Distance and Love

Abuse Survivor, Art, birthday, bravery, courage, creativity, curiousity, Faith, family, Forgiveness, Holy Spirit, jubilee, memoir, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, wonder

I saw the man again on Monday but, yesterday I wasn’t paying attention. I neglected to glance over to find the front yard of the trailer hidden in a shady hollow place.

Overgrown it was the day I saw the pair standing so far apart they would need to raise their voices.

The grass was high like wheat and a man with a flock of blonde hair all crazy stood with his hands crossed and a positioning of his torso saying “I ain’t staying much longer.”

Facing him was another man, his head tilted to one side in a way that said sincerity.

I wondered about the relationship.

Father, step-father, mama’s friend, uncle or older brother.

I wondered who had caused the crack in relationship and who was resisting more the reconciliation of it.

I also wonder why I wonder. Why I see humans in conditions that are fragile and why God made me to want those conditions to be better.

I know God made me this way and somehow I know the intervening is not for me to accomplish, only God.

So, I pray for strangers. I just do.

And I think about them. I still pause to consider.

“What’s their story?”

I woke with thoughts about love this morning, about the importance of “for my part” demonstrating love.

Love that doesn’t put us in danger of emotional harm is just a positioning of our hearts and mind, we can stay safe in showing love when it’s hard by just deciding we want restoration for someone, we want them to know they are loved by their Creator and if they’ll allow it, by others too.

“Relationship, especially family, requires a commitment to relationship despite differences, dysfunction, and most importantly delays in the other person longing in the same way for relationship.”

I laid still in the place of very good and needed rest and questioned why these words came.

I figured it must be that I’m still curious about the family in the overgrown yard.

I saw the older man a second time. Tall and skinny, a bearded man with baggy britches and an oddly colored pipe dangling from his mouth.

He was swaying in a rhythm with a weed eater as he cleared and cleaned the high grass and weeds.

He was making the situation better.

There was contentment in his movements.

Maybe in the knowledge that he tried and is trying. So, I’ll drive past the place of these two people again next week and I’ll believe the best is being done to restore what’s been neglected or wronged.

And I’ll believe more strongly in the truth of love being demonstrated in small ways to invite change (even if we don’t get to see it).

Because, it’s not about us anyway, it’s about the one who’s messed up and in need of love believing it may be possible…

Restoration.

“God is a restorative God. He is restoring all losses.” John Eldredge, author of “Get Your Life Back”

Continue and believe.

“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.”
‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭4‬:‭8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I discovered yesterday that 2023 marks a “Jubilee” year for me as I approach my birthday. It’s surprisingly tender, this discovery…almost too difficult to put into words. Maybe I will, maybe I’ll just rest in the discovery of a year symbolic of release and restoration.

There are no coincidences with God.

Hiding Myself In Him

Angels, courage, Faith, fear, heaven, Holy Spirit, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

“And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
‭‭Revelation‬ ‭21‬:‭5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A dream kept me trapped for a time last night. Scientists say (I’ve heard) dreams are really just seconds, maybe minutes and yet they feel so very lasting, so lengthy, so binding.

You want to disengage your body from the story your deep sleep mind is telling.

Dreams are intriguing, often troubling.

I find myself mentally inventorying my meals, my television input, the words read before sleep. I search for the reasons for dreams that are scary, always deep.

Last night I dreamt of being in a tiny town where all were being required to be taken away. The ones who returned told stories of fear, told of being entrapped, of being forced to harm others, of being unable to see because of a poison emitted from some unavoidable place.

And I got separated from my group, they never came back and kindness met me in the place in between going or staying and

I woke up.

Shaken by yet another dream I couldn’t see the reason for.

I had chocolate milk before sleep. I watched the Braves lose and hated it because it was my cousin’s husband’s birthday and Atlanta should’ve won for him.

I read Psalms and Proverbs before sleep. The bed was comfy, the room was cool.

And I laid still as the dream slipped from heavy to safe and I said to myself the lyrics of “Rock of Ages”…cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee.

Knowing the dream wasn’t so much a nightmare as a vision (please know I’m not assigning any special qualifications to myself…if you know me, you know I’d never do that!).

But, I do know the dream wasn’t about present day, it was about the end days that are coming.

Yes, “end times”.

I will stop here because I don’t talk about things I’m not fully equipped to explain.

I’m a learner. I am learning through the Holy Spirit’s voice spoken uniquely to me.

As to you if you believe.

