fear

He Knows

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, fear, memoir, painting, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, testimony, traumatriggers, Trust, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder, writing

I was hoping for yes and the answer came as no.

I told God I was disappointed and He answered, “I know.”

Not like a sound, not a breath of breeze across my cheek or the gift of a better tangible thing.

No, He answered with a shift in emotions, a soft invitation to acceptance and acknowledgement of my worth according to him and according to newfound and not new at all friends.

I really wanted to be among the thirty or so selected. It was my third year and I’d been hoping the “third time’s a charm” would prove wrong the “bad things in 3’s” old saying.

So, I talked to God and He reminded that hours before I’d thought about the possible what if’s if I was selected.

Things like what if I go and learn my work doesn’t really belong?

What if the evidence of me striving to be seen ends up making me want to hide?

These thoughts later said, “I was helping your heart get ready for rejection. I was hoping to ease you toward acceptance”.

I woke today thinking “return to small things”, become small like a child growing through no effort of their own, become small like the tiny seed that you are that needs nourishment not neglect.

Return to small by not doing so many things, just doing the ones that are just right for you, very well.

I’m smiling because out of the blue, “The Three Bears” makes perfect sense. Goldilocks entered a place she didn’t live. Curiosity led her to open the door. She roamed around exploring every inch and forced herself to fit in spaces too limiting, then places too big and then she found the “just right” spots and she rested.

I’m just as surprised as you may be that I’d be sharing a fairytale about a girl in a home owned by bears.

But, here’s where God is nudging me. To abandon some places and return and reside in others.

What this means is I may be less visible on Instagram.

I’m returning here and leaving Substack for my writing. Yes, I could “live” in both places but again, I feel God saying simplify.

I know this choice is not popular or trendy. Still, my words and those who’ve read them have been here in this space for quite a long time.

I think this is the “just right” fit.

I won’t use AI. It may be just me but I really can see the difference in the words of others and I don’t want mine to not “be me”.

I’m returning to my email sent through my Quiet Confidence Art site and I don’t know if anyone will notice or wish I’d make up my mind. I hope so and I hope not.

I hope to blog more there, specifics about my artwork, what inspires me redemptively.

This morning’s “first thoughts”…

So, if you’ve read this far, you’ve been invited in to the way God woke me this morning. 

To grow, I must return to being small. 

To cooperate with God in the ministry of art, it must be about tending the soil he’s assigned to me and not scattering myself in every place I can be, every open field I see.

To be an observer and a participant in God’s purpose to prosper me I must understand the gift of humility, rather than confuse it with so many other self-defeating mindsets. 

To see Quiet Confidence Art be what God sees, I must cherish the tiny seed of it, I must love it freely and unconditionally. 

I must let my art define and express redemption, hope and peace rather than define the worth of me. 

You most likely will notice the small changes I’m going to make with going back to a more simple email and deciding what edits are needed everywhere else. 

Just know I heard and am listening to “to grow you must become more small”. 

You must do what you do best.

You must stay still, stay quiet, be confident in this as you grow strong in your artistry, not in comparison to everyone else. 

If you follow my art, my ministry therein, you’ll see simplification there too.

If you’d like to follow along, just add your email on my About Page. (Link below).

Quiet Confidence Art

Thanks for being here.

New things are coming, some of them I’ve been neglecting far too long.

In returning and rest is your salvation. In quiet confidence is your strength. Isaiah 30:15

Fragile Breaths

Abuse Survivor, aging, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, family, fear, grace, grandchildren, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, testimony, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom
A snapshot

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:”
‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3‬:‭1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Before sleep, I rethought the day. All the places and things squeezed in, the storms, the back country roads to my people, my childhood territory.

My aunt caring for my uncle, prone now to suddenly falling. His sweet conversation comparing himself to his soon to be ninety year old brother who “falls more.”

My aunt with her pink soft shirt, leopard print loafers and nice coral colored lipstick lips

I remembered my daughter describing my grandson’s tumble off the porch.

I remembered her saying he cried and was scared but wasn’t hurt.

He likely will fall again.

Likely, my uncle will too,

Unfortunately.

