Peace

Tiny Stars and Light

Advent, Christmas, confidence, contentment, curiousity, Faith, happy, hope, Labradors, love, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

The dog is most content. The laundry is waiting, the errands not even yet listed.

Morning is moving slowly and yet, soon, too quickly for all I need to do.

I’m aware of the need to accomplish a bunch of things.

Instead, I sit. I ponder.

Look beside you, glance around.

What do you see that’s idyllic?

Like playing “I Spy” to occupy your toddler, what’s in your world that’s only beauty?

Idyllic?

Charmingly simply.

I have books on my shelf that I once turned in direction, only the buff colored pages showing, no idea which book was which.

Back then, I found it clean and easy.

Not busy,

Now, I’m looking over and the sun is making stripes on the titles, like an abstract painting as the morning comes in.

Idyllic.

Framed photos next to me are dotted with the reflection of lights on the tree.

Last night the stars were sprinkled the same.

Vast sky, tiny brightness.

The puppy is at peace, he is my anchor begging me stay still.

Stay.

I am thinking of the waking thought God gave and the words of a friend yesterday.

Before praying I remembered the words to a peppy southern gospel song.

God will make a way for His children just like He did when He parted the sea.

I got out of bed to calm the shrill bark of the pup and quickly turned back to kneel and pray first.

Thanked God for wise friends who reminded me of His good will and gave my concerns for others needing beautiful surprises, resolutions to unexpected problems.

Left them there.

Coffee in hand, warm in the “You are My Sunshine” mug.

How can I not see the light?

I have been rescued, been blessed.

Reading less, thinking more.

I should hurry. I rest.

My coffee is now cold and still I just sit. I’m watching the patterns the sun is making on the throw pillows the chairs.

Beautiful. This beauty in December on a Friday.

The room is now daylight so I’ll switch off the lights on the tree, I have no centerpiece for the table and stockings are not yet hung.

Maybe today I’ll finish.

Not lazy, just making allowances to be okay with less than perfect.

To be content with simply okay.

To be well. To be at peace.

Look around you. Find light today and give it more than just a second.

Treasure it.

Christmas is not a competition.

Allow the buzz of activity and social media and traffic to continue all around you.

Engage on occasion.

But, then rest and rest some more and consider.

Consider your life a gift, a gift because of a baby in a manger.

Imagine the flurry of activity around the new baby, the excitement, the panic, the questions.

Mary rested and considered the miracle of Jesus.

“But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭2:19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

More like Mary I’m hoping to be, Christmas this year, in me.

Looking for light in little things and small places, reminding me of tiny stars on a long ago evening.

I’m fascinated by the charmingly simple things now.

The less than spectacular photos shared by others draw me in.

Less covetous of the grandeur of others. Show me a photo of the “little in your life”, the way the light is landing where you love to live.

These are the compelling stories to me, the little places inviting ❤️ or a comment.

Light in. Let it. Join me in looking.

Meeting hope there.

Where We Walk

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, fear, Forgiveness, freedom, hope, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

…and in thee too, while thou knowest it not, God shall be glorified. E.B Pusey

We ventured out differently, not sure the sun was warm enough for walking.

I carried my granddaughter in my arms and adjusted from one side to the other, her weight as we walked.

We covered the perimeter of the land that surrounds her home, all the way to the front of the home valley to the long length of shaded space beside and then turned back towards inside, the front porch welcome back home.

From a distance it was beautiful, I walked slowly avoiding large flat places where cacti lay and stepping gingerly over the little hills, the holes, the tiny valleys covered in grassy hay and straw.

We walked slowly, quietly, calm.

Elizabeth was still, interested as I talked to God and myself. She listened to my random observations of life and leaves and how blue the sky was.

We were noticing God.

On the edge of the field, the most brilliant of color caught my eye, a cluster of yellow amongst all the bare branches of what I think I’m remembering held pink plums in the summer.

Now empty except for this glory.

His glory.

Brilliant late beauty not killed by the cold.

How was your 2019?

I woke with the thought mine was monumental, the change, the choices, the transitions.

I hadn’t realized the truth of this until I numbered the reasons.

Then it all made sense, this feeling of the cusp of new, this current lull in nothingness.

I believe I’m in the season of growth with all the growth still unseen, not evident to the human of me.

I’m always afraid I misuse words so I googled “monumental” and affirmed my thoughts were true.

