Faith

Her Back Then

courage, Faith, family, grace, Uncategorized
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The Minister’s Daughter

All I can think now is how she was then.

My grandmother in her late teens, it never occurred to me to wonder about her this way ’til I painted her against the  backdrop of her raising.

Her daddy was a minister.  She had to have been beautiful back then and on the cusp of change.  Standing on the firm foundation of her daddy’s reputation and the memorized words to scripture and lilting hymns, I’ve decided she must have turned heads.

I imagine to be in her presence would have been a pleasure.  A  petite young lady,  I believe she’d not be found sitting stiffly with hands folded securely in her lap.

She loved people, loved knowing them, knowing their stories and telling hers.  She was engaging.

I suppose there came a time she questioned the path of her life.

There must have been a time of determined rebellion.

She married my granddaddy, my son’s namesake.

She was young, one of four sisters, I recall.

He was a rascal, a carpenter by trade and a fishing man by choice, loved cold beer and cigars.  I never heard it told; but, I figure he must’ve swept her off her feet with his irresistible smile and lazy swagger.

I know she didn’t lose her faith, she just didn’t get it on Sunday mornings with her husband by her side.

But, she kept it.  She kept her faith, not one to let anything be taken.

I learned a whole lot from that one truth, just realizing it fully now.

Faith, sort of an enigma until you settle into its simple sufficiency.

She kept her faith. I got to see it. Hard marriage followed rebellious courtship, faith never left her.

I wish I’d heard the stories, wish I’d had a little talk with my grandma about her love for him. The giddy beginning of headstrong and hopeful decision.

Wish I could have seen the light of love in her eyes, a young woman abandoning all for abandonment in the moment.

And for loosening the reigns of control.

This painting is for my niece with the song she remembers as my grandma’s favorite. I recall someone sang it at her funeral.

It’s a beautiful hymn with lyrics praising the God who considered us worthy despite ourselves .  The acknowledgement of grace causing our souls to sing…

“then sings my soul”.

I’d love to know the song that caused her heart to flutter, though, caused her cheeks to flush when she went for what she wanted.

When she said “Yes” to my granddaddy and no to her father.

Thinking of Now

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

I’m writing for five minutes with thoughts on “Now”.

Linking up with Kate Motaung on this chilly Friday morning in  South Carolina.

I’m driving five hours or so today.  My companion and I will talk, some of it will be nervous chatter,  filling up awkward empty spots. Some of it will be weather, season or world.

Some of our conversation might be about our children or maybe even our shoes.  I woke, refreshed and said “Thank you, Lord, for I slept without tossing.”

Today Now

Today Now

I prayed, “Help me to see my opportunities to help today, to speak the things I know.”

I heard a sweet lady yesterday tell me of her husband’s abusive childhood. He’s a kind and distinguished man, I was not alarmed; but, surprised.

She says he carries it with him. It’s a blessing and a curse, she said.

More curse, but, the blessing is he’s kind to others because of it.

“Yes” I said.

I drive today to help a woman who felt she deserved nothing. I will not speak for her. I doubt I’ll be allowed.

I will speak to her if opportunity presents. Ill tell her that moving forward is scary, that looking back and living in the place another placed you is more comfortable, makes more sense and lessens the fear.

Ill tell her maybe about Esther…The one who stood with grace and spoke for life.

I’ll tell her maybe this is her time.

Ill think, maybe it’s mine.

And who knows whether maybe you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?  Esther 4:14

 

stay here heart

Faith, grace, Uncategorized, wonder

 

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Heading out the door, time absolutely flies every morning. I don’t want to leave,  I’m prone to lingering long in the quiet.

I reach for my keys and purse then stop.

Something happened this morning , I need to remember,  I should write this down. I go back to my morning spot and with pencil record the words that say the way it felt.

On the blank page next to angel shapes preparing for painting, I write to remember.

That moment, stay there,

that feeling, hold fast to it.

It happened in increments. First, I was humming,mindless warm sounds under steam of shower. Then, quietly I began to sing.

The words from the day’s Advent card, just words, “Jesus, we love you.”

Quietly, repetitively I sang

Jesus, we love you.

Jesus we love you.

You are the one our hearts adore.

