I designed a notecard from a watercolor. The cover is an abstract landscape with soft coral, blue, earthy green and a touch of thick gold.
My technique has been described as flowing, comforting and sometimes subtle, others vivid, the colors.
I like to say it’s “just giving and taking away”.
Inside the card are three words
“Return to rest.”
Today, the writing prompt is “effort”.
I thought of how grace isn’t effort based, us being the recipient of this gift, but relationship with God often asks us to continue seriously, our seeking and knowing more fully.
Yesterday, I stood outside and opened my palm and prayed.
I asked God to help me sense His Spirit, develop such a closeness to Jesus in me that I hear His gentle voice
That I heed His teaching, am sure of my direction.
That I give and take away in the same way that He does. In this effort, not a hopeful change; but in this serious attempt I will better know my Savior.
I will better know what to pursue and what to let fade away.
May my greatest effort not be a blank canvas that invites color, words spoken or on a page.
May my most important effort be to know my God better and in this way
Know peace. Know rest.
Return to rest.
“Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” Psalms 91:1 NLT
In my career days of meeting with those bereaved by suicide, these were my words, “Take it easy on yourself.”
Same with women who acknowledged mistakes and were trying to move past them, without their pasts causing shame.
Years later, I’m still saying to others and mostly to myself, “Be kind to yourself.”
This morning my mind goes back to the ugly work of shame.
Shame, when you feel unworthy, humiliated, powerless is an internal emotion tied to a circumstance or behavior.
Strangely, it’s a feeling we decide on, either because we have the sense we shouldn’t feel a certain way or we’ve felt that way for what we decide has been too long.
I thought of a feeling, a sadness I was convinced I shouldn’t have and I told myself embrace it, acknowledge its understandable place in your life now and most of all,
Understand that acknowledgement brings healing.
Talking to God about it and at least one other listening friend is freeing.
Denying sadness, fear or hurt because we convince ourselves we shouldn’t feel them only adds injury to the loosely bandaged wound.
Pretending stunts healing, numbs the work and wonder of God’s purpose in our acceptance of the circumstances we wish were not ours.
The hard things we deny being still hard only harden us.
Don’t be afraid to be honest with God. He knows anyway.
Refuse to be ashamed of your feelings.
Last week, I communicated with a stranger about anxiety and depression. It helped me to offer help to her. It helped me to hear the familiar words, “I usually just keep this to myself.”
Nothing shall hurt you. That’s a big, hard to fathom promise. It follows the reminder of the power within us, prayer and connecting with God’s spirit in us, even as Jesus saw Satan fall from heaven.
This morning, I got a text from someone I only know by phone, asking about counseling for anxiety and depression. I gave her a list of people I know and added “I understand and my weapons are patience with myself and prayer and more prayer and more prayer.”
Because, if we get tangled up in why am I depressed or anxious we’re only piling on more anxiety and depression.
When we pour it all out in prayer, the scary, sad or lonely question, we invite the power of God in.
We get better this way or we seek counseling and possible medication.
Either way, we grow when we know ourselves, can see it coming for good reason or out of nowhere. We employ our faith, we add to it as needed.
I found this verse by what I thought was accident this morning. No accident though, there are no coincidences or lucky discoveries with God.
“He knows all about this.” is another phrase, a tool against anxiety or depression that I employ.
Continue and believe.
Be kind to yourself, unashamed.
“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” Romans 5:3-5 ESV
It occurred to me as I thought of today’s prompt, “trust”, that so many of the words we use may be less powerful, more pretty, even cliche.
Trust is a word I write every morning, some days God follows with a bold period and often underlined.
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.” Proverbs 3:5 KJV
Trust.
I start the day with this written commitment. Still, some days it’s nothing more than a pleasant hope, a halfhearted decision to remember God is my Father and I am His child.
I can trust Him.
Even if trusting humanly is a challenge for me, an established avoidance or cynical pattern.
I can decide to trust God.
Words like trust, faith, redemption, and salvation are powerful and unchanging words.
They are the fruit of our Creator’s character and intent for us.
They are God’s covenant.
“Promise”, another word we hold loosely when we consider it from human experience, is just as valuable, a weighty word.
Today, I will trust God. I will know and cherish words like trust, faith, mercy, grace, freedom, salvation, healing, and peace.
I’ll embrace these words tightly, held and certain like a child being cradled in the strong arms of a parent.
“I am carrying you.” God
He keeps His promises.
He gives joy, trust, patience.
We’re not able on our own to sustain these.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,” Galatians 5:22 KJV
This is the thought that came as I roused from sleep on this splendid Saturday.
Be where you are.
The writing prompt graphic for today’s word, “temporary” has a clock in the background.
How is it I’ve never thought of time as temporary, hadn’t considered just how temporary every unique moment, hour, day or month is?
Yes, be where you are today. Adding ribbons to Christmas ornaments, painting on paper the image of Jesus carrying a child, spending time with those I love.
Not just being there, being with.
Giving out grace and good in everything in a way that says
“Thank you, God it was and is and will always be yours. Amen.”
“Yours is the day, yours also the night; you have established the heavenly lights and the sun.” Psalm 74:16 ESV
Today’s prompt word, “Treasure” was on my mind bright and early on the country road.
The humidity hanging on a couple more days made my windshield foggy and the road ahead a misty haze.
I switch from dim to bright, to see clearly up close or farther ahead but blurry, I kept trying to decide.
A little or closer to seeing all.
I notice few other morning travelers. I drive slowly, no obnoxious impatient people behind me. No approaching lights undimmed on one of the many curves.
I can’t decide if I’m old or more careful, more slow or more cognizant of what I’ve committed to, what’s required of me.
I chose music over words and a Pandora station different than other mornings.
