family

Listen

Children, courage, Faith, family, grief, Motherhood, rest, suicide loss, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I looked up from my late day desk yesterday.

Caught off guard, I did not hear her walk in.

I rose to meet her, her neighbor couldn’t accompany her, she’d decided to come on her own.

“Good”, I said. “I’m glad you came.”

Almost a half hour before the others, I told her it’s fine. It’s good. It’s hard to walk into a room and know no one.

Now, you know me, and I, you.

I tried not to keep gazing there, the place where the light seemed so warm, so soft this evening, a day after I still think of their embrace.

I question what it is with me, the way I’m drawn to such sights.

The thin branches reaching out, reminded me of them, open and tenderly brave.

It reminded me of listening.

I sat between them, the three of us, mothers.

The one new to the gathering began to speak about her son’s suicide.

The room fell silent.

Reverent.

She looked past me towards the other and asked, “When did you stop blaming yourself?”

Seconds only passed, the imploring of her words, and I noticed the mother three years into grief over her son’s suicide, move slowly from her seat to stand.

Only for just a small breath of a moment did I think to respond. I should comfort.

Instead, I stood and with my hand on the shoulder of the mother to my left, I helped her over to the mother on my right.

I had missed it, that she was on the edge of sorrow, that there were tears about to overflow.

Somehow, she did, the mother to my left.

And, not a single word spoken. Their arms raised to meet the other, shoulders rhythmic with release of tears.

It seemed quite a while; but, the wait not the least bit unsettling.

The father of the son of the one gone three years, the husband of the one offering embrace.

He began to cry. I looked his way, looked slowly away and I joined with them in my own tears. My not nearly comparable mama tears.

Finally, after such a beautiful long time their arms unfolded.

She said, “Thank you.” to the mama who knew and sat slowly back down.

And the other mama waited, as if to be sure and I listened to the voices of grief I can never quite comprehend.

Praying I don’t.

Believing in the Beautiful Divine

bravery, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

The 9th Chapter in the Book of John is filled with dispute, with arguments, with debate, denial, doubt and disbelief.

Even the mama of her boy who’d been blind all her life who believed she was the one to blame refused to take joy in her son’s finally seeing.

She must have known it was Jesus, only a Messiah could accomplish what they’d all decided would never come true.

But, it was the Sabbath, what a rebellion!

He told the disciples, this is not a punishment of God displayed in this man, blind since his birth.

This is an opportunity, a time that will be seen as the display of God’s glory through me.

“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.”

Jesus

‭‭John‬ ‭9:3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And so, Jesus made a healing paste of dirt from the ground mingled with his spit. He covered the man’s eyes with the muddy medicine and told him, go wash it off now.

He came back seeing.

Others saw him and were all abuzz about the beggar that used to sit begging and was blind.

Jesus didn’t hang around to be questioned, noticed, gawked over or even credited.

He went away and the man who could see told them all about Jesus.

It mattered not that the Pharisees were disgruntled over the day of his healing.

It mattered not that his own mother couldn’t quite say for sure that she believed.

He was blind and now believed.

In all the beauty he’d not seen and now could see.

He believed in the Son of Man.

He saw what is possible, if only we’d believe.

Believe in God’s Son

Believe in the times he has shown us His glory.

Believe in the times He will when all around us there are no reasons to believe what we long to see.

“When Jesus heard what had happened, he found the man and asked, “Do you believe in the Son of Man? ” The man answered, “Who is he, sir? I want to believe in him.” “You have seen him,” Jesus said, “and he is speaking to you!”

“Yes, Lord, I believe!” the man said. And he worshiped Jesus.”

‭‭John‬ ‭9:35-38‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And he will leave us with our stories of our healing to the ones all around who may argue, doubt, refuse to believe…and we’ll not be silenced, we’ll maybe find it hard to believe, all the things we have seen because we believe in His beauty, divine.

