grace

Closer to Love

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I wonder if your first waking thoughts are placed there mid sleeping and waking by God as His way to say,

“Begin again, let’s go!

Follow my lead, follow your leader.

Follow your heart, your soul.”

I woke, thrilled to have slept past 7 and kept my eyes closed for a few minutes.

Did not reach for my phone.

I thought and thought again,

“Stop looking for likes.”

Then wrote it down, hoping it more deeply would sink in.

I’ve just spent almost an hour in between making breakfast and coffee and conversation about new cars with my husband, tracking down which blog post was most “liked”.

It was in 2014 and it was entitled “not knowing”. It was about my children and God and well, being okay with not knowing.

Stats show which day is best, which theme more enticing and I suppose which posts are so good that people click the little star that says “like”.

Actually, I don’t have a whole lot of “likes”. I do have a lots of views and viewers and some commenters who I always thank “for reading my words” and mean it, sincerely.

I was curious, then got weary of discerning my “likers” based on my stats.

What I saw was my life since 2014, I saw God’s guiding, his pulling me from the ditch of doubt, His rescuing me before I fall too far from the pit of pride and pedestal.

So, I’m more settled, less seeking and more set on seeing me as God sees me and

“likes” me.

Prayerful, this morning in my journal about writing for “Daughters of the Deep” and for Lisa Brittain’s “Saturday Shares” and other places my soul feels led and prompted by prayer and the Holy Spirit.

Places and people who I’d never encounter were it not for words and God, women like Nan Jones, women who write and women who don’t write; but, surely are praying. I am worried other making a list, it’s so vast, I’d surely forget one or two or three who make up my “community”.

This morning I read from My Utmost for His Highest and the thoughts are lingering and lined up, as did the other words and verses established for today.

I’m getting closer every day to the me God sees.

Not yet arrived, surely on my way though.

Noticing and embracing words like these, believing waking thoughts as God’s instruction and loving affirmation.

As you journey with God, the only thing He intends to be clear is the way He deals with your soul.

My Utmost for His Highest devotion

Closer to love.

Closer to God and speaking more bravely.

Two times last week, I believe my words came as a surprise to others (and me).

I’m so glad God brought you into my life.

Me, through God

The first time, a crowded restaurant and as a goodbye to our unplanned encounter.

The second, a parking lot after “so happy to run into you” send off.

Both times, I was sure in my saying so and both times, the ones who were with me, their smiles spread wide as the sky and we parted, all of us thinking of God.

So, if you’re reading this,

I’m so glad brought you into my life. So happy He brought us both here. me

Quiet Like That

Faith, grace, Peace, praise, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

The rain has lulled me to even more lazy. I can’t get my thoughts to dance together and my excitement over chances to write has become anxious obligation overload.

Brain overloaded, lethargic and slightly rattled. I make things difficult that are simple, too many noises and voices all colliding.

I’m gonna have to get solitary, have to get quiet, have to get still.

Quiet like the way I felt as the sunlight traveled in through the windows to rest in my mama’s chair. Quiet, like that, content just to be there in the room.

Quiet like being told by someone that they’d pray and being moved by the expression of another whose beliefs you’d decided didn’t line up with yours.

Quiet when you walk away still draped in their sincerity and being really ashamed that you’d considered them unworthy, not able.

Before.

Quiet when your soul is your teacher and you listen and then pause a long few minutes to let it settle, a lesson on the love that you say you believe.

Real quiet, I was.

Quiet like the aging beagle girl looking for her blanket tossing in the dryer, then making her way to my warm lap and being surprised that I let her stay so long.

Exceptions, bent rules, exceptionally quiet we were.

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Quiet like the touching of my soles and toes of my feet, smooth caresses of the senses on freshly laundered sheets and deciding for myself there’s no rule I can’t wash them daily.

Excitedly quiet like that.

The words will come in the quiet moments suggesting, “More, please.”

God wants us to develop the character, wisdom, and structure to sustain His abundance.

Christine Caine

Quiet like the day I read this quote, copied, pasted and printed to remember it.

Quiet like this morning when I prayed for God to speak to my heart and then read a message from a friend about how she thought of me as she read of a prophetic’s words that there are writers who are about “to be birthed, to break through”.

Quiet like that.

