Me Now

Children, courage, family, grace, mercy, Motherhood, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I wear bedroom slippers now, soft and gray, the kind you slip into and make the scruffy sound across the fluff of rug or hardwood.

My husband says “pick your feet up” and I can’t decide if I’m old or tiny.

I grab the white robe, lightly patterned waffle texture and it’s mine morning and night. “Are you cold?” he asks.

“No.” I answer and don’t attempt to explain that it doesn’t matter anymore how frumpy I may be. I love my robe, it’s one of my things, sensory pleasing, comfortable against my skin, all wrapped up and at peace.

My aunt used to wear her makeup to bed, fixed her hair before gardening, now my uncle sweetly fusses for her to shower when she’s been sewing all day and it’s about time for supper.

She sews on and on, her fabrics feeling the touch of her aging hand.

I love that woman, love that lostness in the thing she’s making, doing, it’s a not so fierce,

More a pleasing independence, who she is.

I love that woman.

Her now.

Me now.

I have a cousin, the same, fiercely honest and a master at getting lost in all things digging and planting.

She is she, profoundly she.

She prays for me, I pray for her.

A friend told my daughter last week, “Oh, your mama is stepping out, I wouldn’t be surprised what she might do.”

We all smiled.

Today, the little girl who hid behind her grandma from the moodiness of boisterous grandpa and life will get to do something.

Today, I tell myself just now, I will smile, unconcerned over the memory of a broken tooth that went unfixed because of time and money and life.

Today, I will pray before filming a segment on a show hosted by a gracious and easy listening woman.

I will follow God’s lead in my replies, because I will have prayed that God have his way with us both.

Today, I’ll not worry about the appearance of knees, round and pale, showing for the world to see, because I love the dress, it’s me.

I’ll stay where I’ve found is best and true, acknowledging God in these opportunities, the things I call treasures he has given me, a chapter in a book.

The chance to talk about Him. How he undeniably is all amongst this thing!

My chapter called, “Leaving Loved” submitted at the suggestion of someone I met while writing a story about her, then selected and I’m asked if I know of a non-profit that serves women and children.

“Yes, I do, I work for one, it’s called Nurture Home.” Nurture Home

And then, it’s selected. This is why I believe in taking steps towards possible opportunities.

So, today I sit with coffee and a copy of “I Heart Mom” and I’ve prayed already and will be praying again.

Thank you, Lord that I get to do this today and for whatever “this’s” come from here, from you, through you,

for me now.

The me I’m becoming, through you.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord.

“They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11 NLT

This book, and these publishers, all a part of God’s plans for me, has stories of struggling, gracious and brave moms.

There are stories of single parenting, of the loss of a child, of in vitro blessings and newborn blessings.

The stories are authentic and are “every mama” stories. I encourage to consider purchasing one on Amazon for yourself, a mom or a friend.

A portion of the proceeds will be divided between Nurture Home and another non-profit that works to keep young people safe.

Thank you, Jesus for your grace towards me thus far. What a love, what a grace.
Learn more here about how God brought me to this place of now:

http://www.relevantpagespressllc.com/anthology

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee. Her story, also on Fox News website had me anticipating the answer and when I found the answer to “loving others”, the only comment that made sense was “awesome”.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/surprising-virtue-strongest-people-know/

Other Prayers

courage, family, grace, mercy, Prayer, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

I asked a fellow blogger, “Why do some of us notice, while others stay insulated by self?”

Yes, work was a little more than overwhelming today; but, I took paintings to work with me and arrived at 8:00 (Write it down! she said, you made it in early) because a reporter asked to talk with me about my angels, my paintings, she’s noticed.

I consider it opportunity, I told her, an opportunity to have others feel comforted, maybe at rest.

An opportunity to tell of the opportunities God kept for me, brought me to, knew were there all along.

Regardless of notice or lull, I’ve been revived by found treasure, I’ll be painting.

So, I did my best to tell her why I paint, why I know for certain it’s a seed that finally found a bit of light to cause its growth.

We talked of life too, being without our fathers. Eventually resting in the love we gave them, no longer disputing who among us loved well or more.

