Faith

Seekers

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, hope, memoir, mercy, painting, Peace, Redemption, Trust, wisdom, wonder, writing

“But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭28‬:‭5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The rhododendron, magenta in soft color cups its petals upward from a thick branch, thick as a tiny tree.

The leaves that flare around and about it are dark green, thick and waxy. I believe it’s a rare flowering shrub. Three years ago, like a child finding a treasure, I found it. Now, I wait with a blissful anticipation to see the display again.

The spectacularly elegant flower, I believe a cousin to the azalea but so much bolder.

I had lunch with a friend not long ago. It was a first time sit together, want to know you better sort of thing.

She is an artist. She and I shared our stories, the alikeness and the differences.

I admire her strength, her intelligence and what I see as a determined grace to flourish.

After talk of art, childhood and what comes from the heart more…writing or art comparisons, we began to talk about what it means to be female.

How we’d like in our lifetimes to see women not seen as less capable, less worthy, “less than”.

I thought of this conversation for days.

I thought about what feels like futility in efforts and endeavors if one is a woman not man.

Today, I discovered why the conversation lingered, the one that wondered why we are valued.

Here we again, that whole seeking value conundrum I’ve been trying to quit.

Last week, I wrote myself a very honest note.

“The more you achieve, the more you receive, the more you are known for your art, your writing, your appearance, your family or some other surprise special thing…the more you are known for these things, the more it will never be enough. Because the “more” of you, the value others need is the true story of you …you seeing your value according to Jesus.”

Because, Jesus is more. Jesus is better.

In a flash of clarity, I almost heard my very thoughts.

Women need to know that their value is according to God and they need to know sooner than later.

I need to somehow tell them.

Then, I thought of the women Jesus empowered.

I thought of Mary Magdalene, the woman healed from evil debilitating spirits. I thought of how there were no requirements of her to be the one standing beside the empty tomb, to hear Jesus say

Mary, it’s me, go tell all the men.

And I’m thinking now of the woman at the well, the woman sick for years, the women who in those days were supposed to be little and be belittled never were seen that way by Jesus…so, why must we think we’re supposed to feel small?

Or worse even, find our value in any other effort or acclaim.

I’m a work in progress here. Today, I painted a piece with women scattered “At Rest” and I rested too.

Strong like a rhododendron, beautifully fragile in its display, held up by strong branch, deep, deep roots,

Seekers of strength, light and love us all.

May we settle and sit quietly and remember the peace that never leaves and the value decided by God of us all longer before than we can ever know.

Continue and believe.

I will too.

Simply Becoming

confidence, contentment, Easter, Faith, grace, hope, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
You Shall Not Perish

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
‭‭John‬ ‭3‬:‭16‬-‭17‬ ‭ESV

Yesterday, I read about the truth that with the death of Jesus and our acceptance and belief of this, not only our sin but our shame died too.

I’ve been thinking about the word “acceptance”. All my years I’ve heard the term “accept, believe, confess”.

As I grow, age in every way, I think acceptance becomes a different choice.

Maybe acceptance is allowing ourselves to believe the truth of God’s plan for us…not for others who appear more perfect, others who have lived less damaged lives.

I added red to the woman in the margin, I suppose a banner of my past, my sin, my struggles.

But, I see this woman less often than before and to me, that’s the precious gift of today…the day in between. The day reflecting the horror of before and resting sweetly in the precious promise of new life tomorrow.

We have a long stretch of in between…who we were before we chose to believe in Jesus and who we will be in eternity.

It’s really a precious gift, a beautiful offering that says take this time to get to know me fully because as you know me…you will truly know what I saw and see in you.

Rambling…rambling. Sorry.

Happy day in between.

Rest.

Consider the gift of the grace of growing.

Consider the acceptance of simply becoming. That’s why they call it grace.

Give yourself some today.

Continue and believe.

Power and Prayer

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, freedom, hope, memoir, Peace, Redemption, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I finished a short book, a memoir I was asked to endorse. I committed to read in its entirety at first because I’ve heard endorsers of books rarely read the book fully.

