obedience

Already Known

anxiety, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

It’s both awesome and awful to realize just how completely we are known by God

From our first breath to here.

I stood at the kitchen window and noticed the lime green glow of Spring on the grass.

The trees.

I remembered the sycamore tree, the hand sized leaves and the broken branches.

Thirty-plus years ago, I cut down branches heavy with green leaves and decorated a tiny cinder block room.

There was a grand plan. I’d be teaching children about the man who climbed the tree to get a chance to see Jesus, Zacchaeus.

It would be my first time as a Vacation Bible School teacher and I was intent on winning best decorated classroom.

The first night, a line of children trailing me down the hall, I giddily swung open the door to discover a disaster.

Leaves wilted and woeful covered the floor and the stench was unbearable in the poorly ventilated room.

I don’t remember teaching the children about a greedy man who got to see Jesus and then fed him supper.

I remember who I was then and am grateful to be not quite the same today.

Just as Jesus knew Zacchaeus was hated by many, was sneaky, corrupt and greedy, He knew I was just learning back then.

Just learning what matters to Him.

Not fully grown, but fully known.

We are already known. The secrets, the shame, the actions we take wrongly motivated,

Jesus is not surprised and doesn’t keep a record. It’s we who do.

My mama used to say, Lisa, stress’ll kill you. I’m here to say I believe its not so distant cousin, shame is more fatal.

The Woman at the Well in the heat of the day encounters a man who shouldn’t be there. She calculated her replenishing of her water to go to the well when she could go unnoticed.

She is surprised by a man who tells her he can help. He has a certain kind of water that won’t run out, she’d never have to be sneaky again in coming to the well.

“Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭13‬-‭14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

She’d never have to be thirsty again. She decides to accept the stranger’s offer.

“Please, sir,” the woman said, “give me this water! Then I’ll never be thirsty again, and I won’t have to come here to get water.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And we know Jesus wasn’t talking about a cool drink of ice water on a humid day. He was talking about the refreshing peace of an abundant life.

Jesus tells the woman to go and get her husband and come back. She tells him she’s not married and he answers with “I know.”

Then he tells her what he does know. That she has a reputation and is well known for being with husbands of others and is now with a married man.

Whoa! or “How dare you?” she could’ve said.

She was brazen after all.

But he continued to enlighten her and she listened, connecting his gentle wisdom with the possibility he might be the Messiah.

So, he told her that indeed he was.

“The woman said, “I know the Messiah is coming—the one who is called Christ. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.” Then Jesus told her, “I Am the Messiah!”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭25‬-‭26‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Then she is overjoyed and goes to tell all the townspeople what they already knew about her she’d tried to avoid.

The reputation she tried to cover was now a proclamation…you’ve got to meet Jesus!

“Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me all that I ever did.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭39‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There was no shame anymore, only her story.

Only a tax collector’s, a disciple’s who denied and regretted, a woman’s wearing shame and a lascivious reputation.

A woman like me who didn’t know anything about the value of the story of Zacchaeus, only wanted to be noticed because of trees in a room.

God is patient. He already knew and knows our journeys.

Yesterday, I stood in the parking lot with a woman. As women our age do, we caught up on the lives of our children. We compared wisdom and we exchanged worries.

She asked me to keep writing.

Said she needed my storytelling.

My story of rescue and of tripping and getting back up gradually as I learn.

Today, when you recall your own mistakes, missteps and wrong motivations, will you pause with the truth of being known?

Will you accept the grace that has never said give up, go your own way or isolate in secret shame?

And he gives grace generously. James 4:6

Will you decide to know that being known is love?

You’re already known.

Continue and believe.

Walking Thoughts

Abuse Survivor, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grace, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, walking, wisdom, wonder

“Endurance is not a desperate hanging on but a traveling from strength to strength.” Eugene Peterson

Why am I less moved by the sky, the clouds fluffed or swept like a feather?

Out walking yesterday, I wondered.

Just a few years ago I was moved by gnarly branches on an old pecan tree, scattered white blooms on the asphalt trail or maybe a solitary leaf dried so completely by the sun it glistened metallic.

Noticing God, I called this.

Why so hurried in an irritable way now?

