All is Grace

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Prayer, Uncategorized

When it happens you will sense it. When a gathering brings a chance to pause and the evidence of grace looms large, an aura of God will capture your eye, captivate your thoughts.

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You’ll find yourself immersed in a grace God promised all along.

You will know this time is one to treasure. You’ll not dwell on the doubt you had so long and so often expecting such grace and good in things that weren’t for you.

You might have decided to settle for less, half-heartedly longing for more. Perhaps, adjusted high expectations, dreams, regrets and accomplishments less than what you’d dreamt of, even driven towards.

You may realize that letting go and letting God was not as much  struggle, just reluctant acceptance still sort of wishing for whatever. Eventually you accept a different way with only small little moments of wondering why or why not.

Looking so intently, striving for what amounts to joy that we chance missing the grace.

But, then grace, not one to give up,  finds and overwhelms with its delicately powerful and undeniable presence.

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“…we could never learn to be brave and patient if there were only joy in the world.”  Helen Keller

On an evening to gather in the country for supper, the sky so wide and stormy, I’ve no desire to go inside. But, I do, offering to help prepare. The kitchen window, wide open to sky, I’m distracted by glory.

Looking through windows covered by gauzy linen, I pause again. The beauty of this place astounds me.

All is grace, I think.

To me, it was a heavenly occurrence here on earth,  a soft nod of grace and assurance, remembering the words I’d scribbled on my husband’s Father’s Day card…”We are blessed.”and sitting in room with assurance of grace.

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All is grace, I know.

 

Light and Momentary

courage, family, grace, Vulnerability

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It was just a chance to notice.

The morning sunlight, perfectly landing on the floor

and easing up,  in a warm thin shadow making light, causing me to stop.

To look towards the chest ‘o drawers, the one that held my mama’s clothes.

The light, just as perfect as possible, it invited my pause to remember.

For just a few minutes, that is all, I was happy to pause in the morning light.

My mood, softened by the brief glow landing in this corner.

The place that holds a piece from my mama’s house.

A momentary treasure, light and memorable.

Light and momentary,  preparing me for heaven.

Some things mean something

courage, Faith, family, praise, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

When something means something to you

You long to share, but keep it close for the sake of its significance.

A bird lifted its wings quickly and flew in a straight path as I opened the door to leave.  Frustrated, deciding to take a break, hear a song, circle a block…just let it be for a bit. I head towards my car, having nowhere to go.

Then, it lands, the bird on the fence, sitting pretty. Facing me,  its torso the most vibrant flash of red.  I stopped, hoped to see again, waited as it rustled in the tree.

A red bird, I paused and felt empowered…Keep at it, Lisa.  Continue, you will be okay. “Never settle for less than your worth.” my mama said.

I remembered her strength.IMG_2291_kindlephoto-26066626

And just now, tonight as I decided to wait for God’s plan, things are falling into place.

I hear from two more friends as I’m listening via an email to advice from  “writers of hope”.

I notice the words in the corner of my new book for notes, just above the place I jotted, “God has been in this all along, the people, the places, the tough  and desperate times…the times of believing.”

With God, all things are possible. Matthew 19:26,  it said in the corner of my notebook.

I open the door to the back porch. The dog is barking. I call him, he lingers.  He waits, as if to beckon.  I wait, then ease out into the early darkness of night, look up and see the moon with the fuzzy border.

Again, my mama. Again, God.

Reminding me to be brave.

Steps and Beginnings

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

I knew I’d feel like taking steps when early this morning

I noticed the sun making wide spaces on the ground

And illuminating the hydrangea.

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Coaxing color and bloom…you’ve started, now grow.

So I wrote them.

Six letters.

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Revealed my longing, invited their joining, sealed the envelopes.

The flag already up, outgoing mail waiting,  I added my  letters, conflicted over their opening in a day or two, maybe three.

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Colors of my Bible, women of my heart, a compilation of them of me, of God, of us.

Then, I wrote tonight, the foreword.

I began.

Wrote one paragraph, 12 sentences and saved it.

A step, just a step towards not changing my mind.

Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.  Zechariah 4:10

 

Cake

Children, family, grace, Motherhood, Vulnerability

I’ve never heard of it and truly can’t imagine.

