hope

Tasting Mercy

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, eating disorder, Faith, freedom, hope, mercy, Peace, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, testimony, Vulnerability, wisdom, writing

Remember when you refused to say “diet”, instead lifestyle or good choices for my health? Maybe you’ve counted calories, drank smooshed up vegetables in a pretty glass, restricted cream and sugar in your coffee.

All in an effort to be well, to be satisfied with yourself, body and soul.

Yesterday, I gazed at the casserole dish of cheesy baked spaghetti my daughter made. I remembered the day I would’ve gone for thirds, if by myself eat the rest of it.

I let the memory help me, I let it fade into the shadows. I left it there.

I woke up early unnecessarily today. I prayed beside my bed that God would help me keep learning, keep listening, keep strengthening my spiritual health.

I see the word prompt for today is “taste”. Rather than think of passages like kind words being sweeter than honey or tasting and seeing that the goodness of the Lord is good.

I rested for a few minutes, soaking up a passage I never tire of,

The passage about the woman who’d been hemorrhaging for twelve years and had gone broke trying to get well, to find a solution to her blood saturated clothing.

The crowd was thick. She could get close to Jesus without being noticed. She did. She touched the hem of his robe and instantly everything changed. She got well.

Jesus knew it. Knew she was there. Knew she was desperate and called her out from her chosen obscurity, her hope to keep herself secret.

“When the woman realized she couldn’t hide any longer, she came and fell trembling at Jesus’ feet. Before the entire crowd she declared, “I was desperate to touch you, Jesus, for I knew if I could just touch even the fringe of your garment I would be healed.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭8:47‬ ‭TPT‬‬

All eyes and ears were on her then, Jesus didn’t just heal her, He gave her the voice to invite healing for others.

I haven’t thought of it this way until today.

Others see and hear us. See how we’ve changed and keep seeking to be healed.

On Sunday (isn’t Sunday always okay tomorrow I start the diet day?) I considered doing Whole30 again.

The diet that restricts certain foods as a way for you to learn what is specifically not good for you is work. It takes effort, makes you feel like a brave fighter or a competitive something or other.

But, there’s no cheese allowed, no cream in my coffee, no chocolate, no red wine, no bread, no sugar, no peanut butter (!!!). The “no” list is long.

Earlier this week, I embraced a friend in a funeral home. I didn’t expect to hear her words through tears. I just know they surprised me, sweetly and certainly she spoke.

“I’m gonna need you.” she said before I spoke a word. On the way to this visitation I almost decided against I decided I’d offer myself as a person to call.

I’d tell her “If you run out of friends to call or no one’s available, you can always call me.”

You see, we know each other but not dining together or visiting each other’s home sort of friends.

Her greeting me with “I’m gonna need you.” surprised me and then it didn’t.

This thing called blogging, posting what God tells me on Instagram, this sharing of sitting on the sofa sketches at night, this creative thing God so graciously made me to do.

It has an audience of listeners, seekers, “needers” like me.

It’s just me being vulnerably, being honestly me.

My “sermons to self” sometimes become hopeful words for others, I suppose.

I pray this anyway.

So, on this chilly quiet morning, I make myself breakfast. I don’t skip it thinking I’ll eat later. I am intentional with starting the day filled with possibilities and errands well.

I take the English muffin top and toss it. I like the bread, but I just choose the bottom. I add sharp cheddar to the egg white and turkey sausage and let the broiler make it bubbly. I add a dollop of cherry preserves to balance the savory. I place it on the pretty china.

I sit and enjoy it.

Like I told my friend who is grieving and I continue to tell others and myself,

“Take it easy on yourself.”

Offer as much mercy you’ve shown others to yourself.

Cease striving, seek wellness.

Be humble when convicted, but don’t punish yourself, don’t let bitter regret or self-hate simmer.

Continue and believe.

Believe you’re fearfully and wonderfully made and so fully known and loved.

Be well. It is well.

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

Thank you for sustaining me Lord, for keeping me well, for reminding me of what harms and what helps me, what makes me a beautiful offering, a vessel to pour out new life, love and listening. Thank you for showing me gently what limits my abilities, takes me from your Spirit. I am listening. I am learning. Thank you. Because of your mercy, Amen

Be Where You Are

confidence, contentment, Faith, family, grace, hope, Peace, Serving, wonder
Joy and Strength Enduring

This is the thought that came as I roused from sleep on this splendid Saturday.

Be where you are.

The writing prompt graphic for today’s word, “temporary” has a clock in the background.

How is it I’ve never thought of time as temporary, hadn’t considered just how temporary every unique moment, hour, day or month is?

Yes, be where you are today. Adding ribbons to Christmas ornaments, painting on paper the image of Jesus carrying a child, spending time with those I love.

Not just being there, being with.

