heaven

Shown the Way

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, heaven, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Serving, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability

A skinny stretch of sunlight lays across the rug and I’m captivated by the idea of a path, a choice, a plan and its leading.

I do this. I’d not say so, were it not true. I wake with slow unveiling and I soon find my confirmation in the unfolding.

“Follow that thought…there’s more for you to see, follow that train, that starting point, that pointing of the way through me.”

God, to me on this pretty morning.

This morning, I woke with the thought “How do I know the way?”

Then I read a friend’s blog post about walking in the deep spaces in the snow, her teenage grandson’s footsteps.

He lead the way, not wanting her to slip and fall.

I searched for the passage in John about “the way” and found Thomas asking Jesus what they’re supposed to do, how are they to know the way?

I continued on in Chapter 14 and found another question, Phillip asked Jesus to show him the way. I love this little epiphany God planned for me this morning, that the writer ended Jesus’ reply with an exclamation mark!

I tried to imagine Jesus reassuring me, so adamantly it would merit exclamation.

I began to sense the urgency, the hope that they, that I, that we might finally believe based on what we’ve seen, what we’ve survived, what we have made it through and all the stories of Jesus all around us through others whose lives Jesus touched, lives held in His embrace.

Like Phillip, I’m honest about my doubts, I keep asking to be shown more as an indication that all will be well.

Phillip wanted to see God the Father, wanted to be sure and Jesus said you’ve seen Him fully, faithfully through me already

and all around.

Yes, I have.

“Jesus replied, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and yet you still don’t know who I am? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father! So why are you asking me to show him to you?”

‭‭John‬ ‭14:9‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Our lives are nothing short of miraculous if we consider all we’ve been given, been brought through, most of all been promised. All the times we’ve been “shown the way” through Jesus to the Father.

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)

Us and the Angels

Advent, Angels, Art, Faith, grace, heaven, rest, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

She arrived before anyone else, at 10 instead of 12, dropped off in the parking lot and then wouldn’t accept our offer to wait inside.

We walked past and past again unloading our cars, setting up the luncheon and Christmas festivities.

She waited, her notepad propped carefully, her arms balanced on the arms of her rolling walker.

She waited, I began to sense her an observer.

“Was she making notes about her observing of us now?” I wondered.

Today is the fifth day of Advent, the focus on the hopeful waiting for Christ and Christmas.

I painted last night, it was a must.

Because the woman who arrived two hours early was left without a ride home and we were together for more hours as she called those who’d promised to be there and then called again to be met by straight to voice mail answers.

We were together, she and I and another person left without a ride.

We were together in the parking lot of the place where the promised person said they’d meet us.

So, she asked about my children and I asked about hers. This led to asking about my life and then, finally led to asking about Jesus and her telling me about heaven.

You see, she said she died once. The doctor said for 17 minutes. She went to heaven; she saw her family and yet, she said she was given the chance to come back and live.

Now, if you know my job and know this event, you may be thinking, I pray not, “Well, that woman’s crazy.”

I pray you don’t think that, say that.

Ever.

Because, here’s where our talk went next.

After reaching a family member late in the afternoon, we moved from one parking lot to the other and were confident she was on the way to meet us.

Her telling me of heaven continued, she told me about the angels.

She said they are beautiful; but, have no wings and that’s because they’re not nearly as far from earth as we’d assume.

They have no wings because they’re only just a little above the ground.

I looked towards her, she’d rarely looked my way, her conversation a retelling, a divine appointment, I am sure.

I sensed her calling, her calling to be with me.

I, with her, not my normal way.

Because I’m guilty of being grouchy at the end of the day and I’m sorry to admit, I’m the first to accept an offer for someone else to stay behind, handle the loose ends like giving rides to stranded people.

But, not yesterday, I decided to be the one who helped this woman.

Help, not the best choice of words, more like simply being with, seeing it to the end, not so much like helping at all.

More divine, my day had been ordered by God I began to see, see even better looking back on.

I’m sure I was beaming when I told her I painted and that my angels have no wings and most often no expression on their faces.

She smiled only slightly like “Yes” and I looked towards the car to our right, “Is this you ride?” I asked and it was, she answered, how did we miss them pulling in?

