Encounters, Grief and Joy

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I was more than a little excited to see her. She and I, I realized when we met almost four years ago now, had the same long, slow southern accent.

I was sure she must be from Georgia and even more sure, I decided, we had to be distant relatives. Her dialect, her slow and lilting sentences ending with just a slight upturn. Well, she sounded like me I decided and so, I was happy to know her.

So, when I saw her on an early morning estate sale venture, I couldn’t wait to say, “Hey” and “Oh my Lord it’s been a really long time.”

I was joyous to see her there.

I wasn’t prepared for her response, she leaned back, was hesitant. I figured “Oh well, she doesn’t remember me” or does but, can’t remember how. Still, I was just so happily surprised over seeing her again.

I should have read her cues, should have seen it for what it was.

Instead, I added, “Remember, from the group?” She said, “I remember.” nothing more. It was clear she wished I hadn’t reminded her, refreshed the memory.

It was humid; awkward and cramped, standing amongst the trinkets, treasures,and big patterned armchairs.

She’d moved away, opened an antique shop in a pretty little town. She’d come back, was in charge of the sale that day.

Someone offered a fan, she replied “I’m fine.” and turned to look towards the drive so I wandered to the back porch and into the little house.

I continued to explore, found a pretty little bud vase and a bird for me and a rooster for the sake of memory of mama. I held my little things close to my chest and went to pay. Her eyes met mine and I said, “I hope you’re doing well and I apologize if I overwhelmed you when I saw you.” She said, “That’s okay.” Nothing more. I added, always the one trying to fix the messes I make, to undo the damage, “We were in the mountains and I was so close to your antique shop; but, couldn’t find time to come.” Again, no reaction really, just another nod.

Finally, I said what I should have said in the beginning and maybe again as I left with a simple goodbye.

“It’s so good to see you again. I hope you are doing well.”

My happiness over seeing her came from a place of recalling our connection, of remembering her sincerity and kind, kind heart, although grieving.

Her seeing me changed the course of her day, turned back the clock, flipped the page to the time and the memory of loss.

And mine as well, to the night she talked and I listened.

To her story of a sorrow I dont know, haven’t felt, only have heard.

Each heart knows its own bitterness,
and no one else can share its joy.

Proverbs 14:10

It was so good to see her, I hope she is doing well.

All is Grace

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All is grace, I think.

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

All is grace, I know.

Relentlessly Quiet

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

It’s a practice, maybe more like a ritual, this morning thing I do.

An intentional discipline, I suppose. Sometimes motivated by an open mind, others, if I’m honest, an idle mind longing for more time to be idle.

Seeking for something indicative of hope or something demonstrative of my commitment. I guess, maybe I’m sometimes looking for the fruits of my laborious devotion.

The discipline of devotion, I sit in my quiet spot with a noisy mind.

Realizing, intentional discipline and the pursuit of God turn out to be not much more than duty, sometimes.

Looking for holy becomes holier than thou.

Not always, but pretty often, if I’m honest.

I finished my reading and got ready for the day, stopping suddenly and clearly with interrupted thoughts of the day to come.

So, I just waited, holding on to what I knew to be a word from God, as if to say.

My waiting, actually quiet enough finally. must have been noticed by God.

I believe.

“I’m glad you’re listening. This is what I want you to know. This is what I have for you today.”

And there it was, my reply

“I want to do more for you, Jesus.”

Then, carrying this little few seconds around with me all day, I smiled, thinking maybe God smiled too at the simplicity of my words in the quiet of empty morning house.

Standing still, toothbrush in hand, frothy lips and thankful heart, the irony of my devotion time.

I considered his relentlessly gentle pursuit of me.

Jesus, the shepherd, waiting quietly for my attention.

Pursuing me, one of his sheep distracted by life, habit and duty.

My sheep hear my voice and I know them and they follow me.

John 10:27

Happy to be found and happy to hear, like morning interrupting my morning.

The birds incessant, the dogs insistent.

I ventured out, found and tossed tennis ball and paused to notice God in the pleasant chill of summer breeze.

