Mystery and Secret

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, grace, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

One translation calls it a secret and the other a mystery.

Both talk about glory.

It happened again.

I woke with words from a verse. It’ll either be a verse or some lyrics and it happens quite often.

I’m listening to “Remember God” by Annie F. Downs now.

She writes of a desperate time in her life. One morning she woke with lyrics. It was significant for her.

I see.

I like her conclusion as to the reason, she says it must be because her mind is at rest when she’s sleeping and her soul can contribute to the conversation.

She didn’t say it just like that but, I see.

I’m such an imperfect follower of Jesus and yet, I’m still so very called to listen.

It’s the following that brings me words and lyrics.

Today’s?

“Christ in me, the hope of glory”

I thought about it, the minimization of this truth that I do.

Christ in me.

Must’ve been from talking with my cousin about how we want to live and be seen and known in our living by others who see.

See the peaceable of me, just see it, not needing any telling.

Just showing.

Like it truly is a secret or a mystery, the gradual change in the joy on my face, the ease in conversation, the letting be and letting go what are not matters that are to matter to me.

Glory, I longed to know what it is that I’m aching for, leaning towards, committed to and convinced of.

Of all the synonymous words,

I’ll stick with splendor.

I’ll keep my eyes peeled for the splendor that says to me,

There are beautiful things waiting with your name on them. This is hope, mysterious believing in splendor to come.

The tiny roses are blooming again even after being clearly overly pruned.

Oddly, the thorns are minimal and ones that are appearing are cushioned by tender green.

Little baby teacup like flowers are showing up amongst the leaves turning darker colors.

As if to say.

There are seasons even in the midst of a season, there are plot twists and mysterious yet to be seen glories.

The thing you’re waiting for, your assurance of ordering your days is taking its bittersweet time in arrival.

You just feel so scattered, you keep saying.

In the process, you see a settling, you sense a bit more comfort in the not always knowing.

And you know why your reply has been on repeat in various conversations related to your transition.

God is growing me in this season.

And you know for sure there’s no visible evidence and you know that’s okay.

It is true, you are growing.

There’s no need for notice or big “to do” over you.

What matters is the soul of you, the shift of your spirit, the incremental transition to the you known by God.

To peacable you, peaceful and at peace you.

Oh, I know it will happen again, likely tomorrow.

My first thought groggy but awake.

It will be of God.

Either song or scripture.

“And this is the secret: Christ lives in you. This gives you assurance of sharing his glory.”

‭‭Colossians 1:27 NLT

And I’ll chase it again, want to own it.

I’ll chase down that glory and I’ll say thank you Jesus for your persistence in chasing down my soul, wearing that thorny crown, causing me to wonder, leading me to follow.

Thank you for the secret, the mysterious hope of you.

Encumbrances

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, Homeless, hope, kindness, memoir, Peace, praise, Redemption, rest, Salvation, surrender, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I like words that make you feel their meaning, words like “encumbrance”.

Words that cause pause, make you want to be sure you honor their meaning.

I told my husband what to say to the puppy and how. “Good Boy” or “No”.

Same tone I told him.

“Don’t make him cower.”

“Cower?” He paused and then understood.

I like words. That’s why I like that he calls me an enigma. It’s descriptive, a little mysterious.

Me.

I landed in the word encumbrance in devotion this morning. Accurate and timely in a time I find myself intentionally less burdened and more aware of useless stories of shame.

When I read encumbrance, I can almost see myself bent over and trying to trudge on exhausted and hopeless with my carried way too long bag full of bad choices and less than certain trust.

“Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12:1‬ ‭NASB‬‬

Where I walk has lots of hills and turns and the steps back home are up a final steep hill. I push myself til I’m done, sometimes try to jog it. Rarely do I just ease back home. I want to finish strong, get all the benefits of the exercise.

I like the message it teaches me, yeah you made it back home, you finished today’s walk; but, your walk has only just begun and so the steep hills and the struggle causing curves, keep taking them, they are good. They are teaching you to endure and to throw off the heavy holding you back things…the thoughts that say oh, it doesn’t make a difference anyway and the physical choices that make you not fit, lazy and unable, body and soul.

God wants us to be able to keep climbing higher, he knows we gotta be lighter, we gotta let go of our encumbrances, our heavy loads.