In the dream, I was kept safe from suffering. I lingered in showing up to the “required sign in”. I didn’t surrender my soul to what these captors required.

And I was left unharmed, a man with a smile comforted me and I woke up.

I can’t begin to explain the supernatural and sovereign ways of God.

I just know what used to scare the s**t out of me, yelled from an angry and judgmental pulpit, now feels like a treasure,

the sweet scent of the nearness of God, the unveiling slowly and steadily revealing the goodness, no greatness of a God who loves me.

God loves me.

God loves you.

Years ago, I wrote about birds and the message continues, in more tangible ways.

I am cared for.

This morning, the mama returned then flitted away once she saw me in the window.

There’s only one tiny bird in this nest I assumed the mama had abandoned.

Now, I hear a tiny sound.

I hear a life beginning.

I pray you see God today, feel him, sense him, know there’s so much more than earth for us.

I pray he surprises you with goodness, with His glory.

Last month, I longed to ask a friend who’s ambivalent about God, even more so about Jesus and certainly skeptical about a spirit longing to be inside her, Holy.

A simple question.

Have you ever considered what your life might look like if you decided to believe in Jesus?

I know it seems a given, but it’s one worth asking every day.

“Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6‬:‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Looking Intently

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, birds, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, Holy Spirit, kindness, memoir, Peace, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

I stood still to find it again and then the bird perched in boldness and just waited on the top of the tomato cage. Its belly was brilliant, glistened like silk. It seemed untouched, unmarred, original and articulately designed.

At first, I thought “a tomato already?”. A brilliant spot of red amongst the lush green growth of vine.

Two pages of my journal are covered in words in reply to the question, how does God see me?

I finished Henri Nouwen’s “The Return of the Prodigal Son”. There are multiple asterisks in the margins and many underlines.

I paused here yesterday. Read and reread about A First and Everlasting Love.

“For a very long time I considered low self-esteem to be some kind of virtue. I had been warned so often about pride and conceit that I came to consider it a good thing to deprecate myself.” Henri Nouwen

Nouwen reminds of Psalm 139, that before we opened our eyes to life, God had brilliant plans already decided in the way He made us.

Often, I think of the beauty of being wonderfully made and not so much the “fearfully” part. What does it mean to us that we are made “fearfully”.

I would say it means “well-made”, not haphazardly, not without intention and plan, well-thought, very, very distinct and worthwhile.

So, I continue to return to the truth for me and for you.

We are valuable according to God and that value doesn’t change according to the limitations I know like fear, self-destructive patterns, lack of confidence and/or lack of the notice of others.

This is the “footprint” I want to leave here when I’m gone.

Your value is not determined by what has happened to you or what you hoped would and did not.

Your value is according to God. He fearfully planned it for you to discover just how “wonderful” you are.

Your value is not determined by the plans of God that got trampled by malice, meanness or evil decisions of another.

Your value remains untainted, to be discovered with sweet and steady intention…you keep going towards it.

Continue and believe.

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭139‬:‭14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Oh, My Goodness

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, painting, Peace, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭21‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My friend, Susan gets me, the way I share a story that goes down every path possible and then I circle back around to the point of my sharing.

God has placed wisdom in the form of listeners and those who notice me and mostly unbeknownst to them lead to clarity.

Many years ago on a Thursday morning, a question lingered, had been lingering long. I asked God what to do and added that I knew me and I’d be confused and conflicted forever if He didn’t show me in a big and clear way.

And He did and the course of my life changed.

I accepted that I would be a single mother.

I may never have a prayer answered so promptly and sure again. Or I may.

Wednesday morning, the country road was quiet, the half moon moved with me and fields on either side, sprinkled with cows and crops were striated by thinly layered fog.

Like a canvas changed by an artist who intentionally used light spectacularly well.

I’d been thinking of that same sort of application in new paintings.

I thought of my words in a journal, the research into what the phrase “honing my craft” truly means.

I was happy. I love words and I love when they are like little secret gifts.

A term I used as a nonprofit professional came to mind, “mission creep”. New to the leadership field, I inherited a mess of misuse of many things. Funding was failing, the agency facing catastrophic losses and necessary changes.

I had no skillset for this position other than compassion for others and a commitment to that call.

There were talks of “adding programs” for which grant funding was freely distributed. If we did more, there might be more money.

But, we had two employees and no capacity to carry out additional programs. I said no and I had a board who trusted me.

I offered, “No, let’s figure out what we are known for, what matters and what we do well and let’s get better at that.”