A daily habit that over time seems to be sort of furious?

Walking too fast, too angrily hurry, hurry, hurrying to some better destination.

Better days?

The place with no remnants of pandemic.

The better place, the place with no residue or remembrance of what happened or who or what didn’t come through.

Couldn’t be counted on.

On Wednesday, my path crossed a Target shopper leaving. Her phone on her cheek, she passed me, quick as a rabbit and I overheard her tell somebody “what the Republicans did today!”

And I wondered, when did we ever in our lives finish up a midweek shopping trip and urgently report to someone what a Republican did today?

A woman, about my age, distressed on a pretty day about the government.

We are different now.

I am learning.

Learning still. I can embrace a thought that now makes my response to trauma make more sense.

I can befriend these surprising revelations.

I can toss them over in my mind and see the value in finally beginning to understand my own tender heart and behaviors.

I can allow truth to make sense.

Today, the sky was striated pink and to the right rested the remnant of moon, a crescent.

I couldn’t look away.

It kept getting better.

Too splendid to capture in a photo, I stood solid footed and I watched.

Unhurried, only noticing.

Noticing God again.

Maybe that’s what obedience is and not some frenetic race to keep on, keep on, keep on.

Maybe obedience is noticing splendor, noticing God.

Knowing that where you are in this very never to be repeated moment.

You are loved.

Continue and believe.

Pass it on, this slow walk called noticing.

“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 ‭30‬:‭21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Walking this way again.

Noticing.

You are loved.

It’s my hope that you know this.

Powerful Things

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, birds, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mixed media painting, obedience, painting, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I did the most silly, most powerful thing the other day. I changed the description in my Pinterest profile back to what it was originally.

Powerful? Silly? Yes, both. I edited the words characterizing me as an author and artist and I went back to the grander aspiration.

Hope.

Works on Paper

Lisa Anne Tindal, artist returned to “Artist and writer longing for a little white house near the ocean.”

Longings leading my heart back to me.

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭16:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“Come back, daughter.” my Heavenly Father keeps saying to me.

My Notes app became my diary at the beach, a call to smaller, more lasting things.

Nothing aspirational only thoughts of those around me, my line of thinking, line of prayer meandered from galleries, Italian art tours, and pricing my art in a way that measures its worth not just a sale.

We walked down the quiet street and discovered a white heron, gracious in its stance. The creek was quiet, the bird shaded and shielded by old overgrown cedar limbs as I knelt with a three year old resting against my chest.

I told her I was so happy for this gift, this peace today in a white elegant bird.

So, my prayer because God hears them. If possible and good for us, I’d love to have a seaside house for those I love to gather.

To gather again.

To search for the white bird daily.

White Bird

To paint on paper bags, be surprised by God again, to be visited by birds and song.

Aspirations so small and mighty.

So settled, not seeking.

So confident of my heart’s desires being known by my very kind Father.

Last weekend, I responded to the question of when I became an artist with the truth of flunking out of college, losing my art scholarship because of hard things and harm and then working hard as a helper of families before, in my 50’s, coming back to art.

There’s truth there, but even more in the realization,

I’ve always been an artist in the very same way I was told “You’ve always been brave.”

Paper Bag Works

I did a powerful silly thing. I changed my Pinterest bio back to the true, although dreamy thing.

To be an artist with a little white house near the ocean.

To gather. To paint.

To search for the white bird with my family.

“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Esther

bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, fear, hope, obedience, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

Story one in the series of “Weak Made Strong” monthly blogs

Recently, I heard someone speak of the “Strengths Finder” assessment and I remember years ago taking the test, being given the guide book to better understanding your strengths and making changes to make your weaknesses less weak.

I can’t recall my scores, but I began to think of attributes of mine that I considered weaknesses.

Naturally, I made a list. Just as quickly, I countered each trait with a contrast, a different view.

Sensitive, too transparent and “in my head” became empathetic, authentic and contemplative.

I reframed my barriers to the real life evidence of my tools. I rethought the hardships life had caused me to be avenues towards resilient strength.

Esther was orphaned by both parents and raised by a cousin. She found herself amongst a bevy of beauties competing to be chosen. She was a listener and an observer. She paid attention. She recognized that courage often cannot often be delayed.