Giving out grace and good in everything in a way that says

“Thank you, God it was and is and will always be yours. Amen.”

“Yours is the day, yours also the night; you have established the heavenly lights and the sun.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭74:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Treasures

Art, birds, Children, Children’s Books, Faith, grandchildren, hope, Peace, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, writing
Crayons and Cardinals

Today’s prompt word, “Treasure” was on my mind bright and early on the country road.

The humidity hanging on a couple more days made my windshield foggy and the road ahead a misty haze.

I switch from dim to bright, to see clearly up close or farther ahead but blurry, I kept trying to decide.

A little or closer to seeing all.

I notice few other morning travelers. I drive slowly, no obnoxious impatient people behind me. No approaching lights undimmed on one of the many curves.

I can’t decide if I’m old or more careful, more slow or more cognizant of what I’ve committed to, what’s required of me.

I chose music over words and a Pandora station different than other mornings.

A song I’d never heard nor the artist led my morning on. Simple words.

A treasure, the refrain.

“I don’t have much to give. But, I give you my beating heart.”

A song about what matters to God, how so very little is so very much.

I won’t despise the day of small things. (Zechariah 4:10)

I thought of a surprising conversation yesterday. I’d asked an agent in a zoom call whether self-publishing a children’s book gives credibility to an author seeking to publish adult nonfiction traditionally.

There was no “Oh, tell me about your book” or an approving nod that says you’re on the right track.

No, neither of those, none of that.

Only, “only mention your book if your sales have been 5000 books.”

Oh.

Well, good to know, I suppose.

I love “Look at the Birds”, every single word, every color on the pages, every thought that clicked to birth the story and illustrations.

I felt a mixture of naivety and betrayal. Familiar thoughts.

This is when I remember my husband says I’m prone to believing life is a fairy tale.

Maybe or maybe just hopeful.

My heart beat a little faster yesterday when I saw a friend had my book on her coffee table. My soul welled up this morning when my granddaughter said “my Jesus, your Jesus too.”

Like the foggy barely lit road of morning, we see just enough to know the smallest treasured thing is the thing that brings the flutter of a heart well known, well loved and treasured.

Follow your heart for direction more than your misguided ideas of being known, seen or valuable.

“For your heart will always pursue what you esteem as your treasure.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:21‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Know what matters. Songs in the early private morning, a crayon in the hand of a child, a conversation with a friend who sat close by, listened and understood.

Treasures. All of them.

Continue and believe.

Toward The New Day

bravery, confidence, courage, depression, Faith, hope, mercy, Prayer, Stillness, Vulnerability, wisdom

But, as for me, it is good to be near God. Psalm 73:28

Morning Spot

Changing my morning spot with the season means I’m facing the morning sun. I’m not able to linger as long. I’m motivated to move forward, toward the new day, the give and take back cycle of surrendering its way to God’s control.

The longer I stay, the more unavoidable is the glare. My face looks towards my journal, the three words on focus.

Holiness

Health

Change

Waking today, to a one step forward and three back kinda feel.

So, I ask simply for more grace.

Look up again, the sunlight now dappled through the pines.

I pray.

Turn my face towards the sun, Lord. Empower me to let the shadows fade away. All knowing, Father, you are good and only do good. Settle my mind and heart on this truth.

“The day is yours, and yours also the night; you established the sun and moon.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭74:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Redeemed

courage, curiousity, Faith, family, hope, memoir, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder

“Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he has redeemed from trouble”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭107:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Georgia

When this kitty cat came to me as a homeless sort, sleeping in a horse stall because she got separated from the litter and the mama, she hid under the house.

Imagine me lying on my belly in the overgrown elephant ear plants in the corner near the kitchen.

There was no coaxing her out. She came to me reluctantly the next morning.

Last week someone suggested I might not be the best kitten mother, maybe I don’t have the time or patience to tame her.

I considered it, that I’m not a real animal person, that she’d be better in another place.

But, I persisted.

I approached her with the understanding of her lack of trust, understanding she felt more safe all alone, she could only trust herself, she’d learned.

I had empathy with a tiny grey cat and changed one thing.

I became unselfish with my morning quiet. I made it her time first.

I allow her to find my lap. I don’t reach for the journal, the Bible, the pen or the stack of books.

I cup my warm coffee cup and I sit quietly. I think. I breathe.

I pray. We sit.

Early on, I considered the kitten sheltering under the house, hidden and afraid and I decided to see her perspective.

This new place, these new noisy people, this warmth inside, this back favorite room where the sun warms the blanket.

This woman, this man, these people plus a little toddler, a bit overwhelming.

The person who cautioned over the adjustment was also adamant not to allow my granddaughter near.

I wondered. I decided it will be okay. Because my grandchild understands the need for a gentle voice, a gentle hand.

