mercy

What I Said

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

I’d be more than enough if I quietly painted and gave myself over to small and large pieces or thick papers that I stacked high or hung in the corner of one wall.

And I left them there, to be seen

or not.

I’d be more than enough in the eyes of God and I believe, the eyes of others, too.

I’d be more than enough if not a single soul read the words I pencil or peck out.

More than enough if later, a long time away maybe, my children and grandchildren got a glimpse of my faith and my falters and remembered me well.

I’d be more than enough, more than I can know, if they found their names written next to a little dot and they knew that God knew and that I knew too.

Because I’ve found my name in my grandmother’s Bible, faded black underlines and a delicate cursive “Lisa” in the margin.

It was something to see, significant.

I’m all out of sorts with the attention that comes with the calling, the calling to write, the calling to create.

What a fine line it is, thin and fine, between expression and validation.

Too much, Lisa.

Too much Lisa.

This morning, I’ve read a blog post from a writer who wrote about grace, her focus for “31 Days”.

Her disappointment over not being chosen yet again, her submission denied.

I commented “same here, I understand, show yourself some grace, I’ll take a little too”.

Then, remembered what I’d said when I’d been informed of my own no.

It was a clear declaration, a mindset proclaiming acceptance, it was all the right words.

“Yes, Lord. I see this no is your no and I see that you see me not writing devotions; but, the book.”

I was confident in my making the no a yes. Everyone agreed, oh my, what a way to make a no a yes!

Oh, yes.

No.

Then that sneaky feeling came back… the fat girl in the weird clothes whose name was last to be called in the “Red Rover, red rover, send…right over” or the one sitting up proper amongst the pretty and proper dying inside over “How soon can I leave this room, how much longer must I be on display?”

I went back to my default of quiet girl unnoticed, safe, no fear of not being chosen.

It was familiar.

But, somehow foreign.

So, I asked God the other morning in the shower,

I prayed. It was different, not different because of where I was, shower prayers are my daily, maybe odd to some thing.

Different, because it was certain and for sure feeling.

“Lord, what will you think if I just don’t write anymore, if I don’t finish what you told me start?”

I waited, the question was free flowing, like asking a friend “What do ya’ think? ” easy to ask and open for their reply.

I waited, knees resting.

Then this thought, an answer to my prayer question.

“Wouldn’t it be okay if I just keep it to myself, and you, God…pages and pages of the heart you know?”

I waited, relieved to no longer be toting ’round the worry over my worth based on my words.

But, He answered.

I saw myself there at the end of my days resting close by the one who knew me best.

He answered, it was a gentle and kind reply.

Lisa, I know you wanted to

and I

wish you

had.

I wish you had

trusted me more.

This morning, I’m reading about grace towards ourselves and I’ve pencilled in my daily prayer of Jabez in a new way, like a conversation, God’s replies added.

Oh that you would bless me indeed. (I have.)

Enlarge my territory (I have; but, you still long to hide away.)

That your hand would be with me.(Always, it is.)

So that I would not be in pain.

(It is not of my making, any pain that you are feeling. I have and will grant your request.) I Chronicles 4:10

I walk out into the damp grass before work, a mindless morning thing, remembering the Winter day we brought the Labrador home.

It was work. I kept at it. More effort and angst than I could have imagined. The morning thing, routine, schedule, energy let loose…toss a ball, say “good boy” , again again.

Some mornings I rushed. In a hurry, but determined, days that were hard, cold, icy, some humid and mosquitoes unrelenting. Others, I cherish, the geese flew over, a cardinal flitted by, the sky was wide and blue and the rhythm of our play, it was enough.

His retrieval, his reply.

He lumbered up next to my side this morning, now two years with us. My mind miles away and he’d finished his rounds along the fence line.

I looked down and met his eyes.

“Where’s your tennis ball?” I asked, just like the way I used to say “Where’s your paci or your blanket, your glove?”.

“Go find your tennis ball.” I told him.

Then, I waited.