Her daughter thanked me, her grandson smiled, said “Hey, Nanni” and we unloaded her gifts and helped her from my car.

I walked over and hugged her softly,

“Merry Christmas.” I said.

She paused and finally, she turned and saw me straight on and open, told me she will be praying for me, that she is going to pray for my angel paintings to become as God has planned.

She meant it, I know.

I thanked her.

Then went home, dark by now and changed from Christmas red outfit to paint splattered apron.

I painted a new layer over the frantic looking wings I’d painted on a new piece, thinking I’d try something new; but, certain it was all wrong.

And now I understand.

Understanding what it means to have God mindful of me, of us down here amongst one another, just barely below or maybe even sitting beside the angels.

“When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,

what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?

You have made them a little lower than the angels and crowned them with glory and honor.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭8:3-5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Joy Finding

Advent, Faith, family, grace, heaven, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

We have the same reason for joy as they did way back then.

I pray I’m intentional in my choice to let Christmas be all about Jesus. Here’s the truth, I believe, the joy stealers don’t rest at Christmas, there’s no reprieve from those set on negativity and strife. And then there’s unexpected sadness that makes no sense and seems to happen more at Christmas. Or maybe in our seeking to be joyous, we’re thrown off by its unfair interruption.

I’m not sure. I only know that we each can choose joy and like someone told me yesterday, I was caught off guard, “your face seems happier.” And I had prayed earlier that God would put someone on my path, literally wrote this in my journal,

“God send someone to my path who needs to know about your grace.”

This person who told me she saw a difference in me, I said to her, smiling over her words, “I’m getting better at understanding God’s grace and it’s no longer a striving thing, I am not working so hard for something that requires nothing of me, God’s grace.”

My day started this way yesterday. How can I not proclaim the joy as I circled prayers today, some still praying and this one given an asterisk for answered?

I consider it joy.

You know that joy when a longing you’d gotten a little disheartened over slips in and comes true in a way unexpected?

That’s the joy and joys I’m keen on noticing now.

If it takes writing them down or slowing my morning to be certain I give them their due, my time and attention, I am more aware because of doing so.

I think of my grandma’s little hands, her practice of keeping her “memorandum” book and I look towards the jewels she meticulously pinned into bright ornaments, I see her joy in her art.

I see joy, find it here.

Most especially when it comes in a way surprising me, a way that speaks truth to our Father’s all-knowing.

Like an angel I suppose, saying hold out for it and hold on sure but tenderly to this hope, your joy is coming.

You shall bear the light of this truth, that when you believe what you can’t see, you will get to see it come true.

Bear light of it just like young Mary, a mother unprepared and untouched by man, bearing the Son of Man, light of the world.

Remember the time another Mary and her sister Martha chose to believe?

Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”  John 11:40

I’ve not known joy quite so miraculous as the risen dead, still I’ve known the joy of Jesus coming through, on my behalf, the behalf of those I love.

Known the joy found in what we believe will be true.

Jennifer Dukes Lee shares her thoughts about how to “Prepare Him Room” and a story that is oh, so very relatable, the task of Christmas decor and how we should simply rest in the beauty of our homes, stamped and shaped by our hearts.

Visit here:

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/prepare-him-room/

Linking up with Kelli LaFram, at Quietly Through

http://quietlyreminded.com/2017/12/07/confess-sins-quietly-thursday-link-20/?ct=t(RSS_EMAIL_CAMPAIGN)&mc_cid=68c27bf7bd&mc_eid=8fccf10d46

Be Near

bravery, Children, family, grace, heaven, rest, Trust, Unity, Vulnerability

I googled my daddy’s name to be sure of the number.

Today he would have been 75 and it occurred to me to remember the traits of his I hold near.

  • Quiet
  • Unambitious
  • Introspective
  • Handsome
  • Sharp dressed
  • Hair in place
  • Thoughtful
  • Musician
  • Gardener
  • Introvert

Then I thought of gentleness and the most often gentleness of my daddy.

The times he’d not let the demons and worry and work draw him towards drink.

These are the traits I hold near and I pray through genetics, heredity, and stories I have passed them on well.