That naive assertion on my part redirected the course of the agency I oversaw for ten years and I suppose as I write this, it’s the actual first time I have given myself credit for that courageous “no” to chasing after new at the expense of forgoing good.

Choosing better over bigger.

Lord, I see you refining my jagged edges.

A prayer I offered on Wednesday morning, the fog striated in the sky, layered like paint in varying thickness on the canvas of an abstract painting. The sky wrote a beautiful note to my soul that morning,

told me to slow down, settle into what you love about writing and painting and do what is you, not anyone else.

A friend later surprised me with what she’d been seeing in me.

“With your painting -it is beautifully abstract-it does not have to be “perfect”. I sense you feel that your writing has to be “perfect” whatever that is for writing which trips you up. I see Holy Spirit lovingly pouring what looks like liquid gold over and into your mind. I feel that as you continue to explore God’s unconditional love for you. His words are going to flow out of you.” K.

My friend’s response to the question that wears me out (and probably others).

Should I just paint and not write?

If you’re still reading, you may be tired of this old weary question.

Me too. ME TOO!

I stopped by the gallery of a friend. If you’re anywhere near Augusta, Georgia, you must stop in to CANDL on Broad Street. The photographer and curator, Drake White is someone I described as just “happening upon me and my art”. I am honored to have been photographed by him.

I committed to seeing the current exhibit of the acclaimed artist, Ed Rice on the final night of the show and so I drove over yesterday evening, scurrying into the gallery without an umbrella in the sprinkling rain.

I was greeted by two gentleman, one an artist and the other Mr. White. Fascinated by the works, I commented on the emotion of the subjects, not people, rather 18th century dolls.

Still, I decided one was demure and another had been “harmed”.

I was introduced to the other artist with words about three things…

my faith

my writing

my art

I stood quietly and accepted the kind commentary of me.

The me I’d been losing, sort of like a “mission creep” in creative endeavors seeking to be known.

“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.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I hadn’t lost my faith; but, maybe I was losing “faith in me” as in the Holy Spirit answering in the most unexpected ways and quietly, a ripple of wisdom that barely changes the stream.

Involving others as teachers, as witnesses of you.

For the sake of you.

For goodness sake and to contribute to the question…with the surest and sweetest answer.

Faith, writing and art, Lisa Anne…for the goodness of others, share my goodness in you.

Is there a place you’ve ventured away from what is for you?

Are you missing the goodness because of grabbing for grander?

Pay attention to what others notice in you and be reminded by a certain little phrase my granddaughter is quite proud of saying…

“Oh, my goodness!” Elizabeth

Oh…my goodness, yes.

Continue and believe

thank you for being here.

Lightly, Loosely

anxiety, bravery, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, freedom, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, surrender, Vulnerability, wonder

Waking thoughts…early morning’s drive.

Settle your mind.

Reacquaint with your soul.

My trainer friend answered, “It’s from use.”

I have a pain in my upper right arm that wakes me at night. It’s caused by the way I carry things, she says.

I think, yes. Right.

Life, questions, concerns, and the baby

Close to my chest like prized possessions.

She suggests I alternate arms, shift the weight to the other side. I can.

That’ll be easy, remembering the words I’d been thinking all day.

Cease striving.

Cease striving, it’s not all up to you and

you’re not on your own.

Stop carrying so many things alone.

Rest.

Lighten your load. Carry what is yours to carry, to treasure, to hold sweetly to your chest.

Put the rest on the shelf.

Don’t pick it back up.

Be still, and know that I am God.
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭46‬:‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Be still.

Loosen up, live lightly. You’re strong but stubborn.

It’s not all up to you and you’re not alone.

Settle your mind. Reacquaint with your soul.

Rest will follow. It’s Gods promise.

Lay your hand softly on your chest.

Remember God.

Impressioned

Angels, confidence, contentment, curiousity, Faith, Holy Spirit, kindness, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I had to slow my steps, intent on only art canvases, make the beeline to the back and hurry on. No eye contact, small talk time, just me and my fast walking.

I needed to halt or bump into a woman with her son. She had a shuffle step that was familiar, I remembered a mama long ago who had an injury leaving one hip higher than the other. So, I thought this might be her and I’d be able to ask how she’s doing along with her now adult son.

Strangely, it wasn’t her, instead a younger version.

Still, our eyes met and she exhaled a big sigh. I asked “Been shopping all day?” And she replied that they’d been in the street since eight o’clock and she’d been takin’ her mama to all her doctors.