Does it ever catch your eye

Beauty divine

In an old man’s tears

A little girl’s smile

If it feels like a song

One that belongs

To you

Stop making sense

Your weakest defense

Just quiet your mind

Let the world unwind

See we’re not alone

He makes Himself known

In time

His own time

So breathe

Life will surprise you

Just Be

It’s what the world denies you

You see

The truth is all around you

Believe

We’re not alone

He makes Himself known

In time, His own time

Does it ever catch your eye?

Brandon Heath

More Silent an Ambition

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Prayer, Redemption, Serving, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

The whole house quiet with the embrace of a frosty fog, I was awakened by the ding of a message from another place I couldn’t begin to know what it’s like there.

I open the back door and the sun is working its way through the pines to the place where they all played.

He sends me photos and a video of the place where Jesus sat in the middle of the men he’d had walking with him, had been giving them glimpses of His glory, His grace, grooming them to carry on without Him. They had supper together before He was crucified for them, for us.

The little bulleted prayer list now has an asterisk “guide Austin’s steps” denoting God’s answer.

Changing my path too,

I’m slowly seeing more surely.

I’m sitting in the silence and reading, confounded over this place here that holds my words. Seems my audience has gone silent. I’ve decided, this is a sovereign sign.

I have been a bit ambitious for acceptance, might have gotten a little lost in the “ahh”

Of approval.

Just now, I read it’s not up to me to pick my purpose. It’s only up to me to let God have what he’s given me to see it come to be.

To sit quietly as He develops the story or stories to tell.

To live quietly, my words from His words, the creations of my hands, they’re formed by His hand.

Lord, set me free from depending on the notice of others, I pray.

“Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands, just as we instructed you before.”

“Then people who are not believers will respect the way you live, and you will not need to depend on others.”

‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭4:11-12‬ ‭

Thankful for the Five Minute Friday prompt, lining up my thoughts and words and believing in the gift of getting silent.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/11/09/fmf-link-up-silence/

‭‭

Hope Not Harm

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Writing, prompted by the word “Overcome”

Last week, I prayed before getting out of my car for work, opened my eyes towards my open palm and was awakened to the truth of my life becoming too noisy, my telling of things to myself and others just a little too tender, too tough to know, to remember. I was reminded of my strength, my hope, my faith, my love, my peace, of what is true. I was reminded of the quiet me, the quiet confidence.

Delicate charms and a strong timepiece I wear, gifts given by those who know me well, I know this well, I am loved.

I was reminded.

I came to a place that made me see I’d not actually overcome some things and instead, I’m still prone to them overcoming me.

That harm, not keep me hoping.

It may change my course altogether of the plan of God I’ve called my treasure and I may actually be closer to living what I believe, to believing more consistently the little things I say, to hope not harm.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I use little bits of wisdom here and there like “My story was just a story, then God became a part and he made it a testimony.” or “God’s not finished with me yet.” or one I have painted in softly colored capital letters covering the length of an old piece of wood, “Live What I Believe.”

Only pleasantries really, if all I do is say them, post them, share them.

My good intentions got tripped up I found myself falling backward, back into the place of misery and memories. Not for long, the warning was clear, clearer than ever and not a correction, a consolation now.

I spoke of overcoming trauma, hinted at freedom; yet, I became close to being overcome by it.

It hurt, not healed.

It hindered my faith, did not help my hope.

Father, thank you for making me attentive, for seeing the worth of me and my story. For showing me the way forward, the way of hope not harm. May I not be overcome by my own telling. May my words bring hope, not harm.

Because of your mercy, I pray.

Amen

me

Linking this post up here: http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/10/26/overcome-day-27/

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Rest and Dusty Places

Art, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Connie texted me “your duck painting sold! You need to paint some roosters!

“Gotcha! See you next week.” I replied.

Went to the little room to finish some “girls” before moving to roosters and decided, not today, I’ll wait. I’ll let these rest for now. I have time next week.

Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while. Jesus

Mark 6:31

The verse before this one tells of how the disciples told Jesus we’ve been working so hard that we haven’t even taken the time eat.