And then, because I couldn’t stop reading. I’ll share more about this book soon.

For now though, a little about this little prayer, the graphic I offer you here.

Maybe, I thought, a more acceptable prayer, one more able to help tie the loose ends of unanswered questions, to heal wounds still festering, a prayer more conducive to strength and with less shame.

“God, turn it for good.”

The book I finished caught my breath with its honesty, made me pause overwhelmed by the author’s words of wisdom and mostly, empathy.

It’s a memoir about child sexual abuse, a woman detailing her faith and counseling journey as she bravely reveals her secret, confronts her abuser, her father.

Intertwined in her coming to terms with the abuse by her father, she comes to terms with her questions about why she wasn’t protected by God and how the ripple effect of her sexual abuse separated her even farther from the God she was raised in every Sunday morning church to know.

Because she wasn’t protected, she believed less that she was “wronged” and that all along it was her that was “wrong”.

As I read, many comments were added for my benefit. I became teary eyed when I read of her circling back and back again to the why of God, where and why and how was it allowed?

Her counselor gifted her with words I’ve learned to treasure.

God was there too. God was not pleased. Evil took over. But, God was there with you.

Just as He is today.

Still, it is close to impossible for this truth I choose to be less mystery than reality.

I am learning. God saved me for this.

I’m learning to hold in one hand my questions while balancing in the other the evidence of God in my life, the promises that have been fulfilled.

All of the trauma, the unfair treatment, the less than storybook childhood, the abuse, the grief, the slander of my name by others.

The lack of rescue until I was numb to having a hand clench my neck or throw me against a wall. Stunned, I was stunned into submission of things that should never have happened at all.

That I did not cause.

These hurts are long gone and the thoughts they’ve birthed that I share here are for your hope.

These redemptive thoughts.

So, I offer you this little prayer, a phrase you can say on repeat for whatever wrongs you’ve known.

God, turn it for good.

Once, a few years ago (I’ve thankfully come so far) my counselor asked me if I ever asked Jesus where he was.

So, I asked and He answered slowly, not audibly or enormously, instead so fittingly, an image like a painting.

A familiar place where hard things happened and beside me in a grassy place, Jesus kneeled.

Jesus was with me.

I offer you this prayer.

A precious one, really and not an attempt to right wrongs, a gift of retribution, or a magic eraser of pain.

No, a leaning really. Just a leaning as you learn, as you see God with you.

Continue and believe.

Your story is special.

(Mine is too.)

Befriended

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, contentment, courage, depression, doubt, Faith, fear, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
“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.

Thank God I Do

I encourage you to listen. I just did with tear soaked cheeks while feeding a baby.

I hope you’ll allow the befriending of Jesus.

It’s a beautiful education of the soul.

Lightly, Loosely

anxiety, bravery, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, freedom, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, surrender, Vulnerability, wonder

Waking thoughts…early morning’s drive.

Settle your mind.

Reacquaint with your soul.

My trainer friend answered, “It’s from use.”

I have a pain in my upper right arm that wakes me at night. It’s caused by the way I carry things, she says.

I think, yes. Right.

Life, questions, concerns, and the baby

Close to my chest like prized possessions.

She suggests I alternate arms, shift the weight to the other side. I can.

That’ll be easy, remembering the words I’d been thinking all day.

Cease striving.

Cease striving, it’s not all up to you and

you’re not on your own.

Stop carrying so many things alone.

Rest.

Lighten your load. Carry what is yours to carry, to treasure, to hold sweetly to your chest.

Put the rest on the shelf.

Don’t pick it back up.

Be still, and know that I am God.
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭46‬:‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Be still.

Loosen up, live lightly. You’re strong but stubborn.

It’s not all up to you and you’re not alone.

Settle your mind. Reacquaint with your soul.

Rest will follow. It’s Gods promise.

Lay your hand softly on your chest.

Remember God.

Already Known

anxiety, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

It’s both awesome and awful to realize just how completely we are known by God

From our first breath to here.