I saw her then, saw her loyalty and I added as I walked beside and then ahead of her,

“I remember those days. They are so hard. Get home and find some rest.”

She nodded, thanked me.

I bought eight 8×10 canvases and carried on.

I noticed the line was short at Chick Fil A and I was thirsty. I ordered my little indulgence, kids meal, fruit not fries and tea and answered “Lisa” as the young man calculated my change.

He asked how my day was going and I said “good” as I sensed the awkward in between, the task of giving me change and so I asked “Are you having a good day?”

His deep dark eyes met mine and the rising up of his chunky cheeks in a smile beamed as he happily answered, “Yes, I am.”

I rounded the drive thru line and watched a couple of boys/young men play “rock, paper, scissors” to determine who’d bring my order.

The one who lost sauntered over to my car and chuckled, “I just took your order!”

I smiled back and said that’s so funny because I was about to ask if you had a brother.

Serendipity, sort of, the chance to share kindness again.

Last stop, Publix for collards for tomorrow. Intentional here too, I have a short mental list and on a mission. The soup aisle is running low on chicken broth and my path intersects with a shopper who doesn’t hesitate to look up and say “Hey! How ya’ doing?”

I smile, realizing I don’t know her and she keeps talking and adds “I’m about to cook a big pot of soup for my family!”

“Sounds good!” I go my way and she goes hers until we’re both in the parking lot, cars loaded and I hear “toot toot” from her little SUV and my eyes meet her excitement in getting to wave goodbye to me, someone she doesn’t know.

I’d say it’s just accidental, this thrice encountering kindness from strangers and reciprocating.

But, since I have a thing for things in 3’s, I know it was heavenly, this afternoon of kind conversation and willingness to be seen.

Unknowingly, three people changed the course of my day from sullen to seeking, from deficient in hope to hoping.

Three people, working in community with my Good Father yesterday.

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭13‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe.

Travel On

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, Holy Spirit, memoir, Redemption, Trust, walking, wisdom, wonder

Waze directed my ride from Georgia to Carolina down the prettiest road, asphalt with no yellow lines dividing lanes and railroad crossings that required me stopping to look, look and look again.

I loved every bit. Give me a backroad shaded by oaks, bordered by cotton fields and slow walking men checking their mail, glancing up to wave to random travelers like me.

Churches, white, small and seemingly vacant, but who knows?

Maybe a handful of congregants still gather and seal their togetherness with “Holy, Holy, Holy”.

I’d consider joining in. I’m braver now than before, I’d have possibly invited myself in to the Sunday service and been unbothered by the inquisitive looks over me, a stranger.

On Friday, I was greeted by the women responsible for the Presbyterian Women’s Gathering. I noticed their welcome. I noticed their strong connection. I noticed them working together on their Saturday morning gathering.

Then, on Saturday morning, I joined in.

I was the speaker, the stranger needing introduction, the mysterious artist they’d been hearing about, wondering if I’d prove worth their time and worthy of my friend’s call to invite me.

I spoke, they smiled.

They listened. We communed.

So, I left feeling like a companion of these women, all of us on roads that follow Jesus, guided by wisdom, grace and a conviction to serve one another simply by the extension of a heart and hand, loving one another.

Waze told me to turn right where the road ended, saying “not maintained by the County”. I paused.

I felt fear climb up the back of my neck. Left, I thought, turn and go back the way you came.

Then left revealed a sharp curve and a steep hill and a road with yellow lines,

A sign with the words to the road I remembered.

Confidently, I continued.

Continued and believed.

Surprised by the road that led me back home.

Keeps leading me on.

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going.”
‭‭John‬ ‭14:1-4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe.

Travel on.

About To Bloom

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, Holy Spirit, memoir, mercy, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, testimony, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder, writing

Everything’s about to bloom except my orchid. But, I’ll not give up. The leaves are bright green cushions comforting the base of the stalks. The soil is laced with the thin fallen blooms of before. I know the morning is soon. The morning I turn towards the sun striped wall and I see the buds fat with flora.

Prayer and patience, I think.

The tiny grocery store hyacinth I bought to think of my Grandmother will be transplanted to the front yard. Spring, not this, but the next, I’ll look out my morning window and see the green breaking soil. I’ll wait then for delicate dainty hyacinths to bless the space around my “Angel girl”.

I’ll remind myself. I will remember. I waited and it was good to be hopeful, to be patient prayerfully.

The Valentine’s Day bouquet is refilled with fresh water. A day lily amongst the pink and purple will soon open, soft tangerine.