2019 was a monumental year for me. I thought maybe this is God’s reason to now shift to living momentarily or “momentously”.

Thinking be satisfied in the moments now, don’t aspire to great big life shifting ambitions.

Again, checking my use of word, I was met with surprise, “momentous” I had all wrong, very different than only living in the moment.

Alright.

All right, really.

mo·men·tous
/mōˈmen(t)əs,məˈmen(t)əs
adjective
  1. (of a decision, event, or change) of great importance or significance, especially in its bearing on the future.

Reflecting now, God is confirming boldly for me, one who loves words, things have been happening under the surface, deep in your spirit, my spirit in you that you do not yet fully know.

You’re getting closer though. God

Beginning to believe that it is so.

That you are known and

you are worthy of my love.

The years before are simply seeds that needed sifting, needed dormant seasons, needed to lay fallow for a reason,

needed to die to live again.

I believe this.

Are you in a lull that you question? Is where God has you insignificant from your view?

Asking, is this all there’s meant to be for me?

It may be so and that’s the reason for long walks and discovering seemingly insignificant things like yellow leaves.

We simply don’t know, we just keep walking to the place called “we will see”.

We will see.

I’ve added back to my circle today one prayer I thought I’d prayed way too much.

Have you felt that way? Thought after months of the same unanswered question, I’ve asked enough, I’ve told God more than He wants to know, I’m maybe even annoying Him.

I’ve prayed and He knows, I’ll move on…

I’ll let that prayer alone.

No, I’ve decided to pray it again, to ask for God’s help but with a different tone.

I’ll ask with an expectant spirit anticipating a brilliant “we shall see” surprise, an answer that says I’m cherished.

God’s reply, unknown to me when or how. I’ll be cherishing it because I am cherished as is the one for whom I’m making my steady request.

Pray believing.

If you believe in prayer at all, expect God to hear you. If you do not expect, you will not have. God will not hear you unless you believe He will hear you; but if you believe He will, He will be as good as your faith. Charles Spurgeon

Believe

Continue and believe.

Momentous days are now, the brilliance is coming!

Very Sure

Abuse Survivor, Angels, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, heaven, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Truth, Vulnerability, wonder

The sky this morning makes me certain.

Certain of God.

The sky, barely sunlit, so soft this morning makes me certain that God is intentional.

Look up, Lisa. Refer to me for the day’s instruction.

A soft beckoning, a reminder of grace.

Yes, I’ve decided, the way of creation is intentional.

The decay of old underfoot making what God’s nature intends for new.

The sky so big, so wide, so deeply open to interpret.

So soft this morning

On purpose.

Look. Look again.

And then again.

Grace is still for you.

Be hopeful today.

Look forward to the turning, the next bend in your road that’s not lonely at all.

Rather, open to optimal reflection.

Ease your mind, there’s still time.

The way of your steps bordered by steady and unrelenting grace.

Continue.

Continue and believe.

I made heaven and earth. I’ve got you covered, nurtured, safe and hemmed in by mercy. I’m everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.

God

Light, Your World

Abuse Survivor, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, depression, Faith, hope, memoir, obedience, Peace, Redemption, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

What’s the sunrise like in the world where you wake?

Is your view hindered by high building, hard structures or is your inability to see the light a barrier of your own making, a filter because of your unpleasant thoughts based on imperfect circumstance?

All of us, different and yet our days are lit the same way.

Distracted? Disenchanted? Less than optimistic because of imperfection or depression or hard circumstance?

How in the world are our lights supposed to shine when we feel so dull, uncertain or burnt out?

Burned down by our own dimming of our light or worse, someone once again making dark our days, heartbreak despite the glimmer we had of hope.

The country road I take is always busy early.

The curves are predictable now before I see the sunrise. Headlights approach and I steady myself, flip my lights to dim hoping they kindly reply in a soft nod.

Homes are popping up, close together or close to the road, some situated in a low down a path valley.

The road to my daughter’s, the road into town for many has become a community.

I notice the lights on the newest one I like, a modern take on country home. Sleek architecture with clean lines.

Christmas lights, a straight line across the front and one small new tree is curtained in loops of string lights.

I pause and remember my thoughts on such displays, Christmas lights on trees with no sense of order, no symmetry, no design.

No, I don’t want lights outside if we can’t do it right!

My husband asks and I tell him I don’t want lights outside if they can’t be just right, don’t want the display that says hey let’s throw these lights up in the trees and see how they land, see how they shine.

