love

Always Peace

Angels, Art, bravery, Children, courage, daughters, Faith, family, grief, love, memoir, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, tragedy, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

We talked about ferns, pansies, mums, babies, children and prayer. I’d waited until past 8 to call, afraid she may not answer.

We talked about sunshine and husbands. We talked about my art and hers and we decided that we would “share a booth” in a “show” this Spring.

I found the obituary earlier.

My cousin, her daughter died unexpectedly 42 years ago.

I walked around with the reality of that all day long and with the question of whether to call, whether it would be something she’d like.

My aunt, I describe her beauty and I always think of Grace, the princess. Her voice is slow and draws gentle circles as she talks about peace, about flowers, about family.

She chooses acceptance, she goes after peace. She knows peace is her friend.

I had a reason to call her. All the pretty pansies and ferns froze over Christmas and the brittle evidence of a hard and unwelcome death were left on my daughter’s porch.

All the brown leaves and blackened blooms would have to be thrown into the woods.

“What should she start over with?” I asked my “Aunt Boo”.

“Ferns and if you can find some that aren’t all stringy and overgrown, some more pansies. If it gets freezing hard and cold, just drape a towel over them and let ‘em stay warm.”

Then she thanked me for calling as if she knew it wasn’t something I knew I was up to.

She told me it helps to talk to me.

Unexpectedly adding the memory of the last time she saw her daughter on New Year’s Day at the convenience store out by Zaxby’s.

And that was all, leaving me wanting to hear more about that day and yet, knowing that knowing more doesn’t make it better.

Knowing rarely brings peace in unknowable things. Instead, an embrace of accepting that thing or things we cannot always understand always does.

Acceptance brings peace.

Knowing more doesn’t make it better.

Today, I’ll look for ferns, asparagus hopefully. The bright green prickly fronds that seem delicate are actually thick and strong.

Feathery and fragile and yet, they endure as long as they have sunlight, water and necessary protection from the frigid cold.

I’ll share my aunt’s advice with my daughter and add it to my treasure trove of her sweet lessons for my living.

Peace, today I shall go in peace. Stay with it.

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;

the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.”
‭‭Numbers‬ ‭6‬:‭24‬-‭26‬ ‭ESV‬‬

This one’s for you, my precious Aunt Boo.

Encircled

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, love, mercy, Redemption, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

I will go before you and level the exalted places. Isaiah 45:2

I dreamt I attended the funeral ceremony of a kind and giving man, a steadfast friend of our community. I suppose I’d seen the photos of others who attended, who shared their thoughts on being there.

The faces of the family left to live without him, the dignitaries who gave thoughts and tributes and other individuals there to witness the event and offer support.

I noticed the posture of some, shoulders slightly bent, carrying a burden and I noticed downcast faces on some who stood at the podium.

But, I saw strength in many; perhaps, they told of how this gentleman taught them to be stronger.

So, I dreamt that I was there and after the ceremony was over, one of the speakers approached me to say hello. It was then that we shared our own experiences of knowing the man who passed away.

It was then I shared,

He always spoke with the kindness and sincerity in hoping the best for me every time I had the chance to talk with him.

The listener listened with the same kindness as I added, “He was like a father to many, I believe.”

Every morning, I add thick circles around my prayers. One in particular might be circled until I’m gone.

Because when I think “no need” life shows me I could be wrong.

I’ve told a very few people on rare occasions that someone felt like a father to me.

It’s super personal and often uncomfortable to express that you wish you’d had your father a little longer or worse yet, that he had been a different person.

Now, I’m seeing why I dreamed that dream. Often, writing helps me unravel the causes. It wasn’t the FB photos of the funeral attendants, it was a thoughtful documentary about redeeming our days and the days we decide were all wrong.

Yesterday, I watched “Love, Tom”, a documentary about the life of songwriter Tom Douglas.

The story is told as his response to a younger man struggling who says beseechingly so in a letter to Tom.

You’d think he might not even respond.

After all, he’s famous, the recipient of many awards.

