Humility, a New Path

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

It occurred to me today that moving through change towards your heart’s desire is simply just to keep moving.

I wouldn’t have expected both desires to begin to grow stronger at the same time.

Saturday, I wrote for two hours and then I painted for three.

My writing was good for me, it was representative of my heart.

My art, tedious and detailed causing me to almost quit

Instead I sat it aside, went back and then

Leaning it against the wall for a long look, I was satisfied in its message.

This morning, I woke thinking of humility vs. insecurity and I determined the difference.

Humility is strength enough to move towards accomplishment with no concern for acclaim. Humility is simply patience on the path while listening to God’s quiet direction forward.

Growing up along the fence, I would have missed this if I had not decided to take just a few extra steps to a place in my own backyard.

What does God have for us that’s just a few extra steps off our habitual or unbelieving path?

Beauty and wisdom are found in the places we avoid, are afraid of and for me, maybe you…the impossible places.

A friend said to me on Saturday, “You should be published.” And I smiled and instead of saying, “Oh, it’s hard or maybe or I doubt it” I said,

“God is moving me to the place of His purpose.”

You can make many plans, but the Lord’s purpose will prevail. Proverbs 19:21

Persisting

courage, Faith, praise, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

There are a few, maybe more than a few things I am persistent in.

I always make my bed, taut linens, perfectly smoothed quilt.

I pray every morning in the shower, like singing it’s a place to be secret, a sanctuary.

I journal, sometimes half-heartedly, gratitude and anxiety.

I walk in the evenings, if daylight allows. My walking, sometimes good and refreshing, sometimes nothing more than prescribed discipline.

Yet, I persist.

I walked yesterday evening. The sky was clear, the roads quiet and empty. I looked for pink skies and found only icy blue.

Earlier than usual, a warm afternoon and the sparrows were gathered, moving tree to tree in rapid little sweeping flight.

Landing for just a second or two before gathering again to rest in brief refrain. I caught sight of one resting up high on skinny branch.

Reminding me of rest, of waiting, of listening and trusting.

Persisting.

Scribbling, quickly this morning

Again my thoughts on persistence.

It may take years and years and many types of trouble, calamity, crisis and question to truly understand the value of prayer.

Because the answer holds little value, is really no more than change in circumstances. God loves us so, so much that He will bless us with reprieve, with clarity, with relief.

Still, this is not the significance of God’s longing for us to discover through prayer. God’s desire and constant beckoning of our hearts is for us to lay our hearts bare and broken before him…to persist there in that place…aligned with Him. To be fully content in simply abiding.

To return to rest in the safe place of God.

To persist in pursuit of the peace of God.

To be hid in the shadow of His wings and that be all we need to keep us confident and courageous as He bends to listen, protect and strengthen. This is design and desire of God.

I am praying to You, because I know You will answer O God. Bend down, listen as I pray. Your unfailing love is wonderful and You save with Your strength those who seek you as a refuge. Guard me as the apple of Your eye. Hide me in the shadow of your wings.

Psalm 17: 6-8

Linking up to Tell His Story with other writers, persistently praying.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/for-those-times-when-you-dont-see-a-happy-ending-to-your-story-tellhisstory/

Richly Beautiful

courage, Faith, family, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I walked again on the beach this morning. The birds were gathered, foamy white gathered at their feet.

The air was cold, crisp and damp.

Just a few people out, dogs, toddlers and joggers.

I’d grabbed a jacket, thrown on over T-shirt and pajama pants; my only thought, just to walk on the shore.

I’m thinking now, what freedom…to be unconcerned about appearance, seeking only to be filled, fulfilled, connected to God.

I’m not quite sure if it’s age or wisdom or wisdom because of age.

I care a little less about appearance in comparison to other women; still, not nearly enough yet.

I sat next to and walked amongst throngs of women this weekend. All moms of a Citadel cadet, all shown up, fixed up.

There to see ours sons, while looking at each other.

Beautiful women, tall, thin, heavy, dressy, sporty, dresses, shorts jeans, heels, flats, fancy sunglasses, perfect hair, ponytails and buns.

Women, looking for sons and looking at each other.

I was an overweight teenager. I spent hours looking at Glamour magazines, longing to be thin, pretty, a “Glamour do”.

I learned to starve. I learned to starve more and I had more clothes than most, yet never enough.

I lived this way for too many years.

I sat just behind a woman about my age this weekend in a football stadium. I fixated again, it had been awhile. I found myself longing for all she seemed to be.

Her purse, its label, one that comes with a price..around $599.00

I noticed her wristwatch, casually resting against a delicate gold bracelet. Her jeans were smooth in texture, a fabric akin to dry cleaned slacks. Her thin belt, a correspondent to flat leather shoes.