Less us, more Him. Less heavy junk like shame and worry and more freedom from constant prayer and trust. He wants endurance from us, finished races and joyful victories are what He purposed us to see.

#finishwell #thecolorsofmybible #quietconfidenceartandword

Job, the 5th Chapter

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grief, heaven, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, surrender, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I forgo my regular pattern of following my daily Bible guide and I go back to Job.

I am curious as to whether I’d have been as intrigued by Job twenty or so years ago as I am today.

An Old Testament book that reads like a novel to me, not one with lengthy lineage lists of unpronounceable names or one that details all of the practices and laws, I love the emotion of Job.

The emotion of God in this book.

Would I have felt the same many years ago, years when I felt forgotten by God and others?

I don’t know.

Because God knows, I didn’t really know God back then.

But, He knew me.

He surely knew Job.

In Chapter 3 Job laments. Chapter 4 and then 5 are the first of the attempts to comfort, redirect, to talk about the perceived unfairness of God by Eliphaz, his friend.

Life includes the expectation of trouble he told him then told him to complain, God would understand, would intervene.

“For affliction does not come from the dust, nor does trouble sprout from the ground, but man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭5:6-7‬ ‭ESV

Eliphaz is confident of Job’s innocence and so he tells him essentially, tell God how you feel and since He knows you’re a godly man, He’ll come through.

“Behold, blessed is the one whom God reproves; therefore despise not the discipline of the Almighty.

For he wounds, but he binds up; he shatters, but his hands heal.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭5:17-18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

And so the chapter ends on a good note, a friend hopeful in his advice to a friend.

Chapter 6 of the Book of Job is 30 verses in the words of Job, a valid and lamenting complaint to God.

A plea for redirection, for rescue.

“Teach me, and I will be silent; make me understand how I have gone astray.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭6:24‬ ‭ESV‬‬

As far as the rest of the story, (after a long while) God restores Job in new ways. Job’s old days of integrity, of blessing, of beautiful things, those no longer remained.

But, God gave more and He gave even greater understanding to a man who stuck with Him.

I suppose this is why I consider the Job story so important and uplifting in between the lines of damage, death and destruction for no reason other than one.

Trust God.

Trust God in smaller ways.

Trust God in your present day, your past is only a reference for all the goodness, the rescue from what could’ve, should have killed you.

Trust God in your unknown.

His hands hold your beautiful future here on this evil tainted earth and your unfathomably sublime and peaceful heaven.

Job, Chapter 5, a chronicle of the advice of a friend who eventually tossed him aside, named his “wickedness great” and joined in with Job’s wife saying throw in the towel, “curse God and die”.

Leaving Job with one sole friend, advisor and listener, God.

Lord, thank you for Job, thank you for his trials that were unmerited and for his decision to stay aligned despite confusion with You.

May I learn even more from him and from you. Because of mercy, I pray, Amen

Linking up with others here, prompted by “Five”.

https://fiveminutefriday.com/2019/08/01/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-five/

Happy Anniversary, FMF!

On the Day Marked 29

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, grace, grief, heaven, memoir, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Serving, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

“You have trusted Him in a few things, and He has not failed you.” Hannah Whitall Smith

Work is in progress behind my window.

Heavy machinery harvesting timber.

The wide field that welcomed a spontaneous “capture the flag” adventure on a memorable New Year’s Eve is becoming more empty day by day.

The place where the cousins cavorted, that’s a memory nothing will take away.

Memories, such beautiful yet onerous things.

We discussed the motivation behind the new landowner’s intentions.

My husband added “Yeah, they’re raping the land.”

He paused for a minute when I gave no reply and I saw in his eyes that he regretted the word.

The troubles of my heart are enlarged: O’ bring Thou me out of my distresses. Psalm 35:17

And that’s progress.

That knowing of me by him.

That’s progress.

This morning I opened my devotional to read and felt seen and known.

He made you and understands you, and knows how to manage you, and you must trust Him to do it. Hannah Whitall Smith

I move to put my books away and see I’ve been moved by words for the 29th of August rather than July.

There are no accidents with God, the truth meant for a month from now is what is needed today.

The greatest burden we have to carry in life is self. Hannah Whitall Smith

Smith was an author, a Quaker, a fighter for women. She was a mother to seven children with only three who survived. Something she fought for resulted in “scandal” and I am thinking it had to do with women.

