mercy

31 Days, Freely – Comfort

confidence, contentment, Faith, grace, Labradors, memoir, mercy, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Trust, waiting, wonder

We had a splendid reunion! An easy afternoon and into the evening.

He ate the broccoli that fell from the counter and so, I gave him another floret or two, then three.

I sat with the Sunday paper.

He plopped his big ole self at my feet, his belly over one and then he nudged until I rested the other to then rub softly the place under his collar.

A long sigh, he was comfortable. He wasn’t mad at me at all.

Then, rather than run, we walked together and ended in the place he loves, up next to the fence, the open valley of field to sit.

I’d been away and he had waited, good dogs are that way, must surely know we will always return.

Won’t be gone too far for too long.

“Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

And be at rest again at home and grateful to be greeted by such grace and favor.

Returning to mercy and the comfort of home, hope for us and our returning, hope that is unshaken.

31 Days, Freely -Belong

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, daughters, Faith, family, grace, memoir, mercy, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

The Spring before my daddy died, he planted potatoes. The air was cool and my children watched, their bottoms plopped down on the dirt, my daughter with her arms wrapped around her baby brother.

If you asked my daddy if he was a farmer he’d have said no because he wasn’t a farmer and the potatoes weren’t a necessary crop.

If being a farmer depended upon breaking up the soil, walking out the spaces between the slices of potatoes planted, well, yes he was a farmer.

He belonged among the farmers.

I woke up this morning thinking about the harvest, about the keeping at it to reap what I sow.

My daddy was meticulous about how the potatoes were planted.

Just a small plot of land my cousin wasn’t planning to use, next to my house, so I got to watch him stand over it, waiting for what was happening underneath.

I read this morning about perseverance, about persistence.

Thinking about this season my friend is calling our harvest, I sensed a sure stirring, a need to grow.

I’d been distracted, disgruntled, pulled away and pitiful, decided I was never gonna reap from all that I had sown.

Jesus told a story about seeds and what we do with them and how we get disenchanted with the idea of us making something grow.

We don’t stay with it, we let our hopes go.

He told of people who only stick with it for awhile or people who’d just toss their seeds toward the not broken up soil as if to say, that’s it now God, make it grow!

“And the ones on the rock are those who, when they hear the word, receive it with joy. But these have no root; they believe for a while, and in time of testing fall away. And as for what fell among the thorns, they are those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature.”

‭‭Luke 8:13-14

I thought about my daddy and his potatoes, bothered that I couldn’t remember, did we go back to reap the harvest, dig up the little baby red potatoes? Did he get to see how well his last crop had grown, how abundant his harvest was that last year?

Jesus continues, explaining how we are made to flourish, lead others to flourishing.

“As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭8:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The soil was always good where my daddy planted his garden. He had an honest and good heart, he was patient with his potatoes.

Daddy belonged among the farmers, I believe.

Maybe I, among the writers, the planters, the sowers and the patient, holding fast to be mature believers.

31 Days, Freely -Share

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, freedom, grace, kindness, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability, writing

This morning I’ll make a little video, less than a minute or so of Michelle sharing the story of our shelter, Nurture Home.

She smiled when I described the time she’d done this before, the way she spoke so smoothly like honey and her pauses and the slight tilt as she spoke in a way sharing like a sweet, sweet song.

I love the storytelling part of my work, hands down my favorite part, I abhor the budget, can’t stand the asking for money.

The asking, the putting oneself out there always comes with the risk of rejection.

Last night, I ran risky past sundown because I left the gym without ever going in. Checking email, there it was, another no, another rejection in a string of three.

I cranked my car, turned down the radio and said ok, ok, adjust your sails, you’re not out here in this big sea all alone.

I drove back home and planted pansies for my grandma then ran real hard with good solid songs in my ear.

Running from the dark, I decided and posted on Instagram. A friend commented and I shared what was causing my darkness. Her reply was so sublime!

“Yet it was kind of you to share my trouble.”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

She understood, she was so very kind.

In this great big world, we all have a story and a story to tell. Today, it’s a work story I’ll tell; but, it’s my life story too.