He came back, the dirty and matted old ball sideways, hanging tight in his mouth.

“Good boy!” I said, threw the ball a long ways and he ran towards it again.

Again.

I’m thinking about trust, how it is not struggle, about how I make it hard work, make it hard, make it too much me, make it vain. Decide it’s never enough, my trust.

I toss again. Again.

Still thinking of settling here, this morning thing, this scribbling down of prayers, rambling and random thoughts expression of art, or word.

Enough.

And yet, fascinated by what might come with trust.

I’ve opened my Bible now and it falls open to the pages marked with crimson petals,

Find wisdom. Find reply.

“Then I observed that most people are motivated to success because they envy their neighbors. But this, too, is meaningless—like chasing the wind. “Fools fold their idle hands, leading them to ruin.” And yet, “Better to have one handful with quietness than two handfuls with hard work and chasing the wind.””

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭4:4-6‬ ‭NLT‬‬

So I’ll not sit idle, hands folded in my lap. I’ll be content with the one handful, not chasing after what might be in the hands of another.

I’ve gotten quiet today thinking about the contrast between strife and restful trust, motivation and following God’s lead to

go and find what is mine to catch and bring back.

Out of the blue, I hear from one of my “colors”.

Instead of saying, love you, how are you?, yes I’m still writing or hope to see you soon…

I say, “I’m ready to finish your chapter, up for a visit?”

“Yes”, she said.

And I have lyrics again, lyrics that come to mind.

“Only trust Him…

Only trust Him more.”

Linking up with others at Jennifer Dukes Lee. Click here to read and then share your love, your thoughts, your wisdom and words today with everyone around you!

Jennifer’s story of a man named Charlie, I’ve read again this morning as it’s the 19th year since my daddy died. His name was Charlie Ruel. He fought in the Korean War. He was a good looking man, sharp dressed, lover of the sound of a steel guitar and of my mama. He was a quiet man, not at jovial. When he spoke, he made sure his words were necessary, were beneficial. Tonight, I’ll go to Bible study. We’ve been discussing heaven and I pray I somehow hear from him, my daddy, Mr. Charlie Ruel Hendrix, the baby of his family.

Read here about Jennifer’s Charlie.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/dont-wait-tomorrow-say-needs-said-today/

All of it Grace

grace, mercy, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Unraveling slowly, so slowly, I gather my things needed for tasks and consider making a list. The sky last night, we knew we’d not be able to find the moon. Still, we emptied our thoughts underneath, together again.

I’m slow moving now and I suppose intentional in my avoiding the stuff to be done.

I might feel more on top of it all, if I made that list, might be anxious to get to that feeling of “see you got it all done, you did!”

Instead, I walk out back, the dogs impatient, and I hear the slow, soft rain.

I’m enveloped. I’m slow to go back in; I must greet the moist day with a grateful welcome, I decided, it’s been a while since it’s rained.

Then, I wonder again how to find the rest of the story, I’d only heard the beginning, the words somewhere recorded, of Tom Petty’s thoughts on Jesus.

I stay a little longer, barefooted in my nightgown and the beagle’s taking tip toe steps in the rain soaked grass.

The Lab has done his business and stands close by looking out, I wonder if he wonders why we are here still and in no hurry.

The crazy wild roses are soaking it all in and I go from thinking of grace to remembering the thunder in an instant.

When you look over your shoulder

And you see the life that you’ve left behind

When you think it over do you ever wonder?

What it is that holds your life so close to mine.

You love the thunder and you love the rain.

Jackson Brown, You Love the Thunder

And I’ve yet to make that list or journal my prayer and it’s three hours into my being awake and two from the time I have to do my first thing on my weekend schedule today.

Slow Saturday, I decided, its all grace, grace, grace.

Give a little bit, to you.

It’s all grace.

Every bit of it.

Someone asked what I think of when I think of grace, or how I might define it, an invitation to write about it.

I decided against responding, knowing the only thing I know is that I think of it every day and all day, I give it it’s due.