She’s not bothered if kitty cat runs away, we’ll just try another time.

Gently.

Gently and with our persistence she sees we’re redeeming her uncertain beginning.

Same with us, the invitation to the Savior’s call, the gentle beckoning of us to come near, be safe.

“And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.”
‭‭1 John‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Be taken care of.

I pray you don’t resist the call to be rescued by the sacrifice provided by God, our Father

His Son, our teacher, our Savior.


“Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore,
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love, and pow’r.


I will arise and go to Jesus;
He will embrace me in His arms.
In the arms of my dear Savior,
Oh, there are ten thousand charms.” Come Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy J. Hart, 1759

Time, Seasons and Shalom

contentment, courage, Faith, grace, grief, hope, Peace, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.”
‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3:1-8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Every morning now, I open the back sliding door. Like a chef waving his hand over the skillet to invite the aroma upward, I invite the changing season in.

I step out and feel the change on my bare feet. The flowers drying to brittle fragile brown while others are vibrant still.

I read this morning about “Shalom”, an invitation to seeking peace.

Shalom, a greeting or a farewell in ancient days, “Peace”.

Priscilla Garatti

It’s a thing I can’t fully understand, how peace was established for us and how we’re supposed to believe it, cling to it, trust it

When it makes no sense.

The page in my Psalms and Proverbs book has faded names from a decade ago.

“Ginny”, a mama whose teenage son died by suicide. I wonder now how she and her husband are doing. If they’ve found moments of peace.

I woke to see that a friend has suffered the loss of a grandchild.

Nothing to do, but pray.

Pray for peace in unfathomably sad things.

Prayer comforts. It was long established for us, the way to peace, the place to seek.

A quiet room, standing still with the changing grass cushioning bare feet or with a friend with Jesus too, holding hands, being held.

“Honor me by trusting in me in your day of trouble. Cry aloud to me, and I will be there to rescue you.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭50:15‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Shalom.

Continue and believe.

Your Power is Your Peace

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, hope, memoir, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

Day 9 of the 31 days of writing prompts caused me to groan.

Power.

I turned to weakness, my default or maybe not so much my fragility, but the preference not to lead, not to be involved in anything that requires power, assertion or influence of others.

Those days are done.

Afforded me time to take the blinders off, the struggles and strengths of others for way too long buffered what God needed and needs me to see in me.

It’s been long overdue and good.

Power?

Can we call it strength instead?

Then, I remembered my waking thoughts I framed with prayer.

Lord, help me know what those I love need from me.

The answer came eventually.

The strength I’ve been certain of going on a year.

Peace. I need to be peace. Not a peacemaker, interventionist or conflict resolver.

No, simply, I need to be at peace.

To be peace.

“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:9‬ ‭KJV‬‬

I need to “make peace” in others’ lives by example.

With this comes strength. With this comes a power that enables me to do for those I love or simply encounter.

Surrender is a big requirement, but one that brings ease. Clear vision of your own issues leads to change.

Peace is not getting what I want or want for others. Peace is giving whatever perplexes me continuously to God.

The result?

I grow stronger. I have peace.

I am peace for others.

Your not so secret power?

Peace.

Patient Little Prayers

confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, hope, Peace, Prayer, Stillness, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

Tuesdays are early days, good if I wake on my own, no shrill of startling alarm.

I did today. Turned to my husband’s side to see the red lit time after waking with the words.

Pray about everything.

Two minutes shy of alarm, 4:58.

Pray about everything. Be still. Hope endures. Trust and wait. Pray and be patient.

A word comes to mind as I find verses to reference prayer.

Platitudes, do my notes to self, casual recommendations to others feel less like truth and more catchy phrase, a platitude?

Maybe.

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.”
‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:6‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Patience is the word prompt today. Who of us is bold enough or certain enough to say,

“be patient”?

Be patient, this season of death, distress and division will be over soon.

Maybe we did last year this time, but now it feels/sounds like an empty platitude.

So, here’s an idea. Keep praying. Keep being patient.

Maybe it’s with your husband who says soon we’ll redo the bathroom. Maybe it’s with the person in the little old truck either worked all night or just in no hurry and you can’t safely pass.

Be patient.

Repotted your orchid and you see green on the branches after all this time? Be patient.

Patience is a practice. Prayer too.

Pray now, something tiny.

Wait.

Watch your patience grow

and change from a shallow teeny hope, even crazy thing to something better.

Evidence only you will feel and know.

Be patient. Be small. See your world this way and pray.

Continue and believe.

Peace as the Reason

Abuse Survivor, bravery, contentment, courage, eating disorder, Faith, hope, Peace, Trust, Vulnerability

I have a new journal with space for three things, labeled “finding your focus”.

Holiness

Health

and Change

are today’s, likely tomorrow as well.