God placed me in this position for a purpose.

I’m so glad he lets me help to change some stories and then to tell them, hear them, celebrate them too!

And later, I’ll let go of my ideas and ideals for my writing. I could stop altogether or I could continue more surrendered and less striving.

I could remember, let go and let God and like my mama said, be the passenger, let God drive the train.

Telling my story, His way, His time and place.

To God be the glory.

31 Days, Freely – Why

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, memoir, mercy, painting, Peace, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Day 4 of 31 Days of Writing, trying to be brief and light and think about “my why”. I remembered why in an old hymn, just the chorus.

“Let others see Jesus in you…”

It’s simple but it’s hard, I’m either focused and feeling faithful or I teeter on my own inconsistency to come back around and hopeful again, once again.

What is my why? …a provoking question often used to motivate or continue something begun hopefully or associated with a personal goal.

Why do I write? This one I’ve been pondering lately. Does anyone really care, isn’t my life quite fine without it?

It’s not at all necessary, not as noticed as needed to go someplace grander, more visible, more esteemed.

Someone suggested I write fiction, perhaps people are sick of the sorrowful stories of women who’ve been restored, redeemed, renewed. I was perplexed, set off course and wondered why a made-up story instead of my truth?

Maybe I could, I’m not sure I should. Maybe I will; but, only after I’ve written on why, why I believe, why I have hope now when I was so very hopeless before.

Why you should too.

Have hope.

In the back of a worn little book of Psalms and Proverbs, pages missing and places with corners turned down, there’s a note among other notes:

If I wrote a book it would be a long letter explaining why I believe in Jesus, in His love and in His mercy.

There are countless versions bound into books with more significant stories than mine.

Still, my why is mine.

Why I pause to pray when I could easily turn and go the other way. My knees find peace and my soul finds rest in the personal and private moments I am intentional and I choose to pray.

Why I open my mind to learn from His word, finding new understanding in ancient recordings that develop slowly, requiring discipline and distraction-free commitment of time.

Like the verse about the yoke and rest, I can see it now. I couldn’t take the steps designed for me by God if I didn’t stay in a simple and steady rhythmic walk, I can’t follow God’s path on my own, can’t carry my stuff for too long.

Why I’ve come so very far because of His mercy, yet realize I’ve so much further to go and why I am blown away that He considers me worthy of the cross.

Thank you, thank you for the cross.

Why I am astounded that He prompts me still to pray and that answers come and each time I am moved, so very moved by His splendid and sweet mercy.

Why I think the most important thing about me if there’s anything at all are in the words to this song:

Your life’s a book before their eyes
They’re reading it through and through
Say does it point them to the skies
Do others see Jesus in you?

I understand others seeing Jesus in me differently now than before, more a gentle light causing need for others to come near, to know more, to see a difference in me, my art, my words, my everything.

31 Days, Freely – Believe

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, daughters, doubt, Faith, family, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, heaven, memoir, mercy, Motherhood, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

My mama never kept a journal or to my knowledge, wrote thoughts in a Bible.

So, I can’t say I “get that from my mama”.

She’d rather speak her truths to you, long conversations with time in between her phrases to let what she’d given you sink in. Look you in the eye or leave something with you and look away, walk away like that’s it, now I’m puttin’ a period there.

I believe every single thing she ever said.

Lots of times there was no acceptable reply, either she’d put me in my place or I had to just keep my mouth shut and let the sometimes unwelcome truth sink in.

She was resilient.

She believed in the possibility of everything working out for good despite so much wrong she endured.

She rarely quoted scripture, just paraphrased God’s truths in her own no holds barred way. Some would call it irreverent, her language was generous with cuss words.

I don’t think she aspired to write and I rarely recall a book in her lap, she’d rather be one with people, one with life.

She talked about books in a different way, telling me “turn the page, Lisa Anne.” when I kept mulling over some misdeed or misfortune.

She was quick to give her commentary on all that might be wrong or someone’s crazy choices or just mean motives.

She’d say “They’re not reading the right book or they’re not on the same page.”

