mercy

Shown the Way

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, heaven, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Serving, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability

A skinny stretch of sunlight lays across the rug and I’m captivated by the idea of a path, a choice, a plan and its leading.

I do this. I’d not say so, were it not true. I wake with slow unveiling and I soon find my confirmation in the unfolding.

“Follow that thought…there’s more for you to see, follow that train, that starting point, that pointing of the way through me.”

God, to me on this pretty morning.

This morning, I woke with the thought “How do I know the way?”

Then I read a friend’s blog post about walking in the deep spaces in the snow, her teenage grandson’s footsteps.

He lead the way, not wanting her to slip and fall.

I searched for the passage in John about “the way” and found Thomas asking Jesus what they’re supposed to do, how are they to know the way?

I continued on in Chapter 14 and found another question, Phillip asked Jesus to show him the way. I love this little epiphany God planned for me this morning, that the writer ended Jesus’ reply with an exclamation mark!

I tried to imagine Jesus reassuring me, so adamantly it would merit exclamation.

I began to sense the urgency, the hope that they, that I, that we might finally believe based on what we’ve seen, what we’ve survived, what we have made it through and all the stories of Jesus all around us through others whose lives Jesus touched, lives held in His embrace.

Like Phillip, I’m honest about my doubts, I keep asking to be shown more as an indication that all will be well.

Phillip wanted to see God the Father, wanted to be sure and Jesus said you’ve seen Him fully, faithfully through me already

and all around.

Yes, I have.

“Jesus replied, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and yet you still don’t know who I am? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father! So why are you asking me to show him to you?”

‭‭John‬ ‭14:9‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Our lives are nothing short of miraculous if we consider all we’ve been given, been brought through, most of all been promised. All the times we’ve been “shown the way” through Jesus to the Father.

Apples of His Eye

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I fell asleep trying to remember what I’m supposed to do if my car starts to slide on the slick road touched by just a smattering of snow.

I believe I decided not to slam down on the brakes, not to jerk the wheel, to sort of allow the slide into a safe place to rest.

It’s a phenomenal occurrence, snow in southern South Carolina.

patiently waiting for snow

I made a plan, I’d just follow the pull and trust the direction.

My first thought in the dark of early morning deciding to rise or linger, “I’m not who I was.”

I asked my son last week, “Why do you think so many planes are skidding off the runways?”

And his analysis was different than mine, starkly different and obviously more expert in comparison since the only plane I’ve ever boarded was a crop duster with a farm boy hoping to impress me.

He said the runways are slick, it’s winter and the pilots in some foreign countries are simply not as well trained and perhaps, not as attentive or exact.

Oh, okay.

Slightly veering off course might be to be expected.

I met someone yesterday who wore the evidence of faith on her face.

Someone who’s appointment was timely, my faith faltering, getting off course and on the cusp of falling over fear’s cliff.

I’d not seen her in two years and our meeting had a serious purpose, still just as before we began to talk about our faith.

She’d had a medical emergency, simple procedure led to sepsis and she, according to the more skilled physician who she feels saved her life, had only a day between living and dying.

I told her I saw it, I saw how her eyes expressed the stillness of hope, the assurance of God, the unwavering trust in Him that caused her cheeks to be lifted happily, her jaw relaxed into a calm perseverance.

Her countenance had changed, a serenity from strength.

We smiled.

She thanked me, thanked me for noticing.

I wondered if she needed to be reminded or if she saw my need of reminding.

I sometimes do. I’m easily taken back to a place of unworthy, unable, incapable.

Powerful words have been spoken over me, for me, through me and yet, I feel less capable than ever before.

Trauma lingers, woven early on or fallen into as we go, sometimes our own fault, other times harsh circumstances from heavy, hate filled arms and loud voices.

She knew. We both know, hurts and harms linger and become the gauge for our worth and ability.

I teeter on the edge, close to going from not sure I can to despondent…oh, well I just won’t.

