mercy

Held

Abuse Survivor, bravery, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, Forgiveness, hope, memoir, mercy, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, surrender, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

The empty lot on the street lined with homes is the home for the leaning tree.

The branches are thick and twisted, gnarly but producing papery leaves on wiry branches.

Long before the homes took up space here, the road was hard and dusty, clay.

My children were small and we walked like explorers down the road. Once or twice, the hills were covered in snow and they slid and fell and ran around in thick socks tucked down in tennis shoes, makeshift boots for children of the South.

I walked past this tree yesterday. The subdivision neighbors all know me I suppose, that woman who looks at the clouds, the one who walks very fast, the one not inclined to stop and chat.

I noticed the tree the day after I’d read about God’s response to Adam and his wife Eve.

I read of how God responded by making them clothing from animal skins to replace the covering they’d contrived in shame that was made of scratchy leaves.

I spent some time reminding myself of the interactions, of the course of Eve and Adam’s recognition of mistake and of their shame.

“And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate.”
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭3‬:‭2‬-‭6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In the garden, Eve succumbed to the need to know more than she needed to know, to know more than was necessary for thriving.

God had provided everything.

She wasn’t quite sure, I suppose. She wanted to know more and wanted more.

The tone of God’s voice in response is sternly disappointed. The course of life changed not just for them but for everyone.

I wonder if God just wondered, is everything I’ve provided not enough?

They knew quickly that they were changed and with that realization came shame.

“Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.”
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭3‬:‭7‬-‭8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

God responded.

This part of scripture is the one that brought me to tears, the provision of God in their time, although a rebellious time of need.

Sometimes I think we carry the most memorable parts of God’s story and use those passages as guidance while only occasionally remembering the mercy of God.

Maybe not you, sometimes me.

I imagine the remorse of Eve.

I can see her standing there trying to undo her mistake. I envision Adam hearing her out, she just wanted to help them be prepared…

If God gave us all of these things in this environment, surely it’s okay if we “ask for help” in the places we need, all of this is new, we need a way to go forward, the future, the present, the what on earth are we expected to do next?

Surely, it was okay to be as wise as God, she must’ve decided.

God asks “Why?”.

He then unveils the consequences of their questioning of knowing “just enough” and that knowing being enough, being His plan.

Then we learn of Eve being named, a beautifully significant name. And we read of God’s response to the couple covered in fig leaves,

Lovingly responding with provision.

“He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” The man called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living. And the Lord God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them.”
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭3‬:‭11‬, ‭20‬-‭21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I had been dwelling on this passage for a few days when I paused in front of the ancient tree. I thought how odd it must seem that I find its barrenness so compelling.

This tree with nothing but age and no evidence of fruit still exists to remind me of purpose, of the beauty of acceptance of what lingers and what fades, what can be acknowledged as contributing to decline, what might cause shame in light of decisions made and how despite of and because of every bit, still I’m met with grace.

And I’m clothed with God’s love, a softly wrapped tapestry of all my troubles, my questions, his responses, my weaknesses made stronger in their being unhidden, being discovered although desperately hoping they’d go unexposed.

I am found and responded to.

I’m Eve recognizing “some things are not for me to know” and I’m dressed in a more splendid covering than a hurried and shamefully placed fix.

I’m clothed in a robe of redemption.

It’s layered with old scraps of mistakes and shame threaded together so that I remember, with velvety golden threads of rescue, of help, of redirection.

How has God responded to you?

Remember the times you’ve been found, covered and loved.

Held back up gently when you’ve fallen.

“My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭63‬:‭8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Writing and Striving

aging, Art, bravery, confidence, creativity, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, Truth, Vulnerability, walking, wisdom, writing
Simple Things Are Calling

After about an hour, I stopped.

I decided it will be better, be okay if I do this some other time, some other day.

A savvy and successful young advisor has been advising on many new ways to “get my art in front of people”.

I was honest with her, attributed it to my age,

“I can’t keep up with all of “the things.” She suggests a schedule, the better use of and acceptance of AI.

I tell myself and others and her,

I don’t want it done for me without “me”. Plus, I don’t want to become so automated that I lose not just my voice but my ability to write in my very own honest voice.

Last night, seemingly out of the blue, a blog post was commented on. The post was nearly seven years old. I felt nostalgic. I felt the feelings back then, a story about a bird on a porch.