Resigned in our relationships with our fathers.

An elderly man has been killed by a stranger for no reason at all.

I read that he loved his family, grandchildren, great-grands.

Randomly, he has left them.

A mama, pregnant with a daughter she’s at last decided to welcome was upset today,

Her four year old pouted when she sent him inside our homeless shelter to talk about grown up things with us.

Sometimes I forget about that grace thing I say…But, for grace I might have gone there.

I need reminding.

Thank you, Jesus for bringing me to reasons for pause, to notice others.

I struggled with explaining to a reporter why my angels have no faces.

I’d never been asked.

Told her they’re all around, waiting to be a comfort, the sway of the hip, the curve of a shoulder, the stance shaped by flow of gown.

They are hopeful comfort, almost like quiet observers interspersed in our life and are without wings because they’re

here among us, not above

You and I.

They wait to be noticed as they notice.

I worked hard today and tonight I will sleep, having texted my son “Sleep well, SYP’s (say your prayers)” and catching the dinging reply in which he says. “Thanks, you too.”

I’ll say them, my prayers for struggles I’ve not known, for things other than self…it’s a worthy discipline, you should consider its practice.

To pray for tragedies and people wrapped up in them, that we don’t know or understand,

And tho’ I’ll not know the ones I pray for, I am comforted in the assurance of being heard,

Like an angel without features, a quietly comforting presence.

We are all standing in need of prayers.

How can we not pray?

How can we not comfort?

Through the Woods: the Place where They are at Rest

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

The only way I’d ever know would be to take off through the woods, haphazard but determined.

There’s an open field between two county lines and I slow down and submit to its calling.

Every single time.

There are not many cars, I press the button, lower the window and randomly, but with intention, I hope to capture this place.

There are photos on my phone.

Today, I decided the sky more magnificent here, the red tipped wild spreading weeds that convince me of flower, they are more special here too.

This place that sits in the middle of two county lines, Bulloch and Jenkins and Screven, a border, I realized on the other side of the field that turns my head.

Because I drove on towards the turn towards Rocky Ford, thinking I should go, travel about seven or so minutes then turn right then another right and then a left to the place at the bottom of the clay slick road.

The Hendrix Cemetary, where my mama and my daddy lay and rest.

I don’t turn. I don’t know why or I do know; but, I feel horrible to say I don’t.

They are not there. To visit the stones marked by name and date, I suppose feels obligatory, an act expected.

So, I consider the turn, plenty of time; yet, I decide it is better to go home.

So, I go on, for only a bit feeling disloyal or unfit and hours later, I’ve decided, the field that causes me to look, I believe it leads to that place.

If I might set out one day, I believe it would be true. The open field that slows my travel is the one that sits in the shadow of the high hill and the tall cedars that shade the graves of the ones who made me, me.

Yes, this is why the sky seems more ready to meet me, the field more inviting and the road less long and never ending.

Because of the nearness, the nearness of them.

I prefer to notice the clouds, full to the point of bursting and the wide open field beneath that beckons me every single time I travel on my path from Georgia back to Carolina

And underneath what I’ve decided now is just a walk through the woods that makes and has made sense all along.

I felt them; yes, I felt them near and I paused to be sure.

To be sure.

Sparks and Moon

Children, courage, family, grace, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I must make it memorable by recording, lest I forget or lose the

moment that came back so very sweet like a smile and surprised my end of the day bland and fatigued mind.

I took the road less trafficked because it was a late meeting and Spring, deciding not to be Spring, it wasn’t quite ready after all.

Had me bitter, cold, annoyed and hurrying towards home for the sake of day being done at last.

A late, long day, change to save daylight and winter’s harsh unwelcome return on a Tuesday night.

I drive, exhausted and cold. Blank.

The drifting, mind unfocused, eyes on the road ahead.

The sky, navy blue and the street granite gray, I catch a swirling spark,

In the periphery of my blue eye.

Bright and red, orange, gold and silvery white…the colors spread in a puddle on the street as the car ahead eases on.

Then I remember and remember sweetly well.

The place I sat in the back, looking at the road behind the long black station wagon late at night we always travelled.