We walked together towards the door and embraced. I’m going to be praying for you, she said and I told her I’d be doing the same.

We both agreed that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, that God knows full well that He has good for us.

We agreed that Satan knows as well, just as well.

We carry doubts, fears, anxieties and insecurities that rush over us like a hard knock me down wave in the wide,wide ocean.

Facing the shore, considering all of the good things awaiting me, I stand solitary and stoic, convinced I will finally be the me God sees, then I feel the ocean underneath changing, pulling, pulling, pulling from behind.

From before.

Before, when I wasn’t who I am.

Do I surrender to the strong and angry sea hoping to level my soul, even drown me or do I turn towards the wave, confront its instigating and gracefully allow it to carry me forward, hold me in its strong embrace?

And realize I’m not so small, I’m strong.

I’ll be strong, I’ll be stronger than I’ve ever known.

“My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped. I call upon you, for you will answer me, O God; incline your ear to me; hear my words. Wondrously show your steadfast love, O Savior of those who seek refuge from their adversaries at your right hand. Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings, from the wicked who do me violence, my deadly enemies who surround me.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭17:5-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“I’m not who I was.” my waking thought and now that day is done and

I’m safely home, not skidded off track or pulled back by the hand of doubt, my destination still, with God, my faithful pursuit.

Today, a good day, with just a smattering of snow.

Today, even more distant from who I was and closer to who God has me to be.

The apple of His eye.

Misery and Motivation

Angels, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Yesterday, I read somewhere about the way Jesus cherished Peter, the disciple who denied Him.

I’m thinking this morning, of what motivates me to follow, to know each day invites my turning to God. Morning new mercies are motivation enough; still I let misery take over in regards to what I don’t see and well, I get better at recalling the mercy unending, better as I go.

It astounds me how Jesus knew it would be Peter to deny Him and how he knew and told Peter, “You will, and I’ll confirm my knowing of your choice not to stay loyal by the sound of a rooster, crowing two times to announce your denial.”

“And immediately the rooster crowed a second time. And Peter remembered how Jesus had said to him, “Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.” And he broke down and wept.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭14:72‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It astounds me the way the disciples saw so much healing, so much mercy and kindness and were doubtful at times.

I’d love to have met some of the ones healed; the leper, Lazarus, the woman who could not stop bleeding and the man who thought he’d never see. I would treasure talking with Martha, the sister like me who couldn’t slow down long enough to believe; but, then did.

Signs and wonders, yet Thomas needed to see the open wound, needed to touched the body of Jesus, pierced in order to have us believe.

“So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side.

Do not disbelieve, but believe.”

‭‭John‬ ‭20:25-27‬ ‭ESV‬‬

How miserable he surely must have been in his disbelief, to say he would never believe! I wonder just how amazed he was, if his seeing and touching increased his believing or if he continued for all of his days praying for help in his miserable disbelief.

I believe he was motivated by his former misery.

I used to say all sorts of little “motivational mantras” to my children when they were athletes. I must have surely annoyed them to the point of nausea, that and the mandatory daily banana!

Thankfully, if there was eye-rolling, it was not in my presence.

Yes, I am fortunate, I know.

One of my bits of wisdom was:

You can be miserable or you can be motivated. Me

Every bit of wisdom I shared, I was saying so much more clearly back to myself.

It’s the same with my sharing here, on social media or in personal encounters. I’m encouraging, redirecting myself every step of the way, with every exchange.

I believe Peter was more motivated when Jesus invited him again to follow. I believe Thomas’ testimony more profound because Jesus granted him extra mercy to make up for his debilitating doubt.

Me too. I’m motivated by His unending and more than expected mercy.

Turn us to you, God. Show us a life other than miserable doubt and inconsistent faith.

Motivate us Lord, to recall that you are mindful of us and mostly that you’d never choose misery for us; we choose it for ourselves and it surely can be used for good, for motivation to follow, to believe.

I’m thankful for the FMF prompt of motivate. I’ve exceeded the 5 minutes allowed; but I’ll share knowing there’s also mercy in this group of followers who motivate me, one another!

