Faith

Changing Contents and Adjusting Views

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, coronavirus, courage, curiousity, Faith, hope, memoir, mercy, Prayer, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

I changed it up today, wondering if anyone ever has oatmeal that’s not sweet. I woke early as if God knew I’d need a little extra time to combat fear.

Savory Not Sweet

Read my Bible, scribbled a prayer, and decided before sun up I was hungry. Boiled the water, added oatmeal and then changed from the usual cinnamon, raisins, etc.

I added cream cheese with veggies, taco cheese and bacon. I encourage you to try this.

You may also need carbs today.

Change a little thing, adjusting maybe the whole direction of your day.

Because twenty minutes before, the dread of our days took over, one post on FB by a well meaning and very kind friend…predicting we’ll be wearing masks through November and not as in next month, but November 2021.

My chest tightened. I looked away, shut it down and wrote a prayer.

Our Father, please end this fear that surrounds us, prods us, interrupts our mornings. Please come quickly and make us more fearless or in a mighty wave, remove completely this thing that causes us to fear we are wrong, to fear that you won’t make right all the wrong…that we are not really so courageous at all, after all. Remind us our strength flows through our closeness with you. We thank you that you never leave us even when our thoughts lead us away.

3 things I’ve learned this month:

Adjust.

Ask for help.

Tell yourself because of your kinship with God,

You can do hard things.

Adjust your perspective of what you hear, see, encounter. Change as it is necessary and at your own pace. Acknowledge you’re not everything and not equipped to do all things on your own. Be less stubborn and shamed by your inability and more open to others who are able and willing to help. Say to yourself on the regular “You can do hard things.” Say so not in a superpower or simply motivational way.

Say so because you remember the hard things you thought you couldn’t do but did.

Walking is an exercise in filtering my mind, conditioning it for better content, noticing what is correct from the perspective of my relationship with God.

Just A Tree

I walk with my granddaughter, eyes to the ground, back to her prancing stride and back to the ground again, surveying the surface, keeping her safe.

We pass this fallen branch every time and I pause and consider how it looks like a giant snake.

Then, I pause again and I am intentional, I unwrite my own dreadfully strange and scary story. I tell myself, it is true that tree branch decayed and fallen resembles a snake; but, it is not a snake.

I curtail the fear.

I adjust my thoughts.

We walk and sing, dig in the dirt, sometimes we both dance.

We notice God together.

With the autumn season comes a change in the woods. Leaves dance like twirling ballerinas in front our faces. Strange mushroom fungi affix themselves to trees, birds are happier it seems.

Beautiful Mystery

The earth is sprinkled with the mystery of little white veils lying themselves down overnight.

My granddaughter sees them, carefully approaches and looks up to me.

Her little hand reaches and with her one little finger she separates the mystical veil.

She lifts her arm for me to reach down then places the moist finger that touched nature’s mystery to my cheek.

We notice God together. It is clear, His nearness.

“But in the depths of my heart I truly know that you, Yahweh, have become my Shield; You take me and surround me with yourself. Your glory covers me continually. You lift high my head when I bow low in shame.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭3:3‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Know that God is still God. Adjust into the changes required of you, asking for help as help is needed and take a minute to recall the hardship you survived, you and God together, stronger than you could fathom.

Continue and believe.

Life, Living and No Chance at All

Children, courage, Faith, rest, Trust, Truth, Vulnerability

I walked midday, a change from my schedule. No music, no podcast wisdom. I’d adjusted my shoes, the ankle pain lingering.

Hereditary maybe plus jumping from the steps in my 20’s instead of stepping.

My ankle compromised by my choices.

I walked and prayed and thought, remembered about a week ago I returned from walking, sweaty and breathless because I’d added in jogging, my husband sat waiting in the chair he likes in the garage.

He’d been again, watching the news.

So, I spewed all my thoughts on lives mattering and he let me. He listened, I bet was entertained, my talking with expressive hands.

I’m not typically vocal. Even less often assertive. I’m extremely conflict avoidant.

I told him how I felt about the “all lives matter” cultural trend.

People who I thought believed like me are widening the meaning of sanctity of life to include lives lost to violence, poverty, other.

Likening a life that never had a choice to other lives ended in adulthood, still too soon.

