mercy

Too Wonderful to Know

Abuse Survivor, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, grief, memoir, mercy, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I wish I knew the source of his sorrow.

Three of us there, I think of the differences now.

Me, an executive type pretend director wishing to stay home and paint, an interesting stranger and a preacher who is for real, he emanates peace, attentive love.

It began with two, myself and the young pastor.

I call and called him friend.

Breakfast outside that began with open discussion of things I’m struggling with and most of them made worse by the deeply buried truths hammered in angrily to the soul of a little girl who’d follow any command just for the chance to be loved, to be beloved.

We were in agreement. Oh, the peace of that, to be in agreement with a man of God, a preacher.

To be validated in your understanding of God, to be assured, yes, this is the God you are seeing, this is the Jesus you know.

“’Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’ Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭42:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We must’ve been a half hour in. The sun on my back no longer pleasant and I am hot.

Miserable, faking being okay.

For a minute I try to pretend, try to stay composed in my wrought iron seat on the sidewalk sauna.

I shift my chair to the shade and cover my omelette and my grits with a napkin to keep my eyes from darting with the flight of one annoying fly.

He continues with his toast, unconcerned over the fly and simply smiled as I shifted in my seat.

“Is my forehead glistening?”, I wonder. He doesn’t seem hot at all. How is he so chill?

I promise I sensed God’s spirit in his voice, most of all in his listening.

My friend and I continued. I told him I’d just finished the Book of Job and that I was moved in different ways than before.

The words barely uttered and a man hurried past us then turned to ask,

“Did I hear you say Job?”

We welcomed him in.

It was a God thing for sure. My pastor friend listened as I confirmed we were discussing Job.

The tall man who must’ve just left the bank because of the three different wallets he held tight, clutched in his palm.

He hesitated walked away and then returned, his body bounced and then settled and then shifted weight one side to the other.

Job confounded Him, it was clear.

What God allowed to happen to Job bothered him significantly, the fact that God took Job’s children and that God allowed it, actually handed them along with Job over to Satan.

It was clear this troubled this man, standing before us on a small town sidewalk, his face scruffy with stubble and his muscle tank on backwards, his shorts, a faded blue tropical pattern, old sandals and he was bothered by the weather as was I.

Which was good, it wasn’t just me.

He began to sweat as he spoke, elaborating further and my friend kept his cool, listening even when I added in too much information as I often do.

Telling them both I love the last chapter because Job forgives his friends, shows the ones who turned against him mercy and then God gifts Job with more years better than the ones before.

Two things for me there. It is right to let the ones who left you hanging off the hook.

It is thrilling to know your now and your future can be phenomenally better than your before.

Both men smiled and the tall man shuffled his feet telling us he’s sure Job’s in heaven with his family and friends.

He believes Job, his friends and his family were “grandfathered in”.

He’s still not sure why God had to let it happen this way.

We agree. We aren’t either.

And my pastor friend essentially said we don’t know and that maybe we forget how small our time is here in comparison to heaven.

And if we remembered heaven, well, we might not so angrily and aggressively need to understand now.

That we might finally know what Job meant when he realized there are things too wonderful to know.

Last night, I reread the last chapter and I paused at one place, the place that tells me my bad days are over, my better has only begun.

I began to cry.

“And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭42:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

For now it is so very wonderful to know my past does not define my future and wonderful to know that God is in agreement with my forgiveness of those I felt should have done more. My prayer, to forgive them.

“…and the Lord accepted Job’s prayer.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭42:9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Wonderful to know the little that I know.

I thought today how I wish I knew more of his story, the stranger and his sorrow causing his questioning of God in relation to Job.

So many things, my pastor friend, the tall guy and I, God has much yet to be shown us, so many things we do not know.

Tonight, the sky said hello gradually with the popping out of bright stars.

The dark clouds buffeted the horizon and the space up above was clear.

I snapped a shot driving home, so blurry, because of my dirty windshield.

Then I thought of heaven vs. earth.

We’re a mess down here below, it’s impossible to capture heaven on the other side of the sky.

It’s just way too wonderful to see, too wonderful to know.

And too significantly difficult to comprehend.

A family has lost a son tonight, a grief incomprehensible.

Many are the sorrows we may know or not know.

I wonder why Job called them “wonderful” and realize it is not for me to know.

Too Wonderful for any of us to know.

Heaven, Rain Down

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, freedom, heaven, love, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

“Do you know the balancings of the clouds, the wondrous works of him who is perfect in knowledge…?”

