Called “Precious”

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Y’all, I often minimize things or maybe it’s my pattern of not getting too excited about the way my life plays out. It’s not humility, the good kind of staying meek and quiet; it’s truly being joy-filled to the point of oh, my goodness can’t believe I’m seeing this stuff happening in my life.

It’s quiet confidence making itself embraceable, tangible.

And to think, I’ve only just barely begun to surrender!

“Do not fear, only believe.” Jesus

You might find it small. I consider it God showing me more clarity every day and that I am loved. Nan Jones found my blog through another blogger. She asked me to write. She first asked me about what is happening in my life now, what are my prayers, what is on my heart. I answered by telling of my prayers for my daughter’s healing and she asked me to write about it.

At first, it was all fluff then I decided to be truthful about fear and believing, the lessons I’ve been learning in my listening.

She’s sharing my words and my art here. I am so very grateful for yet another person God in his infinite wisdom “enlarged my borders” with, people who I never knew might be my teachers, my guides, my spiritual pointers of the way to walk, to write, to be unafraid.

We’ve never met, yet she says she sees me as “precious” and all I can do is smile and cry just a little to know that I am called precious. Finding God in Quiet Confidence

Thank you, Nan! Thank you so!

Lost, Found and Reunited

Children, courage, Faith, Motherhood, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

I couldn’t help but think of our reunion when I read the account of Jesus, being found by his parents, thought of our coming reunion after three months in other countries.

I was nervous and excited and relieved; ironically though I’d finally settled into the separation, accepted that my children will be in places that I am not.

Isn’t it just that simple? Oceans apart or fifteen minutes away, a mother’s heart is softened, settled and satisfied the moment she sees her child, is reunited, is simply up close, next to them, their bodies in the same room.

I write monthly for our paper’s supplement in a small rural community. This month, thinking post-Christmas, I thought of Jesus as a boy, getting separated from his parents and then being found again, reunited and relieved.

My heart is lighter, my breathing easier when I turn to see them, my son or my daughter on the threshold of my front door.

Christmas night I was reminded, given gifts unexpected, a beaded cross to hold in my hands, keep ever close and a gift she found and noticed I wanted. She wrapped it splendidly with a ribbon clinched at its knot with a sweet ornament…her little face in the center, I must’ve misplaced it she said. “I found it, thought you’d want it back.”

And our faith’s the same. We welcome its return, we fling wide the door to have it come back in and then stay longer this time. So, I wrote about Jesus being found in the temple, absorbing all he could of His Father and how it made sense he’d wandered away, made perfect sense he was where he needed to be, where we need to be more often.

Here’s my fancy head shot that makes me look all appropriate and so not me; but, I’m grateful to be asked to write.

Going on three years now, the “Faith Column”.

Wisdom, Stature, and Favor

Just within the past month, I have had the opportunity to see the joy on the faces of parents of newborns. A young woman who grew up with my daughter and a neighbor of my daughter, both parents of newborn boys. I said to my daughter something similar each time I saw the infants; “Isn’t God amazing?” Amazing is an understatement, not quite the best description maybe when we think of life being formed in a mother’s womb and fashioned only through the biological makeup and intricacies created by our sovereign God. A child born into a family, evidence of God’s favor.

You may have spent some time in the Book of Luke last month. I believe God intends that we uniquely experience his word each time we read. This year, I read the Christmas story and pondered the time in between the birth of Jesus being foretold to the holy night of his birth.

My interest was piqued over the time in between; I longed to know more of Mary, more of Joseph. Wished it possible to understand how they endured the wait with hope and trust.

The second chapter in the book of Luke moves from the birth of Jesus to his preteen years. We read that Jesus grew in stature and wisdom in verse 40, And the child grew and became strong; he was full of wisdom, and the grace of God was on him. Isn’t that true of each of our children, each of us, the grace of God, a promise has been and is upon them?

Through Luke’s recording of the young Jesus, we don’t get the chance to know of his toddler years, whether he slept through the night, of the days he began to play, how his speech developed or how he matured from boy to young man. Again, these details are left for us to consider.