I said, “A woman gets pregnant and decides on abortion. Maybe there’s addiction. Maybe there is fear. Maybe there’s a father or a parent because of secrecy, coercing. Maybe there is selfishness, plans for something other. Maybe there is worry that there will be no roof to cover baby’s head. Maybe there are other reasons.

The woman sees a doctor, clinician or other. Woman’s choice leads to destruction of life, disposal.

And the baby had no choice.

In the beginning, God created… Genesis 1:1

I asked my husband to think of times he skirted with wrong places, wrong time, to consider our own sons might have easily made choices that led to criminal ways.

Could’ve been influenced by drugs, alcohol, anger or even bitter resentment. Could’ve decided to get in the face of an officer and not let up, not let go until force led to extreme response.

Unfortunate choices made by young people and adults often lead to lives cut short.

A few weeks ago, I heard my friend tell of what God had spoken, “That wasn’t my intention.”

When babies were announced despite Co-Vid, I found myself thinking, saying,

“Babies are evidence that God is saying, ‘Keep living’.”

Children are God’s creation.

We were all children once.

Created uniquely by God and for a purpose, to live fully while living closer daily to Him.

“In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said, “‘For we are indeed his offspring.’”
‭‭Acts‬ ‭17:28‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m perplexed over the lumping of all lives together, lives that never had a choice to see what God could do and lives cut short in angry, wrongful, ugly ways.

But, those are different tragedies.

They are not the same. I prayed today, that more influential and articulate voices than mine would cause the bending of ears, the stirring of souls, the returning to the beginning, the intentional beginning of us by God.

In the beginning, God created.

We can be sorrowful over injustice. We can shake our heads over how long it has gone on. We can pray for the difference that’s beginning to be strong. But, we can’t compare a life with no chance at all, to a life cut short, gone wrong or taken tragically. To one with no chance at all.

Days Ahead

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, hope, Peace, Prayer, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

The purple blooming shrub my husband transplanted from his mama’s generous garden has graced the fence border, I believe, for three years.

Now the petals are faded and in the process of brittle decay. Positioned next to the Rose of Sharon with its pods all dried up and closed like little wrinkled up grocery bags, the back yard is changing.

The pool will be covered, the chairs put away. The place for evening sitting will be just a couple of chairs in the corner and from time to time, the metal fire pit I requested.

We will watch Winter come and we will wait.

I pray we will rest.

Rest assured that the tiny purple flowers will explode with renewed growth, the rose bush will go crazy with magenta again and the pool will be reopened after Easter.

I bought a yellow beach ball yesterday with a little face of a baby chick and wings on either side, $1.99.

I thought of next year.

Of laughter around May.

Prayer time this morning conjured up an expression used to make a point, to reassure, to stand firm in your opinion in an argument.

“Rest assured.”

I left the words on the page, under my supplications.

The words that tell me come what may I have assurance.

Assurance of God knowing me and my family. Assurance of them knowing Him.

Rest assured. I can do that today. Mountains move, seas roar, tragic untimely deaths happen, confrontations heighten, animosity threatens.

Rest assured, though. God still calms seas, moves mountains, protects us as He is able against the enemy’s influence, fights for us

Fights for us gently in the call for us to know Him, to notice.

When you see God today, hear Him, you’ll know.

He’s still here and He is still mighty.

Rest assured.

“Mightier than the thunders of many waters, mightier than the waves of the sea, the Lord on high is mighty! Your decrees are very trustworthy; holiness befits your house, O Lord, forevermore.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭93:4-5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Rest assured.

You will find Him because He longs to be recalled, to be called upon, to be found again and again by you.

Continue and believe. New days are ahead.

Receive Grace

Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, coronavirus, courage, Faith, grace, hope, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, surrender, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting

Receive grace, we need it. We’re going to need it. Regardless of November, hopelessness is a wound not even close to being healed, the result of our lack of control, uncertainty, the open-ended question of the coming year, the apathy towards each other, the numbing that’s happening to us to the extent we don’t yet know.

“That’s a lot, Lisa…I thought you were a person of faith?”

I know. Today I prayed beside my bed, no words, just a position.

Surrendering the moment.

…and by Him, everyone who believes is freed. Acts 13:39

Belief is a very personal thing, prayer is too. God, knowing each of us completely and individually knows us “down to the very bones” and yet, sees us worthy of the very grace we received when we accepted the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus. We decided then I can’t fix this, in fact in my humanness I am unfixable.

