Faith

A Better Fame

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, Forgiveness, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mixed media painting, obedience, painting, Peace, rest, surrender, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Who can you think of past or present who is famous because of their peace, the most indescribably unknown person you know?

“These are treasures no bird of prey can see, no falcon’s eye observe.”
‭‭Job‬ ‭28:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“Bethesda”

I spoke with an author of three books recently. I sensed the ache in his voice as he told me about his writing after I talked about mine, the children’s book inspired by Matthew 6:26. We agreed to sell a lot of books, you must be famous, have a website with a bookoo of followers and be good at talking about yourself.

Just the conversation between us about self/book promotion was hard.

Before sunrise today, I thought of just how contradictory that seems. I’ve read lots of Christian books, some sort of trendy and insubstantial and some very resonant and worth returning to.

I thought of how we, as far as I interpret the words of Jesus, are not supposed to want to be famous.

When we say

“Make Jesus famous, not me!”

We’re supposed to be able to mean it.

And yet, an agent won’t return an email and a query goes unread because you have less than 5000 Instagram followers.

A few weeks ago, I had a skip in my step, a sense of a really cool possible art opportunity.

Time passed and it faded to “oh,well…”

I’ll reference trauma once here and that’ll be it.

If your needs went unnoticed as a child or young adult and you get well enough to try expression of your needs and talents again and nothing happens…

You decide it’s better to be invisible again.

Because invisible is what you know.

But, now this self-awareness feels less achingly deficient and more like

a better fame.

A realization of what I decided was my “treasure” was not my treasure at all.

Years ago, when I began writing, my heart set on a memoir about the possibility of hope, I was starry-eyed and optimistic and I told myself don’t be a chatty little woman who writes about Jesus.

Be authentic. Be real. Be truthful but not so truthful you hinder another’s hope.

And I thought I’d write a book about it all.

Now, I realize I may not.

Because the truth, my truth I am learning to be okay with is,

I don’t think I want to be famous. I think I’d rather be quiet.

That admission may be the kiss of death to being a published author or it may be the breath of heavenly fresh air to a weary striving soul.

Because writing, painting, being a published author are not my treasures, my peace and my peaceful sharing of my healing are. They are the treasures I hold and occasionally share in hopes of stirring curiosity over the same treasure for others.

I won’t stop writing and I won’t stop painting, often with crayon.

I’m just certain being a person who can be found by name on Amazon as an author or who has art that can be searched for and purchased has given me a taste of fame.

But never has fame made me famous, instead only made me wanting more.

Thirsty for recognition, parched for praise and aching for a dollar sign saying success next to something I made.

Eight years blogging. I suppose it’s fitting to write honestly today.

That feels like a quiet celebration.

Keep writing. It’s good to continue quietly and to believe.

Because healing is not dependent on fame, only on believing, believing like the lame man on the banks of the Bethesda.

“When Jesus saw him lying there, he knew that the man had been crippled for a long time. Jesus said to him, “Do you truly long to be well?” The sick man answered, “Sir, there’s no way I can get healed, for I have no one to lower me into the water when the angel comes. As soon as I try to crawl to the edge of the pool, someone else jumps in ahead of me.” Jesus said to him, “Stand up! Pick up your sleeping mat and you will walk!” Immediately he stood up—he was healed! So he rolled up his mat and walked again! Now Jesus worked this miracle on the Sabbath.”
‭‭John‬ ‭5:6-9‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Be well.

Your Eyes Will Tell

Children’s Books, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, Peace, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, waiting, wisdom, wonder
Mercy Every Moment

In the summer months, my husband questions my robe with pajamas.

I tell him I love it, I just like to wear it. I feel pulled together.

Before daylight, I’ve left home, left it hanging with soft pajamas on the hook.

Monday morning morning views are back. The sunrise to the right of me leads me on. I turn to see it developing, the new and glorious day.

The road towards small town has me meeting headlights and remembering a time the lights sparked caution.

Remembering today that’s better, the lights, the road, the earliness of day.

Everything an adjustment bringing acceptance.

This time last year I wrote a book I thought was for children.

It was God’s promise posed in a way of “maybe she’ll get it this way” kind of thing.

I matter to God.

You matter to God no matter what.

You’re seen, known and loved.

When I worked with women trying to decide whether to believe life was worth living and whether they could change life stealing patterns,

I’d say,

“Look in the mirror, look for more than a minute, you’ll be able to see how you’re doing.”