I remembered my granddaughter’s sweet smile. I recalled her intuition.

I drifted to sleep knowing I’d need to decide on an artist trip, an adventure I could learn from the anticipated mostly younger artists.

I thought of the wavering of my feelings.

I remembered a word I read early in the morning.

“There comes a moment when you throw caution to the wind. There comes a moment when you need to go all in.” Mark Batterson

I strangely thought of resilience, of being strong and sure in “my walking” while there’s time.

Because life is so wrought with fragility, likely to include falling and deciding to remember,

The rising you’ve known.

You can rise.

You can go forward.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Thoughts on Loneliness

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, hope, kindness, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, writing

On the mornings I’m awakened by the birds early, just a couple or three singing outside my window, I sense the key in the door of hope gently turning.

Reminding me I’m never without grace and a decision to privately proclaim,

Today’s a new day!

Birds that dance on the country porch, rest on the arm of the rocker and quickly fly upward when the baby and I decide to get closer.

Their intent it seems is for me to be content in the sighting, not the pursuit.

There’s a verse in my Bible, in the right margin there lives a very faint sketch.

A little country house, yellow with one window and a slight slope of roof, pencil colored gray.

The lines of ink are thin and intentional.

On the roof, there’s a teeny tiny bird.

There are lots of sketches in my Bible that are a bit tender, there are added notes to self that are even more tender.

Someone told me once,

“Your Bible could be in a museum one day.” Drake

This kind soul was not employing flattery, he was and is brave and so very intentional in his observations of life and us as we live it.

Honestly like the psalmist whose words are a juxtaposition of praise and peril, of despair and hope, of beseeching and blessing our God.

The little bird drawing born of timidity in the acknowledgment of loneliness?

“I lie awake; I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭102‬:‭7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Oh, how I love a beautiful and brave word.

Months ago, I was gifted a book of Declarations, a compilation of poetic prayers much like the language of the Psalmist.

“Declarations in the Desert – Life Changing Decrees for the Dry and Dusty Valleys of Life” by Tara Sierra Moseley

It’s a book, I’ve read slowly, taking in small doses and then slowly increasing my “treatment”.

It’s a book and a practice in the beginning I decided

I’m not quite there yet spiritually to pray this way, not qualified in the field of faith to pray in such a confident way.

No surprise, this has long been my way of thinking.

Unforced and with ease (the best way for me) I began to pray, to records my words with God as declarations not timid asks or complaints.

Loneliness is a state I’m familiar with. Loneliness, or being alone is a response and a place I’ve often decided is safest for me.

I flee to hide.

I run as fast as I can to avoid conflict or triggers of fears and pain I’ve known.

Running and hiding lead to desperation, not safety, I am beginning to see.

“One thousand will flee at the threat of one, at the threat of five you will flee,

until you alone remain like a solitary pole on a mountaintop or a banner on a hill.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭17‬ ‭HCSB‬‬

Alone, on a hill

a tree

stripped of its branches.

And still, I’m gently called like a bird in the morning after a night of nightmares, realizing it was loneliness I saw in the eyes of others at a gathering that led to fitful sleep.

Glad that the birds woke me to invite newness.

Return. This is the way.

Let’s walk together.

Let this be your declaration.

A Declaration

Today is a new day. I declare that you’ve never abandoned me. I declare that Your strength allows me to choose strength and that Your strength is always available.

I declare that you’ve never left me on my own and that you’ve not once been unavailable to me.

I declare my bend towards fleeing and freezing is seen and understood by you and You, Lord are still so confident in the future you’ve made for me.

I declare trust and quiet confidence in this becoming increasingly my every moment hope.

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you hope in your latter end.” Jeremiah‬ ‭29‬:‭11‬ ‭RV1885‬‬

Continue and believe, quietly and confidently.

You are never alone and you are loved.

Hope.

Choosing Not Chasing

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, curiousity, Faith, fear, hope, memoir, mixed media painting, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder
One of Twelve

This morning, the 2024 Winter Launch of The Scouted Studio is available! The Scouted Studio

Search for me by “Search by Artist” or enjoy them all.