Still, I work hard and with intention and a word we love, “perseverance” to see the measure of my faith be represented by works. It’s how we’re wired and we forget that physical wiring never is enough.

Praise, prayer and worship with music rein me back in closer. I find myself opening my hands to heaven when a song touches my tender wounds, thrilled to be uninterrupted on my knees beside my bed or joining others in prayer with both hands palm up to God.

Giving God the hopes, fears and thanks.

Today, I read “Receive His grace all day.” It struck me that the hands I open to give are rarely opened to receive from God. I forget that I need His grace all day long, every moment. More importantly, I forget that His grace is a reservoir that never runs dry. I forget that it is ours simply for asking, just by saying, I need you every hour. Again, I’m not able on my own and you know it God, still you wait patiently for me to remember.

We cannot put our hopes in this country. I’m sorry if that sounds unpatriotic. It hurts to know that and I worry that hopelessness is outpacing the destruction of the pandemic. Without hope, without God and His grace, none of us can sustain our own manufactured hope.

Open your hands as needed today. Receive grace.

“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Morning Chairs

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, Children, courage, daughters, doubt, Faith, family, heaven, hope, memoir, painting, Peace, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

It would be a stretch to say my parents were like Johnny and June. My daddy was small in stature and my mama although very wise, didn’t exhibit a tone of outward patience. Their tolerance for one another came and went, seems it was either battleground or preparing for the coming battles, a rhythm they finally mastered.

As a young woman, I had to move back home. Things happened that led to college being too hard for me. To an outsider, it would appear I gave up or wasn’t college material. Few people knew, most weren’t informed, college was interrupted by unanticipated harm. So, I lived at home in the house by the pond for just a bit, a young woman trying to figure what’s next and ignoring the need to heal.

Most mornings, I lingered lazily in my room. My fascination with art numbed by my sudden incapability.

My parents were in their chairs with coffee. Their singsong exchange in kind conversation captivated me. This is what made me think of Johnny Cash and his longsuffering wife, June.

“This morning, with her, having coffee.” Johnny Cash, when asked his idea of paradise

I cling to the memory of my parents having conquered hopeless days in their marriage and sitting in their morning chairs, calmly talking, planning for possibility.

It occurred to me last week as I thought of my own children, adults navigating marriage, parenting, career in a time such as this, I don’t remember my parents asking one another a question,

“How did we get here with Lisa? Where did we go wrong?”

And my tender heart is so grateful that I was never privy to those conversations.

Another thing I don’t recall hearing was panic over politics or very much talk at all about trouble to be expected here on earth, that earth is not my home, heaven is.

Surely, in different ways they felt similar fear, apathy and distrust of leaders back then.

There was Vietnam, there was integration, there was the President who had an interview in Playboy magazine and there were leaders assassinated and although we were grown by then, there was September 11th.

Funny story, my granddaddy purchased the said magazine and my brother and cousin found it, ran through the field and after enjoying it for a bit buried it in the sand.

I like to think that was one of my grandfather’s biggest and happiest moments, he probably yelled and stomped but I imagine him loving us all back then; but, especially the two rascals that sneaky and scandalous day.

There’s unrest, division, distress. It is palpable.

Someone told me; well, it was my daughter, “You sound so despondent.”

de·spond·ent/dəˈspändənt/ in low spirits from loss of hope or courage.

She called as I painted and repainted a piece. It was not coming together. I told her it was hard, this is new for me. I told her I have to finish so I can move on.

But, it wasn’t a painting for someone that was causing the mood she heard in my voice.

It was the piling on of other things, the dragging on of pandemic, the way the masked faces and isolation are destroying us all in our inners, depleting our reserve of hope.

So, I sit in my morning chair, a chair that belonged to my mama. The pines are dappled with morning sun, the same sun landing on the arm of my mama’s chair.

Saying, morning has come with wellness again. They did what they could and you are well. You’ve done what you could do as well and those you love are well, will be well. You know this is God’s promise.

“It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praises to your name, O Most High; to declare your steadfast love in the morning, and your faithfulness by night,”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭92:1-2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I did not hear my parents tell me that this world is not forever, there was minimal talk of heaven, even less conversation about our souls or salvation. We absorbed it I suppose from the sporadic other voices.