Coconut in red velvet cake

Or anything other than cream cheese icing

Pecans on top.

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Mama and her sister, Sue Nell, my Aunt Boo, wedding cake and keeping things straight. This was them…is them.

Or a pound cake without a pound of butter

Or chocolate cake not thin like pancakes as layers.

I talked about my mama today.

Talked about her cake.

I had a moment where happiness became a tightening of my chest

And a catching in my throat.

A filling up of dampness in my eye.

But, mostly love.

Mostly honor.

The most amazing baker of cake I know, no disputing.

To my mama.

I miss you.

I love you.

I talk about your cake.

Talked about it last week with your sister, my Aunt Boo.

And today with two women who will

Never bake cake like you.

Coconut’s for birthdays, not red velvet.

It’s big tall cakes, fluffy white, opulently  rich.

Special, it was mine.

Every year.

Your granddaughter, my daughter, bakes cakes.

Cooks with love like you.

That’s the secret, you said.

Love.

Happy Mother’s Day in heaven, mama.

I hope you’re bakin’ cakes.

Coconut, caramel, red velvet and pound.

 

Seeing my Children

Children, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

So, it must be what others have known.

The simplest of things that remind you of them little.

My daughter, a beautiful woman, ecstatic over the joy of dogs…

That’s the way she was.   The way she is.

Little girl, giggly lovely woman

over a dog overjoyed.

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When Heather comes home..

It was, I thought, the best part of the day…remembering dogs and her.

Little girl and dogs.

We hug  goodbye and then I walk with him, “Colton Dixon” I call him.

There’s time left in the day, so I walk.

A slight loneliness in my step.  There’s a glancing towards sky, a noticing of green trees swaying…looking to fill the space they’ve left open.

A small void….not such a pitiful or gaping hole

just a place you didn’t expect

to be so obvious.

Nothing to wait for…no one to anticipate coming in back door, down the hall.

Walking to clear the mind has become walking to fill the time.

I’m intent though and I walk on with prayers and thanks.

We turn, the set path and Colt turns his body towards the steep hill.

So, we go this way instead… to cut across the grassy field past the homes.

Topping the hill, a soft sound, a door shuts and I turn.

“Hey” he says. I smile, meeting the look of  little boy with light brown hair, damp with warmth of day over his eyes.

“Hey”, I say. Then, “How are you?”

“Fine.” he says, reaching down to tie his shoes…then bounces up, looks towards me and waves his hand…”Bye.” he says.

I saw him there, my son.  Little boy  legs, bounding out into the afternoon…little blue Keds on white socks and happy suntan cheeks.

Texted him later, one more exam he answers. “Did well on the one today.”

“Love you, call me if you want to talk” I say.

“Okay, love you too.” he texts.

The newlywed and the rising college sophomore…

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Austin- Recognition Day – a culmination of perserverance

I saw them as children today.

It was sweet and timely, good.

It was just enough.

Seeing my children, dogs and smiles.

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Pretty girl, Beagle puppy, little brother

Extraordinary Monday

Children, family, grace, Motherhood, wonder

On a Monday like today I might do more laundry, ride my bike or change my mind about healthy, jump in the car to ride across town for milkshake, burger or both.

‘Cause it’s just us, me and the dogs anyway.

Then, a question in a text after working late…”Come out for a walk?”

“Sure.” I say.

Stop by, quick as I can, change clothes, grab dog and leash and we go.

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Twenty minutes or so, all it takes, big fields on both sides and  big sky all around.

A slow ride for the sake of the view and the windows down.

Labrador ears flipped back with the wind.

We round the curve, the big Brown Lab and I, welcomed by the open fields and my daughter.

We stride, dogs excited,  through the peach orchard, down a rough paved road, turning back… back through sandy fields with tractor tire ruts and trees.

The dogs are more sporty, their walk a saunter, happier in the soft earth and rows of peachy beginnings.

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Almost there, we turn towards the yellow house. I notice there was once a chimney.

“Remember, it was a shotgun house.” she says,  then points out where there had been pigs and a place for a fire pit, but we didn’t get to see the cows today.

Always loved cows and country roads, my girl.

They walk ahead, my daughter and the dogs. “I’m coming.” I say and pause to wonder where a new path might lead.

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I’ll wait. Soon, enough I may know.