She wrote about God as a God of comfort and one to be trusted.

She died in 1911. I’m glad she left her footprint through words.

For me by accident this morning.

The lot across from my home is changing. The place that kept me feeling like I was still back home in Georgia will be nothing but vacant and leveled soon.

Empty space for consideration.

A place for new. And it’s not up to me what it becomes, only how I decide see it.

Same with struggle, with grief, with open wounds waiting to be healed.

Grief must be complete before life can be full.

Oddly, I’m grieving what’s happening with the strong and lovely trees across the way.

I love someone who’s dealing with the same, an unwelcome change in the space she felt still, felt safe.

Causes me to consider and to welcome that maybe hard consideration.

What is it that you’re not allowing in?

What is it that you’ve not fully grieved.

What do you harbor that’s only been allowed God’s peeking in for a sort of intake session, pre-intervention, taking from you?

What are you avoiding revisiting because you abhor the ugliness and truth of what it includes?

What are you not inviting a closer and clearer look at and in doing so, only prolonging the splendid healing?

Allow your knees to hit the floor, tell God your secret sorrow.

Let the tears flow.

Welcome the clearing.

Welcome the hard seeing that feels so achingly self-destructive of your wounded soul.

No one likes to cry.

But, if we’re honest it leads to better.

Embrace the joy that is waiting but cannot arrive til you’ve let the sorrow begin and be done.

Not happenstance that July 29th would also include a HWS quote and a verse about God as our maker, the Father we can trust.

And a question from Isaiah about to whom we belong and who He is…

“This is what the Lord says— the Holy One of Israel and your Creator: “Do you question what I do for my children? Do you give me orders about the work of my hands? I am the one who made the earth and created people to live on it. With my hands I stretched out the heavens. All the stars are at my command.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭45:11-12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

One worthy of my trust.

Maker of heaven, earth, tress and me.

Continue and believe.

But Jesus

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, mixed media painting, painting, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Truth, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Two pages of print so fine I resort to going without my glasses. My vision is aging, my prescription apparently needs changing.

Side note, 49 got me worse than 50 did and I’m thinking 59’s gonna hit me hard the same.

Still, oh mercy me…I’ve come along way in my most recent ten years!

Thank you Jesus!

At first I thought I might just focus on Ephesians, the second chapter.

I’ll take just a few words and I linger in my absorption of their meaning being just a tad different.

“But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us,”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭2:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I felt the emotion of remembrance and I let it set in

But God.

Yesterday, I listened to a podcast that always welcomes the discussion of hard things.

A pastor, raised by his grandmother talked about his struggles and I won’t attempt to quote him, it’d be better if you listen in.

Derrick Hawkins on JOE

I’m out walking.

Fooled by the morning temps now hot, achy for some reason. I pressed on if for no other reason than to get back home.

And I listened.

At the end of this podcast, Lisa Whittle asks her guests an every episode question.

What’s the last thing you’d say about Jesus? Lisa Whittle

When Derrick Hawkins answered, I said “Oh” out loud and again “Oh, my.”

I’ll remember that like a Bible story, I’ll consider it significant.

When the woman at the house of the leper in Bethany poured out expensive ointment from her alabaster flask over Jesus’ head the disciples were indignant.

I guess they were maybe vying for his approval. Perhaps, they thought he’d find her behavior flamboyant or ridiculous.

They were haughty in their pointing out her behavior to him. I love it.

[bctt tweet=”Jesus said basically, let her love me. Let her be. ” username=””]

That she’d take it upon herself to worship Jesus unprompted and unexpectedly, she simply did what her heart led her to do.

She walked up behind the reclining Jesus and she honored him by giving away what was seen as precious, costly, not to be wasted.

She couldn’t imagine a better use for it.

The best of her given so unabashedly.

The best of what she’d acquired or been given, given away in a sense for the sake of worship, of remembrance of him, of believing what he’d been telling the others was about to occur.

Like a farewell offering, a worthy gift to a deserving recipient.

Maybe the disciples doubted the doom of his death. Maybe the woman at Bethany believed and was ready.

Because of her lack of concern for the disciples opinion, she will be remembered.

“Truly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will also be told in memory of her.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭26:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Here in South Carolina on a balmy nothing spectacular morning, I turn to this story.

On the day I decide to open my Bible after two days of just phone found scripture, I sit and let my eyes fill with tears.