Today is December 1 and I’ve opened the stiff leather binding to new pages of a new journal.

May December be about Jesus, I pray and may His gentleness in me be evident to all.

May the Lord be near me and be near.

Love your daddies, friends if you have them. Talk to them about life and love and lessons. Store up those treasures you will surely hold near.

Yay!!!! Did not exceed 5 minutes this time! Linking up with other writers here for Five Minute Friday! What a good start to December this feels like. 🙂

http://fiveminutefriday.com/amp/

Familiar Things

Children, Faith, family, grace, grief, heaven, Prayer, Trust, Unity

The sun coming in and landing on the succulents.

The Labrador looking longingly out the tall windows.

A phone call before 4, my teacher daughter calling to tell of her day, even the ring or ding, somehow familiar.

My morning, familiar. The sound of stirring of his spoon in coffee cup, so very noisy, intentional and purposed, everything my husband does, he does to be sure it is done.

The habit I have. A little bullet dot by my prayers, to flip the page back the next day and hope to turn the dot to starlike asterisk.

These things, I cherish. They are my familiar.

Last night, we had food together and everyone was seated, we would bless our meal. My sister in law, Julia came and just my daughter, her husband.

My husband would pray and end with “keep us in your will”, instead I asked Julia to pray.

She took a second after saying okay and then prayed.

“You pray just like MeMa. I heard MeMa praying for a little bit.” my daughter said, and we all we’re quiet in agreement, had a little moment, I thought of her prayers, familiar, comforting, an unexpected joy.

I know I needed.

“…always pray with joy”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Linking up with others today here:

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/11/23/fmf-link-up-familiar/

Blue, I Believe

bravery, Faith, family, grace, grief, heaven, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

If grace had a color,

Don’t you think it’d be blue?

Blue like the clear sky or the ocean seen from up high.

If grace has a color, I believe it to be blue.

Blue like the glimpse of bird wing resting for a tiny time or captured by my eye, in the periphery flying by.

If grace had a color, it’d be blue I believe.

Blue almost grey like a feather, a tint so faintly blue that might welcome our wrapping up cocoon like in its covers, the blue that says I see your sorrow, it will not last forever; lie down now.

Rest here in this grace.

Or blue like cobalt, strong and weighty in hue, secure

Or like sapphire, a richly wrapped paper covered box placed in front of you at the table.

A glorious presentation.

Grace,

A gift.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭2:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The Far Away Chorus

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, heaven, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability

On Sunday, I stood among a display of images, faces, places, art.

I’d made my way over to an area made into what I saw as sanctuary.

No walls or doors to enter in, the space was open. I entered.

The images displayed in honor of the remembered lives massacred.

This morning I’ve slept with interruptions and I rise from my bed and then decide to begin with prayer. Knees tumble and land in a somewhat pensive posture.

Thank you for protection, I begin. I add in grace, mercy, and thank you for today.

My prayer, one of a rambler and a sleeping mind. Rote in my utterance, disorganized and uncommitted.

The void unfilled.

So, I tried hard to cease with the words, to let it happen, to believe my heart was heard.

I knew there was something I needed to know; needed, not wanted.  I’d disengaged, though,  closing the door to the place needing attention.

Closed off the place and hid the mess, distracting myself with other obligations.

Saying I’ll get back to it soon.

I will.

Why must I feel my prayer should be performance, I wonder sometimes?

Why must my cluttered mind overwhelm me in the clamor, a competition, the hearing of my thinking the thoughts

And of letting be, letting go, letting come to rest?

img_9588

Standing still instead, waiting to hear the hearing I’ve known.

On Tuesday, I went back to the place honoring those who died in a church at a Wednesday night prayer meeting.

The beauty of the faces hanging in frames. The bright vibrant color on those who walked the bridge in unity, hands raised up high on the high bridge over Charleston, South Carolina.

img_9635

The others lined up, symmetry along one wall, black and white, the photographs, the expressions on the faces.

img_9637

Together, standing amongst flowers strewn on the ground, eyes closed in prayer, hands  unbroken and tightly clutched.

img_9636

The slain pastor’s Bible encased in glass, opened to the parable of the mustard seed.