Beautiful art, creative and diverse artists are contributing. 

Initially, my pieces were my trademark dark background, a bold color called “Payne’s Grey”. I struggled. The deadline was looming. I didn’t have peace and I did not feel hopeful as I sat sort of worried about what to do. 

I listened to my intuition, my gut, the Holy Spirit and with many layers and small edits, the backgrounds became more pure, a soft ivory with hints of shadowy blues, a hint of a torn piece of paper from a Bible, the word “hope” in every hem…hidden. 

Hope is hidden in each of us.

Another of the Twelve

This morning, I woke questioning whether I’d made a good decision for an upcoming art event or whether I had jumped too soon, chasing worthiness. 

Four things happened.

I woke to a song’s lyrics’ “you’re not finished with me yet.”, the sunrise through the gauzy drapes, Psalm 119 in a memory telling me God is good, and another thought, “you make all things new.”

“Your extravagant kindness to me makes me want to follow your words even more! Teach me how to make good decisions, and give me revelation-light, for I believe in your commands. Before I was humbled I used to always wander astray, but now I see the wisdom of your words. Everything you do is beautiful, flowing from your goodness; teach me the power of your wonderful words!“

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭119‬:‭65‬-‭68‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Then I created a cyclical graph to help it stick, the process for doing new things, things that may seem too scary, too uncomfortable or “too late” for you.

How to Do New Things

I’m certain this process is not just for artists. I hope it may help you. Feel free to keep it, share it, circle back when you need a reset.

We all do.

Continue and believe.

Lightly Yielding

aging, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, family, fear, hope, mercy, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, walking, wonder

It’s the time of year that God allows a sprinkling here and there of soft green woven “pillows”. I know there’s a name for them. I can’t remember it. I just find them so pretty. I tiptoe around them, aware of what I see as fragility.

We walked carefully over the tangled vines and fallen branches. Toddler, Henry in his little boots smaller than my hand. I let him venture barely three steps away from me then wrapped him in my arms to be sure he didn’t high tail it to the place his curiosity was calling.

I heard the water, the creek too shielded by overgrowth to see and too uncertain for us to go seeking. So, we just circled round and round, he intent on going deeper in and me, scooping him up to walk where it was more safe and clear.

He resisted yielding again and again.

The unknown and interesting was a steady call to his little investigative mind.

As if to say, I need to know, I need to see, it must be really special, this place I can’t see, these things I don’t yet know.

Yet, it was too risky for us to go, too unsafe for him to go alone.

I wonder why there’s such resistance to yielding. Why I’m so prone to striking out on my own in fits of figure it out or fix it before it’s too late.

When all that’s required, all that’s an absolute undeserved gift,

Is to yield.

This morning, I flipped to today in “Jesus Calling”, a kind and beautifully patient collection of words I’ll carry as I go, one open hand to heaven and the other secretly imagining my hand like a child’s reaching up again to the suggestion of my Savior,

“Hold my hand.”

“As you keep your focus on Me, I form you into the one I desire you to be. Your part is to yield to My creative work in you, neither resisting it nor trying to speed it up. Enjoy the tempo of a God-breathed life by letting Me set the pace. Hold My hand in childlike trust, and the way before you will open up step by step.”

Continue and believe, lightly yielding.

You are loved.

On Self and Suffering

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, family, fear, grace, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Redemption, rest, Salvation, testimony, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, walking, wonder, writing

December always makes me remember Merle Haggard, the hope of makin’ it until then and the days being brighter days once we’re there.

Yesterday, I thought of six words that I could call my December memoir.

Not a finish

A clearer path

There are places in the country I won’t walk with the babies.

Surprising, I guess because I’m sort of a rebel when it comes to strikin’ out on a walk.

“I’ll figure it out!” I’m known to announce.

I have memories of the year I lived with my mama and daddy, a period of seeking wellness from self-destructive eating.

I can’t tell you how many miles it was…

the circle of dirt road that began at my grandma’s house, through the peanut field, past the creek, up the hill, past the “shack”, past the farmer who wanted to date me’s house, through the weeds, around the curve to the lake where the rough people lived and past my Aunt Marie’s to be back home again.