I am connected with her story as I was with the one of Derrick Hawkins.

In the mornings I go out barefooted and stand in the cool wet grass for a minute.

I look up usually.

Sometimes down, at the level place God has me now and I know clearly I cannot discount his mercy.

I made a list this morning of all things of me.

Changed artist to painter and writer to blogger, added roles most important, wife, mother, grandmother, disciple.

Told myself, let’s be honest Lisa Anne and celebrate that honesty being enough in your Father’s eyes and hands.

No need to demand my attention I feel God’s been saying.

[bctt tweet=”Stay aligned with Jesus, be unconcerned with who may be watching.” username=””]

I pray I’d not have been the disciple who said thousands of years ago, I don’t know Him or the one who couldn’t stay awake or the one who kissed his cheek as a way to show the killers who to take.

But I am some days, I falter.

He finds me.

Says come back now, your unique worship is welcome, nothing is wasted.

Give me what is you.

How will I be remembered?

Will it be in ways of significance or simply small by our culture of comparison and cutesy competition and Instagram celebrity standards?

I don’t believe this satisfies Jesus and I’m beginning to believe it doesn’t satisfy me.

My seeking of recognition.

Not my anxious counting of followers, rather my calm obedience to my content consistently representing my hope of causing curiosity over Jesus, my possible never knowing how my story might change another.

And that being okay, the not knowing that one day a grand or a great-grand or even a stranger might say oh, I love the way she wrote about life and love and Jesus or I love the way she laid down color on canvas.

Letting Jesus decide the direction of my blog, the worth of my story.

The image and images I leave.

Time is not a factor in the impact of our stories and our brave acts of sharing.

The alabaster flask anointing story of Jesus causes me to be certain of my mercy story.

Causes me to know I’m a child of God and that Jesus will always be my defender.

The story of Derrick Hawkins and his last comment about Jesus got me good.

I’m sure he didn’t plan it, my connecting with him.

But God did.

Got me thinking I understand mercy more now.

Mercy that’s rich.

That doesn’t chastise or refute me.

[bctt tweet=”Mercy finds me and says, that was then, this is now.” username=””]

My Heavenly Father saying

Yes, I know Lisa Anne but, Jesus.

And me in agreement saying, I’ll continue.

Continue.

Continue and believe.

“For we are his workmanship…”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭2:10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Way We See It

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, doubt, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, kindness, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

It would be quite the writing skill to describe the sky as eloquently as I saw it.

As spectacular as it spoke to me this morning.

I know, another sky inspired post.

Yes, I’m unafraid to say it is so.

Thanks to Charlie the pup I’m outdoors in the morning before and as the sun appears and into the revelation of the day.

I stood in my spot, remembered to look up.

Rain predicted later, sky currently bright blue with sweeping up dust of white sheets.

The clouds are shifting quickly, I mean really quickly.

A silent plane pushes through thick ones and past the barely there half moon.

I watch the silent wonder of its flight and I decide then,

I’m gonna fly one day.

I want to watch the movement longer but decide it could consume my entire day.

Standing outdoors until the rain comes later, all because of being entranced by the shifting space of my world.

I notice clearly.

I am shifting.

Back inside, there’s coffee rich with cream and sweet with honey.

I added a header to my subject line:

Shiftings ~

I notice I make things bigger than they are.
Movement is occurring and I see it today.
I am less afraid.

Thinking now how growth only is possible when we are willing to accept a shift in perspective.

I read this morning in three places, the recommendation that I not harden my heart.

The psalmist in the 95th psalm implores us to remember we are God’s people, a cautionary reminder not to let our hearts be hard and wandering, 40 years or even just an hour, a day.

Looking for Him in other places, moody over our maladies.

“For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand. Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah, as on the day at Massah in the wilderness,”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭95:7-8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Book of Hebrews, a book by an unknown author written to encourage Christ followers in trying times, tells us the same.

Do not harden your heart.

I thought of what may cause a heart to harden.

Not necessarily anger, resentment, unreconciled wrongs, lack of remorse on the part of an abuser, harsh words used against you that were untruths, or happenings that happened to those you love when it appears others get miraculously easy, free passes daily.

My mind and soul went elsewhere and I followed the new path.

I began to ponder what it would mean to be “malleable”.

Not being sure the description was fitting, I searched.

