentance leads to rest. I’m at my worst when I strike out on my own, either running from something or trying to rush something on my own.
But grace waits. Grace returns like the tangerine sunrise in the country.
I don’t know what has you fretting or forlorn. Others may think you should’ve long let it go or may consider it trivial. But, your secret concerns are yours as are mine and others’.
It is yours and it’s heavy, there’s no good in comparing our struggles.
As sure as the sun will rise, you are loved by a dependable God. Me too.
and the kitten climbed the skinny crepe myrtle higher,
leaves fell like feathers and I underlined, then reread.
“Doing those deeply unfashionable things…slowing down, letting your spare time expand, getting enough sleep, resting…is a radical act now, but it is essential. This is a crossroads we all know, a moment when you need to shed a skin.
If you do, you’ll expose all these painful nerve endings and feel so raw that you’ll need to take care of yourself for a while.
If you don’t, then that skin will harden around you. It’s one of the most important choices you’ll ever make.”
“Wintering, The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times” by Katherine May
we run away from our discomfort... but it doesn't leave us. to heal we need to turn around and face it, experience it and once we truly do we are out of it. We heal and we grow.
2 Timothy 1:7-8 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. This blog is about my Christian walk. Join me for the adventure.
Lisa Anne Tindal 