It was way too far for a woman, young and with a reputation, to walk alone.

I was thin. I was lost. I was lonely.

Thinking back, it wasn’t health I was seeking, it was simply more self-destruction.

Trying to have my life match what I decided it was worth…not much at all.

That’s a hard pill to acknowledge. This meandering search I’ve sought, mostly taught, some stubbornly chosen.

“Self-destruction is an addictive behavior.” Rita Springer

I heard this truth last week.

And I’m kinda blown away by the resonance.

The truth that it’s not one specific or stereotypically thought addictive behavior that is addictive. Instead, it’s any and all of our choices and responses to life and our people and places in life, that lead us to this well worn and not so safe path.

I made a list. I love a list.

A list with words that may either seem too normal, not destructive or may seem like they aren’t choices that can become addictive, intentional choices we continue that are self-destructive.

I suppose I should soften this…no one wants to be told they are “self-destructive”.

How about behaviors that aren’t good for our bodies and souls?

Choices that don’t cherish the truth that our bodies are the temples of the Holy Spirit. Paul doesn’t sound too positive when he warns us.

But, have you ever noticed that he begins and ends his letters with a prayer that we’d all have the knowledge of God’s grace, His love?

“Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him. For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple.”
‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭3‬:‭16‬-‭17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Not so soft a warning, I thought.

So, back to the list, maybe an inventory year end of subtle and not so subtle self-destructive behaviors.

I chose a different header, kinder wording.

I chose

“What is NOT giving you quiet confidence and strength in God, in your choices these days?”

Accepting unkindness (abuse) in relationships

Taking on too much to please others and thereby determine your worth

Bad health, diet habits

Too much looking for good on a phone

Procrastination in regards to God’s nudges

Habitual time with God without reverence, sort of rote

Junk TV that takes my focus on God in me and puts it on the crazy or interesting lives of others (I love reality TV)

Clutter (mental and otherwise)

How are these self-destructive? Mostly because they have a tendency of putting God’s voice on “mute” in my daily life.

So, how do we move through our days, through December with a hope for the coming days.

I’m learning there’s one more important thing.

See suffering as fellowship with Jesus.

You may have heard all things are worked for good and you might have actually known people who say so.

But, do we really believe that they believe this?

Paul wrote about this fellowship.

“Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death,”


‭‭Philippians‬ ‭3‬:‭8‬-‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Suffering has its gift.

Faith not in ourselves but in Christ

Sharing in His sufferings.

Becoming Christlike, a privilege really, not hardship (?)

That’s hard, not easy.

I’m not great at this. I avoid suffering with a well learned and established skill to be hyper vigilant.

Yesterday, baby Henry wanted to walk, not be strolled. He burst forward on toddling feet in socks, not shoes on the rocky path.

In the distance, a black thread laced across the path. I stood and watched, turned the baby back towards home and turned him back again. He was intent on forward, moving steady down the path.

The dog didn’t bark. The black snake made its way into the brush.

And we lingered and walked slowly in a rhythm of walking away from home and then turning back to home.

There was no need to hurry.

No need to fear. We were safe.

God was near.

There was no fight to be fought, nothing but us and the breeze and wide blue sky above us, God enveloping us and our faith in His ever present love.

“When we wrap the language of war around our suffering, it becomes a battle to be won rather than our experiences to be processed.” Katherine Wolf

I’ve never been good at fighting, only at sullenly retreating.

We weren’t made to fight, only to be faithful.

“For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”

But you were unwilling, and you said, “No! We will flee upon horses”; therefore you shall flee away; and, “We will ride upon swift steeds”; therefore your pursuers shall be swift. A thousand shall flee at the threat of one; at the threat of five you shall flee, till you are left like a flagstaff on the top of a mountain, like a signal on a hill.

Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭15‬-‭18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In quiet confidence is your strength.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

The 23rd Psalm

Abuse Survivor, Children, courage, Faith, family, fear, grandchildren, hope, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder, worship, writing

The psalm became a reset a few years ago, a meditation as I was “put down” by a spell of vertigo.

