family

Happy Way of Life #8

Angels, bravery, Children, courage, daughters, Faith, family, heaven, memoir, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, rest, sons, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I was outside literally two minutes or less, finally finished, I made my way to the spot I sit and watch the blue cool pool water paint patterns on my feet.

I’d been cleaning like crazy, Friday night instead of Saturday morning.

I was raised that way.

On Saturday morning, nothing happened until we cleaned.

My mama handed out assignments and by noon you’d have thought our house on the poor side of town was tucked away behind stately gates.

I adhere to her pattern, my daughter and son do too. We like things straight.

We like our places put together and pretty.

Now, it’s morning and I have Saturday’s day about to unfold. I’ve been awakened by a text, “You up?”

“In bed, awake”, my reply.

“Get ready.” her instruction.

Last night I tried to remember my mama’s particular words and I couldn’t. I tried to bring to mind her philosophical response, fashioned in blunt reply.

What I miss most of all are Saturday morning calls, coaxing me not worry…to let these two be, to know that they are good.

I can’t recall what it was, the thing I said just like her. I wanted to remember, tried so very hard.

I had to let it go hoping it comes back when I least expect.

Because last night, I sat in my spot, magazine by my side with a splash of wine in pretty glass. Relax, Lisa Anne.

Relax now.

Don’t stress. Let it be. Pick your battles. It’ll be fine. The truth always comes out and again, stress’ll kill you.

Momentarily, I heard the sound.

The arrival, I was ready.

Closer to me, at just the right time, I tilt my eyes towards heaven, and there are three.

The geese, the geese.

Mama always said, “Here they come.”

And yes, they did.

Again.

Happy Mother’s Day tomorrow in heaven. I’ll keep looking for you, mama, in my every single thing.

I’ll be listening for your reply.

A Kind of Light

courage, Faith, family, grace, kindness, mercy, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability, wonder

Out in the country, in the little place my daughter and her hubby call home, the sky is big, very big.

I’m always looking to see the light, the play of color, the hue falling on the high grass or the crimson “sour” weed.

I go outside, the rain being done for now and the sun is setting.

The softest light I’ve known. I’m in love with the sky, can’t get enough of the view.

Yesterday morning, I received an apology from someone and I wasn’t quite sure of its need.

There’d been some tension in our exchange, an agitation in his voice, seemed some sort of struggle unrelated to the topic being volleyed across conference room table.

I’d decided early on that my go to all day was gonna be kindness, intentionally to go the way of accepting another without making their manner of speech, attitude or action about harming me, hampering me.

I must’ve carried that resolve into the meeting because when I’d have typically said “not dealing with you” and rejecting another person all together, I sensed something else and I said to self, “Be kind.”

Thought of that quote when I read his apology, not knowing what horrible thing was hidden in his typed asking forgiveness, I thought of “be kind…there’s a hard battle here you don’t know.” Something you can understand.

“He has showered his kindness on us, along with all wisdom and understanding.” Ephesians 1:8

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I blogged my second piece as a contributor at Daughters of The Deep about being light wherever we go.

Light in a dark world that we sometimes get wrong I think, we sometimes feel as Christians we have to burst forth into every room and like a blinding presence that can’t be denied, we can’t and won’t be denied.

That’s not God’s expectation, I don’t believe.

Who ever thought of love or kindness or mercy as a spotlight piercing in and causing us to shield our eyes, our souls?

Moses even had to turn away and it was God who drew near him. Surely, we know our lights are a significantly different version, His Spirit in us, minuscule but, still mighty in its meaning and message.

Love, it’s the much softer light that we should bring, a subtle difference nudging others to know more of why.

Our light, a kinder light.

Mostly, kindness, just choosing kindness.

In this recent post, I wrote about the women who were with Jesus because they’d had their lives changed by His healing. I wrote about their hard sorrows before and their light infused afters.

I wrote of the beauty we see when we choose to see others through eyes changed, through a softer light, a light that doesn’t blind in its sudden sizing up of others.

The Beauty We See

A light that’s warm and welcoming in and in illuminating rightly my impression of others, not begging their notice or impression of me,

a kind of light, kinder.

Happy Way of Life, #5

family, happy, Labradors, wonder

As if he might know somehow, crazy to think it possible, his knowing.