Three, four, more times, I suppose I  sang the same few words to the song, each time more fluid than the last.

I fall short in describing the quiet elation, the place my heart felt peace. I’m hesitant to tell for fear it might lessen the tenderness of moment or the possibility of it being rare.

For, we can’t chase joy. We’ll  fail in pursuit of the splendidly content moments. We’ll find ourselves just shy of happy in the simple and we’ll negate the beautiful of a moment in forcing its happening again.

So, I’ll remember my shower song.  I’ll remember the moment when the words caused me to continue

in the finding of joy.

Day 11 – grace, regardless

Children, courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

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Day 11, Advent
Uphold me in your promise that I may live and let me not be put to shame in my hope! Psalm 119:116

How we feel about God, about His part in our plans and how we give him a role in our lives, our faith, dependence, trust…our unwavering acceptance of his unwavering grace is the image and message we convey.

It can’t be hidden, won’t be hidden. With God, there’s no masking, no faking, no playing of holy part. Our lives are not scenes from a grand play for which we’ve auditioned and are  chosen to be the star follower or the longing reject hoping to be picked to follow Jesus.

There’s no need for acting. There’s no need for striving to maintain appearance of never being afraid or feeling condemned, yet again because of negative conversations with self.

If we try to cover our doubts about grace in the day to day, how will we ever convey God’s saving grace to the doubters of us and of life and love,  all around us and in our lives?

We end up exhausted from the farce of it all…going through life only sporadically believing in grace.
Grace is daily.
It is our bread, our sustenance.

It’s what we know we lack and circle back to remember.
The very same grace we accepted as ours when we surrendered our wandering, questioning hearts and believed is the grace that is ours every second of the day.

So, I let my insecurities show and  some might be repelled by my lack of discretion, of not covering up. By the grace of God and my discernment of right people, they show less day by day.

In time one of two things surely happens:
It will, my insecurity, show more or struggle to stay hidden. Insecurity is relevant and relatable. It is beautiful for us to be brave enough to be less than strong enough or as we might be expected to be.

The more we remember grace, the less glaringly we’ll obstruct its beauty by the wearing of our masks of can’t be known.

Heather said she’s ready for the leaves to all fall away, the trees should be wintry now, it’s Christmas.

I agree. There’s beauty in barren. There’s beauty in exposed and clinging to what means life.

Can a winter branch shield itself from cold, wet and harsh season?

I think not, still it’s a beautiful thing to see resting in the strength of roots and even more clearly visible unadorned with leaf against wide blue sky.
#graceupongrace #quietconfidence #birthofjesusday

Beautiful not Finished

Children, Faith, grace, Motherhood, praise, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability
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Unfinished

The first time I put my feet on the little path to the place where love lives now, I thought, “I’d fix these bricks. I’d clean up these flower beds and I’d add some pine straw as a border.”

I walked in the empty house back then, high ceilings and wide open space, functional and sparse.  I moved through the hall and tried with all my heart; but, couldn’t sense heart or home. I thought, “I’d put a rocker there or I might make this a mudroom.”

Today, in my daughter’s country kitchen, I baked spaghetti, thick cheesy pasta merged with a rich sauce as I looked out wide uncurtained window, a little rooster on the ledge. The clear glass, the length of wide sink,impossible not to gaze towards a misty gray sky flecked with blackbirds.

My daughter napped on the sofa under her worn soft blanket. I sat with journal on lap,  glancing again, again towards the narrow window of the front porch and the one past the foyer, in her dining room. It perfectly frames what seems to be miles of trees and peach fields. This window unveiled too, thin gauzy fabric opened to the side.

The leaves on the trees in front were shiny wet, like oil painted canvas, still the cardinal and thrush were easy to find as they danced upwards and round and round.

The brick path greeted me again this morning. The welcome, an unfinished pattern, still incomplete.

I smile when I see the Christmas tree, the pillow on porch swing. I love the changes love has made, my daughter’s “touch” on the big house, their home for now. Even more beautiful will be the one that will come, in time and with plans prepared and waiting.

He has made everything beautiful in His time.

Ecclesiastes 3:11

 

Sure Enough

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

 

Sure Enough

tiny tree ornaments, babies, angels and feathers

This morning, I considered the idea of assurance and prayed,

“Dear Lord,  I want to live assured.”