But, not now. The place amidst the peaches and sky is the place where love lives.

Where love grows.

A place of treasured invitation to take a walk on an ordinary Monday

Now,  extraordinary.

 

 

 

 

 

Grace and Open Space

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

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We turned the sharp turn towards the little house.

Dinner with the newlyweds, the planned welcome home.

I can see the roof from a distance on the long, main road.

Looking towards the right, in the distance past the wide field.

Yellow house under blue sky embraced all around by border of green.

I turned towards peach fields, all leaves now, blooms becoming soft, pretty fruit.

Wide open fields lined with trees for miles.

This is the place God graced them.

I look again, again, again.

Same place.

Same grace, still I look again and linger.

We eat together surrounded by ribbons, paper, china…talking, laughing, remembering bliss of the day they wed.

I  look towards window,  I can’t resist.

Almost night now, the trees lit low.

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My daughter is a wife.

I’m a surreal kind of floating happy, like not believing I was chosen to be an observer of her joy.

It’s a new happy, a graciously quiet content.

We say goodbyes to newly husband and wife.

And turn towards the sharp curve home in the road.

Almost cobalt dusky blue sky love, grace, and God.

I’m captivated, yet again

By the grace of their open space.

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Mud Rooms and God

Faith, family, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

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I cleaned the mudroom/dog’s room/art studio last night. It was an absolute mess! There was green paint, pale in places on the wall I hadn’t seen before.

I remember the painting, large and vibrant sunflowers against muddy muted green.

My hands and my fingertips I’d used to create the raised center of flowers and then with sandpaper and a metal tool, I’d distressed the background, removing paint, exposing the old wood underneath.

Art is tactile. Life and God, too.

His hands all over our lives, we in His hands.

We, the clay

He, the potter.

Us, the work of His hand.

I thought of my painting style, a bit impatient, erratic.

Calm, but with fury in my focus.

The potter, though, has a gentle hand. The potter is slowly creating, no rush all rhythm.

Giving and grace-filled, a light tender touch.

Taking away, adding to or starting again.

A blob of clay held steady near the lap of the potter becomes a beautiful vessel.

Every circumstance, a question about what’s ahead, whether happy, disappointing, or unfolding is a molding of me.

If I truly believe God’s hand is ever on my life, then I’ll not be afraid.

I’ll not worry.

I’ll not live with the anxiety that compels me to know everything all the time.

I’ll stay there, okay in not knowing all, His potter hands on my life, my heart and I’ll surrender.

I’ll sit still there, accepting what He has in mind for me, for those I love, all vessels made from clay into a beautiful design of the hands of the potter.

Yet you, Lord, are our Father.
    We are the clay, you are the potter;
    we are all the work of your hand.  Isaiah 64:8

Tell His Story

Nuptials and Prayers for Happy

Children, family, praise, Prayer, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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I’d chronicle the wedding from rehearsal to sparkly exit if I could.

Still, I’d miss special details, deficient in my description.

If I could, I’d have thought to sit and record its sequence.

The room where we dressed together, laughed together, cried, smiled and circled together in prayer.

A ceremony with sunlit windows, guitar strumming, low voices.

Softly falling,  sharp sounds of her heels touching the polished floor as she walked towards her love.

And he, jaw clinched, eyes shut spontaneously as if to look,

Then look again.

She joined him there.IMG_1823_kindlephoto-180313

The words to their song subtle buffered softly…

“Sweet love of mine, I have surrendered to your design.”

And his eyes never left hers.

Nor hers, his.

He spoke softly, assuredly to her only as the preacher paused and we all said as he suggested,  “love”.

Then, they smiled.

They kissed twice…then once more, her idea.

And we all danced in the pretty lights, delicate white flowers, layers of lush green filled the room.

We were silly, were happy. I danced without knowing the dances, holding hands with the bridesmaids.

And danced the last song of the night,  for a minute or two  with my daughter, Heather Analise, to “You are my Sunshine”, our song.

My sunshine and I.

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Until I paused, noticed him close by, her husband and I placed her hand in his to finish our dance.

I’d love to say more; but,  words are not sufficient.

I prayed for light hearts and memorable moments.

And happy, I prayed for happy.

Prayers were answered and God was there…as always in the details.