We pause, we move from pavement to grassy overgrowth bordered by rotting fenceposts and barbed wire, rusty.

We pray the subdivision doesn’t take over.

I promise, there’s no way a Labrador might know.

The way the cousins expected in between pickin’ berries and lookin’ out for snakes and snake holes to jump from red clay rutted dirt road hearing the roundin’ roar of engine.

But, we did when my grandma said so,

We “HIT the ditch!”

And so, when the big brown lab causes the pull of his leash towards shallow grassy valley bordered by fence,

I go.

We go. We linger, unconcerned over passerby’s questioning over a dog and a woman just standing, “sitting”, pausing in the ditch.

This, my friend, my follower, my one curiously intrigued is this Georgia girl living elsewhere’s happy way of life.

We go, we consider it happy, this little bit of remembering, we’re happy in it.

And oh, the joy of the careless acknowledgment of such simplicity and perhaps, simple minded.

Oh, joy!

Grief, After a While

family, grief, rest, Stillness, Vulnerability

I’ve just given a chunk of my evening, finally settled into my spot for an hour or two, to the perusing of quotes on grief that might be descriptive of what I’ve come to know.

Nothing quite right.

I’ve decided grief moves from an acknowledgement embraced all together of tightly knit mourning mourners to an individually and uniquely personal honoring of the one missed and longed for.

After a while, the void is always present when the all together gatherers gather; but, it’s not elaborated, opened for discussion, no longer any value in discussing the sorrow over the absence.

We’re all together in our longing, have the sense and sensibility not to invite it take over our hearts, our minds.

It doesn’t serve us well. Thank the Lord we know this, we know not to open wounds healed sort of like skin pinker than the other places where the deepest cut occurred. We’re okay each of us, to care for our own wounds, comfort our own souls.

There are new ways to grieve, after a while, after all.

I didn’t know when the morning had us listening to a sweet silver haired woman peddling plants, that I’d have cause and occasion to remember.

I didn’t know when my daughter said, “Come early, we’ll go the Farmer’s Market” that this same sweet lady would correct me when I called one plant something other than what it was and that she’d remind me not to over water.

Didn’t know I’d think of you then, had no idea how I’d be so happy I’d bought the three new tiny and tender plants later.

Tonight, I spent some time taking the old dirt out and adding new and I put the tender thick leaved plants in a semicircle design and just a little water, not too much, I put it back in the place next to the book I made to remember you.

To remember, the very first year after you were gone.

Little green plants in a shallow pot with broken edges, my sort of special way, the way I make sure to honor my mama, to remember.

Grief, after a while moves from a sorrowful stance to acceptance that honors, from remembering to keeping quiet your spirit and cultivating small reminders. Me

They Rested

bravery, courage, Easter, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Never random when she calls, it’s always an interruption for both of us.

Still, we are rapt and attentive, anticipatory.

We pause, we interject.

We listen, we add to the conversation.

We are one and we call one another from the proverbial cliffs of our own anxious waiting.

Sometimes I call her down, sometimes she consoles, corrects, cajoles me.

Either way, there may be tears. There is always prayer and always, always we are both equally better.

Or at least, we’ve filled a big chunk of the space in our minds tainted by what we are dying to know, what we are willing ourselves to believe all will be His will or we are plain worn out from devising outcomes from which to choose and get ready for.

We are both willful we decide.

This morning, I want to know more. I’m reading my Bible like the good book it is, enthralled to know more, I decide to read each account of the day between death and resurrection.

I choose Luke because of one sentence in what amounts to no more than a paragraph.

Just a paragraph, a pause.

John, Mark and Matthew all the same, a resignation of accepting the death of Jesus and a business transaction on the part of a man named Joseph.

“Now there was a man named Joseph, from the Jewish town of Arimathea. He was a member of the council, a good and righteous man, who had not consented to their decision and action; and he was looking for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down and wrapped it in a linen shroud and laid him in a tomb cut in stone, where no one had ever yet been laid. It was the day of Preparation, and the Sabbath was beginning.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:50-54‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The women prepared the spices, they’d taken care to continue in their parts. Verses before, they’d been told of promises.

Jesus saw their longing, their lamenting. He spoke of our own longing, our lamenting when and will and how and how long?