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/04/fmf-link-up-motivate/amp/

Recollecting Providence

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Redemption, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

A Christmas card from one I thought might not pull through, one I was worried maybe I’d done all and it had not been enough.

One who I thought my help may have run dry, she says

“Thank you for believing in me.”

I reply, “We are all in need of grace.”

A gift of a doll from my daughter. I wanted one being tossed from a float in a Christmas parade on that Sunday afternoon.

A child caught and kept one, gave it to his 1st grade teacher.

The teacher told him her mama wanted one.

He said, “I know, that’s why I brought it.”

Some call this serendipity.

I consider it providence.

Providence,

protective care of God or protective care of God or of nature as a spiritual of nature as a spiritual

I’m embroidering tiny little knots of floss in bright colors onto stockings for Christmas.

I’m struggling to thread the needle and I’m finding myself much like my grandmother wetting the thread to push through the eye of the needle, squinting and

Holding my mouth just so.

But, the most special thing is a little girl who told my daughter that Santa Claus is Jesus’ helper, he helps Jesus with the gifts.

And I’ve been thinking about it since I heard this, how I wish I’d thought to say the same.

But, deciding it’s quite okay to believe now, now and maybe later with grandbabies to help them to believe in Santa and in Jesus

and in helping.

Mostly in helping without ceasing.

In being someone another might know they had not stopped believing, believing

in.

Peace – Conscious of Christmas

Advent, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Is it harder now to find places to sense peace, to be conscious of Christmas?

Most things we do feel like a production, a scurrying, a hurried and hectic undertaking.

I spoke a little too sternly yesterday about all the noise driving me crazy. Another person said they were getting “addled” and I was thrilled to know someone was likeminded.

She quickly told me though, not nearly so much as you.

Yes, I know.

I knew.

Others just waited for the noise to settle down as if they all were resting in a bubble of peace, a comfortable and softly draped wrap of serene.

This week of Advent, the preparation for the birth of Jesus, asks me to consider peace.

On Saturday morning, I stood close to the edge of wooden dock on a misty cold marsh. Large oaks all around and their branches fat from age and layered with growth of bright green fern.

I considered and am still, could this be my church? Is this place and sometimes others I find, the place I am made to worship God?

I assure you it feels quite so.

Free of busy and business, just me and sometimes one or two others approaching whole body and soul a place we are called to by our longings?

A congregation consisting of white birds trying to avoid our cameras and a wide, wide sky?

I’m sure that’s not God’s desire, a solitary island dweller, he didn’t design me to be.

But, oh how at peace I am in the places I get alone with quiet and Him.

To notice God.

I’m different, I suppose, craving quiet and being made anxious by disorder.

He is my peace.

Not my surroundings nor those in my midst.

He himself is my peace.

I’m reminded in the quiet.

Peace that can’t be manufactured, demanded or insisted upon; but, that emanates from within me keeping me calm when all around is so very uncalm.

That’s the call to Christmas, the call to seek peace, surround ourselves in it and get immersed again in the story of the starry night, the Holy Night when peace was born.

“Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth”

The weary me, the weary world rejoices.

Night, divine. A night divine.

The night, the day, the moment divine when peace came near, made itself clearly known.

Still does, I call it ” noticing God”.

“In sin and error pining, until He appeared

and the soul felt its worth.”

O’ Holy Night.

Oh, to be seen as one with worth because of the Holy night, the Holy one, not at all because of what I do or anything I’ve done.

It’s been a tough couple of days with shifts and situations gone awry.

Not sure why things happen, wonder what might could have made it different.

Things that made, make no sense.

I bolted from church last night, it had become too noisy, too busy, too much a feeling like a clamoring for what might make one feel worthy.

I drove under the starry sky back home like escaping.

And I rested once home and woke this morning to read about peace, this week’s Advent focus.

Found myself peaceful, again. It was a welcome, I assure you, to come back to a place of peace.

