grace

prayer for the middle

courage, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

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Dear Lord,

Help me to live with purpose, with meaning, with intention.

And let those three not be measured or determined by

another. Let the three be determined only by you

and by your promise.

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Help me not linger, disenchanted in the waiting,

the waiting for time to do all I feel so deeply you’ve made for me to do, the things of me, made by you.

Help me to move from hope to knowing.

Yet not rush, head and heart stumbling over self, a careless and haphazard effort driven by insecurity or comparison.

Dear Lord, help me to live as you purposed, as you promised.

Help me to live and love in the middle of hope and heart and

best to come

in time.

because of mercy and because of asking

and of believing,

I say

Amen.

And stopping, Jesus called them and said, “What do you want me to do for you?” They said to Him, “Lord, let our eyes be opened.”  And Jesus in pity touched their eyes and immediately they recovered their sight and followed him.

Matthew 20:32-34

 Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story and Suzie Eller’s prompt, Lord, I need a sign.


Live Free Thursday

Wait and See

Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Vulnerability

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The morning, for me means a pocket of quiet, either peaceful or pensive.

The evening walk finds me seeking, seeking, seeking.

An intentional unraveling, unfolding, disposal of day.

Pushing forward. Heavy walk, no lightness in pace or stride..

Walk feeling like consequence, not reward, some days.

Still, I walk, moving forward to the place of sometimes better for it.

The morning, sometimes the same.

Rote, habitual, methodical list, gratitude becomes cliche, I fear.

Then, walking I remember the morning’s request and pause to ask again.

It bears repeating, beckons for conversation.

Draws me near to God, I pray again.

Waiting, more attentive now, more straightforward and certain of my plea.

Then walk on as if tossed upwards, floating towards blue sky

untroubled then, unburdened, more genuinely submissive.

Then, again, a sweet reply, unexpected quite so clearly and quickly.

I remember then, the evening walk, the morning quiet.

The reasons why.

The joyous being heard, being known despite frailties or frustrations.

“Wait and see.”.

You are the God who sees me.

I have now seen the One who sees me. Genesis 16:13

 

Color and Heart

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

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I began to think, if this happens at just the right time and the precisely right way, then I will know it is just as it should be.

That I should continue to create the Colors of My Bible journey, story, art.

To visit friends, honor them and God, telling the stories of us.

I got lost, though, and I wondered if maybe it was a sign, the directions told me I’d arrived when in fact I was crossing one of three old country bridges over a wide, wide river.

If precision and pattern or duplication of previous experience were signs of favor, perhaps this was a sign of something else.

Of course, I took it that way.

But, only for a second or two, this time

remembering asking God for an unfolding of my day in early prayer.

Giving up control as a measure of contentment.

I will feel confident and determined, I will write. I will paint.

I won’t rationalize and manipulate the patterns, colors, textures and encounters.

Setting out to create the perfect blog, column or canvas.

Ending up with an attempt at duplication and nothing more than effort, no heart.

Thankfully, the heart knows clearly and the mind slowly remembers.

Then I’m afforded moments, sort of stumble upon open windows of times that are

Quiet, calm and easy.

And I fill the time with heart, words, and colors

Words come, precise and uncontrived.

Stories flow from relationship, encounter or stillness of memory saved, unfolding without agenda.

Nothing good by force, Lisa.

Art, writing, stories and encounters…life.

Layers soft, colors thick, stories touchable.

Less force, always heart.

More heart.

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.  

Proverbs 4:23

Create.

Five Minute Friday

Believing in Mornings

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

The emotion of morning makes believing more possible.

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Opportunity,  like sunlight through the tall trees in the side yard, is almost here. If I am patient and look towards the morning as it spreads across the day, I choose to believe.

If I am patient and look towards the morning as it spreads across the day, I am sure of my choice to believe.

Quietly, assuredly, right on time.

It’s no wonder I love the morning.

I love its clarity and confidence, love its comfort and cocoon-like embrace.

I woke feeling slow and tired, disguising discouragement in more acceptable words.

I woke in need of the morning.

Like choice of word, I sometimes ride the fence of emotion.

Choose to look too far ahead or too far back.