I know it’s all grace, only grace. Got me this far, leading me on.

She’s a good girl,

loves Jesus

and America too.

Tom Petty, Free Fallin ‘

Rain and dirt roads, good places, pretty good girls and grace, grace, grace.

Every bit of it, grace for us all, all of us.

“Grace be with all of you.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭13:25‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Book of Redemption

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

Redeemed, I woke up wondering and started my morning thing by writing it down…

redeemed

Underneath the date of today.

I’d picked the teal cup for my coffee, the one gifted me, unexpectedly.

I thought of the word, “redeem” and I went back to Bama’s, my grandma.

I saw her licking the stamps, sitting at the table rimmed in silver with yellow linoleum smooth surface, the place for our plates. I saw her filling up the books, the edges lined just right.

I thought I might ask to help, but always reconsidered, I watched her fill up her books.

Little paper books filled with them, S & H Green Stamps marked on the top with the word,

“Redeem”.

She shopped at the Piggly Wiggly and she redeemed the stamps she pasted into the books.

I never heard her say the word. She wouldn’t have, I don’t believe. She may have said “turn in my stamps” or “take my books to the S & H Green Stamp store”; but, I’m certain I never heard her say “redeemed”.

Yet, I woke up longing to grasp its meaning, “redemption”, in the way lately I’ve been focused on comprehending grace. I’ve felt it, celebrated it, been talking to myself about it…knowing truths like “were it not for grace and

grace, grace, grace”.

Unmerited favor. Yes, I know grace.

I almost give up on me at least three times a day. I get a little helpless and hopeless some days when I wonder why I’m still waiting for what I might not be quite sure I’m able to see come true. I get a little despondent over what not might come to be because of me not being me, bravely me.

So, I prayed this morning with last night’s truth on my mind, the stern hold on…don’t go there…I’d said to myself firm and redirecting…look how far you’ve made it, it would be so wrong to waste it, to not believe the uphill path is possibly not so scary high.

Oh, the books I could fill by now had I collected everything stamped “Redeemed”. You’d not believe the book filled with grace for falters and faults.

So, I’m rereading now, the pencilled in prayer wrote down quick and messy too early this morning:

I prayed.

Redeem my days, Lord Jesus, the ones inattentive or inconclusively sure of tomorrow, lost and aimlessly lulled into selfish and careless.

Those I squandered, let slip by, not including even the smallest consideration of your knowing me fully and lovingly waiting, loving.

And your knowing the entirety of my frame from way, so way back when, so clearly that you lined up my clumsy self

and you kept me from the deep ditches. You helped me find my way out of the others.

You saved me.

You brought me out.

You were with me.

Yes, I’ve been redeemed.

Redeemed, not wasted; surely

Redeemed, I will go

now and from now on,

Redeemed.

“Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.”

‭‭John‬ ‭8:10-11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and this truth: We are marked by God’s love not our mistakes.

Tell His Story

Getting Real

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

It’s a dim morning. Plans are being made and preparations began will be followed through.

My sister is breathing easy on the couch and I’m aware of the storm.

I sit, quietly.

I sometimes call them “epiphany” because I love the way it sounds.

To be in a quiet place and bit by bit by bit, it happens.

The change in way of seeing.

The slipping up on me of coming to a conclusion on my own.

Things wise or quick to correct people may have said, either as encouragement or a gentle chastise…

You must stop perceiving in this way.

This is not the way you should view life and its gift, its lessons, its living.

Somewhere today in my scanning devotion, Irma, weather and whatever I accepted a truth.

“Your value, Lisa… as you are now and as God sees in His plans for you are worth so much more than any past wrong doing or decision.”

The winds are causing trees to bend and the rain is sideways sheets.

I sit in the waiting room of a doctor who worked us in early, my son is wearing his college hoodie, caught the eye of the physician, an alum.

Small talk, talk only Citadel men understand.

I sit back. I’ve suggested what he say to the doctor who will be preparing him medically for international travel.