My daddy “cracked the window” the cold air came in and touched my cheek.

I waited to see the flicker of the ashes, the bright sparks from the flame as daddy dropped the butt, gingerly his finger flicked as we floated down the road.

Back to grandma’s, from Carolina, north to Georgia, Bulloch.

Going home for Christmas.

I leaned to press my face against cold of winter window and my eyes saw the moon as it followed us back home.

Sparks flying up and the

Moon following me. I said it followed us all the way and daddy let me believe it so.

See, Jesus

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, praise, Prayer, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

It’s cold in Carolina, maybe not nearly as cold as Tennessee; but, it’s cold and the azaleas I wonder, the petals that mark the season might be confused, wishing they’d not shown themselves so soon.

I understand, the exposure threatening the brilliance of a blooming, finally.

I go to open the door, looking for the sound of bird heard from my morning spot, the sound that caused the big lab’s head to tilt in the sweetest of pose. Slide the sliding door and look towards the hedge and it appears quickly, a cardinal as if waiting for me to come and see.

I prayed this morning asking God that I might be more like Jesus. I pondered the thoughts of the stories I’d been reading, found myself returning to, the stories of redemption of people who’d done wrong. I’ve been resting there with the stories of scarlet colored women, the ones who’d given up on self and on God and the ones who the onlookers judged Jesus by his lack of judgment.

These are chapters and books graced by the printers to have changed the ink to red in certain places, spectacular words.

The Samaritan woman, a small and miserly man in a tree, the young son blind and fearing he and his parents caused his disability and the woman, red-faced and expecting to be stoned, her reputation. Everyone told Jesus of her bad things; but, he said see others have them too, here’s your chance, go and live more freely.

Yesterday, there was a conversation about uncaring words spoken by those who mask insecurity. Women who long for things to meet covered up unmet needs. The conversation went too long. It tried to be one of understanding; but, became an enjoyable exchange with slight giggles of how “I’m glad I’m not like her.” with excitement in our eyes over the realization we’re different, “Hey, we love Jesus, kinda makes us better.”

Oh, my goodness.

I woke up wondering about the ones who taunted Jesus, the ones who were in charge who he met along the way. I wondered if they ever came close to making him feel less than who he knew he was purposed to be. The ones who pushed his “insecurity buttons” and if he were like me, he might have either hidden away or told them just how pompous and arrogant they were and that they too had insecurities…”why don’t you be yourself and quit trying to hide them?!.”

Silly to think, that Jesus might confront unlovingly. He is love and justice

Mercy, humility, and kindness.

and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?

Micah 6:8

He became human so he’d understand us, yet, he never once acted from the place, ugly human.

So, this morning, I prayed that I’d love the unlovable.

I’ve loved the needy. I’ve had empathy for the homeless and abused. I’ve cradled dirty and lonely children in my arms and smiled when they smiled back. I’ve helped those who cursed me and cursed at me and I’ve listened to stories of grief that make no sense at all.

But, Father, I ask you to help me love the pompous. Help me baffle them with my grace, your grace. Help me love those who cause me to be insecure, the ones who hide their own insecurities at the cost of my conclusion that I’m unlike them and unworthy

because I only wrote a story, not a book.

Yes, God, I pray I see more clearly the ones who cover their wounds, shielded by the shadows of pointing out the “less than or less beautiful than another” in hopes of being undoubtedly enough…or more than.

See, Jesus, help me to see like you, like a lone red bird

fluttering by on a cold morning calling me out.

Help me to see, Jesus.

See, Jesus

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/learning-live-audience-one/

by faith

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

towards heart’s desires

Faith, to me is really more bravery than anything.

It’s enduring self-doubt and even hostility towards your own tender self and deciding to continue on, not growing weary.

Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself so that you may not grow weary or faint hearted. Hebrews 12:3

By faith, whatever that treasure you hold tightly to, keeping quiet about it lest your heart be broken by the attempt and failure or the safety of keeping it secret…

By faith, it can come to fruition.

Hebrews 11, I named the “By Faith 15” cause it’s full of stories of people who simply kept moving forward towards God’s treasure for them.