But, morning gives a chance to pause, gives reason to believe.

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I  read Matthew 13, a series of little stories. Jesus using them to teach about choices. How to plant seeds, care for them and how you should let the weeds grow amongst the wheat.

Later you’d know what didn’t belong and you’d harvest good things.

Jesus talked about heaven as a treasure, a pearl and about the smallest of all seeds, mustard that would grow tall…so tall that birds filled its branches.

I thought, “Thank you, Lord, I so love the birdsong”.

 

And morning, reminded me then, aren’t we worth more than many sparrows if we would only believe it true?

The people were confounded by His parables, found them ridiculous and nonsensical.

So, he left them there with his stories.

And he did not do many mighty works there, because of their unbelief.

Matthew 13: 58

I go back to the side yard, abundant in bloom thinking again of choice.

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Then, decide to pray and to believe.

The bigger and heavier the disdain, the more powerful and possible the prayer.

Deciding to believe, choosing to pray.

Believing in mighty things.

Every morning

 

 

 

Life and Treasure

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I noticed it there.

The early morning humidity touched my face like a clothes dryer opened to reach for clean towels. Clinging to my skin thick, unwelcoming and uninviting, I fill bowls with cool water for the dogs and glance toward the corner of porch.

Such a heavy morning, blah, slow moving pessimistically blah

I see it and move to capture it, getting closer to notice its frayed edged wings.

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Black velvet and azure blue with little specks of bronze, I’m careful as I reach for it, my thumb and finger delicate in grasp.

Wings broken and pressed like a sentimental  bloom, I decide to save it, for the sake of simply feeling fortunate in its finding.

So, I bring the butterfly inside, lie it down on the page of the day’s Psalm and carefully move my Bible to the center of table as I go to make coffee.

The house is quiet and cool, ceiling fan whisping my hair and the butterfly just slightly shifting on thin page of Bible.

I read from Psalm 7, thinking  of harmful and hurtful times.

I thought of anger, fear, lives lost and of blame and judgement, of understable hatred and hatred stirred up.

Thought of my thoughts and I wondered then,  do I really understand?

Could I maybe understand more clearly?

Noticing verses, timely and clear, I pause.

O’ Lord my God, if I have done this, if there is wrong in my hands, If I have repaid my friend with evil…. Test me, you who test our minds and our hearts. Psalm 7:3,9

Help me to see me clearly.

Then, I prayed and wrote and thought of hopes to see more clearly.

To do no harm if I could help.

Like the butterfly, captured and killed on back screen porch.

Could harm have been prevented?

Had it come in to escape the weather or maybe Colt, the happy lab bouncing in the air, excited by its beautiful movement snapped his mouth sharply and clipped its wings?

Brought it to the porch, a delicate and beautiful treasure harmed by rough exchange of play.

But, found by me.

A thing of beauty, tortured, lifeless, but beautiful still.

Life, its beauty remains.

Life, a treasured gift.

 

 

 

Going There

courage, Faith, family, grace, Prayer, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

There’s a place I’d like to go except that it’s hard to go there.  I imagine the plans, think of the beginnings and I understand the decision; but, wish it made sense for now.

It wasn’t a trailer, it was a mobile home. It was big and solid and positioned in the spot away from pines but cushioned by the shade of trees.  Its foundation was intentional and solid, not blocks strategic in their placement, no there was a real foundation.

My parents’ last home, the home place. They waited a long time to be there.

The home was stable, designed with stability in mind; it sat on a firm foundation.

The road to turn towards the place is still dirt. A slight left at the bottom of the hill will carry you through a narrow path and a field to the place it still sits.

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It’s been a long while since I’ve gone to the empty house.  Someone asked recently, “When’s the last time you went?” I answered, “A long time, hard to think about it.”

Then nothing else was said.

It’s still standing despite years and weather and no touch from the hands of family. But, still standing because it was built on a permanent foundation.

The place of its situation is level and smooth, built on faith, dreams and hope and it was good.

It was loved. It was loved well and will be again…at the appointed time.