“But turning to them Jesus said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us,’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us.’”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:28-30‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Told them days of blessings are a sure thing. Every single word of Jesus was purposeful, was promise.

Was a promise he kept and still keeps.

As if saying, Believe. You will see!

That day in between, sad but serene resignation, accepting, doing what we can do.

They did what they could, they made the preparations.

They were careful in their role as ones who cared.

They did what they could and then rested.

“Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:56‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Today, I made a new to do list.

I’m in charge of some things and I’ve promised to do another. My children will be with me tomorrow for lunch and I’m ditzy when it comes to hosting and cooking and timelines.

I’ll read the narration for our cantata and I’ll sing and worship.

I added a bold bracket around my list and asked God to use me and my abilities as He sees fit.

And I remembered wisdom from another:

“I will when I can.”

Today, I’ll rest in my waiting. I’ll do my best to embrace the time, the day between.

Sabbath, I surrender to you. I’ll give grace to me and to those around me.

With anticipation and excitement I’ll celebrate the life and newness and resurrection tomorrow.

Like Mary and the others, I’ll hold on hopeful and wholeheartedly to your promise that it is not finished with me, there are still mountains to be moved and beautiful blessings from barren times for me and for the ones I love and humbly pray intercession for.

Prayers spoken and answered, she will call and we’ll sing together because His glory has been shown.

Yes, we have seen God’s glory!

New life!

Morning Light

family, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Uncategorized

Jesus told the disciples how they should pray. They’d seen Him praying and asked to be taught. He responded with The Lord’s Prayer and then continued by telling them to be persistent and specific, to be, I suppose you might say, “a pest”.

This morning I woke up too early. I’d been bragging about my internal clock and being able to wake without alarm at just the right time. Not today, 5:30 a.m. and I begin.

Pretty pencil and pad in my lap, I leave the lamp off.

I think, out of nowhere…Lord, teach me to pray.

Cup one down, I flip on the lamp and find the place in my Bible where this request rests.

Prayed yesterday while walking Colt and before sleep last night and now morning routine, I’m still seeking more.

Lord, do you tire of the same requests?

I wonder do you watch over me and my circling round, back tracking and circumventing supplications?

Do you grow weary of my questions?

Do you feel I’m ever looking for answers; but, not hardly ever seeking you?

Jesus told the disciples that a good father gives his children what they ask for and never anything less or not suitable.

He told the disciples a hungry soul asking to be fed will be fed as long as they are persistent in their need for food.

“And he said to them, “Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey, and I have nothing to set before him’; and he will answer from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed. I cannot get up and give you anything’? I tell you, though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, yet because of his impudence he will rise and give him whatever he needs. And I tell you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.” Jesus Luke‬ ‭11:5-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I look towards my left, a desk where two boys sat who are now men is filled with old school papers and things like Hot Wheels and Pokémon cards.

On top rests the broken edged pot from my mama’s. The succulents have not survived but, the bird nest rests there, gold coin from a foreign place and the pine cone and the pebble. There’s a feather near and a magnolia type pod.

I’m reminded to pray, prompted by what and who each oddity means.

I’m reminded that my morning routine is never routine to God.

In the Chapter just before the 11th of Luke, Jesus told Martha to be more like her sister, Mary.

Told her to choose the better, to linger at His feet awhile instead of trying to keep straight everyone and everything around her, unfocused, persistent only in her perfections sought after.

Morning light now all around, I’ve sat for longer than I should again, I think.

And then quickly decide no, not at all as another verse God brings to mind. One about a boy who woke to hear clearly what God had to say, had prepared him for.

“Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down, and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant hears.'” So Samuel went and lay down in his place. And the Lord came and stood, calling as at other times, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant hears.”

‭‭1 Samuel‬ ‭3:9-10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Morning light, now fully bright.

Thank you, Father I’ve sought you and I’ve sat and you have spoken to my heart.

I’m now prepared.

Thank you for my routine every morning.

I’m thankful for FMF prompts. Admittedly, I rarely stay within 5 minutes…still I enjoy linking up and learning from others.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/03/22/fmf-link-up-routine/

P.S. pray for Colt, the big brown lab aka Colton Dixon, his old hip injury has him limping this morning, not his usual goofy self. 😒

Wisdom, Beauty, Small Changes

courage, daughters, family, grace, Stillness, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I changed things up this afternoon.