‭‭Job‬ ‭37:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There are countless things I do not know.

I’m afraid my need to know overshadows my trust in the one I say I know.

Some may say it is so, that when evening comes, my morning proclamations fade and my trust might be pretend.

I told my husband I’d be happy if it rained all day today. Something ’bout a day filled with rain makes some things more permissible.

Rest, and not obsessing over lack or just a nod saying,

retreat, gather your thoughts and get ready

continue the redirection you started and then allowed your feet and faith to falter.

Know who you are and acknowledge the tendency towards the former, adjust your sails, begin again.

We go slow sometimes in our going towards good, our turning from old to new.

Someone I know loves to look towards the sky. Me too, like her, more now than before.

Yesterday, the clouds were massive. God was very near.

I couldn’t look away, wished now I’d thought to lie out my grandma’s quilt on the ground and do nothing but stare.

Fixing my gaze on heaven not my weighty frame as I laid there, caring about nothing other than clouds.

It would have been heavenly, a little heaven on my tiny space of earth.

It would have and will be, more than enough.

The atmosphere is changing now. The spirit of the Lord is here.

The evidence is all around…

Here as in Heaven, Elevation Music

I get so very distracted, forgetting how far I’ve come.

“Lord, help me be present.”

This morning, I’m four chapters away from finishing the Book of Job.

Chapter 37 has a prophet detailing God’s majesty yet again to Job.

Reminding him God is God and he is not.

We are not.

“For to the snow he says, ‘Fall on the earth,’ likewise to the downpour, his mighty downpour.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭37:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In Chapter 38, God gives further reply.

“Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, that a flood of waters may cover you?

Can you send forth lightnings, that they may go and say to you, ‘Here we are’? Who has put wisdom in the inward parts or given understanding to the mind?

Who can number the clouds by wisdom? Or who can tilt the waterskins of the heavens,”

‭‭Job‬ ‭38:34-37‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Job accepted not knowing.

Job knew God knew.

I’m reading a book now that I’ve set aside, glanced towards to return to and on purpose placed it next to me with pencil for marking.

Its message for me, at first wonderful to know, I guess now seems too wonderful for me to know, to live.

You see, I know it is for me, still so hard to grasp less fleetingly, the knowledge of my need to let God be my full focus.

The day before the author autographed her book, I had committed to a change of perspective.

Told myself, memorizing the order…

God.

Family.

Writing.

Art.

Work.

Knowing full well, for far too long it has been about me, my lack or my striving to be worthy.

That author asked my name, her smile met me and then her eyes for a second more when I replied, “Lisa Anne”.

And the sharpie message to me remains.

God first!

Lisa Whittle

The book, a response to a pieces falling apart time in her own life, “I Want God- Forever Changed by the Revival of Your Soul”.

I Want God

I’m only through Chapter One, because I dance the dance of too much to know and too long I have not known.

Commit or continue on the same.

This is why we must want this with our whole heart and not just know in our head we need it. We can be told a million times over that we should want God, but our flesh will convince us every time it is a lie.

So it then comes down to the ache and the longing of what we want more.

Gradually, I am wanting more, my eyes turn from the mirror reflecting a haphazard pursuit and I look inward to His spirit in me.

More often now, the reflection is radiant.

As I look up and attentively within, compelled more towards my heaven than my earth.

My atmosphere is changing now.

The spirit of the Lord is here.

After All

birds, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

All day long to me, it was Thursday. It made no sense because Tuesday meant meetings and Thursday, always the same.

Wednesday though, in between after my Tuesday starting early and ending late.

Maybe my mind’s compilation and calculations had me thinking such. I’d barely been home at all.

Wednesday evening now and the clouds are boldly gray, all meeting in the middle as if saying hurry, hurry sundown.

Tomorrow is another day.

My mood was knocked off kilter yesterday.

What was expected would be required to change.

Moody, mopey, misaligned, my plan would not come true.

Once again, it’s up to you and you may have said to self, the going well of this or not going well,

Well, that’s gonna be it for me!

You may have decided it’s a pivotal time. I’m tired, I’ve tried.

But, yesterday I went home in between the upended plan and the meeting.

Thirty minutes was all.

Acknowledged the Labrador, allowed him to run, made an iced coffee and went to my room to pray.

Lord, this is the work you’ve given me to do, help me do it well.

I conducted the meeting, the conversations were engaging and new.