They’d just seen Jesus rejected in the town of his birth, Nazareth.

They were discouraged. Jesus told them let’s move on.

Reminded me of me, my little affirmations to self: “Learn from it and carry on. Turn the page, begin again, you’ve done what you could, do the next thing, take a new road…”

“And he marveled because of their unbelief. And he went about among the villages teaching.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭6:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

He told them, you go now, paired them up. You can do this on your own. They had little other than his brief but firm instruction.

“And if any place will not receive you and they will not listen to you, when you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” So they went out and proclaimed that people should repent.

And they cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick and healed them.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭6:11-13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Yesterday, I walked towards my car, exhorting myself over a presentation. The words came to mind easy…”I can do all things through Christ…”

I got in the car, got the navigation set and thought about the “all”.

I knew so clearly then, the meeting might not go well. An easy drive despite construction and fog until I took my exit and I was blind to the spot where the black car’s door was inches from mine.

A split second. I glanced over and the black car kept moving, I barely slowed; yet, we were spared, the stranger I didn’t see and me, we both continued on.

God gave me warning, be careful, be alert, be prepared.

The presentation did not go well. I was not prepared in the way the one questioning demanded and their expectations were quite clearly stated with my deficiencies made known. But, the morning taught me some things. “I understand” I told the questioner.

I understand.

No, you cannot do all things, Lisa.

You can do all of the things that come to you through me.

Some places you go will not receive you well. Some people you meet will not be interested in your testimonies, your stories.

Dust yourself off and decide to try again or not, don’t discount the things you know are not your “all” through me that my Spirit has made clear.

When the disciples reunited with Jesus, they’d accomplished much for Him, but they’d also suffered grief and hardship.

They had to bury John, who’d been beheaded. They were hungry and tired and if the word was in their vocabulary back then, I believe they knew burnout.

Jesus calmly invites them to rest. He sends them out, encourages they go away and recover.

And I believe this was a welcome command. I see them heaving a sigh of gratitude and turning to go and find that quiet place.

But, others followed. Many were coming and going and they all were in great need.

Jesus had compassion on them, called them sheep without a shepherd to guide their way.

The disciples must have wondered, I thought you told us to rest. We found the place to rest, can we rest now?

“And when it grew late, his disciples came to him and said, “This is a desolate place, and the hour is now late. Send them away to go into the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭6:35-36‬ ‭

Jesus answered, “No, we need to feed them.”

And they were fed, all five thousand of them from a couple of fish and five loaves.

I told my friend about the horrible presentation, about how defeated and tired I felt.

She asked me why I continue. A woman walked from the hallway and around the corner to cook her supper in the kitchen of a home that’s not hers, a shelter.

Yesterday, she’d raked the backyard of our home we call, “Nurture”. She called me over and I thanked her.

I asked how she’s doing. She said “I’m keeping on!” and turned to finish her work.

I know why you continue she said after I’d pointed to the woman walking by the door.

“The greater good, for the greater good.”

she said.

I nodded.

No more need for complaint or question.

Dusted myself off to try again.

I’m writing, prompted by the “invite”, shared in the Five Minute Friday. More than five minutes, clearly. Still, I’m linking up because I consider the invitation open despite my way over the time rule.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/10/12/writing-life-invite/

I’ve discovered Kelly Balarie this morning and some good words on self condemnation and fear. Linking up with others at http://purposefulfaith.com/

Bending With the Road

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

We took the old way today.

I decided, first thing in the morning, the open window air felt so very, very fresh.

Went to church, came back home and had decided…we’re gonna walk the hill.

We took the old way, the one before the subdivision came and brought with it, walking trail.

The way he’d never gotten to go, “Colton Dixon” the big brown Lab and I.

I held tight his leash, pulled him quick and sharp to the grassy edge when a car sped by.

It’s different now.

Before, I always knew, could anticipate what was coming. I considered it skill, my control and my anticipating good or bad.