The place where I sit every morning, is different now. I swapped out shallow basket weave tray for old wooden box that now holds my pencil, Bible and books.

The pencils and pens that rested there before are now sorted and pointing up to show their colors, they’re now living in a little caddy with the bottom missing, so I got it real cheap.

Heather came over and we walked and we talked and I broke a branch of pear tree blossom.

Brought it in, let it rest in little jelly jar and I remembered how my mama used to be on Saturday afternoon, late.

I’d walk in the back door and the den would be different, she’d found something out junkin’ and she’d rearranged the room around it.

We might sit and she’d talk and I always left my heart fuller and more wise.

The conversations slow, pensive pauses, insight straightforward, yet soft enough I held it, never considered it obtrusive, it was welcomed, her wisdom resting with mine just barely started.

It’s a generational thing, the wisdom unfettered, the joy in small changes.

My daughter walked with me this evening. I didn’t let her know; but, I could barely contain myself in my notice of her beauty.

The sun going down, the spring chill of breeze bringing her hair towards her cheeks, her loose ponytail bouncing.

And we talked, her wisdom rooted deeply and decidedly, not pulled right nor left and maybe some of it mine; but, most of all hers, my mama’s and a yes, just a little bit, mine.

“She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Sound of Sigh

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, Peace, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

It was audible. The whole house, empty and I’d heard it once already. A peaceful type awakening of thought wrapped up securely, held safely down deep.

The bottom of the soul’s well, causing a welling up.

That’s what a sigh sounds like, I believe. A bringing up to our surfaces, the soul’s regrets, letting them see the light and to leave us better, leave us in peace.

John was born for that, to show others Jesus as peace, Jesus as redemption, not regret.

Someone saying they had so much more to say and I remembered my regret.

My “ohh” came out all gravelly like the sides of my heart somehow roughed up the edges of my words and my voice was a sad sigh tarnished by memory.

I remembered regretting coming back home that night. And I remembered what I said by her bed.

I sighed, my understanding audible.

My voice muffled by the knot in my throat as my daughter shared what her friend said her husband said, his father gone before he had the chance to say more.

I sighed; but, not for long, I listened instead, stopped my taking of another’s grieving thunder.

My sigh changed then, from oh I know to hopefully more, I understand.

Same morning, I’m thinking of what I missed finishing the day before, good intentions stolen by circumstance and once again, I regretted not painting, not writing, not following through.

I opened my little book called “Joy and Strength” to the place chosen for the 2nd of March.

And again, the sound of sigh, this time a sigh of affirmation and of hope.

This one, “Ohhh”, more like “oh, my goodness, oh, my soul,

Oh, how amazing, oh, the love of God”

I sighed, “oh” again, the sound softer then, a validation.

I believe that love reigns, and that love will prevail. I believe that He says to me every morning,

“Begin again thy journey and thy life; thy sins, which are many, are not only forgiven, but they shall be made, by the wisdom of God, the basis on which He will build blessings.”

Thomas Erskine

“Oh”, I sighed, a prayer, again today.

Heavenly Father today I begin again.

Steady my heart, give me opportunity to remember and sweetly sigh, “oh” as I walk along the path of peace that you have made so amazingly free and possible despite my past sins worthy of many regrets.

In Jesus’ name and because of mercy.

Amen

I’m afraid I never can finagle all my thoughts into words in five minutes. I’ll link this post with the others though. I’ve already read so many very good posts on regret from others, I’m joining the conversation.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/03/01/fmf-link-up-regret/

Wonder Why

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, Peace, Prayer, Vulnerability, wonder

I’m prompted to write in response to “Why” and hope to stay concise, hope more to make sense of wondering why.

I agreed as I have before to meet a parent who was considering joining our suicide bereavement group; but, wasn’t quite sure.

My role in this exchange is to listen. I acknowledge I do not fully understand, I just listen, make my workspace their safe space. So, I listened to a father talk about his son and say he had no idea why, why his son decided to complete suicide.

Years ago, I escorted a parent from my office and the issue over believing in God or not came up.

We both wondered how you get by without God, without believing in His comfort and His knowledge. As if it’s an answer to no answer. We don’t know; but, God knows.

So, if there’s anything good about never knowing it’s at least a certainty to know that only God knows.