In verse 41, we read of the traditional trip to Jerusalem taken by Joseph and Mary. The account of Jesus getting separated from them always reminds me of times my children “hid” from me in the racks of garments in a shop or the times one of them did wander away, I’d turned, and they’d “disappeared.”

A parent’s worse fear combined with most graphically imagined outcome followed by finding them and their sweet face smiling upwards, they were just fine.

Joseph and Mary were worried, panicked, astonished over where they found Jesus after a whole three days.

Can you imagine their horror and then their joy?

Like any parent, they questioned why he would put them through such distress. But, Jesus, the twelve-year-old explains to them they should not have been surprised at all, for they of all people should know His calling to be where His Father would have him be.

When his parents saw him, they were astonished. His mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.”

49 “Why were you searching for me?” he asked. “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?”[a] 50 But they did not understand what he was saying to them.

Their frustration must have turned to understanding.

I’m thinking of the two babies I’ve only just seen, the infant expected in the Spring, my niece’s first, and the hope for grandchildren one day.

I’m thinking of my children as well. Of the times uncertain of their welfare, their whereabouts; but, being assured once I saw them, they had been with God, God with them.

There was no reason for me to fear.

As we move into the new year, may we meditate more on the word of God. Delve in more profoundly and consider the relevance of this Holy book.

May we all increase in wisdom and stature and favor with God and man, just as Luke described the growing up of Jesus us the final verse of Chapter Two. Even Jesus knew the importance of learning more about His Father.

Undoubtedly, we should as well.

Get lost, then found and be reunited with the Father.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee who has had a trying Christmas interrupted by illness, but continues to keep us all focused and faithful.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/christmas-didnt-turn-like-expected-dispatch-hospital-waiting-room/

Different Days

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Uncategorized, Unity, wonder

We held a “gender reveal” something my Aunt Boo said no one did before and yet, she said “Come on!” and we all got together in the place of our “get togethers”.

A white tree, sweetly decorated, we counted down from 10 and the lights were plugged in, sparkling pink.

“It’s a girl!”

The addition of a baby, hope opening its arms wide, wide, wider.

We gathered all the family and friends. Festive lights, food, little messages all around. The cousin number would be increasing.

A baby changes the shape of a room.

My brother about to be grandpa, I told him so, your life is about to change forever.

And I couldn’t say because I knew; but, I could because I saw.

My older brother, I met his grandson, finally.

Sweet baby boy, pouting at first then was content as I held him; I had the hip sway down pat; my body surely imprinted from the days my children were tiny.

Little bright eyed baby in my arms, observing a room filled with strangers to him and his grandpa comes up next to us.

He speaks. The baby smiles and slightly jumps with excitement.

“Oh, he loves you.” I say and my brother says, “oh, yeah me and him, we’re tight.”

Yes.

A baby changes everything.

Everyone.

Writing prompt: “Different”

Listen

Children, courage, Faith, family, grief, Motherhood, rest, suicide loss, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I looked up from my late day desk yesterday.

Caught off guard, I did not hear her walk in.

I rose to meet her, her neighbor couldn’t accompany her, she’d decided to come on her own.

“Good”, I said. “I’m glad you came.”

Almost a half hour before the others, I told her it’s fine. It’s good. It’s hard to walk into a room and know no one.

Now, you know me, and I, you.

I tried not to keep gazing there, the place where the light seemed so warm, so soft this evening, a day after I still think of their embrace.

I question what it is with me, the way I’m drawn to such sights.

The thin branches reaching out, reminded me of them, open and tenderly brave.

It reminded me of listening.

I sat between them, the three of us, mothers.

The one new to the gathering began to speak about her son’s suicide.

The room fell silent.

Reverent.

She looked past me towards the other and asked, “When did you stop blaming yourself?”

Seconds only passed, the imploring of her words, and I noticed the mother three years into grief over her son’s suicide, move slowly from her seat to stand.

Only for just a small breath of a moment did I think to respond. I should comfort.

Instead, I stood and with my hand on the shoulder of the mother to my left, I helped her over to the mother on my right.

I had missed it, that she was on the edge of sorrow, that there were tears about to overflow.

Somehow, she did, the mother to my left.