The way I walked before, holding tight their sweet hands up the hill.

Sometimes my daughter, others my son

And sometimes both, we’ve gone on walks since way back when.

They thought it so high, the hill in the distance, the curvy approach, excited…I remember them being so excited for our nothingness type of adventure.

Our long walk, they always listened when I said we

gotta listen out, be careful.

One little stretch, a few feet you can’t see looking back towards home or up ahead towards hill, still there.

We were careful there. I held them close.

Then there were some days, just me, walking off the whatever on my mind.

Praying.

Not quite as careful by myself for the sound of car’s engine or the turn of rowdy boy truck from back road.

But, with them, well…

It was our adventure; but, I watched and I listened until.

We’d say, “We made it!”

Made it to the top of the hill, “Whew!”

The air today, it was heavenly.

The sky, blue and translucent.

No trail to follow, only edge of the road and a quite

vacant Sunday afternoon road.

We took the old way, new to him.

Our senses overloaded, his nose and my heart…all the little new things.

Reminded.

Reminded me, enough now, to be reminded and to pray.

The walks we walked back then.

The hill not nearly so steep, nor the road as much a challenge at all now.

The bend remains and the spot where you can’t see very far ahead, still there.

In between the sharp curve and high hill.

And it’s one way or the other now, I realized. A choice, an acceptance, sometimes reluctant surrender.

Bending away or towards what is not yet seen, a less tightly held hand on what doesn’t seem old at all…not old, just before now.

I turn with the change, turning, stepping, leaning into the curves. I’m not at all tired, stronger thoughts, stronger stride.

I lift my eyes toward heaven and the faith I walk with cares less about the hill and the sharp unknown of the bends and so much more about the adventures, their lives once and still mine.

Spaces We Get Stronger

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, praise, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I remember the time before.

I walked, hurriedly to the massive concrete place.

It was early morning, my face was taut from determination, my eyes were worn from the hours of awake, waiting, watching.

How could I be expected to find it, I realize now, many years later. It was a hard day.

I’m no longer that hard on myself.

I walked, already lost and entered every lane. I chose different levels. White, black, grey, red tail lights barely standing out in the black place filled with cars. Occasional glints of shiny color distracting my search, the sun coming up and in gradually.

I had a full meltdown.

The patient waiting without me at the corner of the hospital, the nurse maybe wondering what happened to her mama and my girl most likely sure her mama must be lost.

I lost my car. I stood with the truth of my disaster and accepted what I knew must be true. It’s not here, somehow, someone has taken it.

My daughter waiting, I believe realized I’d “lost it this time” and we’d not discuss it at all.

Same as there’d be no need or time to talk of “what if, what next, what now or why?”

A hospitalization after a procedure that was not a success and she, we go from exam table in pretty Dr.’s room to hospital bed to spend New Year’s Eve.

We were released and my mind, emotionally overloaded could not remember the space among hundreds of cars from two days before on the morning we got to go home.

The morning the sunrise came in through the openings in the hard place up high, I came to terms with what I might not be able to fix or find.

I found it eventually and made it down to load my girl in the car, her almost adult frame and baby face, understanding how I’d fallen apart and stayed away so long, struggling a real struggle in the parking garage while she waited in a wheelchair below.

She loved me anyway. Didn’t say so then but does everyday now.

So, this time I wasn’t gonna lose my mind and my car. Fatigued for a different reason, sleep deprived and uncertain of how I might be.

We were early, but had to park on the very top, the place that feels oddly special with open sky above, a slightly risky feeling.

I opened the door, grabbed my purse and prepared to walk with my boy into the place he’d be flying away for three months.

Stopped for a second, he slightly ahead on his way. I looked down at the marking on the space. “L” it said, okay I told myself, “L like Lisa, I’m good.”

Then, just to be certain, uncertain of my state upon coming back alone, I quickly got my phone from the pocket of my bag and I took a picture of the place I’d be coming back to.