I remember my epiphany before the one most recent, God loves him greatly.

Unfathomable, but true.

God loves him more.

Jesus talked with his disciples, prepared them for their going on without him.

“All this I have told you so that you will not fall away.”

‭‭John‬ ‭16:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Stay strong, all will be well.

Recall what you’ve been told, what you know.

What you’ve seen me do for you and for you to believe by seeing.

And though they slept in the garden, he prayed, he prepared their way ahead.

There are new places my son’s feet will travel. There are new lessons to learn, new experiences to experience and encounters to encounter.

He will grow, I’ve prayed through the nights and more to come.

With God’s help, I’ve done my part.

Prepared his way.

#lethimfly

When I Listened

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, praise, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I found time to paint and with a chunk empty, I gave it to quiet distraction.

I took the apron from the nail on the wall and tied a loose bow around my waist.

Inundated with images of storms and ravaged places, I’d been hard on myself, “Is there something I could write, are there comforts I might provide here?”

But, I’ve nothing to add that might be worthy.

I’ve not weathered their storm.

For those who feel deeply, you’ll understand, how it was just so perplexing to me, to not connect with all the other “one anothers”.

I was systematic in my approach to canvas, tediously attentive to the grace I desired be displayed.

5 Angel Paintings, 5 hymns, one buyer of my art as Christmas gifts. I took my time, layering colors, blending over laid down with purpose lyrics.

And the girls, the slant of their shoulders, the sway of their gowns, the simplicity of their glances, I was resting with them, myself graced by the spreading of the paint and the perfecting of soft background.

Music playing, my Lauren Daigle station, all softness with a just a touch of James Taylor type folk.

It was a thoughtful time, my heart slowly responsive.

And then, a new song, and I decided quickly, oh…I know who needs this.

Listened to its telling the listener of her worth, of her value, her serenade…oh, realize you are loved.

Sat with this for a few, then sent it to a special someone.

Then, I second guessed my assumption of knowing her need and oh, my goodness why do I feel like it’s my job to lift the souls of everyone around me as if I of all people could possibly know the need of their own very soul?

But, the little bubble had the word “Delivered” underneath.

My head dropped to my lap and regret mixed with hope. Hope it’s taken as I meant.

Hope it’s okay.

Now, I’ll tell you what happened next if you promise you won’t think I’ve lost it, that I’m deeply and darkly sad or that I’m just way too deep.

Well, most likely you may already, oh well.

I’ll tell you because it was amazing.

I’ll tell you because I bet you’ve had extraordinary moments too, you just don’t share it with the world or a few curious and a few intrigued readers.

But, how might the world know? How might another soul find a similar song?

I listened again to the song, “Wonderfully Made” by Ellie Holcomb, mainly checking myself, and my like a “soul reader”, conclusion of her need of it’s word…and God’s

I sat with my 5 angel paintings awaiting deeper detail. My hands messy from blending and the desk a wreck of scattered tubes, brushes, pastels, pencils, pages of old hymns.

I’m messy. I am, I thought.

I listened.

It started soon and it started slow. My cheeks grew warm and then rivulets of tears fell, puddling just a second in the laugh line on either side of my lips and then slowly, slowly, easily, eventually sliding into the place I think is called clavicle.

Then, the song ended and I sat. No concern for being found in such a state or of my husband asking “What’s wrong?”

I would have said “Nothing.” and I would have meant it.

Simply taken by being taken to the place I needed to go, the place I needed to feel.

The song, well it’s beautiful in its message. I hope you listen. I hope it makes you cry.

I hope it causes you to know how beautifully, fearfully, wonderfully made you are despite your years, your days, your choices, your harms uninvited.

I hope you listen.

Wonderfully Made

I hope you cry when you believe the words to God’s song.

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭139:14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Oh, and little word changed to “Read”‘and then a reply of gratitude for my reaching out.