Her cardigan, loose on shoulders fit perfectly to show the subtle gold looped chain that centered itself against crisp white top. Her earrings, thin hoops of gold accented her cheekbones and spoke of casual femininity.

I thought, ” I’d really love a watch like that.”

I’ve not had opportunity to splurge. I’ve not been afforded with riches or income that allow spending without concern.

I’ve become content in the extravagance of a mom who wants her children to have more. I have seen goodness, the goodness of enough, of God.

So, I sat there in the stadium and I thought in a new way, to visualize her riches on me. I wondered if life might be better.

I saw myself wearing her watch. Rising from my seat, reaching for the soft leather of her purse, my purse. I pictured me in her outfit; I imagined my face framed by soft cardigan and pretty earrings…

And I realized; clearly, nothing changed. I am me.

She is she.

This morning, I read only one devotion, my routine different because of travel. I read from Jesus Calling.

Found feather

I read of God illumined in me, of His gift in me…Beautiful.

In me, with me. I gently laid the feather found. This one, washed and covered in gritty sand.

I settled it there to rest.

Battered and imperfect, redeemed.

Beautifully redeemed.

For it is not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you have been redeemed . I Peter 1:18

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/six-words-that-can-make-all-the-difference-today-tellhisstory/

Day 5 of 31 Days of UNimpressive Writing: Geese, Bluebirds and New Chances to Love

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

The geese were back this morning.

First time in days.

I turned to make my way back inside, stopping to gather fallen leaves and heard their approach.Their sound a celebration of the day, exuberant and joyous it seemed.

I held fragile leaves in my hand, turned towards the sounds of geese and joined in their flight, my mind there with them, moving forward, renewed and committed to the day.

The ground is soaked here, covered in pine needles today. We were spared the damage of wind and flood, our yard simply evidence of rain, constant torrential showers. I was thankful today for leafy, wind tousled and soaking wet ground. Wet, muddy yard scattered with pretty color; my feet were planted in a level spot and I glanced towards the damp, steely sky.

My cousin called this morning and we talked of life, of children, of God. We were getting carried away, consistent in our anguish, of things we can’t let go, things that frustrate us. We talked about the flood of our weekend and she shared her experience of Hurricane Katrina. This flood, Joaquin prompted storm, had both she and her husband reliving the trauma. I told her I’m very afraid of water and wonder if people will be found dead in their homes. She said “Most likely” and shared of homes ravaged by Katrina that were marked with an “X” to indicate a dead person inside.

We meandered back to the subject of our children then.

We understand why we’ve mothered the way we have; just don’t know why we keep going back there,

Trying to be the mother they’ve outgrown.

The mother that meets our need, not theirs.

We’re making progress though, beginning to think as God thinks of us, agreeing that the greatest desire of our lives has been to parent well, differently, unquestionably committed to our sons and daughters.

We have been and are good mothers. We know this.

Never occurred to me until just now, I thought to myself. “I’ve parented well, absolutely wholeheartedly. Let God lead them now. ”

She got quiet, thinking, I assumed then excitedly announced “There are bluebirds in my yard. The most beautiful bluebirds are just outside on my porch!”

“God is telling us to have hope”, I said. ” He’s telling us to let go now, we’ve done our part, he’s ready to take it from here.”

They’ve left our nests; well-loved and knowing they are loved.

There are new, bright places for them to grow, us too.

Loved well and loving well.

New places to grow

Day 4 of 31Days of UNimpressive writing: Good Stories

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust

Every month, I get the chance to share my thoughts, my heart, my place with God and through God in a monthly Faith column.

It’s an honest place for my thoughts to land and is always a reflection of life,work, family, helping, trusting, questioning and living a life that reminds of grace. Persistent prayer, the truthful and loving lesson of God, the conversation starters of God’s glorious mercy revealed.

I get to write stories of God every month

October’s Faith Column, Good Stories

Yesterday, I had the chance to sit amongst several elderly women as they gathered for their Women’s Mission group. Their first meeting after a summer off, they were given the opportunity to share a happy memory of their summer. One shared about becoming a great-grandparent, another about a surprise 50th wedding anniversary gift and finally a third, a widow, shared about moving to a new home. She greeted me upon entering the room, vibrant and with a welcomingly genuine smile. Her face, I noticed was smooth and beautiful with the glow of happiness, a foundation that can’t be purchased at any cosmetics counter. Her new home, she shared, is an apartment in an assisted living facility. She smiled when I told her she lives just across the street from my office and that I could come by for a visit, that I bet she has some very good stories. She said “Oh, please do stop by.” I thought of the stories she may have, her countenance one of peace, I found myself longing to hear her stories of grace, of faith, of persistence.