More inner, less outer. Less waste of time, more nourishment of intention, more carefully attentive.

More God, less me.

Quiet like that.

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Linking up with others who wrote prompted by “simplify”. Can’t help but wonder if others had such a hard time with expressing something so simple.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/11/fmf-link-up-simplify/

Art and Opportunity

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, grace, praise, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Uncategorized

    The post I’m sharing below was originally sent for consideration to be shared with a large platform of readers. It was my fifth attempt to respond to the opportunity to be chosen.

A week before I got the “no” though, I was selected by two others. The very same day, I thought the shop owner was gonna tell me she didn’t think my pieces were right for her shop anymore. Instead, she wrote a sweet note and said: “give me more”. I’ve set up my Etsy page “Angels and Other” and I rearranged my desk today, added a pretty paperweight and crossed off 5 of the 8 things on my “to do”.  I pray for opportunities, remembering to do only my part and let God do the rest.

Always believe something wonderful is about to happen.

Pretty paperweight wisdom

I know that God is for me. I know that I am known.

As are you.

I remembered sharing what I call a “lisaism” in a recent post, the one I felt so proud of, one that I decided would be a difference maker for my children. “You can be miserable or you can be motivated.”

When I got the “no” email telling me how many others had tried and yet, again my submission was not chosen, I was kinda pitiful. But, not for as long as before. I remembered all of the good that’s been coming my way and I decided to carry on.

I remembered another “lisaism”:

You can be pitiful or you can be powerful. Me

I left work late yesterday, went to a grant presentation and hurried to make boot camp because I know physical health is good for my mental health and I’ve made up my mind in general, to press on like a runner towards whatever prizes God has for me.

(Oh, and there were some edits needed, I understand more clearly why my email said no. Live and learn. 🙂)

We were in the same spot that morning. I, for the grits that remind of my mama and her for coffee. The little café that is known for its breakfast, pimento cheese, casseroles and cheesecake, she was new in town and was waiting for her order. The cashier wished me good morning, and I listened as the new person talked about her shop next door. She and her husband had retired from corporate, he a carpenter and she a lover of junk pieces and art, she had opened a new place and was excited to begin displaying local pieces of art.

The words came, and I surprised myself to announce, “I paint.”  She turned and smiled and said “Well, what types of painting do you do?”  To which I replied, “I’ll show you, I have pictures on my phone.”  This was over a year ago, and I still have my wall in her shop.

Shortly before my cafe’ encounter, I’d begun to pray the Jabez prayer again. I have a little in common with Jabez, always have. I find his story relatable in that not too many people; His mother included felt he’d amount to much or worse yet, he might have a life of pain. But, Jabez started young and prayed for the course of his life to be rerouted.

He prayed and asked God to bless him, to bless him indeed. He prayed his abilities and the places he’d be privy to would be expanded far wider than he could believe.

His request was granted.

“Oh, that you would bless me and expand my territory! Please be with me in all that I do, and keep me from all trouble and pain!” I Chronicles 4:10, NLT

Like Jabez, I’ve been surprised by life and opportunity. I’ve been one held back by family dynamics that caused me as a child to be sure I caused no distress, made no mention of being in need, having needs unmet.

Oh, for the foresight to have prayed the prayer of a child born in pain named Jabez rather than become a young adult who sought conciliation in unhealthy ways and paths that bordered self-destruction.

Still, my road has led me to places scary but protected, my stumbles have met cushions upon my falling, and my failures have not been final. I have now what many call an “Angel Ministry” thanks to my friend Connie from the café. She, one of the many who has provided me opportunities that I might never have been shown had I not decided to ask God to enlarge my borders. I might have longed to simply paint in private.

I may have kept my pieces layered with hymns and expressionless angels to myself, maybe give a few away, leaned others against shelves in my home. Were it not for Connie and my prayers for opportunity; I’d have never used the word “commission” nor discussed prices for pieces of art. I would have never had the confidence to create a page on my blog called “The Art of Quiet Confidence”.

This morning, I happened upon another favorite scripture. It caused me to consider whether David, too may have been changed by the story of Jabez, whether all the opportunities and challenges he approached with the assurance of God were perhaps with a recollection of a boy named Jabez.

For I have surely been blessed indeed. The boundaries and borders have bent my way, led me to consider all the good I never expected to know.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. Psalm 16:6 ESV

Prayerfully waiting and willing to walk in places God decides are mine.