A friend heard I’d never read a special book at Christmas and so she gifted me last week.

I’m grateful for her deciding to send it my way, gifting me in an intentional way.

I love her for it.

I broke my rule this morning about pencil marks on pages and I underlined and circled the words that spoke peace to me, made me more conscious of Christmas.

More understanding of peace

More conscious of Christmas.

And peace because of Christ.

So, if you’re alive today, sing redemption’s song.

Louie Giglio

Sing your song.

Do your dance, your quiet sway of peace.

I know I’ll do mine.

A Blessing Simply

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, marriage, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Yesterday began with creamy oatmeal, warm in my lap and just a touch of the crunch of peanut butter.

I believe I shall have this today as well.

Made a pot of soup later and had a whole house quiet til afternoon.

“It’s a blessing,” he said, as I questioned whether I’d need a jacket to walk the dog.

The temperature just right and he’d come in from the country place where his parents lived before they died.

I ventured out and walked all the way around. We met three little girls who were new to the neighborhood and bouncy with their bubbliness “a dog!” I heard one say.

So, I eased him over and had him sit while I guided their tiny hands, one at a time to pet him. They smiled big dimpled smiles, one with chocolate on her cheek and their hair was all tousled and let be.

We walked on and I unleashed him on the trail, he started into a little trot and I walked slightly ahead then called him to come back.

As we turned back to the main road, I saw them there, their backs bent and their faces close the ground. The rhythm of their work so simple their eyes never rose to meet us.

An empty lot, a new home unoccupied and the lawn already laid down in pieces, someone had smoothed the pine straw in a sort of kidney-shaped border amongst the pines.

A few more feet we walked and I saw the determined face of the wife, not the husband. Her long gray hair fell over her face, her hand smoothing it behind her ear, I thought her eyes will see us; but, she carried on with her picking up and dropping into a bucket.

Not a sound, not a word, no invitation for how are you or what a pretty day, obliging conversation.

I thought of their tranquility as I walked on, thought of their solitude and silence, together.

The task at their hands wasn’t their responsibility, but a choice.

As if all the pine cones had been picked up from their yard already, just around the corner and they sought and found another place to do the work of their hands, the work of a simple life.

We came to the place where the three daughters now live and seeing us from far off, the oldest must have planned it just right as they skipped towards the end of their driveway to see the dog again.

Fascinated by his softness, their voices soft and admiring, I allowed them a little more time to be little, captivated by their sweet faces and the joy of their conversation.

We headed back up the hill, the big Lab relaxed into a saunter and I thought wow, he was right, it’s a blessing, this day.

This simple day.

The evening came and I thought of them again, the couple uninterested in us, singing the song of solitude, of silence, a simple life.

Then lyrics found their way in and the thought of this season, a simple season of love and grace understood more clearly, held much closer to an embrace. I thought of Alison Krauss and went searching because I remembered her wanting something simple like that.

Simple Love

A love song seemed fitting, more than enough, so I sang it.

Yesterday was simple, in its solitude. I believe today I shall find it too, grace, mercy, peace, and love. Find it unexpectedly when not looking or not so a surprise in my seeking.

Because yesterday had room to breathe, it was made of open spaces and things just fell into them without agenda. And God gave me grace and since I’d decided, not sure why, it didn’t seem an intentional choice, to rest from berating myself for what not done; or the agony of the fear over never being done, I was open.

Open to mercy, to love, then came peace.

“May God give you more and more mercy, peace, and love.”

‭‭Jude‬ ‭1:2‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I’m linking up with others here: nitaojeda.com/2017/11/26/imm-november-12/

Jennifer Dukes Lee spoke so much truth here, thank you seemed like never enough:

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/dont-get-know-time/

About Grace

bravery, Faith, grace, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

The most beautiful things in life are lost in our searching for more, I believe.

Like looking for what you think might be phenomenal, if you could only capture it, to notice later something there all along you’d considered only as a backdrop.

Grace is like that.