Not once felt incapable, I somehow commanded the room.

It was a long day into evening, which is I guess, why Wednesday I decided should be by now Thursday.

Grocery store stop, supper done, dishes done, mess I made in the art/writing/workroom tidied, a load of towels done and tossing and tennis ball retrieving fulfilled.

I ran some, walked some and came back home.

Stopped the music coming through and stood still in our front yard.

The warm wind against my shoulders, circling all around my face. So softly strong there was a sound, sound of whooshing wind and soprano birdsong.

So I stood and closed my eyes to pray and when thoughts did not come not a request or a thank you, Lord, I stood still and I still prayed.

I stood very still to listen.

To pray.

Happy Way of Life #16 To Try

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, courage, freedom, grace, happy, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

There is a persuasion in the soul of man that he is here for a cause, that he was put down in this place by the Creator to do the work for which He inspires him, that he is an overmatch for all antagonists that could combine against him. Ralph Waldo Emerson

Have you considered the deep down joy of trying?

It is possible that trying might be more fantastic than you’ve ever known.

If we’d not discount it based on whether we finished satisfactorily or how everything may have to fall apart to come back together.

Last night, I painted for an hour, the same the night before. The surface waits for me now, paint tubes not closed properly, canvases stacked with halfway pieces and half-hearted attempts.

I’ve been here before. Seeking something big and of notice.

Seeking to be known by the work of my hands.

Instead of my heart.

Self-awareness, oh what a blessed gift you are!

Encouraging my beginning again.

Telling me to try.

I’ve just done a new thing this morning.

An idea I’ve had for a long time, a story and the deadline, oh shoot!

It’s today.

So instead, I pitched my idea…just proposed the heart of the story to see if the publisher might think the reader may like to read more.

This is not a phenomenal feat, it is simply a try and it is new for me.

So, now I move farther into my Saturday.

I’ll run while the air is still cool, make the bed, do some laundry, maybe return to the mess I made and try again and again.

Maybe, again. I will try.

Know that wisdom is such to your soul; if you find it, there will be a future, and your hope will not be cut off. – Proverbs 24:14

A Loyal Peace

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, happy, heaven, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

He restores my soul.

A grassy hill, a sloping field sits in front of our house. Occasionally, when it cools down with a crisp sharp change, a lone deer will stand and stare.

I imagine it sometimes more of a pretty meadow and I love to picture a flock of fat fuzzy sheep gathered together, content in their position.

I read this morning of our all-knowing God, His knowing us completely, our good things and our struggles.

I thought of Him as a shepherd and imagined one sheep who had found a solitary corner, separate from the rest.

One might think illness, pregnant with a baby lamb or some limitation causing it to stay back, to retreat.

Like a sheep all alone on purpose, I’m prone to retreat. Sometimes to rest my mind, filter out the excess. Sometimes healthy or something else.

Other times the cause is remorse, sometimes insecurity, sometimes shame, or uncertainty.

I learned long ago to find a corner and to sit with it all, wanting someone to notice or praying no one noticed at all.

Until I convinced myself to get up and carry on.

We have a shepherd who is loyal, not going to leave us behind or desire that we sulk off separate from rest.

God sees our good. He also sees our not good. Our emotions and negative names we give ourselves are just as troubling to Him as our sin, I believe.

Were we able to audibly hear Him calling our name, saying “Come here, come out from that corner!”

We’d hear him say, I imagine, “I give you safety not fear. I created you to be confident, not afraid, I will equip you to do great things, don’t be insecure. Remorse is not required of you.

You are forgiven.”

Then He might tell me a story or a few of them about others like me who got lost and were found and found again.

And if this were so, I imagine there would be an embrace and perhaps, He would say:

“Stay with me. Stay longer this time, Lisa Anne.

Everything I did and have done. It is for you, for you to follow, fully believing.

I am loyal, your loyal shepherd.

I don’t see your struggles the way you believe I do, I see them simply as not meant for you. I see you meant for more. This is why I am loyal, why I gave my life for your peace.”

But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned-every one-to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. – Isaiah 53:5-6

 

This post was prompted by the Five Minute Friday community, Kate gave us the word loyal and like most times, I’m sure I took more than five minutes to finish, still, I am linking up with others. Kate Motaung writes about the loyalty she observed while in Africa. Read here: Loyal

FF-Square-Images-Round-4-1-2

Stuff of Sorrow

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, heaven, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting

Most of my afflictions have been “momentary” and later, I understood them all or with time, accepted them. I can’t say any of my troubles could compare to Job’s and if I’m honest, nor does my unwavering trust.