I stood at the kitchen window and noticed the lime green glow of Spring on the grass.

The trees.

I remembered the sycamore tree, the hand sized leaves and the broken branches.

Thirty-plus years ago, I cut down branches heavy with green leaves and decorated a tiny cinder block room.

There was a grand plan. I’d be teaching children about the man who climbed the tree to get a chance to see Jesus, Zacchaeus.

It would be my first time as a Vacation Bible School teacher and I was intent on winning best decorated classroom.

The first night, a line of children trailing me down the hall, I giddily swung open the door to discover a disaster.

Leaves wilted and woeful covered the floor and the stench was unbearable in the poorly ventilated room.

I don’t remember teaching the children about a greedy man who got to see Jesus and then fed him supper.

I remember who I was then and am grateful to be not quite the same today.

Just as Jesus knew Zacchaeus was hated by many, was sneaky, corrupt and greedy, He knew I was just learning back then.

Just learning what matters to Him.

Not fully grown, but fully known.

We are already known. The secrets, the shame, the actions we take wrongly motivated,

Jesus is not surprised and doesn’t keep a record. It’s we who do.

My mama used to say, Lisa, stress’ll kill you. I’m here to say I believe its not so distant cousin, shame is more fatal.

The Woman at the Well in the heat of the day encounters a man who shouldn’t be there. She calculated her replenishing of her water to go to the well when she could go unnoticed.

She is surprised by a man who tells her he can help. He has a certain kind of water that won’t run out, she’d never have to be sneaky again in coming to the well.

“Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭13‬-‭14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

She’d never have to be thirsty again. She decides to accept the stranger’s offer.

“Please, sir,” the woman said, “give me this water! Then I’ll never be thirsty again, and I won’t have to come here to get water.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And we know Jesus wasn’t talking about a cool drink of ice water on a humid day. He was talking about the refreshing peace of an abundant life.

Jesus tells the woman to go and get her husband and come back. She tells him she’s not married and he answers with “I know.”

Then he tells her what he does know. That she has a reputation and is well known for being with husbands of others and is now with a married man.

Whoa! or “How dare you?” she could’ve said.

She was brazen after all.

But he continued to enlighten her and she listened, connecting his gentle wisdom with the possibility he might be the Messiah.

So, he told her that indeed he was.

“The woman said, “I know the Messiah is coming—the one who is called Christ. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.” Then Jesus told her, “I Am the Messiah!”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭25‬-‭26‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Then she is overjoyed and goes to tell all the townspeople what they already knew about her she’d tried to avoid.

The reputation she tried to cover was now a proclamation…you’ve got to meet Jesus!

“Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me all that I ever did.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭39‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There was no shame anymore, only her story.

Only a tax collector’s, a disciple’s who denied and regretted, a woman’s wearing shame and a lascivious reputation.

A woman like me who didn’t know anything about the value of the story of Zacchaeus, only wanted to be noticed because of trees in a room.

God is patient. He already knew and knows our journeys.

Yesterday, I stood in the parking lot with a woman. As women our age do, we caught up on the lives of our children. We compared wisdom and we exchanged worries.

She asked me to keep writing.

Said she needed my storytelling.

My story of rescue and of tripping and getting back up gradually as I learn.

Today, when you recall your own mistakes, missteps and wrong motivations, will you pause with the truth of being known?

Will you accept the grace that has never said give up, go your own way or isolate in secret shame?

And he gives grace generously. James 4:6

Will you decide to know that being known is love?

You’re already known.

Continue and believe.

Walking Thoughts

Abuse Survivor, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grace, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, walking, wisdom, wonder

“Endurance is not a desperate hanging on but a traveling from strength to strength.” Eugene Peterson

Why am I less moved by the sky, the clouds fluffed or swept like a feather?

Out walking yesterday, I wondered.

Just a few years ago I was moved by gnarly branches on an old pecan tree, scattered white blooms on the asphalt trail or maybe a solitary leaf dried so completely by the sun it glistened metallic.

Noticing God, I called this.

Why so hurried in an irritable way now?