 

Linking up with Quietly Through today.  http://quietlyreminded.com/2017/09/07/hold-fast-quietly-thursday-link-14/

Enthuse Me to Believe

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I started with the two chapters my guide led me to, then read to the end.

Because I knew the end would give me hope, I knew the ending would set things right or at least enthuse me to believe.

Can you list the things too wonderful for you to know?

I read this from the Book of Job and it never fails, I want to say,

“Could you possibly find a better word there, could you consider using “challenging” or “heart-breaking” or maybe even “shameful”?

Wouldn’t it make sense just to say “unfair” or things you carry on your back like a sack of bricks ’cause you’re confounded wondering “How could I have done better…obviously, it’s my fault that this has happened, please show me, God.” ?

But, “wonderful”?

Job chose to respond to God after losing everything, I mean e v e r y t h i n g,

with words that expressed his understanding of His power and well, that He is God.

I read of the astute men questioning Job, backing him into a corner like the tiny room interrogation of a mislead and mistaken kid caught up in a crime and not at fault.

Everyone looking for an admission of what Job might have done to bring this on himself.

Years ago, I wrote a piece about speculation following the suicide of a young person. Good mamas and daddies lost sons and I heard stories of what tales were being woven over the teen’s choice to die. People speculating the horrors hidden by a family as a way to be certain it might never show up on their doorstep.

Job just listened to those who accused, cornered and questioned him. There had to be some hidden sin, had to be a reason God would destroy the life of such a fine man.

Job’s friends found no answer, so they found him in the wrong, went their way.

Another “burned with anger” towards Job because he justified himself rather than God.

His family had long abandoned him, telling him to curse God and die.

Words like rebuke, contend, assert and condemn, the themes of the chapters describing the attempt of others to understand why God had chosen close to death hardship for Job.

Then, the Lord speaks to Job. He listens and everything is changed.

Forlorn, frustrated, filthy and weak, he listens to God reminding Him who He is.

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

Can you send forth lightning strikes, that they may go and say to you, ‘Here we are?'”

Job 38:34-35

And I visualize Job listening like a child, quietly enthralled by His Father’s presence.

I like to think how it would have been to have God finally speak, the awe, the relief, the absolute welcome of his “coming through” just in time.

I see Job changing, almost a dead man coming back to life, his face more softened and longing to hear more.

Like a parent saying I love you, let’s talk, let me remind you of some things about my love for you.

We will begin again.

I’m still here for you.

Then God asked Job a question, “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty?” Job 40:2

And Job answered, with just a few words.

“Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth.” vs. 4

God continues to uplift and strengthen Job, comparing him to a most massive animal.

Job listens still and then responds with a confession and repentance, words so splendid, I long to never forget them.

“Then Job replied to the LORD: “I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’ Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭42:1-3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Confession? Repentance? But, I thought Job was blameless, thought he was one of God’s chosen and most righteous.

Yes, but he wondered why.

He sat in wonder and was abandoned by, surrounded by others who wondered.

He never succumbed to denying God, he only questioned.

He wondered.

Then, gently he was reminded of his speck of dust part in God’s great and wonderful world.

Yes, I’m enthused to believe.

There are hard things, changes, decisions that make no sense and come like a hard and unexpected kick of your feet from under you.

Rock bottom.

I love that Job questioned his plight.

I love more that he understood his inability to understand and that He still believed in God.

Job was restored and the friends who turned their backs on him, they were forgiven and restored.

Job asked God to forgive them.

“And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job’s more than his beginning.”‘Job 42:12

He’s not finished with me yet.

I’m enthused to believe.

God is here for me.

For you.

I’m linking this post up at Tell His Story with others who write.

img_7319-1

 

A beautiful story with beautiful photos in a beautiful place that took a time to become beautiful!  I love this post that causes me to think of the ways I visualize perfection and miss all the little imperfections that over time are made perfectly complete. Lord, help me to see you are the grand designer, not me.