Because, I remembered and I’m not at all embarrassed now over losing my car before.

The mama mind is naturally consumed sometimes and directionally challenged because of the strong and hard pull of the heart. Times when the baby bird is in need of healing to be better at flying and times when the bird is learning to fly.

Surely, mama bird might struggle in her return to the nest.

I’m certain she does.

Perhaps, they mark it with a bright stem or string, wanting to be confident of where they left off.

And I wonder now, if ever, just for the sake of mama memory, if the mama bird flies back to rest a bit in the place she let them go.

Maybe just for the sake of remembering how strong she made their wings.

The Far Away Chorus

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, heaven, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability

On Sunday, I stood among a display of images, faces, places, art.

I’d made my way over to an area made into what I saw as sanctuary.

No walls or doors to enter in, the space was open. I entered.

The images displayed in honor of the remembered lives massacred.

This morning I’ve slept with interruptions and I rise from my bed and then decide to begin with prayer. Knees tumble and land in a somewhat pensive posture.

Thank you for protection, I begin. I add in grace, mercy, and thank you for today.

My prayer, one of a rambler and a sleeping mind. Rote in my utterance, disorganized and uncommitted.

The void unfilled.

So, I tried hard to cease with the words, to let it happen, to believe my heart was heard.

I knew there was something I needed to know; needed, not wanted.  I’d disengaged, though,  closing the door to the place needing attention.

Closed off the place and hid the mess, distracting myself with other obligations.

Saying I’ll get back to it soon.

I will.

Why must I feel my prayer should be performance, I wonder sometimes?

Why must my cluttered mind overwhelm me in the clamor, a competition, the hearing of my thinking the thoughts

And of letting be, letting go, letting come to rest?

img_9588

Standing still instead, waiting to hear the hearing I’ve known.

On Tuesday, I went back to the place honoring those who died in a church at a Wednesday night prayer meeting.

The beauty of the faces hanging in frames. The bright vibrant color on those who walked the bridge in unity, hands raised up high on the high bridge over Charleston, South Carolina.

img_9635

The others lined up, symmetry along one wall, black and white, the photographs, the expressions on the faces.

img_9637

Together, standing amongst flowers strewn on the ground, eyes closed in prayer, hands  unbroken and tightly clutched.

img_9636

The slain pastor’s Bible encased in glass, opened to the parable of the mustard seed.

30 Again he said, “What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it? 31 It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. 32 Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds can perch in its shade.” Mark 4:30-32

Heaven was enlarged that night.

Surely it was.

Stained glass windows depicting Mother Emanuel Church and words, just a few lines, a humble display, a description of what happened that night.

On Sunday, I listened and my emotions felt close to erupting like volcanic overflow in the international airport. I came to the place I’d be letting go and the letting go I’d need to be prepared for in advance.

On Sunday, I stood alone in the place with strong words on the wall that said

“Charleston Strong”.

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My cousin was there; but, she let me be alone, apart.

I wasn’t very strong.  I was surely present.

I was present as I heard the soft sound of hymn barely coming through someplace, seemed above or perhaps the four corners holding together.

“It is well, it is well.”

Sunday was an opportunity to be aware, to feel the feels of goodbye, to not be blindsided by the things I did not know.

I’d never left a child at the airport.  Never boarded a plane or watched a son fly away.

On Tuesday, we returned, my son and I and he successfully and without me or complication navigated the steps towards leaving, of boarding for his flight.

He surprised me when he approached a woman, asked her to take our picture.

“Uhmmm, I’m gonna be studying abroad for three months, could you take a picture of my mom and me?”

We stood together beneath the Arrival-Departure display.

img_9639

I reached up and around trying to embrace him. His backpack stuffed fat for carry on, my arm got all awkward and tangled up and I smiled, leaned into his chest and let go my attempt to hold on.

My expression, a sigh. I notice now, the darkness under my eyes.

He turned and looked towards security and I looked the other way.