Ball retrieved and dropped, “thump” at my feet, he waits as I stand barefoot in moist green grass, wisps of cool on my cheeks.

And then, more wisdom, subtle in its delivery, a “Lisaism” .

“God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.”

Light and Momentary

courage, family, grace, Vulnerability

It was just a chance to notice.

The morning sunlight, perfectly landing on the floor

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

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

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

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

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

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

A momentary treasure, light and memorable.

Light and momentary, preparing me for heaven.

Maybe

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

Maybe, I thought, out walking in the late afternoon thickness of day…

Maybe, just consider it Lisa, there’s a change coming, a shift you’ve been seeking.

Maybe, you’ve been so offended by being overlooked, over corrected and over reacted to

that you’ve not thought to notice the possibility, the maybe of this time.

Maybe, I thought, out walking in the dull empty summer air, there’s a shift occurring,

one you’ve worked for

one you need.

Maybe.

Count it joy, not maybe; but surely…these various trials of my faith are producing something that can’t be shaken.

James 1:2

Deciding Quietly

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

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The sun made the narrow spaces between the blinds a warm golden hue this morning.

Allowing time for an easy morning, I looked towards the window and considered getting up, raising the blinds and taking a picture.

Decided against it because I knew it wasn’t the sunlight in its beginning of day that my mind embraced.

It was the light edged in shadow that kept me there under cool sheets and swift, swirl of fan, for moments longer than usual.

Looking towards the day in a way that spoke softly for my submission, as if knowing I’d grown weary of demands.

Barely lit bedroom, a haven and my morning less of dread…the light beginning to filter through, quietly without forcing response from me.

Slowly and with calm intention, I move on towards the morning.

I begin with note to self, calling it a commitment.

Certain of its timing, I write clearly, my penmanship better than it’s been, under today’s date and encircle it in a bold bracket.

Stop looking at what others are doing. Do what your heart tells you is right, is true, is good.

Then, moved to study God’s word, today’s passages in read through my Bible plan.

And because God is God, a few words were planted there to be discovered, to be certain of the quiet wisdom of today.

Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness.

I Timothy 2:11

Linking up my five minutes of Friday here:

Needing Rain

courage, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

IMG_0086_kindlephoto-6706827 If you were raised the way I was raised, you’d notice the building of dark clouds.

You’d not be surprised by the dark, shifting clouds or the storms through the night with just short breaks in between.

You’d remember the stillness, the way someone would walk towards the porch to check the sky.

Then, turn to say, “We need the rain.”

And maybe after sitting and waiting, someone else would say,

“We need the rain.”

There’d be no dispute, not a word from us cousins. The corn, the butterbeans, the low, wide tobacco leaves needed the rain.

Last week I felt the air become heavy and unexpectedly dark.

IMG_0073_kindlephoto-6538336

There was a complaint, a correction, a criticism. I was caught in surprise of storm. Suspicious of its source.

There was a feeling of being thrown into the storm with no one noticing my abandonment, my inability to swim.

It was work stuff; yet, it was hard.

It wasn’t family storm, not my heart; but it was hard.

Darkness of word, of reactions and of lack of reaction.

I suppose it was needed. Like rain on an early summer evening.

The kind of storm that causes me to get quiet, it’s storming.

I needed the storms.

I needed to be courageous in a way that caught uncaring people by surprise.

I needed to be humble when my pride and hurt feelings hindered my moving forward.

I needed to take a chance, to take the next step and to be uncertain of reaction, but decide to accept it as truth, as needed.

To hush the insecurities and doubts.

I needed the dark clouds, were it not for storm, I’d not understand, truly understand my need.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28

Sometimes God brings storms and we’re thinking okay, I’ll understand the purpose of this heavy rain, this earth shaking thunder or this frighteningly unexpected bolt of fearful lightening…eventually, we think.

IMG_0072_kindlephoto-425647

We need the rain. We’re better for the storm.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/

Persisting Upside Down

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

Persistently writing

The last page of the soft white journal.

Moleskin supple, barely visible lines, a simple book.

Typically covering three months or so, I have stacks of these now.