And, not a single word spoken. Their arms raised to meet the other, shoulders rhythmic with release of tears.

It seemed quite a while; but, the wait not the least bit unsettling.

The father of the son of the one gone three years, the husband of the one offering embrace.

He began to cry. I looked his way, looked slowly away and I joined with them in my own tears. My not nearly comparable mama tears.

Finally, after such a beautiful long time their arms unfolded.

She said, “Thank you.” to the mama who knew and sat slowly back down.

And the other mama waited, as if to be sure and I listened to the voices of grief I can never quite comprehend.

Praying I don’t.

More Silent an Ambition

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Prayer, Redemption, Serving, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

The whole house quiet with the embrace of a frosty fog, I was awakened by the ding of a message from another place I couldn’t begin to know what it’s like there.

I open the back door and the sun is working its way through the pines to the place where they all played.

He sends me photos and a video of the place where Jesus sat in the middle of the men he’d had walking with him, had been giving them glimpses of His glory, His grace, grooming them to carry on without Him. They had supper together before He was crucified for them, for us.

The little bulleted prayer list now has an asterisk “guide Austin’s steps” denoting God’s answer.

Changing my path too,

I’m slowly seeing more surely.

I’m sitting in the silence and reading, confounded over this place here that holds my words. Seems my audience has gone silent. I’ve decided, this is a sovereign sign.

I have been a bit ambitious for acceptance, might have gotten a little lost in the “ahh”

Of approval.

Just now, I read it’s not up to me to pick my purpose. It’s only up to me to let God have what he’s given me to see it come to be.

To sit quietly as He develops the story or stories to tell.

To live quietly, my words from His words, the creations of my hands, they’re formed by His hand.

Lord, set me free from depending on the notice of others, I pray.

“Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands, just as we instructed you before.”

“Then people who are not believers will respect the way you live, and you will not need to depend on others.”

‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭4:11-12‬ ‭

Thankful for the Five Minute Friday prompt, lining up my thoughts and words and believing in the gift of getting silent.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/11/09/fmf-link-up-silence/

‭‭

Bending With the Road

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

We took the old way today.

I decided, first thing in the morning, the open window air felt so very, very fresh.

Went to church, came back home and had decided…we’re gonna walk the hill.

We took the old way, the one before the subdivision came and brought with it, walking trail.

The way he’d never gotten to go, “Colton Dixon” the big brown Lab and I.

I held tight his leash, pulled him quick and sharp to the grassy edge when a car sped by.

It’s different now.

Before, I always knew, could anticipate what was coming. I considered it skill, my control and my anticipating good or bad.

The way I walked before, holding tight their sweet hands up the hill.

Sometimes my daughter, others my son

And sometimes both, we’ve gone on walks since way back when.

They thought it so high, the hill in the distance, the curvy approach, excited…I remember them being so excited for our nothingness type of adventure.

Our long walk, they always listened when I said we

gotta listen out, be careful.

One little stretch, a few feet you can’t see looking back towards home or up ahead towards hill, still there.

We were careful there. I held them close.

Then there were some days, just me, walking off the whatever on my mind.

Praying.

Not quite as careful by myself for the sound of car’s engine or the turn of rowdy boy truck from back road.

But, with them, well…

It was our adventure; but, I watched and I listened until.

We’d say, “We made it!”

Made it to the top of the hill, “Whew!”

The air today, it was heavenly.

The sky, blue and translucent.

No trail to follow, only edge of the road and a quite

vacant Sunday afternoon road.

We took the old way, new to him.

Our senses overloaded, his nose and my heart…all the little new things.

Reminded.

Reminded me, enough now, to be reminded and to pray.

The walks we walked back then.

The hill not nearly so steep, nor the road as much a challenge at all now.

The bend remains and the spot where you can’t see very far ahead, still there.

In between the sharp curve and high hill.

And it’s one way or the other now, I realized. A choice, an acceptance, sometimes reluctant surrender.

Bending away or towards what is not yet seen, a less tightly held hand on what doesn’t seem old at all…not old, just before now.

I turn with the change, turning, stepping, leaning into the curves. I’m not at all tired, stronger thoughts, stronger stride.