So, by faith. I began painting again. By faith, I began blogging, telling myself I’m so not skilled for this but, I just kept on writing, by faith.

By faith, I told some special people about my book idea and even let some critique it’s intro.

By faith, I decided to be a brave writer, to be true to my story, not doubtful or embarrassed over the naivety of my dream coming true.

By faith, I wrote almost 2000 words on a Saturday afternoon, my laptop lost 500 of them but, I stopped and looked out the window towards my mama’s birdbath and said “Do not give up.” By faith, I sent the submission in and by faith, I made the final round for publication. By faith, I’m waiting now for the next step…the email to say whether I was selected.

By faith, I will trust God in the decision.

By faith, I am writing tonight, maybe painting too.

By faith, I will submit an essay to a contest no later than Monday because that is the next step.

By faith, I will decide between “It Was Libby” or “The Colors of my Bible”
Two essays, about 700 words so far.

By faith, I will wait and know God will reveal today which story should be shared.

By faith, I will look for God in my moments with others today and I will prepare my heart to lead Missions tomorrow.

By faith, I will just keep taking the next step. I will not grow weary, not grow faint hearted.

Precious Life

Children, Faith, family, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Elijah Blue ‘n Colton Dixon

Made it in time before sundown and we covered our faces in fleece. Heather says fat burns fast in cold air.

So, we strolled, imagining calories burned for the sake of cold air. Baby sized ponds, the dogs ran through and we fussed over it, then called ’em back, inviting their play again.

A storm last night, she said, “The windows were shaking, mama, I mean shaking!”

I thought for less than two seconds, “Wish I’d known.” and she continued with telling me of reaching for her sleeping husband.

Precious, I thought, oh, how sweet!

I made it before sundown and we walked on thick and sandy dirt roads, wide expanse of sky and talk of nothing really and everything really.

“What is it you plan to do with
your one wild and
precious life? “

Mary Oliver

How precious.

Memory and Verse

Children, Faith, family, Motherhood, Teaching, Uncategorized

Sometimes we only remember our “memory verses, ” and we miss the most meaningful conversations God wants to have with us through His word. The conversations between believers, encouragers, and teachers, they catch me off guard sometimes and make me just glad. I forget I’m reading an ancient book, it becomes such a novel like a story, the characters captivating me, the reader.

In the second of the Timothy books, Paul reminds young Timothy of the spirit God gave him and that it is not a spirit of fear, exhorting him, sending him off to carry out his duty.

It’s a popular verse. I’ve used it, heard it, shared it and prayed it. “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” II Timothy 1:7

Just before turning here I’d prayed that God would make me a more wise leader, that he’d help me understand his way in situations I face. I prayed I’d be more an example, that I’d serve more than lead, be an encourager.

I prayed that my children would have moments in their days that they remembered God and God would catch their attention with something beautifully unexpected, that he would equip them for their days.

Paul was preparing Timothy by reminding him of his unique gifts from God along with the power of the Holy Spirit.

But, Paul did something even more special, maybe he sensed he needed a different approach. I love it when the scriptures are conversational, I’m there with them, and I can see Paul like a coach, a mentor, even like the guy in the Karate Kid, giving ancient wisdom and personal experience to say… “You can do it.”

Maybe, though it wasn’t fear or timidity over the task. Maybe it was more a question of why me, how will I or there are so many who are better, more ready.

So, Paul says to Timothy. “Listen, young man, I know your mother. I remember your grandmother. I know they had sincere faith and so I know that same faith dwells in you.” (vs.5)

“Yeah, well you have a point. I have some strong and faithful women in my family.” I imagine him lifting his head and with a halfway smile of assurance nodding, maybe his mama and grandma standing in the shadows with sweet smiles.

May my faith be sincere Lord, like the faith of my grandma, the one I remember. May it be steadfast like the one I never got to meet but, only heard stories of her strength.

May my faith be sincere and my perseverance be unwavering like my mama.

May people say to my children, “I know you can do it, you’ve got the faith of your mama in you.”

May my faith be more evident each day to them

and to me.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee

Read her beautiful story of how giving gives us just what we need! :

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/find-way-darkest-dark/

Word

courage, family, grace, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I read today and remembered why. The thing is, I’d forgotten it as pleasure.