30 Again he said, “What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it? 31 It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. 32 Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds can perch in its shade.” Mark 4:30-32

Heaven was enlarged that night.

Surely it was.

Stained glass windows depicting Mother Emanuel Church and words, just a few lines, a humble display, a description of what happened that night.

On Sunday, I listened and my emotions felt close to erupting like volcanic overflow in the international airport. I came to the place I’d be letting go and the letting go I’d need to be prepared for in advance.

On Sunday, I stood alone in the place with strong words on the wall that said

“Charleston Strong”.

img_9590

My cousin was there; but, she let me be alone, apart.

I wasn’t very strong.  I was surely present.

I was present as I heard the soft sound of hymn barely coming through someplace, seemed above or perhaps the four corners holding together.

“It is well, it is well.”

Sunday was an opportunity to be aware, to feel the feels of goodbye, to not be blindsided by the things I did not know.

I’d never left a child at the airport.  Never boarded a plane or watched a son fly away.

On Tuesday, we returned, my son and I and he successfully and without me or complication navigated the steps towards leaving, of boarding for his flight.

He surprised me when he approached a woman, asked her to take our picture.

“Uhmmm, I’m gonna be studying abroad for three months, could you take a picture of my mom and me?”

We stood together beneath the Arrival-Departure display.

img_9639

I reached up and around trying to embrace him. His backpack stuffed fat for carry on, my arm got all awkward and tangled up and I smiled, leaned into his chest and let go my attempt to hold on.

My expression, a sigh. I notice now, the darkness under my eyes.

He turned and looked towards security and I looked the other way.

“Come and see this.” I said.

We were together there for a few minutes, entranced together by the display.

“Isn’t it amazing?” I asked.

He answered “Yeah.”

We both captured this time, this place, took photos of what touched us there.

Patience filled the separate place, we lingered and I listened again to what I found to be amazing, the sound the same as Sunday.

I entered the space with seeking heart,  curious over display, stood quietly and after a little while, just the same as on Sunday,  now on Tuesday.

I heard the chorus. The faraway melody, the hymn of assurance as soft as a lullaby and as certain as a vow.

“It is well, it is well

with my soul”

And now it’s Thursday.

I’ve heard good words from my son, excitement in the tone of his texts.

I’ve prayed for protection still and I’ve stumbled over my thoughts of his journey.

I’m remembering now, my decision to wait on Tuesday,  at the top of the parking deck, waiting for the departure. I heard the faraway sound of strong engine, I watched the plane appear and then become only a speck. The sky empty then, a flock of blackbirds gathered for me, I believe, to say “all is well”.

img_9648

I heard the seeping in of faraway chorus of grace again today, of

Waiting, of sanctuary and of song.

It is well with me.

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story. Her words this week remind her of looking towards the heavens, of remembering where hope comes from.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/one-thing-well-never-outgrow/

The Scarlett Effect

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

I must’ve had Scarlett on the brain.

We played Clue over and over and because I loved the color of the game piece.

I decided, I’ll be Scarlett.

Then, I woke and thought of Scarlett.

O’Hara, that is.

I woke imagining distress and I figured out myself, figured me out, my ways.

I’m either imagining the horrific or I’m deciding…oh well, my hands are tied.

What will be, will be.

Oh, Lord let it not be hard.

So, yeah, I recognized my ways and decided “no more of that thinking that way…nothing or all, catastrophe or avoidance…no more of that!”

No more.

And it began with a waking thought, an affirmation.

People may question this truth.

But, I assure you it’s true. I linger long enough before rising and a song or a verse comes to mind, says good morning Lisa, here’s what you need today.

This truth happened today:

Fear is not from God.

Fear of what I do not know, cannot know

Is NOT from God.

A sound mind…one settled and set on truth, trust, assurance.

One reined back in towards what’s certain and true.

He’s got the whole world in His hands.

This is true.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.”

‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Rest now, oh wandering and imaginatively, tragically creative mind.

Tell yourself stories of good, oh, sound mind, rest.

Rest, assured.

Resting Again

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, heaven, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Tonight, I’m resting. Kinda had to after getting knocked down by out of nowhere, can barely move yucky sick.

So, I rested in bed, then rested in the country, couch, bed, couch and again, back home to bed.