I’ll wait, not like snapping my fingers for things. I’ll wait and keep watering what God has planted in me. This is my contribution.

I’ll look towards the orchid and I’ll see its dust colored branches stretching and curving towards the window. I’ll see it going after what it can’t live without. I’ll know what is needed for growth and I’ll keep watering, keep writing, painting, praying and I will rest quietly because quiet waiting is always best.

I’ll be willing to trust, simply planted and willing. I’ll remain rooted and I’ll not doubt the nourishment I’m given from My Father. I’ll allow it to change me from the roots to the branches to the sharing my story.

I’ll not doubt possible blooming. I know it will come and not just for me.

For others too, weakness made strong, broken made unbreakable, redeemed with a story worth sharing.

I pray it’s the same with you.

Continue and believe.

“For there is hope of a tree, If it be cut down, that it will sprout again, And that the tender branch thereof will not cease.”
‭‭Job‬ ‭14:7‬ ‭ASV‬‬

I’m linking up with others, prompted by the word “Stretch”. What an interesting prompt,

FMF link up.

Grace, Even More

Christmas, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, grace, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, Peace, Salvation, Stillness, wonder

There was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:7

Flipping through the pages of this worn book, I’ve been anticipating today. Before it was December 24th, my thoughts have been on this one verse.

There was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:7

There was no place for Jesus to be welcomed, no place that could have possibly made space for him, Mary and Joseph. So, they walked on until they found an obscure place that would be suitable. Although no one would take them in, Jesus was born and Mary sat and pondered the majesty of it all.

Nothing could stop God’s plan, no earthly inconvenience or obstacle.

I think of “no room in the inn” as a metaphor for the busyness of life, the inconvenience of accommodating Jesus. That may sound harsh, but I believe it can be true. As hard as we try, we fill our schedules and our spaces until we don’t have space for our Lord and Savior.

There was no room for them in the inn.

Yet, he came and he continues to come, born in us as we continue to believe into our being born again

Or maybe you decide to let him in brand new today. Ask for his nearness. Believe he is God’s son who died for you. Confess your sin, the truth that you’re not able on your own.

Let him in.

He giveth more grace, astounding unmerited favor.

On this Christmas Eve as day turns to dusk and then clear starry night, give God room. Let his peace live in you.

Merry Christmas all!

He giveth more grace. Grace to those who refused space to a young woman pregnant and weary, she and baby’s father.

Grace was given those thousands of years ago as Jesus came and they with all the others, the innkeepers, the shepherds, the scholars, the wives and children saw Him, Immanuel.

With them, with us.

Surely, many believed firsthand in this grace, this light of the world.

Maybe some did not.

May it not be so with you.

Selah.

Choose Today

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, depression, doubt, grace, grandchildren, Holy Spirit, Peace, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom

After the sleepover, I discovered my granddaughter had placed the little heart in the little hand.

I remember being captivated by my grandmother’s things, wanting to hold them.

Longing to understand their worth, her little trinkets, her jewelry, her talcum powder and Jergen’s cherry lotion.

They were her.

I woke this morning with a few words

“Choose this day, choose life or death.”

I found the passage in the Old Testament, the historical account of Joshua’s life.

The battle of Jericho, the passage telling us to be strong and courageous, God is with us.

And this one, with the last few words you may find in a home, often a gift for newly married.

“And if it is evil in your eyes to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your fathers served in the region beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell.

But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”
‭‭Joshua‬ ‭24:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

These are strong exhortations to people in battle, to choose God’s way or the other gods of their history.

For me, they mean simply “choose life” today.

Choose love or fear. Choose trust over doubt. Choose bravery over insecurity.

Choose to not forfeit your day to anxiety or depression over uncontrollable circumstances.

Choose to be light rather than heavy.

To let be what will be with a satisfied spirit.

Grace is enough. The grace you’ve known and the overflow that is promised.

Choose forgiveness over fretting.

…incline your heart to the Lord. Joshua 24:33

The little heart still rests in the hand.

The heart left on my doorstep by my pastor as a love offering in sympathy of my mama’s passing tells me

Love goes on.

I notice my orchid, revived and repotted has tiny tissue paper buds this morning.

Life continues.

Choose today.

Choose to live.

	Under the mask.. on Held
	Lisa Anne Tindal on Seeing and Being Seen
	Ray V. on Seeing and Being Seen
	Cathy Rigg on Come What May
	Lisa Anne Tindal on Curiosity