Saw immediately, oh that’s referring to metal, to hard surfaces and to industrial type objects, not the image of a potter reworking clay or massaging a heart grown hard in a calm and loving sort of way.

I realized though that malleable might just be the way to be willing in change.

Malleable, capable of being controlled or altered by an outside influence, the capacity for adapting to change.

I thought again of hardness of heart and considered its result from other than the hateful circumstances of our lives.

We harden our hearts when we give up on the shifting.

We harden our hearts when we don’t believe in the possibility of different.

We harden our hearts when we decide to live in dismay rather than trusting promised deliverance.

“Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭4:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I said a prayer last week.

I remembered all I had been saved from and sustained through and each ugly truth and hard admission, I offered one by one…

Thank you, God. You sustained me through __________ and you will sustain me again.

Fill in the immeasurable blank.

May our hearts be malleable, be softened by our seeking rather than our grumbling or self soothing choices that are futile.

May we remember our wilderness days as a constant reminder of God’s sustenance.

I’m not a theological scholar. I read my Bible as if it were a great mystery just waiting to give me my life’s next clue.

And it does. It surprises and engages me when I allow it.

I understand in new ways things I read before or had been taught in a hammering hard critical shouting tone and way.

Like there are hearts so hard even God can’t soften them and like people like me who made mistakes who can’t really know redemption, only say they do as they depressingly conceal their expected doubts.

Or don’t embrace the shifting of perspective, the embrace of promised peace.

A final prayer:

Lord, help me keep longer the soft spoken lessons you are teaching me, may I speak and live the way you prompt me to write about believing. Yes, Lord, I want to believe the way I write believing. me

May today our attention turn to you as we stand in our crowded and noisy fields or our vacant, empty and at times lonely places.

May we know without doubt that you know our names.

May we know you as our patient and persistent teacher, the shifter of our hard perspectives.

“And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭42:16‬ ‭KJV‬‬

Click here to read Mary’s take on the summertime blues. I was happy to know I’m not the only one who’s occasionally moody for no reason.

https://marygeisen.com/tellhisstory/

Tell His Story

Sitting With Your Reply

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, doubt, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, memoir, obedience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Trust, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Two men sat on the ground listening to the chaotic excited and curious crowd.

The disciples and Jesus coming into town welcomed by onlookers, critics and seekers.

Two blind men gauged the steps of the approaching healer. They shouted for his notice.

Others told them to hush their mouths!

Their shouts continued.

They were blind.

Together they must have decided it’s worth a try.

I think I would have too; taken the risk, especially if a friend said “Let’s try. I’ll ask if you will. We have nothing to lose and everything to gain. This is our chance. Let’s do it! We might be healed! We might open our eyes and see!”

So, they likeminded, replied to the question from the mysterious healer.

“When Jesus heard them, he stopped and called, “What do you want me to do for you?”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭20:32‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They told Jesus they wanted to see.

And they were healed immediately.

We can go either way with our take on this and other Jesus stories.

We can recall prayers we prayed a long time ago that must not have made it high enough for healing, we suppose.

Or we can sit with this question, imagine ourselves in the presence of Jesus.

Hearing his question.

We can sit a little longer, we can maybe close our eyes and notice only the whirring sound of the room’s electrically run things.

We can notice the quiet as if something’s being offered and if the offering is waiting our taking or our forfeit.

We can sit even a little longer, our every day habitual journal, our little trinkets on the table lamplit, and we are still very quiet.

Settled amazement over this very question awaiting our own current answer.

We can take up our pencil and we might begin on a clean page without other requests, doodles or gratitude tracking.

We can begin this way.

Jesus, I want you to…

Then we can express our secret thing then, the thing others have no need to know or to tell you it’s ridiculous or unrealistic to request such things.

What do you want Jesus to do?

Then we can go on with our days knowing we encountered Jesus today.

When He asked, I answered in a paragraph or two and summed it up with believing.

Jesus I want you to help me believe and to follow where my belief is leading.

To continue.

“Lord,” they said, “we want to see!” Jesus felt sorry for them and touched their eyes. Instantly they could see! Then they followed him.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭20:33-34‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Followed him to believing.

Peace Takes Courage

Abuse Survivor, bravery, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, kindness, love, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

The rain subsided enough to get a walk in.

I determined to pursue my daily unraveling.