My choices waver at times, not so much like altogether abandoning my faith; but, like the rich man who couldn’t imagine choosing to follow over keeping all the wealth he had.

And a ruler asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.

You know the commandments: ‘Do not commit adultery, Do not murder, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother.'”

And he said, “All these I have kept from my youth.”

When Jesus heard this, he said to him, “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.”

But when he heard these things, he became very sad, for he was extremely rich. – Luke 18:18-23

Sometimes I’m sorrowful over my sorry state of mind and lack of solid pressing forward.

When Jesus told the rich man what he needed to go beyond just being good, it was more than he wanted to hear; I believe he was looking for one more commandment, maybe a new one he could boast about his adherence.

Instead, Jesus asked him to sacrifice.

He asked him give what he treasured, asked him to give up the thing he measured his worth, his value by.

When Jesus tells me to do something or to do without something, it’s obviously not a tap on the shoulder or a verbal command.

It’s more a stirring, sometimes unpleasant and others exhilarating over what my life might be if I gave my all, gave Him my all.

When that soul stirring says “change” “surrender” “give up” or “give all” it’s a call to follow, to come and see how my life might be.

Mostly, I meander and the hard truth is I often ignore and it’s sort of secretive. Only God and me know, how I might be different were I to choose differently.

Then comes the sorrow, the sorrow we label loosely in other, more understandable ways.

Calling it humility, doubt or disappointment because we don’t want to call it what it is, disobedience.

Doubt somehow is easier on the heart, feels more allowable and forgiving like mercy or grace.

Like the Proverbs verse about the dog returning to his vomit, I’m prone to patterns I know, mostly in my thinking, thankfully.

Job chose a different path than the rich ruler. Both had a whole lot. The rich ruler lost nothing, Job everything.

Job refused to curse God. The rich ruler by his refusal to let go of all his riches, essentially did.

Both were sorrowful. Both were tested. One held fast to God, the other to His riches.

And the LORD said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil? He still holds fast his integrity, although you incited me against him to destroy him without reason.” – Job 2:3

Job lost property and children and did not blame God.

Chapter 2 has a header in my Bible that says “Satan Attacks Job’s Health”. Job’s wife watches as he breaks a pot to alleviate the pain and presence of sores, scraping desperately over the toxic wounds now covering his entire body.

She tells him he should curse God and die.

Job replies that her talk is foolish and reminds her we shouldn’t expect good from God only, that we might experience bad, we might experience evil even.

In the midst of our suffering God is still working, will we hold fast and trust Him?

I wonder how the rich ruler continued on. I’d love to know that he reconsidered his riches, that his cycle of security through wealth was somehow harshly broken.

And that when he had nothing of his own making, he believed Jesus and was made new.

This world is not our home, nor all the stuff we pile up round our rooms or anxiously work to acquire and feel we are finally enough.

But, eternity and the riches of heaven, oh my goodness, it is ours for the asking and while heaven can never be here on earth, it’s so very much closer in and around us when keep what we need, our faith and care so very little about the things that are just “the rest”.

God honored Job’s integrity, gave him and his family back all that had been taken. His days continued, they were full with so much more because he accepted what was taken, all.

And Job died, an old man, and full of days. – Job 42:17

What I Lost

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, memoir, mercy, Peace, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized

On the morning of my birthday, I lost a treasured gift.  A trinket, a charm my hand loved to seek out to be sure still there or to cling not so tightly to, my thumb and index finger, for secret security.

It was early and I was dressing to be with a crowd of women who were hopeful writers, speakers, famous and not famous, wise and seeking wisdom. I had thought to go fancy, bright colors and bold statement jewelry, then settled on a crisp white top with navy stripes, jeans, favorite worn leather sandals and blue grey beads that landed just right. Simple earrings, favorite bracelet, watch and birthstone ring. I decided to be me and the morning was going pretty good.  It was good, a good hair day, feeling my best me.

One more thing though, I was hesitant over wearing it, would it be just the right touch?  Was it necessary to offset the subtle sparkle of bead and would it send the right message, give the right image?

My fingers reached for the tiny hook that opens the clasp, the thick rope chain that has always kept it safe.

Seconds between thinking, of course you wear it,  people will notice and then…No, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t act as if your day depends on what you wear or whether you’re someone to be seen and especially righteous by the wearing of your tiny gold cross.