He lives in Nashville and is beyond the early angst of a creative’s struggle. I’ve commented on Instagram to writers when feeling a likemindedness…no reply. You realize they’re famous and you are not.

I’ve promised myself if I write again, a book more well-known or become a better known artist, I’ll engage with the curious and kind followers who simply want to be closer to my craft and me, the creative behind it.

Tom wrote the young songwriter close to giving up an authentic letter.

The letter became this documentary.

And, I suppose because he’s a creative he told some beautifully, tender and honest things about himself.

About redemption and about a sort of rethinking his father who struggled’s reputation.

I won’t spoil it for you. I hope you’ll watch it for more than a couple of reasons:

A well-known responding to another who feels invisible, a parent relating to a child, a child forgiving a parent and a creative who learned not to pursue creativity harder than he pursued the Creator.

Redemption, he suggests we keep after it until we’re gone.

Now, I see that the dream wasn’t really about the man laid to rest, it was about the other prominent person who listened when I expressed my feelings over the loss and with his response and his eyes, he agreed and together our grief was encircled.

More here:

Love, Tom

Arriving

Angels, courage, Faith, hope, love, marriage, Prayer, Vulnerability, wonder
Horn Creek Church, est. 1790

At first, I felt feisty. I felt fearlessly intrigued and the winding, hill and valley narrow dirt road was pretty. I continued and looked to either side in careful glances so as not to slip from the narrow path to a deep crater ditch.

Either side of me, vast open and clearings, fields with little treehouses on stilts for sighting and shooting deer.

No sign of life anywhere.

Then, the drop into the valley followed by a sharp curve and another hill.

Stuck, bogged down and panicked, when I slowed over fear over when will this road be over.

This road Waze instructed.

My destination, a wedding.

My “grandma car” SUV adorned with stickers on the carseat window and Chick Fil A prizes strewn all over. My blue Toyota Highlander was trapped in thick play-doh like clay.

No cell service. No idea what to do. Who might ever find me?

My face began to flush and I prayed and prayed as I turned the wheel right then left then right then reverse then right foot pressed to the floor. My torso rocking in a rhythm that matched. My body and my will with all my heart was pushing.

Then inching, inching, inching.

I had not stopped trying.

I didn’t succumb and I broke free.

Tentatively, not taking for granted the rescue I’d achieved, I drove into the clearer, strewn with pebbles road.

I arrived with gift under my arm as the bride was stepping up into the chapel on her daddy’s arm.

Someone offered me a seat.

A precious wedding it was.

Joy, laughter, love, elegance and simplicity with an aroma of longstanding faith in a family.

I’ve told the story more than necessary.

About this road called Yarborough.

The scariest abandoned road, the adrenaline rush of a woman alone and inept, but rescuing herself.

The arrival.

The union of two precious souls, in a restored and resurrected building,

new again surrounded by unchanging old.

House of God by way of a wretched and dangerous road, a road taken wrongly.

And with uncertainty.

Nonetheless, I arrived.

And I continue.

Like She Told Me

Children, curiousity, daughters, Faith, family, grandchildren, love, Redemption, Salvation, wonder
Resting

She answered, “He is. I’m sure.”

Prayers are said, “Jesus Loves Me is my favorite”, she tells me when we talk about her songs.

It’s been the favorite for as long as her just over three years old.

There’s the song about the sun comin’ and the one that’s my favorite, three little birds outside my window happily reminding me every little thing’s gonna be alright.

But, “Jesus Loves Me” remains the three years running favorite.

We turned from dirt to pavement, up the hill on the way to town after noticing bright happy yellow faces of new sunflowers. I told her we’d walk tomorrow to see them up close and she gazed out the window decorated with stickers to tell me the trees were so green, maybe they’re full of blueberries.

We slowly move from country to town and she announces,

“I saw a raccoon yesterday…a big one.

It was in the road. Someone ran over it, keep looking Grandma, we might see it.”

I looked and remembered and told her that I’d seen a raccoon yesterday too.

The car became silent, my mirror told me she was thinking, dreaming, maybe somehow seeing God in a way I can’t through her window and up past the fat clouds.