I’m not talking full length that helps you decide if you can walk on the beach without your shorts or whether the pants are too tight from behind, whether the dress fits good or is too matronly.

No, just the bathroom mirror.

Wash your face and gaze. Consider the condition of your soul through the look in your eyes.

You’ll see. You will know.

Look again, again and again.

Check yourself.

Are you wearing your righteousness? Are you dressed in the covenant of peace?

Your eyes will know and they will tell you so.

You’ll see restoration, you’ll be excited to keep seeing it.

Christ in you, the hope of glory.

Become friends with the morning mirror. Carry on. Remember how yesterday was different.

Your faith more certain, your chasing misplaced trust became an acceptance of it.

A robe embraced you, rested on your shoulders and covered your questions,

The robe of righteousness, the blanket of salvation.

Continue and believe.

Be faithful in your belief.

Faithfulness is God’s character and that same character is in you.

“He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭23:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Something Small

Angels, Art, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, freedom, hope, Peace, Prayer, rest, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

“By trying to grab fulfillment everywhere, we find it nowhere.” Elisabeth Elliot

Morning Glories

I felt Fall wispy through the bordering trees on Monday morning.

August saying change is coming, change is coming, the kind that causes retrospect in the realization.

Small and sweet, the change.

God’s Hand
The Strangest Bloom
Early Color

The morning rain on Tuesday made the road a soft and sandy cushion under our feet.

We measured our bare feet and talked about the shape of them.

Walked towards the corner and remembered being brave and careful.

We stood still and saw the sunflower aurora against the blue sky border.

We climbed the little hill, twice the height of the two year old.

I’m thinking now of how careful she was, careful and brave.

I told her she was brave to climb the little hill to touch the flowers.

Told her I was brave too.

Later, I approached the room where I paint.

Brushes left soaking in murky water, a week’s worth of blue paint tinted water spilled as I chastised myself for being undisciplined, unsuccessful, “un” driven.

Cleaned up the mess and sat for a minute to add color to an acceptable but unfinished canvas.

Swirls, shapes, layers became a subtle oyster shell.

I left it, pleased in the satisfaction of enough.

A small thing.

Not a burden.

Rest for my soul.

Considered adding to the waiting in process angelic canvas.

Finish it. Share it, wait for the likes and notice.

No, not today.

Tonight, I chose small.

Gentle with myself.

Brave in small ways.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭11:28-30‬ ‭ESV‬‬

What are you carrying?

“Even angels must find their wings too heavy sometimes.” Helen Van Slyke

“Praise ‘n Worship” (prints available, comment to purchase)

I’ve missed the part about the shared yoke with Jesus being easy to carry, being light.

But, now I see, now I sense it.

It’s something so small.

So small and easy to miss.

Continue and believe.

Lost and Found And Seeing

Art, birds, confidence, contentment, Faith, grace, hope, mercy, Peace, rest, Stillness, surrender, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder


“In times like these you need a Savior
In times like these you need an anchor
Be very sure, be very sure…” In Times Like These

Saul was blind for three days after being confronted by Jesus over why he chose to be such a criminal, intent on being so vicious.

He was found and he saw life differently.

One lamb wanders away, the others stay in the pasture waiting as the shepherd, the master of their wellness and safety leaves them to find the wayward one. The parable is for us, the ones who were lost and still get lost sometimes.

We need our good shepherd. We’re prone to forget.

“Think of it this way: If a man owns a hundred sheep and one lamb wanders away and is lost, won’t he leave the ninety-nine grazing the hillside and thoroughly search for the one lost lamb? Now you should understand that it is never the desire of your heavenly Father that a single one of these little ones should be lost.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭18:12, 14‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I saw a man walking on Wednesday.

His dark hair combed back from his face, his jaw clean shaven. The sun came up over his shoulder, I hoped it was the one I’d been praying for, the man I’d seen the days before.

This man curled up under the overpass, then later on my route, walking cloaked in black jacket and too big pants, bent down towards the sidewalk along the highway, once I saw him leave the Waffle House, I prayed he’d been well fed.

Seeing him early in the day made me hopeful. I prayed God had made for him a new path.

I’ve been sketching lots of practice sketches for a commission, a bird cradled in a hand was the request. Instead, I keep sketching hands cupping a bird in a nest.

Think of this.

We know God cares for us by looking at the birds as evidence of that love.