Yesterday,  I heard a quick word about good things that come at appointed times. Things that come when we reject the hindrance of doubt. Essentially the words reminded me, God is good and Lisa, he wants good things for you. He knows the things you long for, things that have been established ahead of time to come to you.

The foundation is there. The building up is happening, maybe you don’t see it. Maybe you want to rush in, rebuild, tear down,start over. You look back at what was or you look at the passing of time and fear the longing to build will be forsaken…you’ll accept the falling down of the roof and the rotting of the boards because you understand it can’t happen on desire alone.

And some of the tools of the rebuilding are simply not yours, are not matters in your hands.

At the appointed time, though, if you believe, it will come to pass.

The foundation will be there underneath it all. It will be steady. It will not have moved.

Waiting for the time to build again, a place to gather and remember our family, our foundation, to built on strength and heart and patience.

Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. Psalm 27:14

 

http://katemotaung.com/five-minute-friday/

 

I will pray

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

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On a blue, blue summer day I drove to see a friend, one of the women who’d colored my life.

I knew all would be okay, would be good actually,  when I turned off the highway from the usual road.  I’d traveled  before, this road towards home, countless times.

The vicinity of my destination for today was close by, just a different direction.

Others might not understand the nervous place in the hollow spot adjacent to my heart or the need to go back to a place of then to acknowledge now.

So, I’d been praying as I drew closer to now.

I’m taking this journey in increments, circling back to be reacquainted. It’s a challenge of my faith in me and an act of gratitude for them.

The road just a few minutes from my friend was a thin grey thread towards a needle, narrow because of wide sky and corn field borders.

Its curves were easy, not sharp, its little hills and softly,  forwardly coaxing me,  like God’s hand resting on the small of my back, saying

“Getting closer, keep on.”

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There were big houses along the way set back behind fences and oaks and there were small little white ones, tiny porches and trailers up on cinder blocks, cool under shade of fully grown and lush July green.

A small brick home, a couple of old cars and a bed of roses at its entry made me wonder.

Off to the side, a simple sign like garage sale or politician’s was positioned just so, leaning only slightly despite storm I’d been warned of.

Bold, simple, intentionally brief; but with exclamation at the end.

“I will pray!”

Yesterday I prayed, most days I pray at set times and randomly.

My  heart sought assurance and in return I noticed the sweetness of answer.

I welcomed answer and  prayed in reply with a slight smile no one might notice, “Thank you for that, God. Thank you, Lord.”

Some would say, if I shared my prayer and the evidence of its hearing…that’s silly, you just worry or that’s no big miraculous reply.

It is and it was and it’s why I believe.

In God who is just as majestically sovereign as He is miraculously small, attentively swift.

Yesterday morning and again last night, I prayed. “God, help our country.”

And I wondered about the past, my parents, my grandparents and those recalled in history, when times looked as bleak and scary and incomprehensible as they do now.

I wondered why or if there are people like me who pray about children, friends, husbands, or a heart’s desire…but are now, just now we are praying… God, help our country and maybe, like me, are torn between

“Come, Lord Jesus” and “Trust and Obey”

And our prayerful mama hearts want much for our children and theirs…want time and hope and good things. We long for happy futures, faith-filled lives filled with smiling babies and beauty.

I wonder if there were times like these before.

Times when all felt lost and uncertain. Times of Job, of Isaiah and of Moses, of David, of Martha, Mary and Paul.

I listen for their cries for help in the words of my Bible and I search for God’s replies, finding them in thousands of places, replies of good and everlasting joy and of protection and favor in midst of struggle.

I hear God saying to them, to me.

“Choose me. Choose joy.”

But let all who take refuge in you rejoice;
    let them ever sing for joy,
and spread your protection over them,
    that those who love your name may exult in you.

For you bless the righteous, O’ Lord; you cover them with favor as with a shield. Psalm 5:11-12

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I embraced my friend, told her I expected I’d cry and we cried and talked and shared onion rings and fries.

I prayed and she told me she’d been praying and we reminded each other of ourselves and our unanswered prayers for our good and we prayed, we pray. We will pray, we agreed.

It was easy and good and love. I left her sweet house with emotions that beg for holding onto, the description of our time and our talk resting safely for awhile in a place so closely real and beautifully raw.