It waits for us to notice it’s there, been there all along.

She sat down, had not intended to, was slipping away from the crowd, I suppose, to be alone.

But, I was there and so she paused. We began to talk and we began to listen.

We both had thoughts, both had frustrations, both had hopes that had yet been fulfilled.

Things in common, things we wondered why and stuff we’d like to see done differently and if only others would be brave enough to consider…we were in agreement.

The conversation shifted when I saw the longing in a young woman on the cusp of her future eyes, a little glossed over.

So, I thought I might try my best to talk about grace, about living and walking and breathing and hoping in the air we breathe called grace.

I didn’t say it all the way I wished I could. I saw myself in her, miserably questioning everything in life, missing the trees for the forest of questions, considerations, doubts, and fears.

I told her of when I’m at my best; but, I tripped all over my words trying to help her see.

I am at my best when I am living in a way that says I am walking with grace, on grace, through grace.

(That’s not what I said; but, it is what I tried to say.)

When I don’t discount grace. When I don’t treat grace like a compliment over a blouse in the back of my closet…like saying Oh, grace…yeah it found me and I kept it but I must have forgotten about it…but, I’m glad it’s still there….can’t imagine why since I’d forgotten about it. Man, I feel bad about that grace I hung in the back of my closet, so I can’t really say it’s mine ’cause I didn’t act like it was mine to wear.

I do not at all understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.

Anne Lamott

Grace is defined as unmerited favor.

But, that doesn’t mean we have to walk around feeling undeserving.

Making apologies for getting it as a gift.

I told her to look for grace. To stop looking for answers, to walk and sit and sleep with that grace. She’ll know when she’s living in light of grace, breathing the air it’s in.

To revel in that grace and to wait for what revelation will come from her time of not questioning, not distracting, not deciding on discontent over things that are not of our concern.

Not for now, wait. Rest.

Well, I didn’t tell her then; I wish I had. I am now.

Telling us both, what I know about grace.

How I’m wishing now we’d spent more time talking about grace instead of all the places we’d gone wrong, found to be wrong.

And I believe we both know now. We shared, we listened. We were in agreement, we were confused, we were challenged and we confided.

It was grace that brought us there.

Grace will see us through.

Will not leave us where we were found.

 

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and other writers at Tell His Story. This week she’s sharing a brightly colored PDF to remind me to be grateful every day!

Check it out and start being intentionally grateful!

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/join-us-30-days-gratitude/

Hope Not Harm

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Writing, prompted by the word “Overcome”

Last week, I prayed before getting out of my car for work, opened my eyes towards my open palm and was awakened to the truth of my life becoming too noisy, my telling of things to myself and others just a little too tender, too tough to know, to remember. I was reminded of my strength, my hope, my faith, my love, my peace, of what is true. I was reminded of the quiet me, the quiet confidence.

Delicate charms and a strong timepiece I wear, gifts given by those who know me well, I know this well, I am loved.

I was reminded.

I came to a place that made me see I’d not actually overcome some things and instead, I’m still prone to them overcoming me.

That harm, not keep me hoping.

It may change my course altogether of the plan of God I’ve called my treasure and I may actually be closer to living what I believe, to believing more consistently the little things I say, to hope not harm.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I use little bits of wisdom here and there like “My story was just a story, then God became a part and he made it a testimony.” or “God’s not finished with me yet.” or one I have painted in softly colored capital letters covering the length of an old piece of wood, “Live What I Believe.”

Only pleasantries really, if all I do is say them, post them, share them.

My good intentions got tripped up I found myself falling backward, back into the place of misery and memories. Not for long, the warning was clear, clearer than ever and not a correction, a consolation now.

I spoke of overcoming trauma, hinted at freedom; yet, I became close to being overcome by it.

It hurt, not healed.

It hindered my faith, did not help my hope.

Father, thank you for making me attentive, for seeing the worth of me and my story. For showing me the way forward, the way of hope not harm. May I not be overcome by my own telling. May my words bring hope, not harm.