I also noticed I don’t write nearly as freely as before. I believe it’s the pressure. It’s the distractions, it’s the chasing after people to convince them to visit my artist website, it’s a subtle cojoling of readers to buy my art so that I will feel good enough.

Here’s the post that represents who I want to get back to:

https://lisaannetindal.com/2017/11/30/flying-parallel/

I can be hard of myself, I know.

It’s true I’m older, more busy, have grown as an artist and so am otherwise engaged.

Still, I want to find that sweet and wise voice again. I believe I will.

I also believe I’ll have to do some deciding of what to keep and what to let go, decide whether to let the stories I carry be too important to be used as fodder for my “growth”.

Deciding doing all the things is less important than doing the genuine things.

I ramble.

I stopped striving earlier today, technology causing me to fret. I stopped striving even though I wanted to share my art.

Paintings on paper inspired by old hymns. They’re a little bit abstract, the colors of coal and indigo with just a hint of coral against angular figures.

I want others to be affected by them the way my emotions softened as the end result came through.

Still, I stopped frantically forcing a reel.

Told myself once and again.

Cease striving.

I joined the Substack bandwagon and I’m on the fence as to whether to stay on board.

I hope to resume writing here. It’s always felt like home.

Time will tell. I’ll wait and see.

For now, here’s my voice on Substack. I’d love to know what you think.

https://open.substack.com/pub/lisaannetindal2/p/seeing-more-clearly?r=1eavkz&utm_medium=ios

Thanks for following along on this circuitous trip of my life and my art, both redemptive stories.

Boldly Quiet

aging, Art, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, curiousity, Faith, family, grace, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, worship
A New Color

We left the gathering, an annual one that’s held in a building adjacent to a country home. The barn-like place is love-filled, its walls are covered with memorabilia and photos representing life and the life spans of family.

We arrive and we move from table to table, from people not seen in a year or so and maybe a couple or a few you may have passed in the grocery store.

The conversations are sweet, it’s a catching up and it’s a reunion for the cousins. They love it. They recognize many families neglect this type gathering.

The one who prays acknowledges this. I mostly observe. I join in and say words when it seems to fit.

That’s not because of the “rules” of the get-together. It’s simply my nature.

My mama used to tell us all that her husband, my daddy saw no need to speak unless there was something important to say.

Although, he was a quiet man, one of few words, I cherish the smoothness of his voice.

I remember the way he paused as he spoke. There was a sense of waiting for the hearer to absorb his contribution.

I listened.

A word woke me this morning.

I added it to my list, a list that came from a realization that in life and in Christmas, we often have grandiose expectations.

We expect Christmas be a certain way. Not to mention the comparison of others’ celebrations.

I wondered how my heart would settle if I decided to

“Expect less, acknowledge more.”

A list was formed.

Safety, Food aplenty, Gifts, Smiles, Gatherings, a sense of God’s nearness, Pink Dawns…

Quietude

Google informed me of the meaning, no surprise I loved it.

Another gift came from Google, a sweet surprise. This word has a color named for it.

A shade that’s a blending of grey and blue and green.

“Quietude” is the chosen name for the HGTV 2025 color.

I finished the 3rd of three paintings last night, large 30×40’s.

The first, “Now Found”,

“Now Found”, detail

the second, “Light and Momentary”

“Light and Momentary”, detail

and the third, “Have Hope”.

“Have Hope”, detail

Driving home from the cousin gathering, my husband wanted to talk. I told him I was talked out, let’s be quiet.

He insisted and prodded me with a well-thought question…

“Who would you like to talk to that you’d be just so captivated by the conversation, on the edge of your seat and just waiting for every word?”

Stubborn me replied, after a few seconds, “No one, that’s a good question but I can’t think of anyone I want to talk to right now.”

He believed me. He knows me well.

But, he spoke in the long pause of accepting my answer.

“I thought you’d say Jesus.”

“Yes, I just thought of that.” I smiled and answered.

We finished the Christmas Eve country drive home and I sat in my quiet spot with my grown son who is often quiet himself.

morning quiet

Understood, I felt understood.

“Accepted”, a word I’m adding to the list of acknowledgments.

“Grace”, too.