I have always been opposed to such a haphazard plan.

A home near ours has the new idea of lighting that appears to be perfect, fits neatly under the roof line and well, it is perfect. The one perfect tree wears Christmas. It is covered in a mesh overlay of sprinkle.

As neat as a pin, a very quiet display. Set for the season, perfect in a clean and closed fashion to me it seems.

The lights are in place and will shine unchanging til the new year.

A settled and set display on the outside, a view that is unchanging.

I thought of my longing for perfection, my determination to be splendid or nothing at all.

I wondered if the light I display has become so driven towards perfection that I appear unwelcoming.

Or maybe if I’m close to not shining at all.

The Book of Job mentions light twenty-seven times. Job wishes the light would just go away, the darkness made more sense and he longed for death. He wished he had never been born, never seen the light of day.

The light reminded him of his dark place as if to say if I can’t make sense of this time, this place, I don’t want to see it!

“Let its morning stars remain dark. Let it hope for light, but in vain; may it never see the morning light. Curse that day for failing to shut my mother’s womb, for letting me be born to see all this trouble.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭3:3-6, 9-10‬ ‭NLT‬‬

The life of Job fascinates me, the way an undeserving man can suffer such bitter and destructive nonsense, question God, lose everything, experience despair and continue to consider that God might still be God and be good.

“God rescued me from the grave, and now my life is filled with light.’”

‭‭Job‬ ‭33:28‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Maybe we’ll string lights in all the trees this year, spread them out across the shrubbery, the bright orange extension chords undisguised in the day and our front yard a maze of electricity source.

For the glorious display when the darkness comes.

Maybe we’ll have lights again.

Imperfect but bright, this might be our display.

On the mornings I keep my granddaughter, I’m excited for the sunrise where she wakes.

We step onto the back porch all bundled and bright she is.

The rising sun is unobstructed there. The land is wide and the horizon only tops of trees.

Good morning, God! Elizabeth and I say.

The display is always brilliant, takes my breath away.

The same sun rose at home this morning, I almost ignored it.

Stepping outside with the puppy, I realize over my shoulder, the sky is ribbons of magenta, coral, powdery blue.

I snap a photo and then pause to admire the camellias.

I’m remembering the little lighted tree, the imperfect display, obvious in its sparse simplicity.

Simplicity keeps calling me back towards the “color story”.

Simply write it, keep it simple. You’re no theologian, Lisa Anne; but you do have a brilliant story.

Don’t we all?

“Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:15-16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Wonderful Souls

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, curiousity, Faith, grace, grief, heaven, Homeless, kindness, memoir, mercy, Peace, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

She dresses herself with strength and makes her arms strong. Proverbs 31:17

What will you notice in others today other than the surface of them, their predicament, their imperfect and even offensive behavior?

Will you consider what’s within?

Will it occur to you that your interaction with others is invitation to ministry, to the wonder of it all, our souls?

Yesterday I woke with the ache of an unpleasant dream. It was early morning and the drift of extra falling asleep led to remembering the news of Saturday.

A woman had been found by her son, unexpectedly she passed away. The dream had me rolled up knees to chest while my friend sat close by letting me cry. Letting me express the regret over not intervening, not being close enough to the sweet elderly woman’s need.

The dream was beneficial. I texted my friend told her I was praying for her because the measure of her grief is greater than mine. My friend had been much closer, like a daughter, like a fighter for this woman’s good, my friend was up close to the survival of this sweet tiny little spitfire survivor of abuse and valiant victor over the bottle despite being homeless woman.

Yes, I had a small part in helping but my friend had one much larger.

Still, both of us were engaged, captivated and humbled by the tenacity of Miss G. because she taught us both to be better, she taught us to keep keeping on.

As tiny as a child she was and on her very best days just as excited over living.

Miss G. was diminutive. If she ever felt diminished or delicate she kept that hidden.

The weak places she buried in the shadowy silence of her soul.

Let us in only a little, me much less than my friend and co-worker, Michelle.

Miss G. saw the wonder of life, love, believing in possible things and she lived, she lived in light of that wonder.

Monday morning now and I’ve switched off the lamplight. I am with God.

He alone knows the sadness of my soul.

Only He knows the benefit of sorrow’s visit.

Sorrow is grief’s measurement.

I allow the rivulet to lay on my cheek, I am thinking of my relationship with Miss G., the petite pulled together woman who fixed her hair to show up to clean the rooms in the emergency department of our hospital.