I think of the well known verse,

“…Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?””
‭‭Esther‬ ‭4:14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

A verse that’s prompted many of us to be brave, be wise, be responsive because we believe whatever circumstance that is calling forth our bravery

We were chosen for it.

And that acceptance of whatever brave thing it is, is strength.

Is weakness moving towards strength.

I am far from a theologian, even less a historian. I simply love reading the stories of women who had lots to overcome or lots to move beyond. I rarely expound on the interpretation of scripture. I’m not wise enough, but I sure do love seeing myself in others.

Women who had weaknesses, but became strong.

What holds you back?

For me, it’s age.

I decide I’m not “on my mental game” enough to be the things God keeps telling me not to pack away. So, I keep them close, I don’t give up. However, I am very slow to try again.

What can you resume or bravely begin that you’ve convinced yourself it’s not yours to do, you’re just too weak, too old, too unskilled

too ___________.

I hope you’ll follow me here for a new story of a woman in the Bible each month.

Women (and men) like us,

Weak made strong.

Gentle, Be Gentle

Children, confidence, contentment, Faith, family, memoir, obedience, Prayer, Vulnerability

Out walking without music or talking in my ears, I thought of prayer.

I prayed for betterment of me, things I’d acknowledged and lessons accepted, although hard and jolting, their truth.

This is growth. This is good.

So, how I wondered, is the right way to pray for those important to you, because of blood, heart, soul, breath and truth?

Or those you care for either in person or just because of similarities.

How do you pray for those who believed, but aren’t so sure these days, these days that will be honest with us if we’ll let them.

truth that came

Or for those who refused to ever believe in a way too mysterious truth.

Gently, you pray.

“Gentle, gentle…” I said countless times to my granddaughter.

It was their second meeting and the kitten wasn’t quite sure.

The toddler was excited, emphatic and ready.

The kitten accepted her.

Give and take, trust building gently.

Friends

I thought out walking, no noise save my breath and my steps.

The best prayer?

The prayer that’s gentle, the one that asks God to come near, says it is safe.

You’re safe.

A prayer that flows from a thought and

either reminds or acquaints.

Either way, the prayer I will pray is the one I’ve only newly begun to know.

You are loved. You are known.

And like a P.S. after the amen

I’d say Lord, help them know this sooner than later even though any time is good.

Be gentle, my Heavenly Father.

Be gentle and come near. Invite a reunion or a relationship.

A remembrance, gently.

All along, you’ve been loved.

Glad you’re here. Stay near.

What a gentle Lord I know.

Lord, help those I love and those I don’t know to know your gentle love.

A Better Fame

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, Forgiveness, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mixed media painting, obedience, painting, Peace, rest, surrender, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Who can you think of past or present who is famous because of their peace, the most indescribably unknown person you know?

“These are treasures no bird of prey can see, no falcon’s eye observe.”
‭‭Job‬ ‭28:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“Bethesda”

I spoke with an author of three books recently. I sensed the ache in his voice as he told me about his writing after I talked about mine, the children’s book inspired by Matthew 6:26. We agreed to sell a lot of books, you must be famous, have a website with a bookoo of followers and be good at talking about yourself.

Just the conversation between us about self/book promotion was hard.

Before sunrise today, I thought of just how contradictory that seems. I’ve read lots of Christian books, some sort of trendy and insubstantial and some very resonant and worth returning to.

I thought of how we, as far as I interpret the words of Jesus, are not supposed to want to be famous.

When we say

“Make Jesus famous, not me!”

We’re supposed to be able to mean it.

And yet, an agent won’t return an email and a query goes unread because you have less than 5000 Instagram followers.

A few weeks ago, I had a skip in my step, a sense of a really cool possible art opportunity.

Time passed and it faded to “oh,well…”

I’ll reference trauma once here and that’ll be it.

If your needs went unnoticed as a child or young adult and you get well enough to try expression of your needs and talents again and nothing happens…

You decide it’s better to be invisible again.

Because invisible is what you know.

But, now this self-awareness feels less achingly deficient and more like

a better fame.

A realization of what I decided was my “treasure” was not my treasure at all.