The sky no longer threatening, the storm separating the colors and the background pale blue grew larger before me.

The grey only narrow stripes of color like paint laid down on a canvas, the palette knife technique.

Rain like water misted from the bottle kept to keep moist the canvas, the grey diffused.

God’s fingers like the biggest thick brush now blending, muting color.

At peace with the presentation.

The exhibit now open for my viewing.

The crepe myrtle petals are sopped like kitchen sponges and hanging low like bursting ripely fruits just waiting for my indulgence.

And it happened again.

What’s this lightness in my gait, the awareness of pep in my step and of belief I’ll take off running once I make it round the bend and just maybe take an extra hill?

Peace, I decided as I took the final home bound hill.

It’s peace that has taken the bricks from your feet.

Peace that says take your gifts and give them to whomever will listen, will read, will be curious over how you moved from burdened fighter to learner to victim no more.

A thought came clearly, I imagined myself confidently telling others.

I give God all the glory. Without God none of this would be possible for me.

Peace is possible.

Take courage.

“But you, take courage! Do not let your hands be weak, for your work shall be rewarded.”

‭‭2 Chronicles‬ ‭15:7‬ ‭ESV

Continue and believe.

Linking up with others at Five Minute Friday, prompted by the word, “Take”.

Perspective Shifts

Abuse Survivor, birds, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, Labradors, love, memoir, mercy, Peace, puppies, Redemption, rest, surrender, Teaching, Trust, Truth, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

What is your filter through which you see?

Two days ago I chastised myself for being selfish.

My quiet time was altered, I longed for a thing I got and when it required so much of me shifting my attention, I got a little hopeless, got a little embarrassed and considered I’m not capable after all.

Then I added to the dilemma, rationalizing my pitiful. It makes me anxious, it feels like attack, I got bitten one time, remember, by a crazy German Shepherd…!

I’m ashamed looking back that I considered my home should not be his.

I’ll not linger here. Let’s just say there was justified shaming and the shaming and the perspectives of those giving it were, well…accurate.

Point taken. No need for further discussion.

It didn’t really hit me until we were alone, the pup and I and over and over my mind verified.

“Selfish, so selfish, so selfish.”

When I told my husband beseeching his understanding…”He won’t even let me read my Bible!”

There was no reply from him other than “Give it time.”

So we bonded that evening, I cleaned up from his accident and then bathed him. (The pup not my hubby😊).

Then a crazy crazy thing happened to say don’t get cocky here, there’s still work to do and patience required.

A blue jay was trapped on our screened in porch. I stood to watch it up high in the corner, turned to get the broom to shoo it to freedom, instead it landed even more trapped behind the grill.

In seconds the puppy pounced!

I freaked out.

I screamed.

This situation grew more intense despite my screaming as the puppy ran through the door and to a private place to finish, to end it.

Crazy how I tried to pry the bird free, pulling nothing from the puppy’s locked jaws but cobalt blue, grey, black feathers.

I was beside myself. There’s a reason my daughter calls me the “crazy bird lady”.

It’s not because of my crazy but my crazy love for birds, my captivating interest in seeing them as if they are my messengers.

The bird was gone, totally gone and in the belly of the pup.

Apparently this is a thing. Google confirmed it.

Although I kept repeating to my husband “He ate a live bird!!!! That can’t be okay.”

It happens. He pooped it out the next day and it was regular, no obvious little bones or feathers.

Thank you, Jesus for that mercy.

So, this perspective thing. I won’t get into too much and thereby add to my shame. My daughter has a newborn. She reminded me about commitment, patience, adjustment.

She also said “Well, you’ve got a huntin’ dog.”

Her husband added in his sweet loving his mother in law in all her exaggerations and crazy ways way…

“Puppies do those things.”

My son’s perspective,

“Dogs will be dogs.”

Okay then.

I’m working through some things I have learned in the last year about the perspective of one who experienced trauma.

Trauma is the reason for so many reactions; but, it can’t become your rationalization for inappropriate behavior.

At the same time it matters. It is a part of my texture, can’t be unwound, unthreaded, “unhappened”.

“My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭3:20-23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’ll clarify:

Puppies nip at body parts because that’s what puppies do. It is play. Puppies do not pounce or bite because they know you’ve been backed into corners and pounced upon by big evil mean dogs who were men.

Our reactions must shift.