Because of your mercy, I pray.

Amen

me

Linking this post up here: http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/10/26/overcome-day-27/

img_0476

 

Turning Corners

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I saw them first. Up ahead, maybe the distance of two cars or three.

We’d need to go left. They’d be going right.

I stepped it up. My face down, eyes up, are they closer, do they see us?

No idea if they were female or male, four of them gaining on us, I knew we had to get there first. I pulled left. He pulled right.

We can do it. I’m fast. You’re strong.

We got this!

They zeroed in towards us. He saw, “No sir.” I said.

Eyes met.

“No sir,” I said and he made a sound like oh I want to bark so bad or scream but, I’ll hold back.

Then they let loose, yipping yapping, yipping yapping, four white fur balls perfectly coiffed bouncing along the asphalt out of control, black lines twisting here and there leashes turning round and round.

He stepped in step with me, his body by my side, but turned all awkward and his head tilted back with a half-hearted plea of a bark fading away into silence.

Good boy, good boy.

We were free, had made it to the track making for a long way around.

It was getting dark. But, we were good and

Free.

Free and clear now, free.

We made it to the straightaway and since the sky was turning dark blue and the air felt so very clean, we ran.

We ran a rhythmic run. No strain, no push, no expectation.

We ran. Then, we walked and then because it occurred to me I could, we ran again.

Downhill, feet clapping happy claps on the pavement. We ran with abandon.

Then turning towards home, oh my goodness.

It’s dark.

We stopped at the place where we stop and he sat under the crescent moon and I waited.

We crossed to the other side of the road and ran a solid and determined run about a block back home.

Progress unintentional for me, to run.

Progress for me today.

A blog post waits in draft status, been there three whole days, all about tender hearts and hope and falling apart to be put back together by the one who made me.

Three attempts to move it from draft to published.

Probably, maybe trashed. Yes, I think so. I’d gotten all tangled up conveying how my heart became tender, how it felt like a consequence for oversharing here. I had an idea of something big and breakthrough I wanted others to know. It was my heart that wasn’t so much hard-hearted; but, that needed to be okay with being soft, open to a gentle handing, willing to rest in my Father’s hands.

For whatever reason, I couldn’t string the words together and then the draft wasn’t the draft I’d saved. Okay, I told myself, not touching that again and tried to forget about how significant it was, the realization of my need to let go my defenses, my strong facade.

Maybe too fixed up, too contrived, too well-groomed; but, yet held tight by the leash that holds back called comparison, approval, like or compliment in a comment.

Maybe I’d given it the wrong attention, or too much.

I’m the grandma for my son’s dog who was abandoned on the side of the road. Adopted from a shelter.

Not wanted, not trained.

Yet, well-mannered. Attentive, understanding and amenable.

Not at all concerned with being a good dog, just “good boy”.

My cousin told me I shouldn’t throw my pearls to swine.

I understand now, I should save my most truly me thoughts turned words for those who might be open to their meaning and message.

Much like taking off with the untrained but, well-mannered Labrador to avoid the approach and possible attack of the fancy and trained yet, unable to behave pedigrees.

I worry over my words amongst the words of others and then I waver.

I wander.

I’ll keep walking. I’ll keep noticing. I’ll keep writing about noticing and walking and running and skies and sunsets and yes, yes, yes…

about God who reminded me to cry, who brought me a place where I slightly fell apart in a late night hard cry, only to say.

I’m taking that heart of stone you’ve decided is what kept you confident, brave and strong and I’m making you tender again,

making you open, making you, you.

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭36:26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Helping you run with feet softer, more sure of being safe, more knowing you’re free.

More okay with the decision to run.

 

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee who shares some very good advice on who to keep near. 

Visit here:http://jenniferdukeslee.com/four-kinds-friends-need/

img_7319-3

Weep No More

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, grace, marriage, mercy, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I tweeted “me too”, not even close to the allowable character limit, my sentence vague and just a hint of reference to my past.