Just now, I revisited Christmases past through my photos. Babies have grown, changes have come, tough days have occurred, peace has been given and endurance has become even more a quiet strength for me.

Because I’ve learned and am learning a couple of things from my “telling it to Jesus alone.”

He giveth more grace.

I am loved.

There’s so much more coming for me.

Because I’ve accepted, I’m the “quiet one” and always will be.

“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭131‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Always hope.

I look toward my tall Christmas tree, the one ornament, a tiny home, my granddaughter insisted be for it and my uncertainty because it “wasn’t really me.”

And now I see, the bluish green, a pale teal that’s happy quietly although boldly, its pretty red door sort of calling, “open me”.

How can it be?

The color in me, the quiet color has become an invitation to me being me.

A little house accepted by me, inviting an even bolder acceptance of the strength in the choice to keep hoping.

“As for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭71‬:‭14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

In the Waning

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, mercy, patience, Peace, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

Seconds after my dream was of lying in bed with a grandchild close by, my phone let me know I had a message.

I didn’t respond immediately because the dream was so real.

A small cardinal, bright red had flitted into the room and rested in the hollow place of my neck.

In my dream I got the attention of my granddaughter and then “ding!” I was awakened.

In Progress

“For this reason the Lord is still waiting to show his favor to you so he can show you his marvelous love. He waits to be gracious to you….Overwhelmed with bliss are all who will entwine their hearts in him, waiting for him to help them.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭18‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I answered the text, a long hoped for desire was decided would come true for a child today.

She’s been longing, hoping and waiting.

It’s exciting, the planned surprise!

A memory will be made.

There will be more “waited so long for” ones to come.

What have you longed for that’s already been given and yet, led you to long for something bigger or simply just left you wanting?

I sat in my “art room” with someone I love. What a mess, papers everywhere, started and stops and pauses, the evidence of where my art journey has come from and where gone

Is hoping to go.

Fascinated by a box full of artwork, I invited her to choose as many as she wanted.

Uncertainty

We went through the stack together. I loved the ones she chose and the reasons she shared.

I told her of my certain belief that it’s God who kept me for art and kept it safely waiting for me to enjoy it, to share it as a part of my faith.

I have surely achieved more, been afforded more opportunities than I ever thought, given my history.

That’s why I know it’s true, I told her.

This is what God made me for.

What began with the timid tagline “quiet confidence” has become more brave.

Now, “always hope” coupled with my truth that “art offers hope”.

Hopeful

This morning, I wrote “hopeful” under the date, the gift of the cardinal on my pillow invited the tone longing to be expressed.

And I wrote myself a note that’s as true as my very breath.

Whatever and whomever (other than Jesus) you make your everything, your tipping point to measure worthless or worthiness, will continue to frustrate you with its dependability as far as not being enough.

So, wait for the one who is always and unchangingly enough. Be amazed by what comes with that commitment to will yourself to wait.

Success shifts.

People change.

Excitement is powerful and yet, it wanes. It’s supposed to.

God makes life this way so that we remember the only “enoughness” that never changes

Is Him, our Sovereign and often mysterious Maker.

Self-Portrait

Not since the world was made, Jacob was told in a dream of protection and little girls like me became women who waited even if imperfectly to recognize the providence, protection and promises of God…

has the gift of waiting been more an unchanging promise.

“Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭28‬:‭15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It took three trips in and out of the Art Center to retrieve and load my unsold paintings yesterday.

It was hot. They were heavy.

I won’t deny the emotion I fought to deny. It was difficult.

Still, it was beautiful, the experience and the exhibition.

“Believer”, “In Every Season”, “Mercy Remembers”, “Secure” were a few of the unsold pieces.

Now they’re safely waiting to be found.

“It’s all in it, Lisa” my mama

This artist journey is a teacher. I’m still like a child learning.

For this reason,

I have hope.

Always hope.

“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭131‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

(P.S. I’m meandering my way back to writing from both losing the desire and I believe a bit of ability. I hope you’ll be forgiving as I decide to learn to write again.)

Continue and believe.

What Faith is For

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, freedom, hope, memoir, mercy, painting, Redemption, Stillness, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

In the asking of brave questions, faith is given power to grow.

To give ourselves and others permission to hope. To look up and outward from wise or sorrowful inward reflection to be ignited by newness in thought.