Look at the nest built by a mama bird and you’ll see it’s even more elaborate than we can fathom. A bird nest, intricately woven together, little stems and pieces of whatever that the bird creates using a sort of circle pattern as if the cupped hand of God is keeping it safe until it can fly on its own.

I’m humbled and awed by this.

If God, the maker of heaven and earth has equipped a bird to do this, how could I ever question His love and intentional preparing of me, to do things for those around me and for Him?

“Consider the birds—do you think they worry about their existence? They don’t plant or reap or store up food, yet your heavenly Father provides them each with food. Aren’t you much more valuable to your Father than they? So, which one of you by worrying could add anything to your life?”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:26-27‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Be very sure. He cares for you.

Like a mama bird with babies, like a kind and gentle shepherd who’d never abandon his lost lamb.

Like a Father who is wise, a friend who is kind. Like a stranger who stops what they’re doing to offer aid.

Be very sure, God cares for you and for lost, lonely or weary people you’ll never know.

Continue and believe.

Quiet About It

bravery, confidence, contentment, curiousity, Faith, family, Forgiveness, grace, memoir, Peace, rest, Salvation, Stillness, testimony, Trust, Truth, Vulnerability, wonder
Touching Life

“The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭16:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I wonder if anyone on a summer morning would pause there as well. Or just me, my eye drawn to nature, the way an old bent root is exposed through what once was the ground, now eroding to give way for the road.

For our morning walking.

We noticed the pillowy green moss covering the border and we’d never not touch it, the invitation to see new life juxtaposed with trees barren because of age.

We stopped and cupped the evidence of life in the palm of our hands, caressed the smooth earthen wall.

It was a small thing, gloriously small.

Like clouds thickly shifting, my thoughts are of the majesty of God’s hands swooping down to stir them up.

I am convinced of this actually and often.

Majesty

I’m in a group of women called “The Alabaster Girls”.

I joined this group of others I don’t personally know because I wanted to be one, one with other women who would if given the chance, pour out all I’d been saving up in my own vessel or jar and in the face of resistance, express my relationship with Jesus.

“…what she has done will also be told in memory of her.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭26:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Today, the leader suggested members of this group share our testimony. I paused like I’ve paused many times before.

My testimony of deciding to believe in Jesus is really small, sort of private, sort of “not sure it took” because my path forward has been imperfect.

So, I typed it in the comments and I saw my salvation in the truest way.

I thanked the group’s moderator for asking me to tell the story of my salvation, the one I sometimes felt was too small.

The story of my quiet day, quiet choice and quietly steady faith.

Jesus came to me gently and I welcomed Him in, in a quiet way.

I sat alone in my home, a single mother with two children. My Sunday morning thing became watching Charles Stanley, In Touch. I decided to believe what I still believe, Jesus died for me so that I could have life. It wasn’t a whole lot of fanfare and so, many times I’ve questioned the simplicity of it…now, I know that’s the greatest gift and truth, the decision to believe in Jesus can happen anywhere and I should never discount my testimony…deciding to follow Jesus, alone on a Sunday morning with a journal in my lap. God knew me even when I was so lonely and lost and He met me the most gentle way, knowing I was afraid of “being pushed around”. Wow. I’ve never actually written this out until today. God is using you, sweet Nan Trammell Jones.

The seed was planted way back then although not always meticulously tended or consistently fertilized by choices, prayer and worship.

Quietly, quietly and persistently I have grown and in my often “quiet about it” way, the way God made me, He is using my story.

Glorious Things

I am growing and others see Jesus in me in the very way God made me.

Quietly like the persistent beauty of green moss covering the ground, the evidence of goodness, of peace, of quiet confidence in God, the earth and all things knowing Him made more glorious.

Decide to accept Jesus. You will never regret what can never be taken away.

Continue and believe.

Passion and Habit

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, mercy, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom

God keeps His promises.

I read or heard the other day, a warning, don’t let your “quiet time” just be an empty habit or a trendy phrase. I thought about my mornings, my most treasured time of all, of waking up early just to be quiet and alone with God. I’m needy in that regard. I’m needy in a lot of ways.

I need this “need thee every hour” commitment.

I returned to one verse that feels like proof of God really knowing the me I am lately. The Passion translation of the Psalms is tender, brave and honest. I grab ahold of the words, hold them close.