A daily habit that over time seems to be sort of furious?

Walking too fast, too angrily hurry, hurry, hurrying to some better destination.

Better days?

The place with no remnants of pandemic.

The better place, the place with no residue or remembrance of what happened or who or what didn’t come through.

Couldn’t be counted on.

On Wednesday, my path crossed a Target shopper leaving. Her phone on her cheek, she passed me, quick as a rabbit and I overheard her tell somebody “what the Republicans did today!”

And I wondered, when did we ever in our lives finish up a midweek shopping trip and urgently report to someone what a Republican did today?

A woman, about my age, distressed on a pretty day about the government.

We are different now.

I am learning.

Learning still. I can embrace a thought that now makes my response to trauma make more sense.

I can befriend these surprising revelations.

I can toss them over in my mind and see the value in finally beginning to understand my own tender heart and behaviors.

I can allow truth to make sense.

Today, the sky was striated pink and to the right rested the remnant of moon, a crescent.

I couldn’t look away.

It kept getting better.

Too splendid to capture in a photo, I stood solid footed and I watched.

Unhurried, only noticing.

Noticing God again.

Maybe that’s what obedience is and not some frenetic race to keep on, keep on, keep on.

Maybe obedience is noticing splendor, noticing God.

Knowing that where you are in this very never to be repeated moment.

You are loved.

Continue and believe.

Pass it on, this slow walk called noticing.

“And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Walking this way again.

Noticing.

You are loved.

It’s my hope that you know this.

Resonance

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, hope, memoir, Peace, Redemption, rest, testimony, wisdom, wonder, writing
like an echo

I stared out the window, the tops of pines golden in the early light. A mysterious sight, a dab of different color caused me to stare.

A pine branch must’ve splintered and the light color must be the underbelly of the bark. Then, I looked again. The object was gone.

I concluded it had to have been an owl or a hawk and naturally, that led to even more romanticizing this enigma in the trees.

Mid-morning, I looked again. With a baby on my chest, I discovered the object was a balloon that had gotten tangled and deflated and the wind had it dancing in and out of my sight.

Then, I began to get excited.

My granddaughter’s butterfly balloon had escaped her grip and “gone up to heaven” never to be seen again.

She arrived home with her mama and before I could tell her, her mama spotted it.

A hurried gathering of jackets began and I listened as she asked, “I gotta show you something, remember us asking God to help us find your balloon?”

She nodded with a smile that said she knew the surprise already.

Then baby boy and I watched from the window as they struck out through the hay field to the very back corner, a valley.

From a distance, I saw my daughter grab a broken limb and somehow dislodge the tangled ribbon and the flattened balloon.

Then, they took the long way back around the field, the walk I call “around the block”.

I asked my daughter, “Was it the butterfly?” anxious to join them in the mystery, the answered prayer.

“No, it was a Valentine’s one from who knows where.”

I watched my granddaughter, ever the listener as she quickly announced that it was hers anyway, just not the butterfly, it was her Valentine balloon (imagined).

She decided it was worth celebrating, special and unexpected even if wasn’t exactly the miracle we thought.

And then she moved on to something else, balloon adventure forgotten.

This morning, I discovered a pretty word I love and had big plans for I may have misused or slightly made wrongly “mine”. (I do this.)

Resonance.

I suppose it has nothing to do with feelings and mostly with science.

Like my granddaughter, I think I’m gonna think differently and decide on my own.

I don’t know why this happens. I decide to pull out the beginning pages of my long ago decided memoir and I go to the library and I run my fingers across the familiar words and the tenderness is so tender, I begin to cry.

I’m not sure what this means.

I’m not jumping to any conclusions as to whether it means close that door or throw every window and door back open. Step back in and don’t ever pack it away or fold it like a letter and seal the envelope forever.

It’s just an observation.

Library, window view towards the blue sky, laptop open, pages ready for pen and then…

Soft, never harsh tears.

I’m in the library, a place I love for two reasons though. My husband is painting cabinets and needed me not to hover.