Light Transcends

I have a friend who suggested an exercise she’d had suggested to her. As soon as you wake each morning, make a list of all the things you like about yourself (and I suppose, your life).

It’s an exercise akin to my intentional looking for color, for small glimpses of God in nature, a centerpiece on a table.

Yesterday, I thought of all the babies and children and kept circling around the question of how this world now will be then for them.

Then, upstairs with the baby, the song “What a Wonderful World” popped up.

I recognized that there will be wonder still in the world for them to discover. Wonder like plants considered “invasive” that I find spectacular.

A Wonderful Place

I haven’t done the wake up and like things about me thing yet.

I’m still thinking about our conversation that day and all the others I’ve been an invited listener to be changed by.

Honesty that’s been opening doors of my heart.

I’m remembering one offering in particular, an admission of messes made in life, wild times likely at least a part of causing.

Romans 8:28-29 is a passage sort of laid in our laps often in hard times by well-meaning friends or acquaintances.

Or it’s a subtle warning to know God is in control, better not question!

Just accept that bad happens and square your shoulders, pick up your head and carry on towards the good that’s promised.

Often, scripture is offered up and ordered to be accepted, no question.

Maybe not intentional, still there’s no healing in that.

There’s no hope, really.

Noticing Beauty

It must be quietly absorbed and eventually understood personally and deeply and with sweet humility.

This morning, I read this passage again.

“And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. For God knew his people in advance, and he chose them to become like his Son, so that his Son would be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭8‬:‭28‬-‭29‬ ‭NLT‬‬


I let my thoughts land on the pages of my journal.

Redemption in Process

God doesn’t cause but sometimes allows. God allows so that we will know He is still with us. He saw.

He sees.

He was and is with us. It’s impossible for Him not to be.

His Sovereign intent is one of persistent and patient pursuit.

He is still with us as we wrestle with the allowance of the crisis, the trauma, the grief, the ugly outcome.

He is still with us and if we will learn to lean into and on Him

we will changed by this leaning.

We will be changed by the hard.

We will, in the leaning, absorb His wisdom and strength.

So that we are changed (made stronger) and that change will better us and make us better carriers of faith to those we encounter.

You must ask yourself bravely what’s so hard to fathom about a God you know as love…

God, did you see, did you allow ___________?

And then you do what’s even more brave.

You look at the allowance of bad and you honestly consider how you in your woundedness, innocence, or ill-equipped for life humanity may have contributed to the eventual disaster or despair.

Then you begin to live more freely as you move closer with transparency to the redemption meant to change you, to offer new hope,

so that your hope and redemptive honesty may be influential in the lives of others.

Maybe, that’s what faith is for.

To be shared in vulnerable and unexpected conversations that change the trajectory of another’s journey.

Often, by surprise.

Just for Joy

Yes, I believe that’s what faith is for.

To bring all things together for good and for us to be more like the one who formed us with certain intention that our likeness to Him will beckon others toward a life of hope, a life of influential love and faith.

Continue and believe.

He’s got the whole world in His hands, always has, always will.

All is well.

Believing this, that’s what faith is for.

Presence

aging, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, doubt, Faith, family, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, painting, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

I sat in the back next to someone I don’t really know. We shared a casual conversation about pimento cheese spread. Surrounded by art, the meeting’s agenda would be sharing a YouTube film on “beauty”.

We were offered pencils and a piece of paper to jot down thoughts, told to prepare to share in a group discussion.

The poet/researcher in the video mentioned God’s creation, spoke of God’s intent for not only artists, but everyone, to recognize the power of beauty as a way to change us internally and then effect those around us.

The couple just in front of me looked towards one another often in a likemindedness that matched the word “bullshit” he wrote and held up in front of her (and me).

They exited early.

I listened as others gave feedback, sprinkled around the room were comments about architecture, about culture, about our community, about horses.

I thought to add to conversation, to suggest they all begin to notice color and to, if they felt led, to ask God in prayer to help them see color.

I planned to share how this practice and prayer has been a reset for me, spiritually and creatively.

No one had mentioned God.

Three times, maybe four, I raised my hand to be called on.

I wasn’t acknowledged and decided to stay silent.

That it was not a time to speak.

“ a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;”
‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3‬:‭7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

To keep the peace I’d acquired and allow it to be a presence without words.

To possibly be peace to others without using my words.