 

 

Linking up with others at Tell His Story.  Jennifer writes about the difference a day can make:  http://jenniferdukeslee.com/whatever-youre-facing-now-give-24-hours-first/

Misery and Motivation

Angels, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Yesterday, I read somewhere about the way Jesus cherished Peter, the disciple who denied Him.

I’m thinking this morning, of what motivates me to follow, to know each day invites my turning to God. Morning new mercies are motivation enough; still I let misery take over in regards to what I don’t see and well, I get better at recalling the mercy unending, better as I go.

It astounds me how Jesus knew it would be Peter to deny Him and how he knew and told Peter, “You will, and I’ll confirm my knowing of your choice not to stay loyal by the sound of a rooster, crowing two times to announce your denial.”

“And immediately the rooster crowed a second time. And Peter remembered how Jesus had said to him, “Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.” And he broke down and wept.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭14:72‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It astounds me the way the disciples saw so much healing, so much mercy and kindness and were doubtful at times.

I’d love to have met some of the ones healed; the leper, Lazarus, the woman who could not stop bleeding and the man who thought he’d never see. I would treasure talking with Martha, the sister like me who couldn’t slow down long enough to believe; but, then did.

Signs and wonders, yet Thomas needed to see the open wound, needed to touched the body of Jesus, pierced in order to have us believe.

“So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side.

Do not disbelieve, but believe.”

‭‭John‬ ‭20:25-27‬ ‭ESV‬‬

How miserable he surely must have been in his disbelief, to say he would never believe! I wonder just how amazed he was, if his seeing and touching increased his believing or if he continued for all of his days praying for help in his miserable disbelief.

I believe he was motivated by his former misery.

I used to say all sorts of little “motivational mantras” to my children when they were athletes. I must have surely annoyed them to the point of nausea, that and the mandatory daily banana!

Thankfully, if there was eye-rolling, it was not in my presence.

Yes, I am fortunate, I know.

One of my bits of wisdom was:

You can be miserable or you can be motivated. Me

Every bit of wisdom I shared, I was saying so much more clearly back to myself.

It’s the same with my sharing here, on social media or in personal encounters. I’m encouraging, redirecting myself every step of the way, with every exchange.

I believe Peter was more motivated when Jesus invited him again to follow. I believe Thomas’ testimony more profound because Jesus granted him extra mercy to make up for his debilitating doubt.

Me too. I’m motivated by His unending and more than expected mercy.

Turn us to you, God. Show us a life other than miserable doubt and inconsistent faith.

Motivate us Lord, to recall that you are mindful of us and mostly that you’d never choose misery for us; we choose it for ourselves and it surely can be used for good, for motivation to follow, to believe.

I’m thankful for the FMF prompt of motivate. I’ve exceeded the 5 minutes allowed; but I’ll share knowing there’s also mercy in this group of followers who motivate me, one another!

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/04/fmf-link-up-motivate/amp/

Called “Precious”

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Y’all, I often minimize things or maybe it’s my pattern of not getting too excited about the way my life plays out. It’s not humility, the good kind of staying meek and quiet; it’s truly being joy-filled to the point of oh, my goodness can’t believe I’m seeing this stuff happening in my life.

It’s quiet confidence making itself embraceable, tangible.

And to think,  I’ve only just barely begun to surrender!

 

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“Do not fear, only believe.”  Jesus  

 

You might find it small. I consider it God showing me more clarity every day and that I am loved. Nan Jones found my blog through another blogger. She asked me to write. She first asked me about what is happening in my life now, what are my prayers, what is on my heart. I answered by telling of my prayers for my daughter’s healing and she asked me to write about it.

At first, it was all fluff then I decided to be truthful about fear and believing, the lessons I’ve been learning in my listening.

She’s sharing my words and my art here.  I am so very grateful for yet another person God in his infinite wisdom “enlarged my borders” with, people who I never knew might be my teachers, my guides, my spiritual pointers of the way to walk, to write, to be unafraid.

We’ve never met, yet she says she sees me as “precious” and all I can do is smile and cry just a little to know that I am called precious. Finding God in Quiet Confidence

 

Thank you, Nan! Thank you so!