I know she had a Bible. I know because it was mine and towards the end of her days I noticed it moved from the stack of old Southern Living magazines to the place in front of her where she’d fall asleep with the noise of Fox news.

I know she believed. I know she wanted us all, the four of us to always believe.

To pray, believing more often than beckoning or begging.

To smile, thinking how far we’ve all come and how far she and daddy got to see us go and grow.

Yesterday, I had an encounter with someone who has changed. A distant person who acknowledged her resistance towards relationship, she stopped by to give me a book.

She had a cold, I’d had to same one, I shared. She let me hug her and she hugged me back.

We walked out and I told her she’d reminded me of a new favorite word, “countenance”.

She was puzzled, said she had never heard it before and I told her I thought it might be biblical but that it’s such a beautiful word, a beautiful thing to see.

I explained that it means to me, your sweet soul is shining through, the change in expression showing so pretty on your face.

She thanked me twice, and more.

I thanked her for stopping by.

Thanking her and God now for reminding me of my mama.

Reminding me to choose believing.

Believing God is so very good.

“Behold, the hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home, and will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me. I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.””

‭‭John‬ ‭16:32-33‬ ‭ESV‬‬

And to “live life today”, and then tomorrow live and believe again as you “turn the page”.

My mama’s stubborn resilience and God’s unwavering and believable peace and grace, I’m believing in both today.

31 Days, Freely: Day One

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, love, memoir, mercy, painting, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

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Day 1, Story

“even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭139:10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A year or so ago, my story was not the same. It was brave and descriptive and overall, the content served a purpose.

It told a few things readers might relate to, others unaware might be drawn to know more. It was about me and it was going to be about them.

Them, being the ones who brought me harm, stifled my self-confidence, my self-awareness, and my soul truly for a long time.

It would be about some who turned shielded eyes to say they’d not known, turned from my distress saying that must be where she wanted to go.

It was a hopeless story pretending to portray hope and may have caused hurt to a few.

Not necessarily an expose’, just would have thrown a lot of “shade” on a select more than few.

Today, I’m beginning 31 Days of writing. In October, along with the Five Minute Friday community, I’ll write using a prompt, today’s is “story”.

This is my story now.

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Healed and Hopeful

The story I’m choosing, the one that is hopeful and intentional and is led closely by my Father, God.

By my Savior, Jesus and the Spirit saying choose this new way.

  • I turned my eyes from the piece about the candidate and his high school buddies and what he really meant by what he wrote in the yearbook. I turned my attention away. Because last week the news and the media’s social conversation starters stirred up three nights of nightmares just as real as the days before. For a split second, I remembered clearly then turned my thoughts from those days, those nights.
  • I didn’t contribute to the hashtag conversation on why I didn’t report. Even after so many strong women were, it has no bearing on me now, the conversations about before.
  • I love my friend who suggested we all change our Facebook profile pic to blacked out squares. It is supposed to show men what the world would be like without women. Instead, I painted for three hours, a piece not up for sale. It occurred to me to black out my face on Facebook would mean darkness, fear, hiding. Decided I’d rather show God’s glory in me and the women I have around me. My profile pic is my painting.
  • I planned to write “lightly” 31 Days and changed my theme.  I’ll be writing “freely” knowing full well there is still slavery all around. Women who are hurting and angry and fired up and men who were who they were when they scoffed over the good old days with girls. They’re here and real. Their eyes may land here and I may never know their reaction to my choice to not join in. My choice that seems unpopular by the world’s take on this stirring up of women who will not stay silent. I choose silence because I know silence is God’s will for me staying well.

 

My story is freedom.

I’m sticking with it, my “freedom story”, the colors of my Bible are my Bible, of my life.

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The Colors of My Bible

Healed and hopeful because of knowledge, joy, mercy, patience, love, grace, and understanding. It’s too much a burden to go back and begin carrying my hurt around again, too heavy a yoke of sad slavery.

“For freedom, Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.”

‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Father, if there are readers still reeling from trauma or reminded of trauma and feeling pulled back into fear, I pray you lead them to hope and that they find counseling specific to trauma recovery. I pray they know you are near and that persistence towards healing not the pursuit of patterns that cause us to stay focused on before is your desire. I pray you will remind them and me of the woman at the well, the woman who stood before men who were ready to cast stones. She watched them all drop to the ground as Jesus told her she was free, now go and remember this day no more. I pray you will remind us that fear is not from you, only hope. That those deserving of condemnation will surely be handled by You on our behalf. 

Because of mercy,

Amen

Stay tuned, or better yet, join in. Tomorrow, Day 2 is prompted by “afraid”

Oh, my soul

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, freedom, grace, memoir, mercy, Redemption, Stillness, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability

Y’all, I can’t tell you who said this, but I heard it clearly.

My friend called this week a “thick” one with mucky mess making us feel like we oughta either be mad or “mad”.

Then we talked about our souls and the ways we know some stuff is meant to pull us back, keep us back, make us feel like we ain’t makin’ any progress at all.

If I don’t follow or fall back in am I less a warrior, more defeated?

What about the good, the good places we’ve found, come so far to find?

Was our satisfaction sanctimonious, are we any stronger at all?

But, oh, yes we so very much are ‘cause we know our souls and we know what stirs them rightly and what stirs them wrongly

and we decided for sure we’re better than before…just ‘cause we know how to care for our souls.

And we know where we belong.

Our souls stirred and satiated.

We continue on.

Potentially

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, waiting, wonder, writing

The idea of God’s mercy never-ending lining up with the potential He sees in me is almost too much to take in.

I put potential in a corner, my pattern of hoping not to be a bother, praying not be noticed, doing what I learned to believe was my role, to be content, to never need more than just enough…

Potential is a mystery some days, a misnomer, how could it be for me?

An inaccurate description, uncertain pursuit.

It takes a while to believe in it. I have to hear, read it in God’s word and get little glimpses of it when I least expect.

Yesterday, I heard a radio pastor remind me that I have no clue all that God will enable me to do if I simply choose to believe and continue with Him.

A conversation immediately clicked like a light, the realization of something God is making possible for me through an exchange with another I remembered.

A second encounter, a stranger saw my art and introduced an idea I’d never thought, possibly I’ll pursue.

And a third, I was intrigued by a new mindset in fundraising for our struggling non-profit. Just a slight change in wording, if businesses are for profit, we should be calling our programs “for purpose”, taking the “non” completely out the equation and mindset.

I assure you, this was not expected!

Clarity

Potential

Mercy, all lining up!

“Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭33:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

His mercy never ends and it triumphs judgment.

I hear more clearly now as He says

“Oh no…don’t you believe the lie that you’re not able, not worthy, that there’s no potential in you. Look around, look to me, you’ll see little by little and then occasionally more clearly.

Your potential is great. Remember my mercy towards you, there’s a reason it never ends, there’s so much more for you to know, to experience, to contribute. I made you, I should know.”

linking up with others, prompted by potential here: Five Minute Friday

Preparing for the Storm

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, daughters, Faith, family, fear, memoir, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

So very excited to have her, my daughter might be sleeping in her little bed, her husband out working in the storm.

Crisp clean sheets and pillows fresh with light lavender scent and on Saturday night I’d have both she and her brother right next to me in their rooms.

Instead, the storm weakened, there was no need for her to sleep over.

No need for her to stay. I was prepared though, in every possible way.

Several days ago, I heard or read that if there are pleasant hills, there will be valleys.

I wanted not to hear that, wanted to look away as if my understanding of this truth might hasten my finding myself sooner in the valley at the bottom of my current pleasant hill.

My life is not all pleasant; but, pretty much is good, sufficiently and grace-filled.

Has been for the most part for some time. This is why I didn’t want to hear it, shook it off, the possibility of the valley.

David knew valleys. He wrote of them, of the one that skirted the border of death, the one wrought with shame over his significant sexual sin, the one where he faced Goliath, the embodiment of what would prove his strength from God or evil’s victory that would change us all.

David has lessons, lots of them from which we can learn.

Or relearn.

“So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come.

Your righteousness, O God, reaches the high heavens. You who have done great things, O God, who is like you?