But, I saw and heard redemption when I laid quietly in the room that allowed me to be a temporary guest. I heard redemption in the conversation that was shared as they sat with coffee together in their “morning chairs”.

Imperfect love, grace and wisdom pulling me closer to living by faith because of mercy finding me, me finding God, continuously seeking, allowing every moment, my heart to be sought.

I pray your morning brings you the assurance that God is very near and that He is able to make good of all things, soften the hardest heart and redeem the angriest of relationships.

Continue and believe.

Joyful About

bravery, confidence, contentment, Faith, hope, Peace, praise, Prayer, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

I was talking with someone about when we will be able to do things again. As in, freely go places, have conversations, be excited to mingle without reservation.

Maybe meet new people in crowded social settings, excitement buzzing spaces filled with possibility.

We are all tired I decided the other day. We are tired and we’re humble. We’re less inclined to invite debate, we aren’t so keen on giving our opinions on the mask or not mask.

At least I’m not.

Bordering apathy.

Some of us are. Walking helps. Telling our truth invites comfort.

Music or not. Music that reminds of the faithfulness of God or no song at all other than the feather flap together of a bird colored blue taking off.

Walking helps, the stride, wide and determined, a remedy.

This evening, I opened my palm toward the sky and I repeated a prayer, not like a beggar or to remind God what I’d said.

No, to remind myself. You prayed this. God heard.

The clouds looked like fresh whipped cream intermittently added to a trifle bowl.

I thought of my mama, the desserts she was known for.

Thin layered chocolate cake, red velvet and pound and her strawberry trifle.

I smiled. The clouds like homemade real whipped cream from heavy and sugar.

I felt lighter.

I walked on home.

God saw me, He knows.

My prayers for the ones I love are in heaven and I am here looking upward.

I am waiting.

Waiting for a time we’ll be joyful over one thing or another again.

A sky so splendid, most every single day, Lord, I promise I won’t waste it.

I’ll accept it as evidence, open my hand towards heaven to welcome it, welcome you and count on your promise as truth.

Continue and believe.

Yet Believing

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, grandchildren, hope, Peace, praise, Prayer, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting

My daughter texted me to share that her daughter, 16 months old yesterday, had put her pants on by herself this morning.

I asked if she’d noticed other things like making her own decisions about inside or outside play with a sweet little “nope”.

I asked if she’d taken her to the bathroom with her and seen her tear a sheet of tissue as if to wipe. Yes, she had, my daughter answered but sweet little “ELB” wants nothing to do with the potty. I answered,

“She’s observing and strategizing.”

Last week I followed a flow chart created to help me understand the flow through the Book of Genesis. The kind of chart with lines dropping down interrupted by some action or moving forward through the process.

I began to imagine the route of a prayer, a prayer that cries out for resolution or a prayer that longs to be known by God.

Maybe the simple one that says thank you, another morning I am well or a more spontaneously overtaking one that comes from a song you join in the praise, you are so grateful to be connected with God.

I wondered about the delivery to the throne of God. Is Jesus able to one by one say, “Father, Lisa just had a moment, she’s afraid or Father, look now, she just got a glimpse of you and she’s better.”?

I wonder such things.

Why some prayers go unanswered.

Why some are answered when we’ve decided they weren’t heard. Why there must surely be some strategy in God’s timing that we are asked to trust.

To trust what we can’t see yet.

Last Sunday, the pastor talked about certainty and asked how long it had been since we remembered big ways in our lives that God showed up.

Remembered the answered prayers. I thought of a few.

My son was certain he would not pass the PT test at the military college his “knob” year. He’d been told sit-ups are a challenge for someone as tall as you, at least when they’re timed. A few people, the pastor who baptized him, his little boy Sunday school teacher and I prayed. God woke me up at 5 that morning, the test was scheduled soon after. I prayed. He passed and let me know in a text. He is now a Citadel and grad school graduate working for an accounting firm.

My daughter’s heart condition lingered several years, the place in her heart the surgeon called a little “stick of dynamite”was in a delicate place. Every procedure they simply couldn’t ablate it. Every procedure, we waited and prayed.

The final one, I was waiting with her sweet husband. The surgeon came out and as with each time before, he just couldn’t synchronize his instrument with the misfiring in her heart.

I nodded in acceptance as he told us he wasn’t giving up yet and then I walked away. I found the tiny chapel prayer space the size of a closet.