“Did I but live nearer to God, I could be of so much more help.” George Hodges

This morning, a guest blog post on an author’s site has been shared. My words, added to her community of others writing about “beholding our beauty” in the places life places us. I was just so grateful to write inspired by Esther, her bravery and how bravery is a choice we can make every day, even if with uncertainty.

I encourage you to read not only my thoughts, but to engage in this community that Deborah Rutherford is so intentionally building.

My essay is here:

Behold Her Beauty

I woke thinking about the missed opportunity to share the way I’m encountering beauty in the colors of nature.

Today, I’ll add color to canvas and I’ll build on works in progress.

I’ll keep progressing, a pursuit of and with peace.

Mercy Waits

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, mercy, mixed media painting, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Truth, Vulnerability, wonder
Noticing God

“So now we draw near freely and boldly to where grace is enthroned, to receive mercy’s kiss and discover the grace we urgently need to strengthen us in our time of weakness.”
‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭4‬:‭16‬ ‭TPT‬‬

When we wake with the woe of what was imperfect the day before or with what we tripped and fell over in our wayward walking, we can acknowledge it all. We can feel all the feelings.

We can accept the mercy of Jesus, reach up and stand to go on the way again, the way to freedom, freedom that waits to save us from ourselves again.

Waiting

We can acknowledge that if it were just ourselves trying to recover, without the knowledge and embrace of His incomprehensible love, we’d not be who we are today.

I might not be here at all.

The smallest amount of believing in the promise of God’s love and mercy leads to overcoming life’s troubles, failures, and sorrows just as much as it does for the one who has never doubted at all.

Mercy meets us where we are.

The Veil

The ones at “the bottom” they’ve hit are just as cared for and cherished, significant in God’s eyes as those who’ve never known “bottom” experiences at all.

Can hardship, shame or regret be good for our souls?

Maybe, if we handle them gingerly like tiny little jewels worth sitting with and quietly considering the value of them in the exchange for the mercy that’s waiting there.

Waiting, always for our timid and tender open minds

Open hearts.

Open hands.

“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭4‬:‭16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe.

Making New Stories

Abuse Survivor, aging, Art, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, family, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, patience, Peace, Redemption, Teaching, testimony, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder, writing

On Sunday, a sunny day, my granddaughter and I spread out paper, scissors and ModPodge on a towel. We tore pieces of abstract paintings I loved but had not bought by someone or maybe I’d forgotten I loved them.

We used little strips and squares of color to tell new stories. To allow a new voice to be heard.

Keep living, keep learning.

How God speaks is another mystery that woke me on Monday in the dark, a nagging lack because of hearing others say “God told me.” or “I heard God speak”.

I’ve not experienced God in an audible way.

I’ve heard stories that blow my mind of people who’ve been in situations in need of hope or redirection and God spoke. I’ve read and heard He “speaks” through His Word, both gently and firmly instructive.

I’ve heard about the still and quiet voice that comes and I believe I understand this one well

Me being quiet with no searching for an answer and a thought comes…

Comes in reply to a question that’s been nagging at me.

Once, that voice whispered in my the hallows of my chest…

“It’s gonna be alright.” and the rightness of every worry in my life felt captured in that comfort of a promise. It was a strong promise. I still treasure it.

I smile over it.

This morning, words came and to sum it all up, the words were

“Just keep learning.”

An encounter with a woman I knew from my executive days planted the seed from which this desire has begun slowly growing.

She noticed my artwork and then as she passed through the crowd to leave, said across the room…

“I just read your story.”

I was confused. How did she read the “Artist Story” I sometimes point to when people ask, “How’d you become an artist?”

Later, I realized she’d only read the sweet story of the “cake with you Mama day”.

And, I realized slowly, I was happy that’s the only story she’d read.

This morning, I thought, sensed the coming together of thoughts and God speaking…

It’s been enough time now, enough time has passed.


The story of how you “came back to painting” no longer needs to include the hard and horrible parts.

You’ve grown to dislike the telling of this story.

Instead, when asked, the answer could be…

I’ve been painting seriously about seven years and I keep growing and trying to make good choices.

I keep learning

And I am a student of that desire to keep learning. I have grown.

I am still growing. And that’s the only requirement that is given to me by myself…to be me as artist, writer, mother, wife, grandmother or friend…follower of Jesus.