I lift my eyes toward heaven and the faith I walk with cares less about the hill and the sharp unknown of the bends and so much more about the adventures, their lives once and still mine.

Spaces We Get Stronger

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, praise, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I remember the time before.

I walked, hurriedly to the massive concrete place.

It was early morning, my face was taut from determination, my eyes were worn from the hours of awake, waiting, watching.

How could I be expected to find it, I realize now, many years later. It was a hard day.

I’m no longer that hard on myself.

I walked, already lost and entered every lane. I chose different levels. White, black, grey, red tail lights barely standing out in the black place filled with cars. Occasional glints of shiny color distracting my search, the sun coming up and in gradually.

I had a full meltdown.

The patient waiting without me at the corner of the hospital, the nurse maybe wondering what happened to her mama and my girl most likely sure her mama must be lost.

I lost my car. I stood with the truth of my disaster and accepted what I knew must be true. It’s not here, somehow, someone has taken it.

My daughter waiting, I believe realized I’d “lost it this time” and we’d not discuss it at all.

Same as there’d be no need or time to talk of “what if, what next, what now or why?”

A hospitalization after a procedure that was not a success and she, we go from exam table in pretty Dr.’s room to hospital bed to spend New Year’s Eve.

We were released and my mind, emotionally overloaded could not remember the space among hundreds of cars from two days before on the morning we got to go home.

The morning the sunrise came in through the openings in the hard place up high, I came to terms with what I might not be able to fix or find.

I found it eventually and made it down to load my girl in the car, her almost adult frame and baby face, understanding how I’d fallen apart and stayed away so long, struggling a real struggle in the parking garage while she waited in a wheelchair below.

She loved me anyway. Didn’t say so then but does everyday now.

So, this time I wasn’t gonna lose my mind and my car. Fatigued for a different reason, sleep deprived and uncertain of how I might be.

We were early, but had to park on the very top, the place that feels oddly special with open sky above, a slightly risky feeling.

I opened the door, grabbed my purse and prepared to walk with my boy into the place he’d be flying away for three months.

Stopped for a second, he slightly ahead on his way. I looked down at the marking on the space. “L” it said, okay I told myself, “L like Lisa, I’m good.”

Then, just to be certain, uncertain of my state upon coming back alone, I quickly got my phone from the pocket of my bag and I took a picture of the place I’d be coming back to.

Because, I remembered and I’m not at all embarrassed now over losing my car before.

The mama mind is naturally consumed sometimes and directionally challenged because of the strong and hard pull of the heart. Times when the baby bird is in need of healing to be better at flying and times when the bird is learning to fly.

Surely, mama bird might struggle in her return to the nest.

I’m certain she does.

Perhaps, they mark it with a bright stem or string, wanting to be confident of where they left off.

And I wonder now, if ever, just for the sake of mama memory, if the mama bird flies back to rest a bit in the place she let them go.

Maybe just for the sake of remembering how strong she made their wings.

Will and Whale

Art, bravery, courage, Faith, Motherhood, Prayer, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

It wasn’t God’s idea.

His intent was not for us to have the option to be stubborn.

Not his desire that we’d consider a different way other than His.

That we’d have to look back with regret on our fighting against and fleeing the path we stood before contemplating and then either ran towards another way, still miserable but at least not doing the thing we felt was undoable.

What’s your Nineveh?

The thing ahead of you waiting your contribution?

Or at least your willingness to be there with, reluctant acceptance of even?

Or have you fled, or at least on the cusp of running the other way? Hiding from what you’re afraid you can’t do?

“But Jonah rose to flee to Tarshish from the presence of the Lord.”

‭‭Jonah‬ ‭1:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Book of Jonah is spread across just two pages in my Bible, I read again today, adding to my illustration, a semblance of me alone on the other side.

The thing you keep asking why, maybe asking haven’t I done enough or I’m certain if I get close enough you’re gonna close the door anyway God…so,

I’m staying far far away.

I’m hiding from that challenge, I’m not able.

I’m not willing. I’m sorry for being so sorry, but no, I just can’t.

What’s your Nineveh?