Years ago, when I began writing, my heart set on a memoir about the possibility of hope, I was starry-eyed and optimistic and I told myself don’t be a chatty little woman who writes about Jesus.

Be authentic. Be real. Be truthful but not so truthful you hinder another’s hope.

And I thought I’d write a book about it all.

Now, I realize I may not.

Because the truth, my truth I am learning to be okay with is,

I don’t think I want to be famous. I think I’d rather be quiet.

That admission may be the kiss of death to being a published author or it may be the breath of heavenly fresh air to a weary striving soul.

Because writing, painting, being a published author are not my treasures, my peace and my peaceful sharing of my healing are. They are the treasures I hold and occasionally share in hopes of stirring curiosity over the same treasure for others.

I won’t stop writing and I won’t stop painting, often with crayon.

I’m just certain being a person who can be found by name on Amazon as an author or who has art that can be searched for and purchased has given me a taste of fame.

But never has fame made me famous, instead only made me wanting more.

Thirsty for recognition, parched for praise and aching for a dollar sign saying success next to something I made.

Eight years blogging. I suppose it’s fitting to write honestly today.

That feels like a quiet celebration.

Keep writing. It’s good to continue quietly and to believe.

Because healing is not dependent on fame, only on believing, believing like the lame man on the banks of the Bethesda.

“When Jesus saw him lying there, he knew that the man had been crippled for a long time. Jesus said to him, “Do you truly long to be well?” The sick man answered, “Sir, there’s no way I can get healed, for I have no one to lower me into the water when the angel comes. As soon as I try to crawl to the edge of the pool, someone else jumps in ahead of me.” Jesus said to him, “Stand up! Pick up your sleeping mat and you will walk!” Immediately he stood up—he was healed! So he rolled up his mat and walked again! Now Jesus worked this miracle on the Sabbath.”
‭‭John‬ ‭5:6-9‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Be well.

Warring for Quiet

confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

Something in me longs to find a quiet old church with wooden pews and streams of sunlight in every hue laying down strips of color at my feet on old hardwood floors.

I’m listening, God.

To sit in the quiet. To listen to God.

I’m in the spot I call quiet in my home. It is very quiet, only the mockingbird mama’s protective song in the distance calling for my attention.

I woke thinking about being drawn to the wars others are warring as a distraction to what God knows needs my attention according to Him.

Yesterday, I grabbed a $5 pillow and dropped it in the cart. I sensed my daughter wondering where I’d put it. I’m not one to decorate my home with pillows adorned with trendy sayings. I think I mumbled.

I need to remember this.

See good in all things.

First on the loveseat, then between the bigger ones on the couch, then in my mama’s reupholstered chair, I centered it. It seemed too contrived, a pillow pointing out words I needed to remember, seriously silly.

So, I fluffed a pretty one woven with navy and added it as a background for my much needed words. I angled the pillow to meet my gaze from the place I sit in the evening, the place I begin my day.

The wisdom of a book of lamenting words lining up with mama’s and the embroidery threads on a pillow.

“The Lord is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him. It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord.”
‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭3:25-26‬ ‭KJV‬‬

Good comes from waiting, seeking quietly.

Listening.

Remember

Distracted by culture, conflict and confusion, it seems I have made lesser the most important things.

Grace, mercy, peace, surrender.

Attentiveness to God’s purpose for me.

Remembering the gift of redemption.

Living freely.

So that I can be a presence inviting question rather than spewing comments.

Understanding we all have wars within, we are all pulled astray by the personal battles and patterns that deter the transformation that is a witness to the light of God within.

A compelling cause for others to seek salvation.

The salvation that can never be taken from us; but, must be treasured with every breath of our body so that we don’t fall back into warring.

So that we don’t miss the glory of the quiet voice of God in the quiet places.

“for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus,”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭3:23-24‬ ‭ESV‬‬

May my quiet confidence in God be more evident than my constant questioning over what is not mine to understand, only be available when called to offer peace in the knowledge of my Savior.

Linking up prompted by FMF, Quiet (smile, Kate likes pillows too).