I cried and I prayed.

Shortly after, I sat with my son in law in acceptance and waiting. The surgeon returned and he told us so very explicitly the strategy he used and then he told us in words we could hold on to. He’d gone in to the location he knew from her records the malfunction occurred and he “schnockered” the area he told us.

He was optimistic.

A few years later, they are parents of a girl that wouldn’t have been advisable before. Her heart is well.

Other prayers have been unanswered and while they bring sorrow upon remembrance, I’ve accepted the response God chose was better based on His observation of the whole picture, the sovereign strategy I am not capable of understanding.

I just need to believe that my prayers are heard. I have some big ones these days.

I need to believe the incomprehensible truth that every single other person’s are heard in equal measure.

I need to believe because I have seen and I need to never doubt because of those things I did not see and won’t ever until eternity.

“Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.”
‭‭John‬ ‭20:29-31‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I pray you believe in new ways today.

Grace and Intention

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, fear, grace, mercy, obedience, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, surrender, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

She told me a heartbreaking story and how she came to accept it.

She said,

“God said, ‘that was my intention’.”

I woke today and met rejection. An email quickly skimmed and moved on to the folder marked trash.

I’d told myself submit and if it is for you, it will be.

I wasn’t at all destroyed over it. The not being chosen for my writing was sort of an answer to some recent questions of God.

One in particular, do I just blog and let that be enough?

I don’t know yet.

But, I’m open either way.

Not on the edge about it. I know that God’s intentions for me are always good. I find it brave to believe this.

Wish I’d believed it sooner.

Wish I’d seen the verse with the words “returning and rest” the way my friend explained it.

“Daughter, come back.” is what she told me the prophet Isaiah wrote, as instructed by God.

“This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: “Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength. But you would have none of it.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

My friend is biblically wise and I’d always felt the words about running away felt like chastisement.

She read farther back and told me God is just reminding me rest means closeness and confidence and strength are from staying near.

We talked a little more and we began to share worries over our world, the evil motivations of people and the bravery required to stand strong and speak up about God.

She became quiet. She shared of a high school classmate she’d heard through others had suffered a stroke.

She told me they weren’t close friends, hadn’t run in the same circles way back then.

Using the connection of another former classmate, she contacted the ailing friend and asked to drop off food, say hello.

The stroke victim said no at first and eventually allowed my friend in.

And I’m not sure how many visits there were, if meals were shared or if conversation became natural.

My friend shared that the woman she’d been visiting did not believe in God. She had her reasons.

My friend asked God to keep her alive until she could change her mind about Jesus.

My friend ached for that assurance. She is aching still.

The former classmate died too soon.

Tremendous pain prompted her to get any pill she could get off the street and my friend heard that the stroke victim who said there was no God, died while sending someone a text.

My friend heard later, the pill was tainted, a deadly ingredient added.

I sat and sensed the ache of question. I saw regret in the posture of my friend.

Months passed since the passing until one day in the shower, she longed to know why she’d not been able to help the former classmate believe in Jesus.

She looked over at me and said,

“God said, ‘that was my intention’.”

And the truth of God’s intention for my friend’s friend and for me caused tears to begin slowly.

Peace permeated the space between us.

“So, you have peace about her?” I asked and she nodded.

Then, I smiled and I cried and I told her something I don’t think she knew would be for me.

What that means is that those horrible things that happened to me were not what God intended, the evil just won the battle.

And maybe, just maybe the stuff I longed for that had not happened was not God’s intention for me.

Come back, daughter. Yes, I now see.

Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you.
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

What makes no sense to you if you believe in a God that is good?

My friend found peace when God told her, I was on your team, I was fighting alongside you.

You having more time with her was my intention.

Evil broke in. Broke in too soon.

On earth there is evil.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Heaven, though, is God’s purpose.

Our hope and future.

Come back. Stay near. My grace to you is intentional.

Be brave.

Continue

and believe.

What God intends is good.

Sing Along

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, hope, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, surrender, Vulnerability

On the morning, two Sundays ago that I decided just in time to go to church, I was honest with myself.

I’d been waiting until conditions could be right to return. I’d been waiting for the church to be in agreement with me, to not require that I wear a mask.

Church that morning enveloped me in peace. The mask that I deplore because I deplore demands made of me

Invited a sweeter worship in.