A song I’d never heard nor the artist led my morning on. Simple words.
A treasure, the refrain.
“I don’t have much to give. But, I give you my beating heart.”
A song about what matters to God, how so very little is so very much.
I won’t despise the day of small things. (Zechariah 4:10)
I thought of a surprising conversation yesterday. I’d asked an agent in a zoom call whether self-publishing a children’s book gives credibility to an author seeking to publish adult nonfiction traditionally.
There was no “Oh, tell me about your book” or an approving nod that says you’re on the right track.
No, neither of those, none of that.
Only, “only mention your book if your sales have been 5000 books.”
Oh.
Well, good to know, I suppose.
I love “Look at the Birds”, every single word, every color on the pages, every thought that clicked to birth the story and illustrations.
I felt a mixture of naivety and betrayal. Familiar thoughts.
This is when I remember my husband says I’m prone to believing life is a fairy tale.
Maybe or maybe just hopeful.
My heart beat a little faster yesterday when I saw a friend had my book on her coffee table. My soul welled up this morning when my granddaughter said “my Jesus, your Jesus too.”
Like the foggy barely lit road of morning, we see just enough to know the smallest treasured thing is the thing that brings the flutter of a heart well known, well loved and treasured.
Follow your heart for direction more than your misguided ideas of being known, seen or valuable.
“For your heart will always pursue what you esteem as your treasure.” Matthew 6:21 TPT
Know what matters. Songs in the early private morning, a crayon in the hand of a child, a conversation with a friend who sat close by, listened and understood.
But, as for me, it is good to be near God. Psalm 73:28
Morning Spot
Changing my morning spot with the season means I’m facing the morning sun. I’m not able to linger as long. I’m motivated to move forward, toward the new day, the give and take back cycle of surrendering its way to God’s control.
The longer I stay, the more unavoidable is the glare. My face looks towards my journal, the three words on focus.
Holiness
Health
Change
Waking today, to a one step forward and three back kinda feel.
So, I ask simply for more grace.
Look up again, the sunlight now dappled through the pines.
I pray.
Turn my face towards the sun, Lord. Empower me to let the shadows fade away. All knowing, Father, you are good and only do good. Settle my mind and heart on this truth.
“The day is yours, and yours also the night; you established the sun and moon.” Psalms 74:16 NIV
“Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he has redeemed from trouble” Psalm 107:2 ESV
Georgia
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
“And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. 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 30:20-21 ESV
Calling Myself an Artist
“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
I sketched an oak tree years ago, green grass water colored and a blue sky with the words above added in a sort of filigree.
I worked for the Department of Family and Children Services aka DFACS aka The Welfare.
I gave this sketch to my first real boss, the County Director back then, thirty something years ago.
Something in me has always understood the something in others that causes harmful, negative, risky behaviors.
Causes giving up or succeeding.
And so, I had work to do, very hard work, but I tried to be kind.
Because, I’m certain every single person in the world is battling something.
Many times it’s something they’re hoping to outgrow or to not hand down to their children.
As I age, I’m beginning to see the battle of becoming, either fear of what I may become or a greater fear of what I will not.
I knew a woman once who should’ve been a chef. Her meals were spread out like royalty when family came on Sunday. She retired from professional management type work and she immersed herself in cooking. She became the cook at a little campground type place where men shot dove. The tips were good, the encouraging compliments invaluable. She was on top of the world and then, she just couldn’t or decided she couldn’t anymore.
Sometimes, I’m asked in these days of either anxious anger or languid depression, how I stay motivated, how I keep painting, I wish I could be like you, have a calling and purpose.
And I’m honest. I say,
I’ve seen what happens when you stop doing what feeds your soul. I’ve seen how quickly you don’t leave your house, grow weak and weary and weaker and worn out.
I’ve seen how becoming what you longed to be only lasts for a minute. I’ve seen how one sweet hope that gets stolen or is forced to be given up because of hardship or loss can break a strong soul.
I keep painting because like probably you, I want to become the mama who lived life fully not the one who decided she couldn’t keep on.
Feed your soul. Cook. Write. Paint. Sing. Dance. Plant your roses.
Every bit of you is the beauty you’re becoming.
The battle we all fight, the hard one?
The battle not to let ourselves quit, not to let our hopes go.
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.” Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 ESV
Every morning now, I open the back sliding door. Like a chef waving his hand over the skillet to invite the aroma upward, I invite the changing season in.
I step out and feel the change on my bare feet. The flowers drying to brittle fragile brown while others are vibrant still.
I read this morning about “Shalom”, an invitation to seeking peace.
Shalom, a greeting or a farewell in ancient days, “Peace”.
Day 9 of the 31 days of writing prompts caused me to groan.
Power.
I turned to weakness, my default or maybe not so much my fragility, but the preference not to lead, not to be involved in anything that requires power, assertion or influence of others.
Those days are done.
Afforded me time to take the blinders off, the struggles and strengths of others for way too long buffered what God needed and needs me to see in me.
It’s been long overdue and good.
Power?
Can we call it strength instead?
Then, I remembered my waking thoughts I framed with prayer.
Lord, help me know what those I love need from me.
The answer came eventually.
The strength I’ve been certain of going on a year.
Peace. I need to be peace. Not a peacemaker, interventionist or conflict resolver.
No, simply, I need to be at peace.
To be peace.
“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.” Matthew 5:9 KJV
I need to “make peace” in others’ lives by example.
With this comes strength. With this comes a power that enables me to do for those I love or simply encounter.
Surrender is a big requirement, but one that brings ease. Clear vision of your own issues leads to change.
Peace is not getting what I want or want for others. Peace is giving whatever perplexes me continuously to God.
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 