Read others here:

https://fiveminutefriday.com/2021/06/24/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-quiet/

Moon, Sun and Messengers

Abuse Survivor, Advent, Angels, Art, Christmas, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, hope, obedience, Peace, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom

All sorts of people and places are all conniving it seems in a way to keep me pressing on.

Unbeknownst to most, they are cooperating with God.

Yesterday, I turned my phone towards the window and captured this candy color view, the dashboard angle now making me think an angel must’ve been my passenger.

I parked my car, turned to one side to see the same orange horizon laced with branches and turned to see the brilliant circle of moon shining.

I thought,

“I’m bordered, one side sun and the other moon. I’m secure.”

Some point I stopped waking up with one palm raised and the prayer, “Woke up well, thank you God”

I’m afraid I must’ve grown tired of the affirmation.

Or it’s just shifted.

In my journal instead I scribbled.

I’m still here.

God is still with me.

Then opened the Passion translation of Psalm 136 and I John, the Book.

Scripture of the day now also messages from God just for me.

“Give thanks to the Lord over all lords! His tender love for us continues on forever! Give thanks to the only miracle working God! His tender love for us continues on forever! Give thanks to the Creator who made the heavens with wisdom! His tender love for us continues on forever!

Praise the one who created every heavenly light! His tender love for us continues on forever! He set the sun in the sky to rule over day! His tender love for us continues on forever! Praise him who set in place the moon and stars to rule over the night! His tender love for us continues on forever!”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭136:3-5, 7-9‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Then, the tone of continuing continued. A post on FB from a wise man:

“The greatest regret for a child of God will come from finding out that Jesus had to use someone else to do what He told you to do.” Cleve Walker

“Wow.”, my comment.

I sit in the warmth of Wednesday morning. The light landing the way I love it and I wonder if others agree, I love my home so much more at Christmas, I love the peace of the sparkle and soft light. I love the glimmer of blue against gold all mingled with evergreen. I could gaze there all day, accept this gift of peace.

“Woke up well, thank you.”

I’m still here, God is with me. I have things to do.

Continue and believe.

Believe.

Grace and Intention

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, fear, grace, mercy, obedience, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, surrender, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

She told me a heartbreaking story and how she came to accept it.

She said,

“God said, ‘that was my intention’.”

I woke today and met rejection. An email quickly skimmed and moved on to the folder marked trash.

I’d told myself submit and if it is for you, it will be.

I wasn’t at all destroyed over it. The not being chosen for my writing was sort of an answer to some recent questions of God.

One in particular, do I just blog and let that be enough?

I don’t know yet.

But, I’m open either way.

Not on the edge about it. I know that God’s intentions for me are always good. I find it brave to believe this.

Wish I’d believed it sooner.

Wish I’d seen the verse with the words “returning and rest” the way my friend explained it.

“Daughter, come back.” is what she told me the prophet Isaiah wrote, as instructed by God.

“This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: “Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength. But you would have none of it.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

My friend is biblically wise and I’d always felt the words about running away felt like chastisement.

She read farther back and told me God is just reminding me rest means closeness and confidence and strength are from staying near.

We talked a little more and we began to share worries over our world, the evil motivations of people and the bravery required to stand strong and speak up about God.

She became quiet. She shared of a high school classmate she’d heard through others had suffered a stroke.

She told me they weren’t close friends, hadn’t run in the same circles way back then.

Using the connection of another former classmate, she contacted the ailing friend and asked to drop off food, say hello.

The stroke victim said no at first and eventually allowed my friend in.

And I’m not sure how many visits there were, if meals were shared or if conversation became natural.

My friend shared that the woman she’d been visiting did not believe in God. She had her reasons.

My friend asked God to keep her alive until she could change her mind about Jesus.

My friend ached for that assurance. She is aching still.

The former classmate died too soon.

Tremendous pain prompted her to get any pill she could get off the street and my friend heard that the stroke victim who said there was no God, died while sending someone a text.

My friend heard later, the pill was tainted, a deadly ingredient added.

I sat and sensed the ache of question. I saw regret in the posture of my friend.

Months passed since the passing until one day in the shower, she longed to know why she’d not been able to help the former classmate believe in Jesus.

She looked over at me and said,

“God said, ‘that was my intention’.”

And the truth of God’s intention for my friend’s friend and for me caused tears to begin slowly.