I suppose when there’s no answer, you eventually maybe can rest in “only God knows”.

That was my rationale and I wished I’d recorded it back then ’cause right now I’m not getting it quite so clearly the way I meant and felt. (reader, you can agree)

A father shared how the mother was worried about heaven or hell. The child had never believed; parents always questioned, maybe believed some things and wavered on others finally giving up altogether because of what circumstances in their lives it seemed God turned a blind eye to.

I responded because I felt he waited for me somehow to reassure, brush off the concerns or as if I, not only was a listener but some skilled and astute theologian.

I’m neither astute nor very theologically skilled. I base my belief on my life experiences with God and God showing me I matter significantly to Him.

I’m a beaten and battered ever questioning sinner saved by grace who believes because of answers to prayers and because I know the me that not believed and I’d not ever want to be her again.

The father waited.

I said what God gave me. “What happens between God and people is personal and there may have been a decision he made, a change in heart and choice to toss out the intellect for the faith and hope and mysterious grace.”

What I intended as consolation caused an expression of concern, confusion and the tone of our talk changed and I went with the change as was appropriate.

But, it bothered me it was not my “place” to say more. It bothered me that I’d never know if that relationship with God happened for his son. It bothered me that the father did not have the Father as a comfort for himself.

The comfort of the only thing that might make sense be the sense made by God.

“Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

The truth of His peace, tangible and ever-present, the truth of His Sovereignty and His abhorrence of evil, evil things, evil people and the power through which they touch us.

Touch some so much more than others.

I don’t know how it feels to lose a child. I cannot say I can feel the emotions I should feel as I’m drawn to the photos of children outside their school, surviving but forever traumatized. I do not know how parents feel who were looking for their teenager, frantic, their chests surely caving into their backbones only to be told what they imagined coming true, their son, their daughter, one of the victims in a school.

I do know; I too, I’m afraid would wonder why.

Why God allows terror and tragedy.

But, I pray I’d not wander far, I’d remember His peace and I’d not abandon or question or dispose of what I believe, what I know. What I’m reminded of every minute, every day.

I pray I’d be at peace with not being all knowing and that eventually, the grief would be less evident, less debilitating and dreadful if I was able not to wonder why.

Would it be sufficient for me to remember some things are secret, are not to be known here on earth by me?  Perhaps, knowing not knowing might ease the pain.

The secret things belong to the Lord your God. Deuteronomy 29:29

I really can’t say, for I’ve not experienced secrets like these.

Ever.

One thing I do know; God would know and be okay with me wondering why and He would welcome my desperate and pleading complaint.

Responding with a peace only He can give, I suppose like a “secret” peace I’ve committed to knowing, not always understanding, often wondering why it’s mine to embrace, still committed to know it more.

What Privilege

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Motherhood, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability

Prompted to write for five minutes on the word “Privilege”, I remembered last night the privilege to understand other women, them to understand me. I was one of four who spoke of being a victim of abuse.

Then, I recalled a mama joining in our discussion on bullying at our suicide prevention meeting earlier in the day. I was moved by her memories. Her daughter, now a professional and an adult, was intelligent, beautiful, the top in her class; yet, she did not walk onto the football field in an extravagant dress to be given her crown.

She quickly changed into her cheerleader uniform to carry out her part on the team. She was, afterwards met by vulgar comments about how “special she thought she was.”

Her mama said to this day she never talks about her Senior year of high school. So, I asked and her reply made me understand more clearly how I might be privileged when, honestly I’d struggled before to understand.

I asked, “So, your daughter was bullied by girls because she was beautiful and smart and because of race?”

“Yes.” she replied.

I understand more clearly what I’ll never understand fully.

But, this morning I’m thinking about another the privilege.

The privilege to take it to the Lord in prayer, the verse in the old hymn that talks about what a friend Jesus is and what a privilege to “carry everything to the Lord in prayer.”

Jesus, my friend seated right next to the Father is advocating for me, interceding on my behalf, surely I felt His presence last night as I took the stage before the sharing of “my story”.

I felt His presence, what a privilege,

The reason I add a little extra before my “in Jesus name”, a little extra closing to keep me ever humbly grateful.

“Because of mercy….”

Linking this post up on this blessed Friday morning with others who are considering “privilege”. Join us here: http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/02/08/fmf-link-up-privilege/