Art and My Word

Art, bravery, courage, Faith, grace, New Years Day, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

May we all have more of what feeds our soul. Find ourselves in that place that calls us back and we lose track of time.

May we have the love of those who love us and leave us there, alone.

Because they love so well the we we are when we’ve been in that place that causes us to be us, they’ve learned we are better from being there.

Happiest of New Years to all my followers as I’ve decided “still” is my word and my place.

And tonight, at midnight I’ll add some color and I’ll begin or complete some paragraphs.

And then I will pray before sleep.

I want to be doing what I want to be doin’ all year.

Because like greens and black eyed peas, cornbread and pork on tomorrow, I believe and am all in for tradition and I’m so very much anticipating what God will do when I finally get better at being still.

Crazy how exciting stillness can be.

Happy New Year, ya’ll!

May you surely know more clearly our God who loves us so.

Cats, Cards and Christ

Advent, courage, Faith, grace, heaven, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability, wonder

Christmas cards fastened by clips to twine looped like a garland and no idea why, but I left this little kitty cat on the shelf.

Except it’s where it’s always been and I believe I brought it home from my mama’s or I picked it up when we all went “junkin'”.

I pulled a piece of greenery from my centerpiece and decided the cat should wear it around its neck.

Made a little circle, too small and decided oh well, I’ll add some twine, make it fit.

Now the black cat with polka dots who lives on my shelf looks different, looks like Christmas.

This morning, I read a verse from John. Lots of people know it, children can recite it; it’s a simple one that has another that follows and expands its meaning.

So many times I read only part, retain only a portion, there’s always more for me to know, more to surprise me by my knowing.

About God’s ways, His love, His wants for me, for us all.

This verse is best left simple, best brought to mind at Christmas. We may revisit Luke or Matthew or Mark; maybe Isaiah, looking for the story of Christmas.

We might remember the prophecies of old or cling to and listen more with an idea of hopeful truth that yes, a baby was born a long time ago and it was a sweet, sweet story, so spectacular it seems a fairy tale.

But, simply not so. Spectacular yes.

But fairy tale, no.

Our lives are changed because God made it possible for them to be changed, made new.

Because God loved the world He created.

And since it all got and gets a little sideways still

And He knows it. He gave His Son, His only Son.

Jesus.

Christ.

So, we could have eternal life, not perish in the mess we’ve made of what He created.

In the Book of John, Jesus explains his purpose to a Pharisee named Nicodemus who was a ruler and had a very hard time believing what Jesus made so simple to hear.

What is still so simple to hear. But hard to believe for some, hard to accept.

“For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.”

‭‭John‬ ‭3:16-17‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I sent a few cards this year, not nearly as many as I should.

Small and simple little cards with a sweet tree on the front unadorned with lights, just a tiny tree.

I added to the message of Merry Christmas

only the beginning,

For God so loved the world…

And then I signed, “love in Christ, Lisa”

Hoping I’d left room for longing to know more or that I reminded all who already know and like me can always, always use reminding.

That God is love and that Jesus was born to save all who will believe.

believe, life will surprise you…

Brandon Heath

(lyrics I rest with)

Different Days

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Uncategorized, Unity, wonder

We held a “gender reveal” something my Aunt Boo said no one did before and yet, she said “Come on!” and we all got together in the place of our “get togethers”.

A white tree, sweetly decorated, we counted down from 10 and the lights were plugged in, sparkling pink.

“It’s a girl!”

The addition of a baby, hope opening its arms wide, wide, wider.

We gathered all the family and friends. Festive lights, food, little messages all around. The cousin number would be increasing.

A baby changes the shape of a room.

My brother about to be grandpa, I told him so, your life is about to change forever.

And I couldn’t say because I knew; but, I could because I saw.

My older brother, I met his grandson, finally.

Sweet baby boy, pouting at first then was content as I held him; I had the hip sway down pat; my body surely imprinted from the days my children were tiny.

Little bright eyed baby in my arms, observing a room filled with strangers to him and his grandpa comes up next to us.

He speaks. The baby smiles and slightly jumps with excitement.

“Oh, he loves you.” I say and my brother says, “oh, yeah me and him, we’re tight.”

Yes.

A baby changes everything.

Everyone.

Writing prompt: “Different”

Recollecting Providence

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Redemption, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

A Christmas card from one I thought might not pull through, one I was worried maybe I’d done all and it had not been enough.