You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. You will increase my greatness and comfort me again.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭71:18-21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I love to tell the story of the itinerant preacher man who traveled every weekend to the little church around a curvy clay road at the top of the hill, the one called Poplar Springs.

My life was in shambles. I found myself alone with my girl and my boy.

He visited me at my mama’s because we had been visiting the church, my children first for Sunday School and then I joined in.

Word spread quickly in the tiny rural place of my home, my dilemma a disgrace, it only made me strong.

So, I asked Him how I should pray for God’s help to get through.

His reply,

Just pray for mercy.

So, I did and I do.

Because the mercy I prayed for back then when my babies were young is the mercy I remember still now, and continue to seek.

Mercy in unexpected hardship, mercy in times of unknown outcomes, mercy that wraps its arms around me and is strengthened through remembering.

Strengthened even more in relating to others. Others recorded in God’s word.

The woman at the well called out by others and Jesus. The man who wanted healing but never thought to push himself towards the waters, the man called Saul who became Paul; yet, still knew he wasn’t able on his own.

He knew he needed mercy, for he would always remember how he’d been before, I believe this was his thorn “in his side”.

Like preparing for a storm that didn’t come with the devastation predicted, we should prepare for upheavals of a personal nature.

Praying not just when desperate, learning from God’s word not just searching for something to tell us all is well.

Believing all is well because we remember the mercies of before and we praise Him for the mercy of now.

Today, I’ll prepare good food for my son before he returns from his school’s evacuation. I’ll make enough in case my daughter stops by.

I’ll store up the goodness of these past few days, this weekend’s little victories and exchanges.

I’ll carry them with me as I rest in this time of merciful, this pleasant little place, this hill in my heart.

I’ll move on unafraid towards valleys that might come knowing I’m attended to lovingly, I’m held closely by mercy.

Pray for mercy, just pray for mercy.

My prayer, I once thought such an anxious desperate plea, now a dependence, a comfort and assurance.

If there are hills, there will be valleys.

So, we cling to the mercy of God, treasuring His truth.

God is for us.

God is with us.

Understanding Alone

Abuse Survivor, Angels, bravery, confidence, contentment, freedom, grace, love, mercy, Peace, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

God is in the midst of her…Psalm 46:5

You may know the quote, the one about being courageous enough to grow up and be who you are.

The labels and descriptions you may have spent the bulk of your life trying to prove wrong won’t be thrown off, won’t allow your discarding.

For they know they belong.

You’re not aloof, you just understand more clearly than others maybe, the longing for and gift of alone.

You are finally you, and okay more now than then with your understanding of alone.

My son in law uses an expression quite often that makes me smile when he gets it slightly wrong.

“To each is love, Miss Lisa” , he’ll remind me when we’re noticing people who don’t look, act or talk the same as us.

Maybe he’s right, maybe to each of us “it is our own” and for each us to be here all crowded together, it is love that is required.

I dislike crowds. Some don’t believe me. Speaking in public comes with the territory of my work. Facing crowds with half-hearted expressions and faces to talk about hard things my heart beats for, is hard for me.

When I’m done, I retreat, I long to be hidden, wish I could sit in silence.

I need to be alone.

You know the story about the sheep that Jesus told the disciples in John, 10?

“And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”

‭‭John‬ ‭10:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

If I were a sheep I’d be the one close enough to the fold and keenly listening to be sure I didn’t get separated.

I’m the one Jesus keeps his eye on, knowing my need not to be sort of alone, but still close enough to know His love.

I’m the one often mistaken for aloof, sweet little “shy” one, the childhood description that stuck.

The one in the midst of the gathering either making awkward conversation or biding time until I can again be alone.

“To each is love.”

To each of us quiet sheep following our shepherd but lingering on the edge of the crowded and maybe boisterous crowd, to each of us too, is His love.

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.”

‭‭John‬ ‭10:27-28‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We feel safer in our aloneness, quiet in our quiet places.

We hear our shepherd more clearly when we’re not amongst all the others, competitive or compelling the crowd might be, good crowd or just noisy crowd.

We know where we long to be. So does He.

Linking up, prompted by the word “crowd” with others for Five Minute Friday.