Showy, Lisa Anne, that’s showy, that’s seeking notice.

Another second was all that passed and I convinced myself that’s silly, wear the necklace, no shame in your game, let it shine!

But, on the morning of my birthday,

I lost my cross.

It slipped from my hand and the delicate charm I was washing to make shine fell quickly into the drain of the hotel sink.

Well then, there you go, I thought. I tried to pull the drain from the sink, wedged the end of my toothbrush in and then decided it was okay.

I let it go.

No time to worry, no time to panic. Only time to carry on knowing what I needed to know.

I’d be fine without my cross resting on my chest.

No, I’d be better.

I’d be less showy, less fan girl of the authors hoping they notice me.

I’d be more quiet background and less front row.

I’d be able to see them, hear them, not be heard and not to be seen.

I’d be there to soak in what was poured out, not to be dying of thirst and hoping some special soul might notice and offer me a cool drink from their famously special cup.

A drink of attention, acclaim, of admiration of me and my appearance.

I’d be there to be changed.

And I was.

Two hours in,  my shirt’s all wrinkled and my lipstick has faded. My hair is puffy on one side and flat on the other. I’m next to a pretty young woman.  We’re facing the mirrors and she smiles as I smile and say, “humidity hair”.

Two or three others agree. After lunch with time before the next session, I join a group clustered and we begin to talk and we ask questions that seem so very much the same and we smile and we answer, we laugh and we agree.  We’ve learned so much more than we expected today but exactly what we prayed we would.

It’s all of us that matter, our stories of Jesus, not a one the same as the other.

Our messages are meant to be written and gradual or sudden nudges for others to know more.  To know more of our story before and even more of it now. We’re stewards or our stories, not proud owners and most of all not fancy paraders for our glory or our lingering disdain.

We are bearers of light; yet, not the light.

I am closer and closer to no longer fretting over what I lost or perceived as a loss. Closer to forgetting my need to remember, to hold on to, to believe I must appear to be so or just so.

The hotel called to say they’d found my cross. I asked them to mail it and told them I appreciated it so, it was from my husband and special to me because of it being a long ago birthday gift.

I drove right past the hotel as I headed home from the conference.  I thought to exit but decided instead to go on.

Decided to continue on back towards home, to arrive at the place where it matters no more what I left behind, only what I’ve come to know now.

What I lost mattering not, only what I’ve found and continue to find through Him.

I once was lost. Now I’m found. Was blind but now I’m (beginning) to see.

On the day I turned 58 I lost my cross, had to let go and leave it behind.

But, I’m pretty sure I found my message. Yes, I believe I found my song.

Linking up with Mary Geisen and others at Tell His Story. Yes, we’re just a blip on God’s radar, we’re small in this great big world. Still, we matter. 

Tell His Storyimg_5038

According to Grace

confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I stepped out into the day, the Labrador scrounging for pieces of his food I’d spilled from the container not tightly closed.

Quiet except for the sound of his bowl lightly shifting against the floor as he dines. He glances my way, lets me be me. I believe he understands, the tennis ball rests in far corner for now.

My feet are in the soft moist grass, shifting with my steps, resting places for the view.

The sun is making greener the ground, illuminating the morning.

Purple blooms are leaning down, they’ve flourished more than before, the rain, the sun, the soil.

Must have been just right this time.

Fragile blooms, antique in appearance, the Rose of Sharon, has grown as high as the windows and will continue through September, up, up, upward towards the sky.

I’m alone in our morning yard, unconcerned over the back door open too long in August or eyes from houses on other sides of fence, pondering me as I ponder.

Grace has brought me here. Grace, the committing of my morning and my days to God.

For quite a while, I’ve been this way.

Quietly accepting come what may every morning and praying by God’s grace it goes long, longer every day into my days.

Grace, living according to grace thus far.

…that we may receive and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4:16

Happy Way of Life #14

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, grace, memoir, mercy, praise, Redemption, Stillness, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Thinking today about choosing rightly, remembering good things that have proven to be good for me.

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, – Psalm 30:11

New thing, “by and by” moments of celebrations…anniversaries.