I thought how it may be to move through my day with a countenance of being sure.

How it might be to wear assurance as my jacket, to walk with the cadence of happy rhythmic step, and to speak in a way so sure I’d radiate belief, my cheeks ‘ablush from the knowledge of enough.

My countenance, sure and assured.

I looked towards the memories on my wall, the tiny angel with her book and a jelly jar full of feathers.

The beauty of it all, so much more than enough, I sit quietly in a settled place with sunsine stripes on the wall.

Yet, none of this is significant or of measurable value.

I could sell angel paintings, their shapes thick with paint and poised with grace and hope. I could hear of the way they spoke to the buyer.  I could publish the book God told me is my “treasure”, the one I’ve been brave enough to title.  I could do these things and more and I’d be nothing more than accomplished without the assurance of a good, true and faithful God.

I’d rather be known by my faith. I’d rather be content in such a way I’d intrigue others to know how, why and could I?

My countenance, one of sure enough assurance and my expression so true, all will understand,

She means it when she says… it’s not me, but, God and it’s grace I don’t deserve but, I’m sure of.

 

 

Unfiltered Glimpse

courage, Faith, family, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized

There’s only one left, it’s bright green with fern-like stems. The spindly arms reach across vacant space like a long sighing stretch across an empty morning bed.

The tiny little succulents I planted in my mama’s broken pot were pretty, fragile and spongy little blooms living all together on a cushion of soil.

I’d placed them in a spot easy to glance toward in the pauses of my morning. The sun just creeping in, warm and soft seeping in of light.

Angel and a lone succulent

Angel and a lone succulent

 

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Poetic in Presence

Faith, family, Uncategorized

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More than likely, you won’t see them. Little black specks of wing.

Three times, maybe four, because once it was a big hug of shadow passing above.

I turned again to see; but, I missed that time.

I’d like to be able to describe it. The moment I was in their presence.

Four hawks dancing against the bluebird colored sky, the signifance of their circling not in vain.

We’re gathering soon, some family, not all.

I’ll look towards heaven and I’ll see them, I know.

Red bird on a branch or a feather at my feet,

I’d smile at a penny found on heads.

A presence indescribable.

Words fall short.

I can’t conjure up the image,  four birds dancing over me

Poetic peace.

Not Common – Five minute Friday prompt

courage, Faith, family, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

Maybe it’s age I thought, except it doesn’t feel like an aged thing to do.   I look towards the sky, treetops, moon and sun. I pause in the connection that feels more like settled than sage.

Closer to God, closer to them. I see my father in the tallest of narrow pines, the moon resting there, unpretentious.

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If I told you a story of my father, I might have described him as common.  I may have told of remembering his scarcity of conversation. I may have told you about his best friend Thomas who looked after my mama after he died.

I may have told you of his intolerance towards the pompous or arrogant or his consistently trying to be more than life and hardship had equipped him to be.

I may even have told you about his love hate relationship with drink, loving the way it numbed his past, hating its angry hold.

Most likely, though I’d tell you he was handsome, neat as a pin and wisely quiet and refined. When he smiled, it was true.

I might tell you that I never saw him read his Bible, nor did I hear him pray out loud. I believe he did.

I believe he believed and he prayed the way he lived, like Paul urged, quiet and not for noticing.

11 and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you…I Thessalonians 4:11

Uncommonly quiet and simply uncommon…

We have that in common, I pray.

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http://katemotaung.com/2016/11/10/five-minute-friday-common-a-giveaway/

 

Morning Reassured

Faith, family, grace, praise, Uncategorized
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Day is done with a Beautiful “Amen”

 

What is morning

if not reassurance, or evening

if not acceptance?

Morning wakes with wondering,

What beauty might be mine?

Evening rests with a yearning,

Will there be acceptance of day?

Nightfall,  like unprompted embrace with hand resting on the small of back,

A confirmation?

A gentle nod and slight smile, could it be

“All is fine.”

“You are good.”?

The early morning birdsong, an exhuberant testimony

and the crimson ribboned sky, an Amen.

Reassurances, to me

of God.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.

Indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. Psalm 16:6