My perspective must not default in every situation back to fear, to anxiety to trauma.

More importantly we can’t use our trauma as a scapegoat for unpleasantries about ourselves we’d prefer not to admit.

Like giving up on a commitment or a goal.

Like being afraid when fear makes no sense at all.

Like claiming attack when no one’s against you, you just are still craving rescue.

Still looking in the wrong places to be found.

So, the perspective is shifting. No need to fight anymore. You’re a victor not a victim.

If you’re reading this and thinking that’s ridiculous that she’s comparing trauma to an uncontrollable puppy.

It is ridiculous; but, it’s also real and it’s also changeable when we choose to see from God’s perspective.

The intent of past trauma is to change your perspective of every single soul you encounter from hope to fear.

The enemy longs to keep us tied to fear and sometimes the enemy is deeply embedded.

That is, until we get brave and sick of fear.

I am almost 8000 words into the book God has formed in me about my past trauma(s).

I have finished the proposal and it just waits now for editing.

The original idea was an expose’ of trauma and all the ones who I felt needed reminding in case they needed to remember what kept them from saving me back then.

Sigh, what an undeserving unnecessary story.

That’s not the idea now.

It’s honest and it’s a perspective that calls me out in the horror of it all and more a tribute to the “Jesus in them” despite of it all.

It’s not a shocking story, more a settlement of my story and the redemption and hope waiting us all.

Charlie the pup lies beside me all curled up.

Shortly, I’ll head to my desk to pray and then edit. He will curl up in the corner next to my feet and he’ll be with me.

With me as I change my perspective of victim of trauma to brave child of God and optimistic survivor.

Trauma is a mercy reference.

Oh, and hey…

Happy Independence Day!

See A Little Listening

Abuse Survivor, birds, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, kindness, memoir, mercy, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I told myself feelings are not facts and I do believe it.

Add that little saying to all the others, Lisa Anne, over time your happy heart will override your frenzied mind.

Will cushion the knowing that’s gonna grow you, will soften the edges of you, will be a plump pillow for your head at day’s end, sweet rest for the soul.

I listen to a whole lot of stuff when I’m walking, wisdom and or lyrical voices.

I’m particular with my listening, not my favorite thing to learn from tones that are “chipper”.

Cut out the pretty words. I crave what I already know, just need a voice confirming on a firmer note.

I’m down to just a few now, podcasts that are good fits for me.

Yesterday, I silenced my phone.

I paused the voice that was the same as so many with a similar exhortation.

I already knew. I already know.

I’ve got extra blank space now. I’m not sure I’ve ever had so much room in my thoughts for things to grow.

I’m challenged to accept the void of activity. I resist the not knowing what may be next or not come at all.

I walked bored with others’ knowledge and I saw the geese behind their mama all swimming in a row.

But, first I heard them, the rhyme and rhythm of their following along.

I paused then walked on.

I turned the steep sharp corner carefully and hearing a rattling engine moved to the far edge of the high grass.

I was prepared; but, not to be startled, an old van, a bearded tank top man and a head down in the darkness passenger in his midst.

“I’m walking.” I answered when he asked if I needed a ride and then added, “I walk everyday.” wishing I hadn’t added that and hoping he didn’t hear.

He drove away.

I approached the place where the Labrador loved to sit and I heard the croak of a frog off someplace and I remembered the creek of my childhood and those simple and yet complex days.

We walked every day. We took off to our simple shady quiet place.

I turned towards home and saw the bright blooms of summer, found the hidden key, let myself in and then double locked the door.

Later, I told the neighbor, I’ll be walking a new way, find cut throughs through yards. She said okay, suggested I leave one ear without music.

I told my husband.

He listened and agreed on new ways to get to the cul de sacs, the neighborhood and finally the trail I love.

I mentally made a plan.

I expected to be afraid in my sleep, awakened by the encounter of the ones in the old tagless used and beat up van.

But I wasn’t.

I considered the possible intent of the man and I am responding accordingly, not afraid,

Just informed.

I’m changing, I’m listening. I’m learning.

Feelings do not write your stories.

Listen more to what you are seeing now.

Your story was written so very long ago by the one who knows you now and then and in all the days to come.

“O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away. You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:1-3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Notice the one who takes unending notice of you.

You, who God made fearfully and wonderfully well.

“Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:6‬ ‭NLT‬‬