To be brave enough

To keep learning.

(It may be time to add a chapter or replace the old one altogether, at least edit it with a pen called kindness.)

It may be time to “turn the page” to the beauty of my story with only a tiny nod to the ugly.

It may be time to stop circling back to the places you struggled, the places you failed and fell.

It may be time to say less.

It may be time to edit your story of whatever you’ve taken on as a measure of you finally not just battling in becoming

But arriving.

Motherhood
Author
Teacher
Settled Career
Wife
Friend
Ministry Leader
Artist
Chef
Athlete

Nurse
Husband
Girlfriend
Boyfriend
Instructor of Others

Retiree simply “being a light”
Aunt
Uncle
Counselor
Advocate

Son

Musician
Sharer of your life with others

Daughter

Student of whatever

You are arriving,

you can take a breath.

The only requirement God has is
A decision to keep learning.

To imperfectly decide

not to give up.

And to do so with love.

“…It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, And don’t take yourself too seriously— take God seriously.”

Micah‬ ‭6‬:‭8‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Curious about my art?

Quiet Confidence Art

Continue and believe,

LT

Lightly Yielding

aging, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, family, fear, hope, mercy, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, walking, wonder

It’s the time of year that God allows a sprinkling here and there of soft green woven “pillows”. I know there’s a name for them. I can’t remember it. I just find them so pretty. I tiptoe around them, aware of what I see as fragility.

We walked carefully over the tangled vines and fallen branches. Toddler, Henry in his little boots smaller than my hand. I let him venture barely three steps away from me then wrapped him in my arms to be sure he didn’t high tail it to the place his curiosity was calling.

I heard the water, the creek too shielded by overgrowth to see and too uncertain for us to go seeking. So, we just circled round and round, he intent on going deeper in and me, scooping him up to walk where it was more safe and clear.

He resisted yielding again and again.

The unknown and interesting was a steady call to his little investigative mind.

As if to say, I need to know, I need to see, it must be really special, this place I can’t see, these things I don’t yet know.

Yet, it was too risky for us to go, too unsafe for him to go alone.

I wonder why there’s such resistance to yielding. Why I’m so prone to striking out on my own in fits of figure it out or fix it before it’s too late.

When all that’s required, all that’s an absolute undeserved gift,

Is to yield.

This morning, I flipped to today in “Jesus Calling”, a kind and beautifully patient collection of words I’ll carry as I go, one open hand to heaven and the other secretly imagining my hand like a child’s reaching up again to the suggestion of my Savior,

“Hold my hand.”

“As you keep your focus on Me, I form you into the one I desire you to be. Your part is to yield to My creative work in you, neither resisting it nor trying to speed it up. Enjoy the tempo of a God-breathed life by letting Me set the pace. Hold My hand in childlike trust, and the way before you will open up step by step.”

Continue and believe, lightly yielding.

You are loved.

Change The Wording

Abuse Survivor, aging, anxiety, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, hope, kindness, love, memoir, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
a prayer

Yesterday morning, Christmas morning all misty and mellow, I walked early with Colt, the Labrador.

It was early, phone in my pocket and no pods in my ears, the world was whispering like sounds from a distant violin.

It was not noisy.

The birds sang, the trees ready for rain, rustled.

As a walk often does I was walking to unravel my thoughts, to shake off the embrace that had decided to grab hold, the worry for no reason, the sneaky attempts of changing my hope to dread.

The ways we walk, have walked in our lives…some of us, for most of our days left deep and muddy almost cavernous ruts we gotta decide to step up high and get on a new, undamaged by weather road.

I consider myself late to this learning.

That’s okay.

There’s grace for late in life learning and even more than that, there’s glorious celebration.

A few days ago, it occurred to me that I so less often “thank Jesus for helping me” than I do plead and moan consistently, “Jesus, help me. Jesus, help me!”

And I sort of quietly decided with tears to simply change the wording.

“Thank you, Jesus, for helping me.”

and so I said this on my walk along with the acceptance of “I am weak, you are strong”.

I don’t want to speak too soon (as I’m prone to do) but there’s a change that’s been coming in me and for me and I’m welcoming the newness of it.

The life lived from an embrace of the truth of being RESCUED.

“Jesus, thank you for helping me.”

This prayer can be yours too.