Like Jonah, will you cause distress to everyone else in the boat you don’t belong in and get thrown into the turbulent seas of a decided rebellion, thinking it’s simply choice?

Or will you step closer, allow the path to let you in, trust God in his desire to grow you in this place you do not want to go?

I’m going there, going through it and I understand, I believe the reason.

He planted it there. I’ll find the purpose of my part in this path, when I choose to follow in a way without resistance.

The way of God’s persistent pursuit of me.

Work and Life

Children, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I’m not working today, at least in not my paid position.

I’ll be welcoming travelers, refugees from the big storm, Irma.

I’ve planned it out, started last night.

The guest room comforter all fresh and clean, the bed the Labrador loves will need to be shared.

But, as soon as I’m done here in this morning spot, there will be more work done.

My sister and her family are evacuating here. My home is humble, but it will welcome them. My sweet, wise cousin said she wants to be with me because my house feels like Faith.

I really loved that thought.

So, in just a few, I’ll change from pajamas to work clothes and get going as planned, committed to finish by noon.

My prayer, the prayer of the quiet one, not so great at all things hospitable:

Lord, I pray you prepare my heart and from my heart flows nothing but love without reservation or expectation.

I meet needs everyday, or if I’m honest I just oversee the meeting of them. This is my job. Today, my work will be “home” work and opportunity to meet the need of family.

Giving, not receiving, the example of Jesus.

“And I have been a constant example of how you can help those in need by working hard. You should remember the words of the Lord Jesus: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’ ”

‭‭Acts of the Apostles‬ ‭20:35‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Then, the mental list becomes to do:

Change linens

Vacuum sofas

Vacuum house (oh, the shedding of the Labrador!!!)

Clean bathrooms

Dust

Move dead plants from the pool

My house is humble with places of my heart all over it.

It is. I long for better sometimes, but then I work to be happy with my best.

Committed to my plan, I begin to prepare my place.

A refuge from storm, I pray, today.

And I do believe at the end of the day or in the midst of a storm, if my humble house is clean most anything is just a tiny bit better.

Linking up to write on the prompt of “work”.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/09/07/five-minute-friday-link-up-work/

Driving the Train

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, marriage, mercy, Motherhood, praise, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

My “Jesus Calling” devotional just lit a fire down in my soul, a warmth bubbled up and found its way to the bottom of my lashes.

Little cups slowly filling with the hot need to pause and realign my heart, my thoughts, my confidence.

So, I let it happen as I saw her there, my mama in the conference room. My big brother trying to figure out the “unfigurable”. This doctor and that one, then another.

My mama found the right time in awkward and helpless pause of them all and said.

“Not a one of us is driving this train. God’s driving this train.”

My mama always spoke the truth. I believe she’s been watching me feel less than capable, wavering unsteady on the cusp of hard but good things. I believe she sees me about ready to retreat; and she’s proud of me that I haven’t.

I believe she knows I won’t.

My world’s not falling apart, some of the details are just tediously unpleasant and tough. Requiring a steadfast stance, a throwing off of the burdens of second guessing and scared.

I have a life I never fathomed possible.

So many thankful things.

The way my husband has endured so much. The way my son-in-law looks after my girl. The way my son is focused and committed but not in a way that’s crazy obsessive to his future, the way my daughter demonstrates loving her husband. It’s a pretty love they have, I’m thankful to sit back and see.

The way today is the first morning in a week I did not wake to a pile of labrador poop. So, I’m thankful for rice and Pepto this morning. I am.

But, I tell you something! I dreamt an awful outrageous dream just hours ago filled with trauma and memories and somehow they all mingled with today stuff and yesterday junk.

But, wake up oh, sleeper Lisa!

Acknowledge you took some bad things to bed with you. Don’t lie there all day!

Now, let them go and let God!

He’s got the whole world in His hands. It is absolutely not up to me to hold it all, hold it all together or figure it out.

Not my place now.

Knees down, hands open, face to heaven.

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you,”

‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭5:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Enjoy the ride, the driver knows the way.

Who is in charge of your life? If it is you, then you have good cause to worry.

But, if it is I, then worry is both unnecessary and counterproductive…

back off a bit, redirecting your focus to Me.

Jesus Calling