“Come and see this.” I said.

We were together there for a few minutes, entranced together by the display.

“Isn’t it amazing?” I asked.

He answered “Yeah.”

We both captured this time, this place, took photos of what touched us there.

Patience filled the separate place, we lingered and I listened again to what I found to be amazing, the sound the same as Sunday.

I entered the space with seeking heart,  curious over display, stood quietly and after a little while, just the same as on Sunday,  now on Tuesday.

I heard the chorus. The faraway melody, the hymn of assurance as soft as a lullaby and as certain as a vow.

“It is well, it is well

with my soul”

And now it’s Thursday.

I’ve heard good words from my son, excitement in the tone of his texts.

I’ve prayed for protection still and I’ve stumbled over my thoughts of his journey.

I’m remembering now, my decision to wait on Tuesday,  at the top of the parking deck, waiting for the departure. I heard the faraway sound of strong engine, I watched the plane appear and then become only a speck. The sky empty then, a flock of blackbirds gathered for me, I believe, to say “all is well”.

img_9648

I heard the seeping in of faraway chorus of grace again today, of

Waiting, of sanctuary and of song.

It is well with me.

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story. Her words this week remind her of looking towards the heavens, of remembering where hope comes from.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/one-thing-well-never-outgrow/

No Angel

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Serving, Teaching, Vulnerability

This morning, I am writing on the Five Minute Friday prompt of “support” and my mind goes the way of thinking of work, of funding we lost to support the homeless.

But, I don’t linger there, my mind goes to the place that keeps me humbled, keeps my heart aligned with work, a place where love comes in.

Here goes.

I get a random text from her. She wants to check on me, wants me to know she loves me.

I respond “I love you too, do you need anything and then backspace the question, tell her I am stopping by with food.”

Our system’s flawed on this one if you ask me. No benefits for one who can’t work because of mistakes made years ago.

So, we’ve been helping, we check on her.

A former resident of our shelter called “Nurture Home”.

I pulled in with bags of staples and milk and eggs. I noticed the window broken out in her back seat. My periphery takes in the neighbors and I am aware of loud music from the adjoining duplex.

I knock and she opens the heavy door.

She smiles. We hug long.

And I’m happy to see her home, the place we’re helping her with.

I notice the bedroom wall. I stare long at one framed photograph, left alone in her bedroom for a bit.

A photo of her cradling her son and smiling a heavenly smile.

I’m sad knowing her longing to know him now, the photo of them hanging above her bed, close.

She texted me later, called me “her angel”.

I replied, “I’m no angel. I assure you.”

This extra stuff beyond programmatic interventions some call “support” or “aftercare”.

She calls it love. I see it as grace and perspective.

A reminder of my periphery, my purpose, of the opportunity to notice His nearness.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭34:17-18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Scarlett Effect

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, heaven, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I must’ve had Scarlett on the brain.

We played Clue over and over and because I loved the color of the game piece.

I decided, I’ll be Scarlett.

Then, I woke and thought of Scarlett.

O’Hara, that is.

I woke imagining distress and I figured out myself, figured me out, my ways.

I’m either imagining the horrific or I’m deciding…oh well, my hands are tied.

What will be, will be.

Oh, Lord let it not be hard.

So, yeah, I recognized my ways and decided “no more of that thinking that way…nothing or all, catastrophe or avoidance…no more of that!”

No more.

And it began with a waking thought, an affirmation.

People may question this truth.

But, I assure you it’s true. I linger long enough before rising and a song or a verse comes to mind, says good morning Lisa, here’s what you need today.

This truth happened today:

Fear is not from God.

Fear of what I do not know, cannot know

Is NOT from God.

A sound mind…one settled and set on truth, trust, assurance.

One reined back in towards what’s certain and true.

He’s got the whole world in His hands.

This is true.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.”

‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Rest now, oh wandering and imaginatively, tragically creative mind.

Tell yourself stories of good, oh, sound mind, rest.

Rest, assured.