Countless messages, subscriptions to opinions and advice of others to equip my writing, prepare my way, make me more writerly. So many voices, is there room for mine?

Information overload.

So, I skimmed my “pins” saved to my “Makes me Think” board and I remembered my last and most beautiful to me book, The Kite Runner.

I understood the story, it was truth for me.

Then, I went for beauty and I wondered still how can it be I’d gone my whole life without the gloriously truthful poetry of Mary Oliver in my life, my heart?

I sat with her words, sipping berry infused tea as I thought of a promise to myself, an essay submission, a friend committed to critique and I’m only 200 words in.

Moments

There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.

Like telling someone you love them.

Or giving your money away, all of it.

Your heart is beating, isn’t it?

You’re not in chains are you? There is nothing more pathetic than caution

when headlong might save a life,

even, possibly, your own.

Then, I settled into Sunday afternoon empty house, content with alone. I continued on the trek with Andra Watkins, reading, prompted by guilt over an unfulfilled promise, Not Without My Father.

I thrilled over understanding, I smiled over connectedness. A book about walking the Natchez Trace because a person who is a big part of history walked this same trail, long-suffering and anguished. I was reluctant. Not a history person, yet, I longed to read the book.

Then, it happened about midway through!

She wrote of giving up or not. She wrote of longing to be noticed. She wrote of the anguish of being understood or of at least being seen. And her father told her he saw her, he noticed. He was proud. She was tough, tougher than he imagined. So, she cried over the gift of exactly what she’d been longing to receive, to know.

Then, I continue with her. I’m walking the trail reading the book and joy of all joys, she knows about the red birds, she believes in the cardinal, her “Mamaw” beckoning her, fluttering and following, saying “continue” and telling her it will be good from now on.

She is assured. So am I.

On Saturday, I walked and I thought of words and verses and truth. A bare tree, hosting a bevy of grey and tiny birds, I stopped to stare.

I walked on and decided, those birds were there so I’d notice and look towards the sky, to God and to good.

I thought of my beliefs in the moments like this, so real they’re like treasure. I thought of writing, of sharing the emotion of seeing birds fill a tree up high against sky blue.

I thought of keeping silent, of not describing this Saturday afternoon occurrence of birds for the sake of those who think less of the notice of God, of birds, of word.

Then decided, surely there’s another who might be waiting to say “Yes, I saw them too..oh, the beauty of it all.”

Words, sky, scripture, truth and birds up high in lonely tree

Beauty, waiting for us to see.

Roosters and Angels and New Things

Children, Faith, family, grief, Trust, Uncategorized

When it’s your mama’s birthday and you set out thoughtfully for days… to write something profound about blue feathers and her blue eyes, your blue eyes and the blues of wishing she had lived a little longer, and instead…you paint and feel free.

New pieces tonight:

Today, my mama would have been 77 and on Saturday, it was year 7 since she died.

So, I painted a rooster because she loved them. I painted a cow because it’s harder than I thought and at first it was horrible. I decided not to give up, so I painted a cow and I’ll name her Pearl. Then I finished up the “Gather at the River” painting, three angels, mama, me, my girl.

Birthday Boy

Pearl

Gather at the River

I thought of writing about finding feathers. I’d been finding them all along the way. But, I stopped. Stopped seeing them when glancing down, I guess because I’d become so diligent and longing in my search, forcing the finding of them.

Today, almost sundown, no feather found. I meandered through dead hydrangea, the crisp, dry and crinkly straw from pines. It was dusk. I looked down for a feather, found not one.

But, the bright forsythia are beginning to bloom on the barren charcoal branches.

If there’s a color of hope, I’m sure it’s bright yellow.

So, I painted tonight, lulled by bluegrass sonnets and happy rhythm of time passing quickly and contentedly unaware.

I thought of my morning tribute to her. We love you. We miss you. We are all just fine.

So, happy birthday in heaven mama. I painted your rooster, most beautiful ever I believe, your presence close by.

I love you. I miss you. I’m doing just fine.

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