Peace permeated the space between us.

“So, you have peace about her?” I asked and she nodded.

Then, I smiled and I cried and I told her something I don’t think she knew would be for me.

What that means is that those horrible things that happened to me were not what God intended, the evil just won the battle.

And maybe, just maybe the stuff I longed for that had not happened was not God’s intention for me.

Come back, daughter. Yes, I now see.

Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you.
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

What makes no sense to you if you believe in a God that is good?

My friend found peace when God told her, I was on your team, I was fighting alongside you.

You having more time with her was my intention.

Evil broke in. Broke in too soon.

On earth there is evil.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Heaven, though, is God’s purpose.

Our hope and future.

Come back. Stay near. My grace to you is intentional.

Be brave.

Continue

and believe.

What God intends is good.

Not So Far So Fast

Abuse Survivor, Art, birds, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, daughters, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, Motherhood, obedience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder, writing

I thought of the words to describe myself and two friends last week. I smiled to myself knowing I’d not find these three referenced in my Bible, just an idea maybe of them.

unhurried finds

The words?

Spunk, Dainty and Floundering.

I thought of my friend who goes by “Mel”, of her unwavering devotion to those she loves. I thought of her allegiance to me, although unnecessary. I thought of her sorrow in the aftermath of the untimely death of her husband. I hoped for resilience to remain her strongest quality. I longed to hope she’d rely on the smallest bit of spunk she is known for.

Still, I knew the days ahead would unsteady her. I cried when I told her I couldn’t find the word spunk in my Bible. She listened to me struggling to articulate my lost for words rambling over her loss.

My friend, the merciful one. The one with “spunk”.

Another friend, as gentle as a dove joined me for lunch and we caught up. I shared the decision to publish the children’s book, the journey from looking at birds on walks with my granddaughter to deciding to say “yes” to the commitment for it to become a book.

She listened and faintly smiled, not with excitement, just acknowledging what she knew was significant. I noticed her hands as she listened, diminutive and folded. I thought oh my goodness, she is so dainty.

I wondered later if the word “dainty” could be found in my Bible. I looked and as expected, no mention.

My friend who has much in common with me, an artist, a quiet friend who is longing to see how far life will take her.

She asked me to guess what she’d taken a chance on doing. I gave no answer because she was giddy to tell me.

She told me she’d learned to paddleboard, no idea why, she just decided to try.

I imagine her balanced amongst the other lake people, her petite frame having lots of room on the board but I shook my head and asked, “How on earth did you do it? I guess you must have good balance or strong legs, I could never do it!”

I thought of how I’d always thought of her so dainty, so delicate, not physically strong, more emotionally fit…dainty.

She answered that it is not dependent on your strength or your being able to balance, it is about trusting the board, allowing your body to let the board be in control.

Trust more than skill.

Days ago, I watched my granddaughter pick up and put down her little pink shoe clad feet.

The land that surrounds her home is bordered by paths, some grassy, others a mixture of sand, roots, big rocks and pebbles.

We walk together. I allow her independence with reminders of “careful” or “hold my hand” when her excitement for living causes her to prance ahead and risk tripping on rocks or over her own precious feet.

I bring my hand down to meet her tiny fingers, “Hold grandma’s hand.” I say and she either latches on or with a big girl motion huffs and shoos me away.

I smile. I watch. Soon she turns towards me and finds my hand and then lifts up in a surrender to be carried by me for part of the way.

She is learning independence and accepting assistance, the play of the two.

We walk together. We scamper. We dance. We sing and we gather pretty things, no hurry. No pressure, a rhythm of acceptance, balancing independence and surrender.

Holding accomplishment in one hand and humility in the other.

“Floundering”, the word I assigned to how I’d been feeling, the third word not found in my Bible; yet, the perfect description for my confusion, my unsteady thoughts, my leaning one way and fearing falling or leaning too far the other and tripping over my impatience.

“Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.”
‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12:12-13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Floundering thoughts, death compromised spunk and resilience, and assumptions about the fragility in our feeble dainty frames.

Each of those telling me, steady yourself, your heart, your trust.

Steady now.

Not so far so fast.

Continue and believe.