Read here: 

When Life Doesn’t Go According to Plan

And then, to discover the Featured Writer is Meghan Weyerbacher is well, just more than enough, especially when I read how she keeps facing that big ole mountain and it’s not moving, so she decides to take it down little chunks at a time and more than quite okay with her progress. Yes, I loved this piece. Meghan is an encourager. She reads my blog. Call me naive or not confidently “writerly”, but, that means the world to me!

This!  

You see, I had always pictured the verse Mark 11:23 to be like an instantaneous happening. Every now and again I feel like if I pray and a mountain doesn’t move, that I don’t have enough faith or what it takes to do what I truly believe God led me to do.  Meghan Weyerbacher

Grace, I Pause

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

This morning the tiny icon shaped like a bell said, “Congratulations, it’s your anniversary. You’ve been blogging four years!”

Oh my! I don’t dare read the first year or so, convinced I’ve made no progress or worse yet, I’m in the same old place.

The timing of the announcement collided head on with seven or so paragraphs in draft where I’d once again belabor the significant or insignificant challenge that battled back and to.

Got a little taste of accolade occasionally and I found myself hungry, starving for me, miserably full, filled.

Full of myself.

So, that piece, it’s staying in the draft for now, hopefully forever, while I come to terms with the reality of this space I write, what it’s been, what it should be becoming.

I came home tonight on wet roads and under little pockets of orange behind thickness of dark clouds.

This morning the Rose of Sharon plant towering late summer, brought me back to a place I’d been missing, the pause.

I was intentional, opening myself to the beauty that should fill me again, not striving to see; instead, finding what might come in the pause.

The place where I remembered not to seek, instead waiting to have little thoughts come to mind with no expectation, only patience.

Like falling from above, landing ’round my feet, scooped up and brought to my chest, allowed to rest near my heart.

I’d gotten away from simplicity, I’d been sipping the juice of significance and I was thirsty, so desperately thirsty for more.

My longing for notice becoming impossible to quench.

I wondered what is this blogging I do if nothing more than a pink diary and your sister found the key?

I considered the way I’ve reacted to a tiny bit of glory.

Paintings selling, guest posts and strangers saying they hope I never quit writing.

Too much, Lisa.

Having a taste of it made me strive to be filled and in that scrounging for another little morsel of praise, I lost my voice, the thing I call treasure. I’d made joy ugly effort; I’d pressured myself to be measured by most everything other than my worth decided already by my Heavenly Father.

Too much Lisa

So, I sat.

I thought, I slept and prayed. I stumbled upon truths and began to believe in what I’d decided a “treasure” again.

Stepped back and away to come back not better, not broken, or made hard from shame.

Instead, softer like glow, welcome home.

I pray I learn to write this way, a soft but, still brave way…that I not spill my angst all over the page, contradictory to my declared quiet confidence.

I pray I wait.

Wait to be filled, my heart bursting with longing to tell, so that my writing be so graceful and grace-filled it will be quite clear it’s only grace

Grace that’s brought me thus far.

And there will be a reader or two or three who might have heard of grace ad nauseam; but, maybe might all of sudden wonder…

Could grace be for me? Could the grace that found Lisa Anne find me too?

That will be glory, that will be glory to God.

To know my words cause wonder, cause another to wonder…What is this mercy? Who is this Jesus?

Perhaps, I should know.

This is how I shall write I pray, not tripping over self into the abyss of bottomless searching for significance, for notice.

Satisfied in the place of pause, abandoned and found again in the place I remember to whom goes the glory.

From whom I’ve become acquainted with the knowledge of grace.

“May grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.”

‭‭2 Peter‬ ‭1:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Where I’m Going

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, heaven, mercy, Prayer, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

“And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb.”

‭‭Revelation‬ ‭21:23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Out of the blue,

Sleepy from the weekend, falling into half slumber and

I couldn’t stop thinking of her,

my cousin who died too soon.

It’s not that her birthday’s this month.

Nor my lack of recall of where I was in my life when she left or why I on earth I couldn’t remember.