“You keep every promise you’ve ever made to me! Since your love for me is constant and endless, I ask you, Lord, to finish every good thing that you’ve begun in me!”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭138:8‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I’ve long loved Psalm 139 and now I’m fixed on 138 too. Psalm 116 has a header “I’m saved.” I’ve been loving this too because most of all lately, I’m resting in the sweet reality of God’s love of me. Notice, I said “of” not for. God loves me, loves you.

“So now I live with the confidence that there is nothing in the universe with the power to separate us from God’s love. I’m convinced that his love will triumph over death, life’s troubles, fallen angels, or dark rulers in the heavens. There is nothing in our present or future circumstances that can weaken his love.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:38‬ ‭TPT‬‬

So, I’ll keep waking every morning God keeps me able. I’ll read. Not always everything and not always the same book or Bible. But, I’ll be quiet because I can’t make it on my own. I need to be reminded.

No one ever cared for me like Jesus. There’s no greater promise of unwavering love. To love others well, I need the reminder that I am loved. I need it every hour, every day,

every evening, every morning.

You are loved.

Continue and believe.

Understanding All the Things

Faith, grace, grief, hope, mercy, Peace, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom

Hope is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all – Emily Dickinson

Recalling Mercy

I misplaced my mustard seed, the tiny glass enclosed actual seed that jingled on my wrist, a charm on my bracelet.

I’ve resigned myself not to find it again and decided, someone else may find it and it will be the thing they needed that day and days to come.

They would need the thing called faith.

They would need hope that demands little and remains like the song of a morning bird.

“I love the Lord because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭116:1‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I prayed for mercy yesterday, at least five times. I lost another thing, much more valuable and important, a necessity.

My morning was a panic, I searched in the most outrageous places, the last one was the refrigerator.

I cancelled one morning thing and then decided to carry on, to stop searching for my “dental appliance”, the most embarrassing thing, and do the other.

The other being get dressed, let it go, stop searching, do the important thing.

Take the coral colored roses on the kitchen counter to your friend who has lost her husband, choose what’s more important than your crazy searching.

I prayed again. I told the Lord, I don’t deserve to find this, I don’t deserve your mercy yet again.

Walked away to get myself together and you most likely know, I found my partial in the place I’d left it, on the bathroom counter, safe under a hand towel.

I left the roses on my friend’s front porch, not knowing if they’d be found before the rain.

Just knowing in whatever state or whenever they were discovered, they’d be what God intended,

A thing God told me to do.

Later, I thanked God for finding it and I thought two things.

One, why was I so convinced I’d never find an object in my very own home and more important, why was I so convinced that God would not, yet again, be merciful?

Things I understand more each day.

God is loving, the giver of hope not harm. God is the open arms of grace to the guilty and bent by shame.

God hears every prayer I pray.

God is good.

I’ll never be good enough based on my weaknesses, forgetfulness, haphazard or hurried behaviors.

I have a helper who hears when I call.

To say we’re not deserving is true.

To know that God made a way called mercy is the quiet answer to all our crazy prayers.

Continue and believe.

Let mercy in.

Linking up with others on the prompt “Deserve”.

Deserve

Morning Paused

confidence, courage, curiousity, Faith, fear, grief, marriage, memoir, Peace, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

“Here he stands! The Commander! The mighty Lord of Angel Armies is on our side! The God of Jacob fights for us!

Pause in his presence”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭46:11‬ ‭TPT

I woke to a pleasant voice on my phone and then a message that alarmed me and led to surprise then chills followed by a pause. ‬‬

It’s almost noon and I’m numbed and lazy by the absorption of the truth of someone’s passing.

Sadly surprised.

I hear the hum of yard work in the back and front yard of the neighbor. Curious, I step outside.

a shower overnight
abundance
everything passes

Last night I looked from the window and thought how happy it made me, the limelight hydrangeas my husband decided to plant in a new place.

Twenty years married tomorrow and we have our first legitimate garden. Our granddaughter helped plant the tomatoes. The growth of zucchini has been outrageous.

I check it every day, a rectangular space near the fence.

Full of growth

And still growing.

I haven’t told my husband of the friend’s passing. They were close in a way I don’t know, seems he saw strength in him and I believe it was mutual, most likely unspoken.

Strength, yes.

Strength.

We’re not able on our own. The tiny plants become tiny tomatoes. The transplanted hydrangea dug up from my husband’s mama’s home is flourishing. The butterflies on the porch that enthrall us don’t last long.

Leave reminders though, reminders of the joy of their presence and the flutter of their wings.

A beautiful song.

“The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭118:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

God is with you.

Sing along.