The last page this morning, waiting for my grey swirly lead lines.

There are quiet rumblings trying to fade of a hard week with hard words, harder choices. It’s work though, and work complained about does nothing more than frustrate you in the explanation. So, I let it be, let Saturday come, let Friday meetings and confrontations go.

And journal thankful things and read the Psalms, prepare for yoga instead of parade.

I turn the page, preparing to close the book.

To see it’s been upside down all this time, the empty space for my name is blank; the little space next to the question of its worth, blank too.

I smile. It’s worth a bunch to me, I think.

Another journal filled with my early morning heart’s pondering.

I rise before the dawn and cry for help; I wait for your words.

Psalm 119: 147

Thoughts purposeful sometimes, other times shallow or habitual murmuring.

Revelations, realizations and regrets.

Progress, backwards steps, teeters and totters.

Yet, I persist. Turn the page, begin again, right side up.

Or upside down, funny the relevance of this tiny oops.

I light a pretty candle and choose music, then not.

Preferring the sound of beagle snores and nothing else.

I write 200 or so more words, remembering my promise to myself to begin and…

Write for as long as you feel the words come clearly and when you don’t feel them, can’t find them, stop.

Persist, though.

There are true and brave stories to be told in the colors of my Bible, in the words of my Psalms.

Seeing, Being Seen

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

Several times a day I might notice a bird

or the sky or like yesterday,

the most amazing magnolia bloom I could barely see just above the fence top.

I’ll pause and just get quiet, my eyes and my soul resting.

Sometimes though, I just rush about frustrated or pitiful, one extreme or the other, angst and longing.

Then I notice the sky. The vastness of empty space, yet fullness of God and I’m better then, more myself with God.

I’m always better in the moment of pausing to look towards sky.

I think maybe it’s my age the way I intentionally, perhaps accidentally notice God.

Maybe I am “the crazy bird lady” my daughter loves to call me.

Or maybe not, because she notices too now, and tells me about her red bird appearing outside the tall, curtain drawn farmhouse windows

following her as she moves from room to room to front porch.

Or maybe, just maybe I’m in the presence of God more clearly, not because He hasn’t been there all along, but

Because I’m okay with Him seeing me.

I’m not as often compelled to hide from the God who sees me.

Waiting to be seen, asking where are you?

Lisa, why try to hide?

You’re seen, you’re known, you’re loved despite your attempts to hide. You’re not hidden in the overgrowth, no need for that, listen, look…I’m here.

And they heard the sound of the Lord God, walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees in the garden. But, the Lord called…where are you?

Genesis 3:8

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to tell His story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/needed-begin-loving-actual-life/

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/

Mistin’ Rain

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

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I intended to walk briskly, music in my ears, arms pumping and muscles striving. I couldn’t say no and gave in to the stroll, Colt sniffing up ants and stopping, startled by sparrows.

I walked on, following his lumbering gait, an easy slack in his leash. We took the turn and my cheeks noticed then…

“It’s mistin’ rain.” I remembered, my mama used to say that and I moved more slowly up the hill, oddly content in the soft, misty rain.

Lingering in its wonder.

Took our time then, choosing to cross the grassy field, tall stalks, tiny daisy like flowers and mossy green cushion.

We step lightly, a little jump over the ditch makes me feel little girlish and my feet land on smooth pavement turning towards home.

My toes feeling the chill of wet, I’d not bothered with socks, oh well.

Misty, moistened hair and dampness on my cheeks, yet I longed to stay there, to stand in the rain, in the clarity of the nothingness of evening rain and

of wide open sky over grassy field in the mist.

At the end of a week cluttered, crowded, and disenchanted, mostly…

I found wide sky and open field filtered by the mist of rain.

O’ my soul….O’ my soul.

When clouds veil the sun and disaster comes
Oh my soul, oh my soul
When waters rise and hope takes flight
Oh my soul, oh my soul, oh my soul

Ever faithful, ever true
You, I know, You never let go

You never let go, You never let go
You never let go
You never let go, You never let go
You never let go.

David Crowder Band

	Lisa Brittain on Women of Faith
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