Others have declared loudly and clearly their memories of being ravaged, manipulated, tried and terrorized.

I tweeted how it’s with me still, how I’ll never not be bothered by the battering.

It’s the fabric of me, woven and sewn into my story, I use it to try and strengthen others on days I’m strong.#MeToo

I saw her yesterday, her jeans too big, I wanted to ask why. Her walk the same, determined and continuing forward, still just her. It has been lately.

She walks alone now.

I saw her the first time this year in early Spring. She walked looking down mostly, her face towards the sidewalk. There was the empty space of two or three people blank between her and a man.

The air was cool still, requiring a jacket or sweater and hers hung over her shoulders. Her body reminding me of a wire hanger and she’d not lined up the garment’s seams.

Her jeans were off kilter, they hung askew and I thought she must be bothered by being unable to keep them up; but, decided she’d learned to make the best of hard things, pants not fitting, the least of concerns. Her shoes barely showing from the drag of hem, their flat soles like a piece of old cardboard. I imagined the sound of denim touching concrete, seemed similar too a lull.

Yet, she walked on. I wondered where she goes. I saw her face only slightly in my mirror glance as I passed by on my way towards my day.

Her long hair, unattempted uncontrolled, I longed to approach her, to know her well enough to gently tuck the long strands of dark hair behind her ears. I longed to know her in a way that she’d welcome my gesture. I created a story in which I could tell her my story, one that would include “me too” as I’ve seen her now unaccompanied by the man.

But, I’d be wrong to assume, wrong to demand conversation, wrong to open a wound she may have begun to heal.

Because, I’ve been drawn in to the stories of others who said “Me too”. I was pulled in, applauded braveries and became both captivated and courageously angry over others like me.

I thought of Hagar, the maid forced to give a barren woman a child. Hagar, manipulated and groomed for something someone else felt was their right. She was used for sex then shamed for giving in, for complying with the demands of those who hoarded over.

She did what they wanted and was quickly discarded.

But, God saw her. He met her and told her good will come from this, good towards you and from these abusive and harmful actions by one who used their control.

Good will come. Hagar believed God and it changed her course. Changed the course of mankind.

“So she called the name of the Lord who spoke to her, “You are a God of seeing,” for she said, “Truly here I have seen him who looks after me.”

‭‭Genesis‬ ‭16:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I hope to see her again, the woman who walks every morning. But, I’ll not invite conversation or long to know I’m wrong or right about my assumptions.

I’d welcome the chance to know; but, I’d no longer force my way in, beg her to tell.

Last night, I woke my husband. I screamed out “No…..!” in my sleep. I was dreaming. I was in a room. I saw the shadow of ominous shoulders, so large and overpowering outside my window. I waited. I knew he’d be coming inside. I cowered into the corner. He raised both arms and pushed me hard into a corner.

I moaned, “No…..”

It scared him, my husband said, has said before.

He woke me, gently pulling me free,

Lisa, Lisa, Lisa.

I shifted under the covers.

Placed my hand on my chest and said no more me too, no more, and slept soundly and languished long, woke deciding I’ll not go back there, to the place of being damaged by men who made me a “Me Too”.

I’ll trust the God who has brought me through and my story will be as strong as God has promised, has made good on His promise.

But, it won’t be sorrowful and it will scare me no more.

I pray if my story is to be told it won’t cause remembrances that bring forth fear, fear from those places healed; that I’ll not cause the opening of old wounds.

I’ll keep walking forward in the way that brought healing.

I’ll walk like the woman I long to know, determined in her way, her shoulders more level, her face steadily more uplifted each morning I pass.

I’ll keep looking ahead and remember the wisdom of someone more than half my age, it doesn’t help to hold onto the bad things that happened before. They happened, move on.

Walking forward, never backward, lest I allow myself to be tripped again by fear.

“…you shall weep no more. He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry. As soon as he hears it, he answers you. And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:19-21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m linking up with other writers to Tell His Story here:

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/control-think-free-printables/