The music, the prayer, my hands open in front of me, my joining in the singing despite my mask.

I wish it weren’t so; but, I tend to be self-conscious in a sanctuary. No surprise, I compare my worship to the worship of others and I worry if others are watching me, measuring whether my praise is big enough.

But, on that morning, before the message on humility and its meaning and worth, I allowed peace to come.

Peace that came through the Spirit leading me to be alone there in the socially distanced place, to close my eyes and be moved by “The Blessing”, to welcome the tears that came. To be aware of, overwhelmed by God’s peace.

Peace comes when we acknowledge our standing in relation to God.

Peace comes when we challenge ourselves to believe we should go when we don’t think we are able or don’t believe we belong.

Peace comes when we remember,

“I am weak but He is strong.” (Yes, Jesus loves me.)

Meekness leads to peace.

Meekness leads to great things.

“Now the man Moses was very meek, more than all people who were on the face of the earth.”
‭‭Numbers‬ ‭12:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

My little circle of six feet in the sanctuary was inhabited by a sense of Holy that Sunday.

I had no idea that choosing not to be selfish, stubborn, self-righteous over a piece of cloth over my mouth, would bring me such peace.

“But the meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭37:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

And peace shall be mine again.

I will sing along.

“The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.”
‭‭Zephaniah‬ ‭3:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Joining others who are writing prompted by the word “church” here.

FMF Writing Prompt Link-up :: Church

Sweet Release, Truth and Tears

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, freedom, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Redemption, Truth, Vulnerability, wonder
Before the Morning

Jesus wept. John 11:35

The situation was dire. His friend Lazarus had died. His arrival to save him was delayed.

I am thinking of a young woman who bravely told her story of domestic violence on social media.

Photos with captions of what was happening instead of what her posed by his side and pretty face portrayed.

Photos hard to look at for long, one dark purple encircled eye balancing the other’s vacant expression and her arm marked by a bruise from grabbing.

This young woman is from the place I call home.

She is brave, was brave.

Most likely very afraid.

I fell asleep with private tears puddled near my ear. I fell asleep with the acceptance of my own truth.

A truth I’d been over and over rethinking.

Certainly, there was good.

Turning Corners

For some reason, I just don’t remember it. Surely, your years all running together could not have contained that much hurt, that much fear, that much abuse.

I breathed deeply again and tried to rewind my life in my 20’s movie. I longed to believe the trauma had simply erased the happy like they say it does the hard,

As sort of our brain’s protective role.

But, that made and makes no sense at all. Why would the brain and its memory reservoir dry up the good, deny the times of love?

Two nights ago, tears came and my soul felt sad and then gently at peace, relieved.

Yes, physical and emotional abuse by a man who began as a date is a part of my story.

Being a captive and being brainwashed into keeping it secret is a chapter in my life.

Now, even more healing will have its chance to do what it has been preparing me for, what God kept me alive to do.

Mercy Every Morning

I see the waking up slowly of me and I see the tears that were not brought on by long ago pain, rather the welling up of hope, I see the beautiful things that have already begun and will now be free to finish.

As I turned the long clay lane to my granddaughter yesterday morning, a song came.

I crept up the winding hill, turned on to the sandy path we walk and hold hands. I careened in slowly to my place on the hill.

Safely I arrived and safe I shall be.

I hope you’ll listen.

Josh Garrel’s rendition of “Farther Along” makes me happy every time.

Makes me hopeful. Makes me content in not being all knowing.

Farther Along

Father, thank you for the honesty you allow, the truth of us you slowly guide into revelations with sweet, never bitter tears. Thank you for words, for bravery even if new. Thank you for helping me continue, to continue and believe. Thank you for my present love and safety, the embrace of family.

Because of mercy, Amen

Me.

I am thinking still of the young woman and her photos, meant to share her truth and to help others. I’m thinking of her bravery and the way I still hesitate to say that I was a victim of abuse.

I think of how some days, like yesterday, I’m still ashamed and afraid to tell. And I’m grateful for days like today when I choose “publish” instead of “trash”. I choose believing there is so much good to see.

“Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?”
‭‭John‬ ‭11:40‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m linking up with Mary Geisen and others at “Tell His Story”. This time we’re in has welcomed many quiet revelations. Read here: https://marygeisen.com/are-you-using-your-time-wisely/?