So, I added “I hope the raccoon is in heaven.”

She answered. “He is. I’m sure.”

Her assurance was more than cute toddler sing-song words. I felt a presence, God’s as I kept driving.

I thought, oh to believe with such untested abandon, such unfiltered commitment, such direct and unquestioning conclusion.

Heaven. Of heaven to be sure.

A “roadkill raccoon”, according to my granddaughter is surely in heaven.

I smile over the image, I meet Jesus one day and popping around the corner, a raccoon or several. If there are thoughts in heaven, I think, “just like she told me.”

Since becoming a grandmother, I’ve seen through the eyes of a baby, now toddler just what to be sure of and what really does not matter at all.

I could tell all the stories I know of Jesus and they’d pale horribly in comparison to what her sweet soul knows about God’s care and love for us all, creatures and sinners and questioners who teeter on believing without evidence.

“I love you so much.” she offers unprompted.

Best love of all, unsolicited, not a reply to the same casual announcement, not a cordial gotta go, see you soon, love you

More an “I see you” and I think you need it, need to let you know, you seem to need it so.

“I love you.”

Like Jesus.

like a child, freely.

I am loved. This I know.

I can be very sure.

Jesus loves you, this I know.

Childlike

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, happy, hope, love, painting, Peace, Redemption, self-portrait, Vulnerability, wisdom
Lisa Anne

I keep staring at the girl inside the woman. Many will see somber.

I see solid.

Most will question the stare, wonder why so angry.

I see strength, surrender and a commitment to be very sweet to myself.

Little girl bangs was the style or I guess, just easy.

No fussing over Lisa Anne trying to keep up with bows or barrettes.

No ponytails, no braids.

Just a border of brown above two pools of blue

And a pool of freckles

Now age spots and crinkles.

Acceptance

Believing in the child within

Loving the woman she became.

I keep staring into this face.

I’d call it grace or something else.

Can’t decide.

Must be because it’s love.

The Calming

anxiety, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, love, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

The morning fooled me with its horizon.

Thick clouds bordered the pine tops like hills, like in the mountains.

Crescent moon to my left.

I remembered smiling, remembered the now distant idea, “Look at the moon, precious child. It’s called a crescent. It reminds me of your smile.”

The idea still near, I drive into Monday.

Radio boring, and podcast unnerving because of the cadence and tone in the guest’s voice.

Found a second episode and found the same. A conversation on attention and I couldn’t focus because of the speed of the exchange, the “chirpiness” in the voices.

Was the listening speed wrong in my app?

No, it’s me. I’m afraid I’m a bit particular about voices, quick to silence those that are pushy, perky or peppy.

Maybe it’s a southern thing.

Maybe simply timing.

“And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”
‭‭Esther‬ ‭4:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Last week in the same number of days, I was told three times by a trio of different people, one a total stranger.

“You are calming.”

“Have you been on the radio? Your voice is so calming” and “Talking to you calms me.”

A friend, a former colleague who’s an executive and a young stranger.

This morning I noticed the coming day coming slowly as if the earth had decided to stay under the soft covers.

No sound now, music or podcast wisdom.

I enter Monday with full attention as I pause for the passing family of careful deer.

I feel the weight shifting as I turn, the road narrow with a picture perfect view.

I am quiet, quiet as Monday morning mostly sleeping.

I’m calm. I’m easy.

I’m hearing my voice again, patiently waiting my turn to use it.

“Prayer and patience…prayer and patience.” Aunt Boo

Robins, Ponds and Dreams On Purpose

birds, Children, courage, curiousity, Faith, love, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

“And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation.

And this hope will not lead to disappointment.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭5:4-5‬ ‭NLT‬‬

As quickly as possible, she glided just in front of me, eye level. The robin with the determined forward facing beak and the copper like an old country barn belly intersected my path.

Colors

Last night I dreamt of white camellias mixed in with the crimson ones, a dream that followed a nightmare so vivid I sat straight up and startled my husband. He called me from work, confused over the brazenness of a bad dream occurring after I’d had such a love-filled day. He was worried.