About change, it has become clear to me that we do not change when our shame or shame meted out by others is the motivator.

I look in the mirror and see my mama’s rounded shape.

I remember her walking through the house in her bra and panties and thinking “Oh, Lord have mercy, isn’t she ashamed?”

But, she wasn’t. She was just her.

The waist I inherited from her has almost gone away, padded now by a layer. For months now I’ve watched my belly decide it’s time for me to accept it.

Or change.

I look in the mirror and I acknowledge this 61 year old body. This looking sideways in the full length is a reflection, is change.

I assure you, it’s progress in the right direction, the not darting quickly to the closet or only using the bathroom mirror.

Because looking is simply seeing and not allowing shame to suffocate me with the reality of my excess weight.

I don’t believe in shaming myself any longer. It’s not productive, effective or motivating.

Shame does not prompt change, only forces an action that is not maintained.

Nothing good comes by force. Force and peace are opposing motivators.

Change comes when we allow ourselves to embrace the slow work of hope.

When we begin to believe the distant promise of the peace that changing that damaging, unhealthy, harmful behavior will bring.

But, not suddenly will we see and that’s the thing about change.

We must have a sort of dreamlike vision towards what we don’t yet see.

We must want peace, not a tiny waistline or kicking a habit we’ve used as a treat or comfort.

We must believe peace is within reach, that we were born to live in peace.

And be brave enough to moment by moment not shame ourselves into change, rather to change because

Peace is the reason. Peace is our attainable hope.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.”
‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11-13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

This post is part of a series on change for October along with other writers in the Five Minute Friday community.

All That’s Needed

Art, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, curiousity, daughters, Faith, family, grandchildren, hope, painting, Peace, sons, surrender, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

“The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭23:1‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I have everything I need. (Psalm 23)

I let my granddaughter run a distance ahead of me when we walk. There’s freedom in her feet, there is an overabundance of curious independence in her thoughts.

Taking care to watch her and yet, letting her be, letting her grow.

Letting her become full grown.

Watching her thrive.

My daughter has a plant called either “snake” or “mother in law’s tongue”. She asked my wise aunt, how to keep it alive.

My aunt quickly replied,

“Get up every day and tell it good morning and walk away.”

I suppose whatever it needs to thrive is somehow either inside its stiff leaves, woven together roots, or maybe it’s in the air around it. Maybe it is the home.

A parable in Ezekial, a rarely read book in my Bible was happened upon this morning. The clean page had a faint underlined place,

“Will it thrive?” Ezekiel 17:9

The parable was written to compare the ways of two leaders, a warning about the king of Babylon coming to Jerusalem and the importance of honoring The Lord’s covenant. History often confounds me. Still, the three words “will it thrive” caused me to sit with this passage.

A riddle to be understood, I sat with these several verses on this quiet Friday morning. I read and read again, God’s Spirit assuring me there’s a truth for you here.

Two vines planted from the branch and seed of a twig transported by an eagle.

One grew and spread near the abundant water and rich soil, it grew outward, freely, vines spreading and branches putting out new boughs.

The other wrapped its young roots around the eagle and became dependent upon it for water and its hope to become a noble vine.

Yet, when it needed to be transplanted, free to grow, the roots would be found weak, easy to be blown away, bent by the wind and eventually wither.

I think of my attention to things God has given me to contribute my part in their growth.

Naturally, I think of my children.

A daughter who’s a wife and mommy, a leader in vocation and learning, outspoken and deeply caring.

A son who is Colorado and lives near a park known for its majestic cedars. A son, who subtly agreed when I mentioned another mother saying “every child gets to write their own story”.

“That’s right.” he said.

Fully grown.

They are thriving and becoming even more fully grown.

It’s a wonder to me, because I surely often overwatered, fertilized with unsolicited advice and often looked on too closely to circumvent uprooting of what I felt meant thriving.

So, how does growth happen best?

Not getting too wrapped in the care and nourishment of our thriving, established long ago by our Father.

If growth is intended for us, it will grow when we let it be.

Because of God, my growth and I have all I need.

Like the healthy plant that never gets watered. Whatever is within it has it thriving. Letting it be seems to be the answer.

I journaled in the margin of the smooth thin paper what God hopes I’ll let linger.

Roots that are planted in good places of abundance and then left to spread on their own are more likely to thrive than the roots I cling tightly to, so tightly they wrap themselves around me stunting the intended growth of my calling, art, writing, my contributions to others.

Roots allowed to spread without being overnourished, overthought or overworked are the roots of long living, lasting evidence of hope.

Of love.

Yes, it will thrive.

Let it happen. Let it grow. Contribute as needed, as led by the Creator of you.

Hope will grow and thrive.

Continue and believe.

“He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength. He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭23:2-3‬ ‭NLT‬‬