Resting still. No idea where it came from, knocked me down, a phantom illness.

My cousin says the sky is bigger in the country. She believes it. I believe it.

Others don’t understand. I wonder though, why it is that I’m almost immediately able to breathe with more ease

When I’m surrounded by sky?

Friday, I was not well. Made it to work and left after an hour, barely able to drive.

I’d been noticing my health, eating right, proud of my progress, even saying prayers of thanks for my health.

But, I’d been pushing it mentally, sleep deprived and stressed over work worries and other unforeseen imagined things that might happen.

I didn’t think I’d been quite so stressed til I woke up and my body made me slow down. I even dreamed of being sick, of a crisis at work, of some other worry, can’t recall.

Friday was rough, but, I kept on moving… you’ll be better, just keep pushing.

So, I made my way to the country at sunset to dog sit. I just had to get there, that’s all, I said, won’t feel any better or worse there.

I sat on the porch under the chimes and the sky changed colors while the dogs got reacquainted.

Slept not well, dogs watching guard and this strange unwavering fatigue, I tossed all night. I suppose around 3:00 the dogs gave out and one plopped by the back door while the other climbed in bed.

Woke, missing sunrise, but thinking coffee and made my way to the kitchen in the big old house. Drank a sip, fell back into the covers and how I could sleep more, I have no idea. But, I dozed.

Woke again. Hopeful for feeling better.

Just a little, I did.

I warmed my coffee and found a cool breeze. Forgot my journal, so I just sat and felt the cool air on my face and slowly, slowly, careful for nausea not to return, I relaxed.

And I began to realize I’d been rushing ahead, feeling like a godly rush of what I’d decided a fervor, but a total disregard for where I might be headed.

I read a chapter from “She’s Still There” a book written by Chrystal Evans Hurst, a preacher’s daughter who got way off track…she talks about our “drifts” from the path we should be on, the path God has for us.

The way we get pulled off track and if aren’t careful might not notice and have to be shown.

This morning her words rang true because I believe I’d forgotten to notice how my striving was wearing me out, my soul had become weary and my body finally caught up.

Pay attention to the beauty of your soul and the pulse of your existence. Chrystal Evans Hurst

So, I rested all day and am now still.

I stopped in my tracks about 36 hours ago. My feet could barely carry my weight, my voice was hushed and raspy, my heart pounding as I lie in bed waiting for wave of illness to pass.

And I prayed it would pass quickly.

But, it hasn’t completely.

Not yet.

I’m resting still, about to sleep some more and I have lots to do tomorrow, so I pray I wake all fresh and new.

But, if I don’t I’ll know I’m not ready.

I’ll know I need more time, more time to let my heart beat more softly and my soul be more certain. I’ll understand more clearly why I got hit like a freight train when I didn’t have the sense to watch for the collision.

The verse I call my life verse is soft and sure. It’s about being quietly confident.

But, you might never have read the verse that follows. It’s something we do sometimes, find a pretty promise or an assurance of grace and we don’t notice the other part, the words that cause conviction, the words that teach us hard lessons much needed.

Isaiah 30 is about a rebellious people, people running from a life of following God, maybe people growing weary, perhaps distracting themselves with effort but no faith…so they became disenchanted, left their quiet confidence and fled.

“This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: “Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength. But you would have none of it. You said, ‘No, we will get our help from Egypt. They will give us swift horses for riding into battle.’ But the only swiftness you are going to see is the swiftness of your enemies chasing you!”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:15-16‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I’ve been rushing maybe. I’m the only who’d know, not an outward rush, an internal constant chastisement of self over not enough, pressure to be more and to feel more content while doing it.

Nothing good comes by force. Nor from running away on the swift horse named regret for what hasn’t been yet.

I found grace this weekend again. I remembered God longs to be gracious to me and in the wide open space of the place I call “Pretty Place”

I had no more fight, no fervor, and I found my pace, the pace of grace.

No demand other than rest and I surrendered to my body and soul fatigue to find Him there waiting for me to rest again.

“So the Lord must wait for you to come to him so he can show you his love and compassion. For the Lord is a faithful God. Blessed are those who wait for his help.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:18‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Again, I rest.