Two months ago, I saw the good results of good food, good efforts in preparation and I’m staying close to that, close to that good health.
Deciding to learn to run and wondering now why I waited so long and why I forgot God made it possible all along…
Last night I did a new thing. I ran on a treadmill. Afraid before that I’d fall off, I feigned clumsiness as my reason. A big deal for me.
There’s really nothing like the momentous joy of doing something you decided you could not do.
Moment by moment, my feet in unison, my happy steps in rhythmic bounce.

an·ni·ver·sa·ry

/ˌanəˈvərs(ə)rē/

noun

1.the date on which an event took place in a previous year

Writing on the prompt “Anniversary”, I found no words on love or marriage or recall of loss or season or celebration marked.

I’ve not a clue what was going on last year on this day.

I’m more concerned with momentous occasions, moments of my life that show me I should continue.

I do life best lately,  “momentarily”.

img_6008Like taking a moment to prepare breakfast for my Friday morning desk, I am doing more things for my better than I have ever done before.

Just fry up some bacon, scramble some eggs, grab an avocado from the pretty bowl and then arrange it all on the scalloped edge paper plate, flimsy but fancy.

Sit with music filling the aloneness of your office and be happy, be happy in just the moment, the moment of your choosing “right healthy” food.

Remembering when you saw the church sign that kept telling you at the moment your running late car sped past, “Don’t go back to the place God delivered you from.”

The words that amounted to a moment only, but over time, so timely.

Now, the same route and the third day so far, same sort of moment; yet, different.

The church sign has changed.

“Stay close to God and you will never be the same.”

Moment by moment, every one sort of a joyous recall of choices well chosen, close as possible staying close to God.

Momentary living, my Happy Way of Life.

Surrounding myself with wisdom, wisdom like a quote push pinned to my wall, takes less than a moment to read, to remember, to believe.

I’m taking it all in, storing them up, counting them as joy rather than sorrow.

Putting them all together in a book I’d call “mercy stories”.

You can’t imagine the number of them.

img_6019

Deciding to call myself “writer and artist”, after all.

Sort of a momentous decision.

For me.

Rambling on and on I know, and way more than five minutes and not much at all about “Anniversary”.

It can be hard to follow my conversation, I know.

Sentence or comma, moment or hour, every second, I’m making ’em count now.

Maybe I’ll look back and recall though, the day I changed my ways and decided to live “momentarily”, a momentous anniversary it shall be.

August ‘63

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grace, heaven, memoir, mercy, Redemption, Stillness, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. – 1 Corinthians 13:7

The greatest thing happened yesterday, more special than anyone will understand. I saw myself surrounded by love and I am hesitant to say; but, I am thinking it may be the unlocking of so much more, the freedom to change my perspective, to alter my imaginary ideas of what I was incapable of remembering.

That’s me there. The bobbed bangs and even back then I was unable to open my eyes for the shot. That’s me surrounded by love in the August of ’63 when I turned 3.

I’ve just read two separate perspectives on love after waking up with the realization that “we should just love”.

I can’t say how sleep unearthed this necessary proclamation.

It may have been the weekend with family, the coming together of us from different places and paths that had taken us all spread out from one another are bringing us back together.

In need of the other’s love.

In need of connecting again as if we were small and couldn’t help but be gathered together cousins, sisters, uncles, aunts, and dogs.

This morning I read of how disillusioned Jesus may have been perceived to be.

How he saw others as redeemable and that was all he saw. He saw them as returners to His Father’s love and He saw them without judgment of the places their hands, hearts, and feet had been before they came or returned from wandering.

I’d like to say I love this way. That I don’t pretend that my concerns over others is not judgment, that it is only my hoping for them to be better.

I’d love to know I could love, and that my love wouldn’t be questioned.

That I’d not have ideas about others that humbled me when they were conclusion jumping wrong.

That I’d love the way family loves, bound together although disjointed by life.

That I’d love without judgment, that my love would be childlike and innocent in acceptance and mature and intentional in the reality of its necessity and giving of grace.

I’d love to love like Jesus.

I believe I shall love better, knowing, after all, I have been loved, was and am.

The little girl in the pointy hat, the stretchy string pinching our necks as we all gathered around the table with our mamas, daddies, aunts, uncles, grandmothers, grandfathers and a bird dog patiently waiting for a scrap.

Children, now adults, all found our way despite stumbling, falling, faltering along the way.

One, Stephanie, not with us, missed so much more than time can attempt to measure. Others, babies then, too tiny for the table and some yet to be conceived.

When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be!

We all were loved, I’m so sorry to have ever doubted.

For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. – John 1:16

Love endured, endures still.

So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love. – 1 Corinthians 13:11-13