So, I drove back towards Carolina, indescribably, thankfully good, especially glad.

The pretty road just as pretty and the view different only because of direction and another house…white, small but with big trees, tiny porch and front yard sign proclaiming,

I will pray!

Let us pray.

I will pray.

Linking up to Tell God’s story with Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/what-we-all-have-in-common-tellhisstory/

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Believe it So

Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

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This beautiful creature sashay’d up just steps behind me.  I’m not sure if sashay is a word; but, I love it and that’s what this spectacularly smooth bird did.

Just softly lingered close behind and cared not one tiny bit that I stopped, thinking hurry up, be quick before it lifts widening wing and takes to the pearly blue sky.

I shuffled my feet, thinking I’d startle, then walked a little more. I stopped, he stopped, his stick-like black bent legs, a rhythm we fell into, this beautiful creature and I.

I thought, there is meaning in this.IMG_0422

I know that there is.

I thought of heaven, thought of them. It seemed it was meant for me to…seemed it was him, my daddy.

And then, today beginning with prayer, I record an honest offering of miserable need…Lord, why do I find it so hard to be optimistic?  Why this quickness to take offense, feel attacked, belittled?

Left it there, better already for the honesty at least. I go on with my morning.

More silent songs streaming, more writing stories from thoughts and more chance to allow day to open on its own, in its own time.

So hot here, the sweet potato vine, a vibrant lime now droopy, I decide to walk towards pretty pot and grab water jug my husband has set aside.

I water the green, the violet and the yellow, small act that matters…flowers that greet me and that see me go.

Little things like purple heather and vine matter when all else feels awry.

Walking back towards garage and car ready for work, I glance towards the drive, look towards my feet and see it there.

A gift, a tiny, tiny gift. We called them “baby pine cones”…my Heather and me. She’d find them and bring them to me.

Her sweet hand to mine. “Look, mama,  I found this for you.”

I held it in my palm, gave it a place on my desk.

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Made and makes me so, so happy still.

God reminding me that He knows so very well my need for little and for beautiful.

So, I bent to touch it, to keep it and I felt my prayers heard and this little pine cone came in reply,

“I have heard. I see…here, remember this and things like this…

Believe in birds and baby pine cones and in me.

My eye is on you.

You matter to me..believe it is so.

Believe it is so when all other feels like not so.”

The Lord your God is in your midst,
    a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
    he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

I’m linking up to Tell God’s story with Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/the-truth-about-the-power-you-hold-within-you-tellhisstory/

Welcome, Rain

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I welcome the grey sky and the swaying pines, looking towards kitchen window, I’m anticipating a good rain.

 

I chose today to rest. Said yesterday, if I can finish this, I’ll stay home tomorrow.

I worked with the goal of completing the task and tried my best to express differently, convey more clearly a need for support.

I’m anxious. I’m apathetic. I fear it may show.

I’d said it all before, usually mostly the same ways in copy paste fashion. Asking for support, articulating a need and lining it up with a result, an outcome.

I write grants, ask for money to help homeless families.

It’s impossible to share in full how important our interventions are. It’s even harder to ask for money, to sell your heart’s work as if it’s a product or commodity.

Hard to think business when your work thrives on heart.

So, I let it rest.

The incomplete application saved to resume on Monday.

Walk away from it. Let it sit. Let it rest.

Deciding to start fresh another day. For now, Friday  feels like Saturday and I walk out into the yard, the view from kitchen window making me hopeful for rain.

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I rest a minute, the thunder’s way off. Hydrangea and hosta, richer, deeper blue and green, waiting in shade of intermission.

 

Then, the rain comes.

101 degrees just moments ago, I watch rain through the window, thin and straight sheets like arrows.

Just a few minutes and it’s done, so I go to see the flowers planted round the pool, bright again and refreshed.

The pool empty and shimmery blue, a single leaf floating in repose.

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Thunder again in the distance, inviting more rest and more rain.

I welcome you,  rest and rain. I welcome your blessing, your end to my season of draught.  Welcome, rain.

And I will make them and the places all around my hill a blessing, and I will send down the showers in their season; they shall be showers of blessing.

Ezekiel 34:26