More importantly, someone I know only through blogging is publishing her memoir and sent the manuscript to me. She asked me to read and endorse her book.

We’ve never met. I know her story and she knows mine through our blogs.

I’m forty pages in to her memoir which begins with a note to the reader, to women like me who’ve had their lives complicated by uninvited trauma.

Resonance.

An inaudible echo in my soul as I read her story, pause to be amazed by her knowing my feelings.

Resonance, a pretty word I love to decide is mine to choose sort of like the mystery balloon not being completely true and yet, choosing to believe.

Sort of beautiful really, the license love affords us to use when we decide life is and can be full and we fully immerse ourselves in the good, the bad, to the no way it’s true…we can choose.

I hope this is a soft echo for you.

Life lived fully known and open to the enigma of you and others who privately or not say “me too” adding to the resonance in ripples.

The echo of you.

Me too.

Continue and believe.

Sharers

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, grace, hope, memoir, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing
Lost and Found

There’s a beautiful story aching to be told.

You know it’s yours to tell and yet, you can’t bring yourself to share it. One of mine is about a well-loved one eyed teddy bear.

I have deadlines for writing and art opportunities. They’re looming.

Tuesday, an old question about a title resurfaced and God answered. God gave me the subtitle for the book idea I’d decided to forget.

Last year, I was given a t-shirt with the word INFLUENCER across the chest. It’s in my closet. It’s not me to proclaim such a label. I imagine people thinking,

“Really, who does she think she is?”

But, I am and you are too. Influencing others.

Whether it’s your faith or your confidence in anything else. You, by your beliefs lived out in what you do, are an influencer.

“Agree with God, and be at peace; thereby good will come to you.”
‭‭Job‬ ‭22‬:‭21‬-ESV‬‬

Job is influential because it made no sense to agree with God in his plight, but he remained committed to God being God.

You likely will never know all the people you influence.

I keep procrastinating writing and sending my Artist portfolio to two places I recorded as goals. The reason is an honest one. I don’t want to do it halfway. Because haphazard is my “go to” set up to accept rejection.

A way to ease the I wasn’t good enough anyway.

This is my truth. I do not like rejection. Thankfully, I am getting better at accepting it…of understanding that offering my art and words to the world is so much less about me than two things:

My confidence in me being made by God to be a creative.

And bravely understanding that my patterns of sabotaging my opportunities are not personal defects, only ingrained ideas that are being gently unlearned. (This is a biggie, hold it closely if it resonates for you.)

A prayer, maybe you have something to do and you’ve been afraid. It’s okay. We’re learning.

Go gently as you pray.

Dear Lord,
Help me not to be haphazard or half-hearted. Help me to be fully me and present knowing that you are the maker of me, the intricacies and hopes that stir fear. Help me to know that you’re the Creator and I’m just the sharer.

Quietly Forgive

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, memoir, Redemption, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

On the day everyone’s talking about love, I’m reminded of the “love passage” and a new thought I embraced over the past couple of years and am still embracing.

Let some things die.

It’s your choice not to keep a record of wrongs.

While it seems you may be giving cruelty or wrong a free pass…you’re actually opening wide the gates to you being joyful, free, arms spread wide to love completely.

You can forgive others without them knowing, that’s what safety is.

You can decide to forgive without it being a big face to face conversation.

It’s a decision of the soul, after all.

It’s a private quiet decision.

It’s therapeutic, self-helping.

You have grown now… you know what is safe. Respond lovingly to your own wounded heart known by no one on earth better than you.

You’re likely correct about your decision to forgive being met by more words that wound.

That’s on them.

They’re not where you are in deciding to live fully. They’ve perhaps not acknowledged their damaging role in your story.

So, just mull on the the decision to “let it be your life before” and not taint the life you’re making quite intentionally well now.

Try it. Decide to forgive.

See your capacity for genuine and healthy love expand.

Test my theory, see if you even feel less condemnation, less disdain of yourself.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13‬:‭4‬-‭7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Continue and believe.

Forgive someone today.

Gift yourself by the doing.

No one needs to know but you.