She was a hard worker, inspired others, was awarded for her attitude.

She came to check on me as I cautiously turned to see her, my condition still shaky, the vertigo and its nausea.

I don’t recall what she said, her look was not one of pity, no it was all her, her philosophy.

Never missing a chance to promote strength over pity.

Stay strong, don’t fall and don’t ever let yourself believe that God is not able.

She left me with this, this instruction as she looked long and directly before leaving.

This was not a verbal exchange. It was her heart seeing mine, this was her ministering to my soul.

So, I allow the tears to fall and let them seep below my skin, to dry on their own. I consider them a gift, drops on my cheeks like the resting rain on the last rosebud.

If I could I’d leave them much longer, evidence of love.

I thought of this sweet woman and of others.

Thought of the work I did before.

Then gave myself permission to see it as it had always been, ministry.

The work of overseeing a program that welcomed a woman in because she was without a home.

That’s not social or administrative or not for profit outcomes based work.

No, not at all.

This is and was ministry of the soul. I see now, clearly.

The encounters, the obstacles, the run ins with not ready for change people.

This was not hard work.

No it was soft, softening of all of our souls.

Me and they, all of us souls.

“Aim for restoration, comfort one another, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭13:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The wonder of it all!

God intersecting our lives with others, all of us with burdens undeniable or hidden.

May I never lose my wonder!

There’s a tiny brick house I pass twice a day on the way to Elizabeth and back home.

A tiny porch bordered by mounds of garbage is lit by a bulb. Often the front door is open and a woman sits in a plastic chair that faces sideways, never turned towards the road, the passing cars, people.

I long to know her story.

I’ve decided it’s enough to simply see her as a soul.

To pray for a need not mine to know.

My friend’s grief over Miss G. is much more than my own. I texted her after my Sunday dream.

This morning I walked outside and I thought of how much you loved Miss G. how much she loved you. I know you are grieving. Miss G. is celebrating in heaven and she was greeted with “Well done thou good and faithful servant!” and I just see her grinning at Jesus and saying…”oh but you just wait til you meet Michelle!” You loved her well, God saw it all. Love you. Praises today, only praises.

What souls are yours to see?

Give yourself permission to go deeper than passing interaction or fulfilling vocation or expectation.

The soul is secret and yet so open.

Let your grace toward someone do unrequited things today.

Be satisfied beyond anything that you noticed and your work became ministry, became the work of seeing souls.

See them more clearly, love when opportunity comes.

Rest In Peace, Miss G. Thank you for ministering to my soul, the souls of so many others.

I will remember you well.


“Fill us with wonder
May we never lose our wonder
May we never lose our wonder
Wide eyed and mystified
May we be just like a child…”

Bethel Music

Unintentional

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, grace, memoir, Peace, surrender, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous.

Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

‭‭Joshua‬ ‭1:9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A more modern translation of this verse is softer, substituting the word discouragement for dismay.

I know now that to be dismayed is a more serious state, more knocked off your feet kind of feel than discouraged.

To be dismayed is to have a sudden loss of courage.

I am thoughtful over this definition. To be dismayed means to me, to be on the brink of defeat or uncertainty because of an unexpected thing.

The photo taken last week while training the puppy was accidental and unintentional.

I’m certain it was because of me adjusting the leash or preparing to control him as we got closer to the fluffy dog behind the neighbor’s fence.

I must’ve swapped hands worn out by his yanking and I guess my finger grazed the phone.

Anyway, I find the image drawing me in, the complexity of the soft and hard ground, the leaves crisp and scattered, just a glimpse of my forward foot and the puppy’s tongue.

We are in training .

We keep on, the shift underneath us so barely noticeable, the shift within us not forceful.

God changing the within in gradual ways.

Surrender is not sudden.

Drawing nearer to God is neither disdain, discouragement or dismay.

It’s simple. It is a soft and secret self-discipline stirred together with sweet encounters of peace.

Peace that is not sudden, is a steady undercurrent like creek to river, sandy path to the main road.

There, I’ve defined it now, the drawing of my eye to the random photo.

The unintentional picture on my phone, peace is what it captures.

Now I know.

I know peace, courage, standing quietly strong.

Not dismayed now.

May be soon. I pray not.

And even if, my heart will be more ready, not be stolen away.

I’ve got peace in my soul, in the ground beneath my feet.

Continue.

Continue and believe.