Told him I was better. Thoughts we hide away like to come to the surface, I suppose. They refuse to go unattended. They become weapons in the hand of our enemy until we bravely surrender them to God in a lamenting letter or prayer.

So, I journal. I sit. I give God time to come and comfort.

To teach.

Wisdom

Simplicity is calling. I heard the birds waking up early outside my cold quiet home and I let my pen rest, closed my journal.

Could this be prayer?

Prayer mostly listening, uncomplicated by words or prescriptive wisdom?

I listened as the birds continued singing.

We looked for ponds yesterday and found them on the narrow country roads.

The sky was as blue as a diamond found next to the ocean.

The ponds as flat as stepping stones, little rippling at all.

“Here’s another one!” I announced to my granddaughter and she gazed so sweetly satisfied in our togetherness in noticing the water.

Yesterday, the robin met me and I kept driving to see my daughter and hers, felt the determination of a bird assuring me, better is coming.

Soon, it will be Spring. I saw other birds on Saturday, but it’s the robin I’ll remember.

The robin saying, “Set your intention. Your story is not yet finished.”

Your teachers are everywhere, saying this is the way, keep walking in it. (Isaiah 30:18)

Life is a beautiful, simple adventure.

Plump robins, blue skies scattered with white puffs, happy green fields anticipating Spring and flat fishing ponds hoping to be spotted, evidence of good, evidence of God’s intentional nature.

And interspersed in the noticing, friends I feared I’d forgotten too long remembered me, separately in the same day and I was a tiny bit amazed.

grace and love

God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.

Yesterday morning, I journaled a tender question. I asked God if my friends I call my “colors” are disappointed in me.

Time so quickly passing and I’d lost touch, gotten complacent with our stories and wondered if it matters.

One by one, I heard from four friends yesterday. Two of them, it had been over a year or more. I share such a tender question here so that you’ll see, along with me.

God knows. He noticed.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Georgia’s Just Fine

contentment, kittens, love
Content

Her first night here, she hid under the house. I sat in the flower bed the next morning and waited, gave her time to come out.

She did and became less afraid.

There’s something to be said for love without demands or conditions…offered on the other’s terms and acceptable comfort.

There’s something to be said for commitment without impatience.

I can tell you, I never expected it, but a rescue kitten has added to an increased recognition of the value of seeing from the perspective of another, not just my understanding.

She’s still skittish, but trusting.

She comes inside when I say “Georgia” more often than scurrying away.

Some mornings and nights she stays.

Slumbers.

Patience is a virtue. We all need it.

For all who know my pet trial and errors, I assure you,

Georgia, the kitty who slept in a horse stall is just fine.

Georgia is.

Time To Grow

Advent, confidence, contentment, doubt, Faith, hope, love, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, surrender, Trust, wisdom, wonder

The orchid, delicately teasing me with the buds barely visible, has been nothing other than knotty branches since I (read the instructions) shook the dust off the gnarled roots and repotted it.

God will help her when morning dawns.

While the dollar store Christmas cactus is popping out fuchsia shoots.

Left alone, barely watered since a Christmas last year with no blooms even hinting.

I thought “cease striving” last week, worried over the decision to order an extra 100 calendars from the printer.

I told myself, based on your history, forget about it, let it go, it’ll come back around, the interest in the calendar with your art.

Today, I woke at 5:00 and thought again, “cease striving”.

Let come what may.

Let things grow in their own time and way, not yours.

These are words I tell myself with regularity.

I opened my Bible to find Psalm 46:10 to read the psalmist’s same recommendation.

It wasn’t there. Instead, the words are “be still” in every translation I searched for comparison.

Somewhere I, and I believe others decided we may need a tone more disciplined, more direct.

“Cease striving”…with perhaps, once and for all added for emphasis, at least for me.

Psalm 46 is about rest. It is an exhortation to remember the strengths of God, his handiwork and plans.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.

Selah

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns. The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah

Come, behold the works of the Lord, how he has brought desolations on the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the chariots with fire. “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭46:1-11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe.

Be still. Cease striving.