One who I thought my help may have run dry, she says

“Thank you for believing in me.”

I reply, “We are all in need of grace.”

A gift of a doll from my daughter. I wanted one being tossed from a float in a Christmas parade on that Sunday afternoon.

A child caught and kept one, gave it to his 1st grade teacher.

The teacher told him her mama wanted one.

He said, “I know, that’s why I brought it.”

Some call this serendipity.

I consider it providence.

Providence,

protective care of God or protective care of God or of nature as a spiritual of nature as a spiritual

I’m embroidering tiny little knots of floss in bright colors onto stockings for Christmas.

I’m struggling to thread the needle and I’m finding myself much like my grandmother wetting the thread to push through the eye of the needle, squinting and

Holding my mouth just so.

But, the most special thing is a little girl who told my daughter that Santa Claus is Jesus’ helper, he helps Jesus with the gifts.

And I’ve been thinking about it since I heard this, how I wish I’d thought to say the same.

But, deciding it’s quite okay to believe now, now and maybe later with grandbabies to help them to believe in Santa and in Jesus

and in helping.

Mostly in helping without ceasing.

In being someone another might know they had not stopped believing, believing

in.

Peace – Conscious of Christmas

Advent, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Is it harder now to find places to sense peace, to be conscious of Christmas?

Most things we do feel like a production, a scurrying, a hurried and hectic undertaking.

I spoke a little too sternly yesterday about all the noise driving me crazy. Another person said they were getting “addled” and I was thrilled to know someone was likeminded.

She quickly told me though, not nearly so much as you.

Yes, I know.

I knew.

Others just waited for the noise to settle down as if they all were resting in a bubble of peace, a comfortable and softly draped wrap of serene.

This week of Advent, the preparation for the birth of Jesus, asks me to consider peace.

On Saturday morning, I stood close to the edge of wooden dock on a misty cold marsh. Large oaks all around and their branches fat from age and layered with growth of bright green fern.

I considered and am still, could this be my church? Is this place and sometimes others I find, the place I am made to worship God?

I assure you it feels quite so.

Free of busy and business, just me and sometimes one or two others approaching whole body and soul a place we are called to by our longings?

A congregation consisting of white birds trying to avoid our cameras and a wide, wide sky?

I’m sure that’s not God’s desire, a solitary island dweller, he didn’t design me to be.

But, oh how at peace I am in the places I get alone with quiet and Him.

To notice God.

I’m different, I suppose, craving quiet and being made anxious by disorder.

He is my peace.

Not my surroundings nor those in my midst.

He himself is my peace.

I’m reminded in the quiet.

Peace that can’t be manufactured, demanded or insisted upon; but, that emanates from within me keeping me calm when all around is so very uncalm.

That’s the call to Christmas, the call to seek peace, surround ourselves in it and get immersed again in the story of the starry night, the Holy Night when peace was born.

“Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth”

The weary me, the weary world rejoices.

Night, divine. A night divine.

The night, the day, the moment divine when peace came near, made itself clearly known.

Still does, I call it ” noticing God”.

“In sin and error pining, until He appeared

and the soul felt its worth.”

O’ Holy Night.

Oh, to be seen as one with worth because of the Holy night, the Holy one, not at all because of what I do or anything I’ve done.

It’s been a tough couple of days with shifts and situations gone awry.

Not sure why things happen, wonder what might could have made it different.

Things that made, make no sense.

I bolted from church last night, it had become too noisy, too busy, too much a feeling like a clamoring for what might make one feel worthy.

I drove under the starry sky back home like escaping.

And I rested once home and woke this morning to read about peace, this week’s Advent focus.

Found myself peaceful, again. It was a welcome, I assure you, to come back to a place of peace.

A friend heard I’d never read a special book at Christmas and so she gifted me last week.

I’m grateful for her deciding to send it my way, gifting me in an intentional way.

I love her for it.

I broke my rule this morning about pencil marks on pages and I underlined and circled the words that spoke peace to me, made me more conscious of Christmas.

More understanding of peace

More conscious of Christmas.

And peace because of Christ.

So, if you’re alive today, sing redemption’s song.

Louie Giglio

Sing your song.

Do your dance, your quiet sway of peace.

I know I’ll do mine.