Well, yeah it was that for a bit. So much that I googled her pretty name and began to remember again, sort of.

Then right away turned to thoughts of her life lived wide open and how I might feel to see her there.

Waking this morning, thinkin’ about the way I’m walking now and where I’m going.

My “In Touch” devotion today tells me I’ll know I’m growing in the measure of my spiritual walk by 3 things:

A deeper hunger for Jesus,

a sharper discernment of my sin,

my sphere of loving others without reservation will enlarge.

These are true, not as inconsistent.

But,  there’s a 4th.

I’ve become more captivated by the promise of heaven.

Before, I think sometimes I thought of heaven vaguely,

a distant place of maybe.

All the good and hopeful things to come here on earth sometimes blurring my vision of the unimaginable greatness there.

So, my prayer Lord, thank you for the grace here on earth that astounds me,

literally astounds me

over the ways you’ve poured your love over and around me through most everything I know.

Thank you God, for the certainty of heaven!

 

 

Telling Myself a Story

bravery, courage, Faith, mercy, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Summer is turning blooms brittle, the beauty fading and soon, Autumn will scatter all about the fullness of planted and grown, the seeds made complete.

Every day has been a day closer to surrender of my dream, the seed planted I know for sure in the soil of my soul.

Until I remembered what I’d written, a very long time ago, a note in the back of a book.

A declaration on the back page, why out of nowhere I remembered, no clue.

I was quiet, must have been the getting quiet, finally.

Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life…I Thessalonians 4:11

And the idea that’s pending completion had not been thought of back then, not at all.

I’ve circled ’round and ’round asking how, what, when to begin and keep going and what direction to take.

Blamed it on time, less than the best of computers and distractions welcome and otherwise.

Circling around chasing my tail, looking behind not ahead nor even now.

But, last night I decided it will be letters, the chapters I write, a manuscript made book by letters.

Because I thought of it and breathed an all alone and audible, “oh, yes, yes”.

And I decided they’ll be brave and true, the chapters.

But, not too, too hard to read.

And I’ll know this because if I can hardly handle the words that tell my story, it will surely be misery, laborious for another to read.

Yes, I’ve decided that and feel quite “writerly” in the decision.

I will write, honorable and honoring tributes to the ones I’ve called the “colors of my Bible”, women who loved me, still do.

I’d been so critical, calling myself lazy, a failure and then last night, driving home towards orange horizon, remembered the note in the back of a book I read every single morning.

If I could write a letter to them, the ones who remember, it would be about how God has changed me, saved, me kept me. I’d want them all to know and that would be my book. Me 8/1/13

And almost two years ago this idea I call my “treasure” began with a letter.

Surely, I believe it should continue just the same.

 

Linking up with other storytellers…Telling His Story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/put-dukes-happiness-hard-find/

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Today, a Good Day

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Today, someone stopped by and assured me she’s doing every day what I told her to do.

Just take the next step, look for something good every day.

“That’s why I keep doing it because you said so.”

Another friend suggested I begin to place value on my art, described me as emerging.

What a hopeful word.

Still another commented, “It’s good your children have you as their mother, so in tune with them”

She was genuine, her words spilling over. I held them close to my chest, still am.

I saw a high school friend of my daughter’s, her face beaming beauty, and answered when asked about my girl “She’s the same as you, so in love, it’s evident” and she smiled a smile I know her mama loves to see like me.

My age was disputed by a happy young woman at the grocery checkout, no way you could qualify for the senior discount.

I walked today, music in my ears, swiftly and with a passion.

Not pressing, pushing, I’m so much stronger now.

Back again to the place of being amazed by the sky and the places where the clouds hang majestic until I turn my corner home to notice the going down pale pink in the pines, end of day.

I’d not forgotten the good, had just not remembered the joy in keeping account of the day.

Until she stopped by to see me and we both remembered.

“I’m praying God brings something good to you today, so good, impossible not to notice.”

“For he satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭107:9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It was good, today a good day.