I was their guest speaker. They wanted to hear about a program that’s often described as a mission: Nurture Home, a transitional shelter for women and children who are homeless. They listened as I detailed facts and figures, the structure of the program and the overall condition of homelessness in South Carolina. I stopped when we focused on the effect of homelessness on children and integrated a favorite story of a precious little boy telling me, “ I love my new house, thank you for my bed”. I shared my favorite stories of lives we’ve touched, opportunities to come alongside women and walk with them as they navigate the detours of their lives. I couldn’t help but notice that the faces of the listeners changed as I sat aside my materials and told the stories of hardship and hope restored. They agreed with me; stories make all the difference.

Stories like Jesus told, parables of people like you and I travelling the road of life, relying on hope and faith. The parables of Jesus are of people who believed after meeting Jesus and of people who were steadfast despite setbacks. The stories are of Jesus as he engaged with his listeners and his disciples, his followers and his doubters; Jesus was the ultimate story teller. His parables are timeless, making our circumstances and our concerns relatable.

In the book of Luke, Chapter 18, we have a chance to understand the value of persistence. Having recently experienced a big answered prayer in my life followed closely by another set of questions and doubt, it has become clear to me that the prayer God longs for is the prayer of persistence. The prayer that doesn’t say, “Oh, thank you, God that was awesome, I’ll talk to you later.”, rather a prayer that demonstrates a commitment to a relationship of patient supplication and trust. In verses 1 through 8, we hear the story of a widow who refused to give up on her plea for justice. An ungodly judge refused to grant her request for justice against her adversary, (vs.3) He eventually honored her persistent plea even though he thought he had no fear of her God, saying “I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually wear me out with her coming!” (vs.5) He saw she wasn’t giving up. Jesus shared this parable with his disciples to demonstrate that surely if an unkind judge would grant a persistent widow’s wish; wouldn’t it make sense that God will hear the cries of his chosen ones when we cry out to him day and night?

I’ve been thinking about persistence in terms of the longings of my heart; thinking of setbacks, of issues I felt had been resolved through answered prayer that had proven otherwise, or not quite yet. I thought of friends who are waiting for answers in health issues, serious diagnoses and uncertainty of their days. I thought of the widow who lives across the street and how I’d love to hear her stories of confident determination and persistence in prayer. I’m convinced her stories include prayers, and that they are persistent prayers and I just may go over for a visit. Everyone has a story, a story made better with God, a good story.

Day 3 of 31 days of UNimpressive writing: only heart words… Turning Season

Children, Faith, Trust, Uncategorized

We take the winding roads on our Saturdays together, my daughter and I.

Stopping to notice leaf change.

Greens reaching up, folding inward, holding on, procrastinating the brittle change.

Golds, surrendered to season. Changing with changes.

Settled in scattered places under shelter of black, mangled ugly limbs strained from summer harvest.

Accepting change.

Surprised by the gift of surrendering our seasons.

Loving what has come, moving towards what we know is soon.

My daughter, a wife soon.

New seasons under God’s heaven

Everything

Turn, turn

There is a season.

Day 2 of 31 Days of UNimpressive writing: only from the heart: Our Given Names

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability

There’s a story about my mama’s name, mine too. She, Bette Jean, was supposed to have been called Elizabeth.

Mama wanted to call me Libby. Daddy said “No, that’s a can of peaches.” My grandma, “Bama” agreed to my name being Lisa; but, insisted on the Anne that follows.

Who’s to say whether we, over time, become our names or they were just right for us all along. My mama surely was not Elizabeth-like.

Couldn’t see her as a Liz or a Beth; Bette, for sure.

And me? Libby is cute, perky, and pretty. Not me. Lisa Anne is who I am, who I have become.

Heather could have been Olivia and Austin was almost Zachary.

Heather Analise, a child of God

Heather, open to life and at peace near open fields and cows. Her name fits. Analise added as a middle, pretty and classic.

Austin, James Austin, again just right. James a solid and reputable name, Austin, a nod to the dry humor and surprisingly big heart of his great-grandfather.

James Austin.a child of God

My children’s names, the names they have become.

I am thinking of the unthinkable today. One in college, the other a teacher leading a classroom of the youngest students.

I am trying, but struggling to place myself in the minds of the parents of students killed in Oregon.

I am wondering how, in the aftermath of terror and shock, I would feel to know that when asked, my children said they were Christians, told to stand and then shot.

I visualize not so clearly and can sort of imagine the scene.

Young adults, students, surprised by the intrusive presence of a peer with a gun, afraid; but, deciding to go with his demands, to not cause anger, to remain quiet, not draw attention to self.

To cower. To be compliant. I imagine this might have been their thinking in effort to survive.

Until, the question

“Are you a Christian?”

My children are Christians.

I witnessed the salvation of both and I’ve seen them acknowledge in ways big, small, private and outspoken, their faith.

They know Jesus. Jesus knows them.

People know that they know Jesus.

Children of God. A name that can’t be denied.

I am praying for the Oregon mamas and daddies, parents of children of God.

Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become Children of God. John 1:12

Thank you, Lord, for my name and for the names of my children.

Day 1 of 31: Slow Mornings and Clarity

courage, Faith, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

There will be no planning ahead in this 31 day challenge. My words, if I remember them all, will be thoughts that show up and make sense in an all of sudden way.

For me, for now.

This morning, I added in the final page of my latest journal its dates, 6/19-10/30.

A thick journal filled with quite alot, heavy and pretty ecru colored pages marked with dailies. I have loved this book and its time.

I woke this morning, surprised I’d not heard the rain.

Made sense though, I slept through the normal noises of morning.

Coffee, lamplight, stack of books and me

My morning spot.

New journal in hand, the one quaintly adorned with a feather to remind, I begin my day.

Resigned and surrendered to what may come as I read the words of Matthew, their beckoning tone of rest. A new place for me, accepting and trusting, come what may or what will.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.²⁹Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

I moved about lazily as I am prone to do, moving closer towards leaving my spot in the lamplight, my little morning corner.

Quiet house, slow and easy, my favorite way now.

Thinking of answered prayers, of prayers offered and of prayer meeting last night,

Ten or so of us, standing in hand holding circle to pray.

Each pray-er a different tone, a different grateful heart, a different sound of supplicate

I stopped then to remember more clearly as I glanced again, pausing at the prayer filled journal

A compilation of yearning, of growth, of challenge and surrender.

My mind, quiet then and more clearly causing me to wait, to let my thoughts making sense rest for a bit there.

To say:

“This morning, Lisa, here is where you are.”

” I have learned so much of myself, many things more clearly

all because

I have finally allowed God to teach me.”

Waking up Gray and Wandering

Faith, family, Prayer, rest, Trust, wonder

It’s a gray morning and only Tuesday.

I felt the foggy hue before I turned from the twisted covers to decide, “Get up, now.”

Made my way down the hall to discover Colt’s overnight task of removing the stuffing from his bed.

White fluffy puffs scattered in the mud room illuminated by laundry room light left on, piles of unsorted clothes, jeans, T-shirts, belts, shoes, towels all mingled together, my appointment for tonight.

I flipped the light off, closed the door and walked towards coffee.

Sat with my journal, a defiant posture, huffy and discontent.

Barely said goodbye to my daughter as she turned to leave.

Caught myself, not soon enough though, glanced towards the fog outside and said “Be careful.”

Yesterday was a good day, Lord. Why this discontent today?

Why this cluttered and anxious mind?

Jotted a bullet list called “What am I stressing over? Why this mood?”

Why do we long for more, for different when what we have is not just enough, it’s more than enough?

Why these empty and cluttered places I’m pondering today, places of a dissatisfied, wandering heart?

Places waiting to be filled to abundance, waiting to be the resting place of God. Places of uncluttered contentment, of abiding peace. Places we know mean rest.

Instead, I woke feeling like a 40 year desert wanderer, enmeshed with a throng of disgruntled and dissatisfied seekers of more. Looking everywhere for better, all the while surrounded by goodness, manna raining down from God.

Oh, Lord, forgive my discontented selfish heart that tends to wander. Fix my eyes, heart and thoughts on you, I prayed.

O’ Lord, You have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my every thought when far away. You chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every moment You know where I am. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord. You both precede and follow me. You place Your hand of blessing on my head. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to know! Psalm 139:1-6

I move along in routine, grab the tennis ball delivered by Colt. Walk barefoot to accept the day, feet moist and covered in specks of green and straw brown pieces of nature. Trees, darkened by two days rain, leaves mottled and moist with season and damp. The plantings of summer allowed to wither, cold is coming anyway. Trees laced with thick complex webs with leaves caught within, layered, entrapped.

The sky is a dull, almost porcelain gray and the cows from a field up the road, moan low and long in agreement. I look for sunshine, tossing the tennis ball, intermittently praising its retrieval, a big happy dog content with “Good, boy, Colt.” then turn back towards the door, seeing more color, less gray.

And then I pray, Lord, forgive our discontent; remind us of your goodness and graciously embrace our wandering hearts.

I link up with Jennifer Dukes Lee every week. I have just read her latest post with a contented smile resting on my face. Her colorful story of our heavenly reunion she has dreamt of just excites me for today, for what’s to come, for living to radiate Jesus! I encourage you to read this. It’s another gray day here, humid on this last September day. Click here and smile, assured of heaven.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/the-unlikely-invitation-weve-all-been-waiting-for-tellhisstory/?utm_source=Blog+Subscribers&utm_campaign=b575b42722-RSS_EMAIL_CAMPAIGN&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_90981b7d90-b575b42722-70727985

Wednesday Prayers and a Sunset

courage, Faith, family, Prayer, rest, Trust, Vulnerability

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