Later, with the first grandchild, it was an upstairs string of thought, naptime sway of a winding down, a comfort through lullaby.

Our church just finished a series on the passage. It was both sweet and informative.

It was pure. It was and is still comforting.

Yesterday, I walked the “granddog” in the quiet daytime streets of my neighborhood. I sang out loud as we strolled.

Thought I’d record the 23rd Psalm I’ve been singing to babies and dogs and singing “over me”.

Psalm 23 as a Lullaby

The Lord is my shepherd. No want shall I know.

He leads me to quiet, still watered places I go.

He won’t let me stumble. He won’t let me fall. He’s with me. He’s with me. No matter at all.

He points me to pastures to lie down and rest.

He guides me to places that He knows are best.

And whenever the meanness tries to come near, He stays close beside me. He won’t let me fear.

He sees me through shadows that remind me of death.

He feeds me and keeps me when cruelty looms here.

He watches me struggle and yet never leaves.

He’s with me. He’s with me, no matter at all.

Whenever, forever, wherever

No matter at all.

The Lord is my shepherd, no want shall I know.

Psalm 23 on repeat, in times of sickness, fear, worship walks and with babies, the lullaby of my life.

Certainly

Abuse Survivor, aging, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, grace, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, mercy, patience, Peace, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, writing

I’m reading a book my sister recommended and thinking there was a time I would never have read it.

A struggle between good and evil would’ve decidedly led to me deciding it was evil and putting it on the shelf, washing my hands of it.

The author can’t decide whether she believes God exists.

It wouldn’t be hatred of her or even judgment that would’ve have led to my banning of her book, of her.

It would be a tangible fear, a fear that the thoughts and questions of another might somehow taint my mind, lead me forever astray.

I might “be in trouble”.

You see, there are choices embedded in me, pounded into my head and heart by the angry preacher yelling at me, a chubby adolescent, an intimidated child who just wanted to belong.

To be safe and loved.

And learned to believe that according to God, to belong meant finding wrong in others, telling them about their sin and then never ever associating with such a person.

That’s why I still have this fear that a writer or just a person different than me, might somehow have the special powers to lure me, change me, make me unacceptable to God.

To be unlovable.

I think often of how this fear of being not faith filled enough, about being certain of being right and all the others wrong

Kinda caused me to make some unkind conclusions about others.

To utter unkind words.

Thinking their faith was false when I had no idea or evidence of such.

It was just a response that came from a mark left on a little girl.

Girl becoming a woman seeking perfection to avoid shame, girl becoming woman who waited to be condemned, never comforted.

Girl becoming a woman who always felt but only recently told God so…

“I feel like you’re punishing me, God.”

A woman with a tear soaked face who rose from the floor better for telling God so.

Sensing Him say, “I knew you felt that way, now you’re feeling better already because you weren’t afraid to tell me.”

And that feeling was very certain. God, you love me after all.

The author, Kelly Corrigan in her chapter of her book “Tell Me More” explores the simple response, “I don’t know.”

And it’s an honest choice she expresses.

A private one too.

I’m certain of God’s love. I have more reasons than that memoir idea I keep dancing around would have space for.

I do believe.

It’s a choice and on questioning days I ask God with raw honesty, the questions I used to believe I’d go straight to Hell for even having.

My faith is a winding path, has been mostly.

But, I’m beginning to notice with certainty that the path is becoming more simple, more solid, more sure.

And I’m certain that straightaway road has come in gradual honesty, brave questions and a settled stillness to open my heart and mind, no longer afraid to wonder.

Continue and believe.

Your life, every bit of it is your teacher, your listening and patient guide.

You are loved.

Begin to Live

aging, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, fear, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, waiting, wisdom, wonder
God is Near

Mingled in a dream that included family at the beach as well as unfamiliar children asking to play on a trampoline, I am recalling “Psalm 90”.

The Spirit of God interspersed just that in a dream that included my mama being a given a healing prognosis, “Now, you’ll have a chance to really live!”

Maybe it was the beautiful and educational sermon on Sunday on heaven.

“Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Maybe it was the call from “Aunt Boo” my mama’s sister. She talked about crocheting. Maybe I tucked away the visual of her teaching my mama, the memory of their back and to sister chatter.

Who knows? Around 3, I woke and tossed and then recited mentally, over and over, Psalm 23.

Imperfectly still, after all these years of using this chapter to calm me. For some reason, portions and not the entire Psalm linger longer than others and I drift off to sleep.

Note the commentary

All my days have been a meandering sort of trail. A pause to consider, I’ve been in the darkness, I’ve lived in the dread, I’ve found myself off course because of conflict or circumstance.

David knew. He did too.

And so, his words aren’t ones of a perfect follower. Instead, a perfect “returner” to the place where he and God dwell together safely.

I used to believe “all the days of my life” meant the actual dwelling place of Jesus…heaven.

Again, instead…David is acknowledging and giving us permission to acknowledge the beauty we can claim as our own here…

As long as my lungs are providing me with breath and my heart is beating…I am dwelling with God, and He with me.

We are together.

I am known. I am seen.

I am invited to keep returning to rest.

Why Psalm 90 mixed in with a captivating dream of life getting another chance for my mama?

Psalm 90 is one penned by Moses.

It opens with this.

“Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There were other people in the big bright room with my mama, not just my brothers and sister. My children were there too.

Psalm 90 closes with an acknowledgement of what had not and has not been without affliction. Moses offers us his prayer back then as a promise and prayer we can choose today.

“Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil. Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children.

Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭15‬-‭17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“Favor” here meaning “beauty”.

Return to beauty today.

Embrace grace. More than you expected, the grace you’ve been shown.

The grace that you know.

Continue and believe.

Dwell in peace.

“Now you can begin to live”, the words promised to my mama in my dream.

And to us all.

Begin.

Begin again.

Choices We Make

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, doubt, Faith, fear, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, surrender, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, wisdom, writing
Gazing at Beautiful

One wilted rose remains. It’s wound its way among the limelight hydrangeas. I’ve been greeted by the beauty every morning this week. Soon, the petals will drop and not so long away, the green will be dried up by Autumn air and the tiny rose will just be a memory, but also a hope.

Could it be as simple as choosing forward looking more often than back?

Could this be the blessing over the curse?

“See, I am setting before you today a blessing and a curse—”
‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭11‬:‭26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

How we see things matters. Interactions, relationships and our part in the ugliness or beauty of them.

Exchanges linger in our hearts even if we’ve been long separated from the person or people.

We are marked by ugliness and yet, we can choose not to be forever marred.

We can choose to see the joy and lightness in looking forward.

I was frozen in the driver’s seat. I could hurry to catch up and engage in casual talk or I could sit and wait, not have the guts to simply be near her.

“How are you?” might be my question or maybe they’d go first.

Or there might be no words offered, no interaction for the sake of one another, just a layer of stifled breath between us.

And that’s quite okay.

Because hurt lingers long in the hearts of one betrayed, cast aside or used for another’s climbing the ladder advantage.

There was a time when my face was well known, known for the work I represented and recognized in the “right” circles.

Now, I’m just “someone people used to know” becoming the woman not needing to be “known”, just me being me.

I’m not sure what prompted the thought, the realization.

I’m sort of okay with this new “imageless” image. Maybe all the other roles, women I tried hard to be were actually in a way

Imaginary.

This morning, I read a review by Michele Morin of a book by Christine Caine, “Don’t Look Back”.

Caine writes of the ways we can get stuck in our tracks (turn to an immovable block of salt like Lot’s wife) when we continue to look back.

Maybe looking back is good if we use it as a choice to decide.

To look back and see the distance you’ve gotten in your healing from hurt, to look back and think for a minute before reacting, I’m better, stronger, wiser on this forward facing side of that person’s hurt.

To look back, not stuck and staring but to look back and confidently reposition our gaze, to view the harm of our pasts as a reflection of our empowered decisions…

What was meant to harm us will not destroy us.

What was bad is on its way to more very good.

Decide to believe in the good you’ve already seen. Choose a sort of self-assessing.

Quietly measure the sense in your soul that keeps saying to you

All is well and all will be well with me.