Moon and Memory

Abuse Survivor, bravery, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, memoir, Peace, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, writing

I walked outside last night to find the moon after reading how another one anticipated it and well, blows my mind.

The moon was nowhere to be found by him.

Not here.

I’m still confused over this.

How his sky had no moon and my sky’s moon was so grand, so bold.

Months ago someone I care about was struggling.

We talked on the phone. I walked outside knowing our talk will be long.

The moon was pretty then.

I told her to look up and find it, I’m seeing the moon with you.

All will become clear.

In the cold cold of a morning causing South Carolinians to freak slightly out, I’m up early and the moon has shifted, still hanging out over my house.

Daylight comes and I drive to my granddaughter’s home, escorted by the big moon to my left the whole way out on the curvy stretch, country road.

I thought of God again.

Thought of my halfhearted morning devotion and the hurry hurry hurry of me.

Comfort, it was to see.

To know.

Here I am God and there, there, here you are.

“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭8:3-4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Knowing, seeing, staying.

The moon is enormous tonight and situated in the sky above our yard.

I walk the puppy to the back and notice the slap of the air so cold I brace as if I might fall.

Then I pause, take a deep breath and a deep breath, stand still and pause and I feel it.

The deja vu.

A night I don’t remember so clearly, only the feel.

No idea exactly when, I’m rushing home, get the presents together, quiet stepping down the hall, babies asleep, grab the bags marked stockings.

Yes, the air tonight, the moon lighting up the icy ground, the cold on my cheeks.

Oh, tonight feels like Christmas.

Yes.

Thank you, God, for that.

And for your mindfulness of me.

And the moon.

Thank you for the moon.

Have Learned

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, memoir, Peace, Redemption, Salvation, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Towards Peace

Underneath the pretty mug marked

Peace.

There’s the Sunday paper, the section with the column written weekly by a scholarly and kind, solid in the faith, teacher of the faith man.

I’ve not read it.

I opened my daily things and read the Utmost for His Highest daily devotion on the phone.

Left it there, walked out with the dog and thought it too much for me, I’m very deficient, I’m not far enough along to learn from this spiritual compilation of a master of God’s word, Oswald Chambers.

Often I wonder about those who read mine and maybe others’ blogs that either proclaim or hint at our faith.

Do I make it seem so doggone hard that a reader might decide, good gracious I’m better off on my own?

It’s possible.

This morning, I opened my tiny and edge torn book, Joy and Strength, a collection of verses and very ancient quotes.

First line was the wisdom of Paul, the murderous villain who was a hater of Jesus, the closing chapter of Philippians, a book marked heavily by my pencil

a note under the header: “Read the book of Philippians, God will reveal what you need to remember.”

“Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therein to be content.”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:11‬ ‭RV1885‬‬

The words I have learned are my takeaway today.

Know why?

Because it tells me Paul wants me to know, this deciding to surrender your life and your knowing to God,

It is not easy.

I love it so much that he says he had to learn and that he learned through the good and the bad, the celebration and the disappointment.

He learned through circumstances.

He made it through.

Before Paul spoke of contentment and learning he wrote about mindfulness.

Mindfulness meaning, think of all the good, don’t let your thoughts go towards what you’re lacking.

Think about what elicits praise.

Maybe Paul kept a little gratitude journal.

practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The decision to believe wholeheartedly in Jesus is not like the “poof…snap of the finger”!

It’s commitment with doubt occasionally on the edges.

It is certainty that the life you have now is significantly more peaceful than before and it is a patient endeavor, a decisive continuation towards knowing God more.

Baby steps. Always baby steps I believe it should be.

Content in the valley and peak, the ebb and flow.

Spurred on by the Holy Spirit’s empowerment, strength in our core.

I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.

I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:12-13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Thank you, God, for your rescue of Paul, a teacher for me and for every human who may have stumbled, fallen, been wrong or done wrong.

Paul, now compared to Kanye and Bieber, a bad, bad man who Jesus believed in, believed could do better, be better, begin again.

I don’t really know the hearts of either of them. Only God and they know whether it’s true, whether they have chosen the way of peace.

I turn now to the column called “Faith Words” by Fred Andrea.

In the column, he writes about the stubborn Jonah, his ideas about worthy or unworthy people, his decision to run the opposite way of God’s leading and then learning a big lesson only to have to be taught again.

We are all learners, stubborn at times, pitiful and even pious.

This is why it jumped off the page this morning, will stick with me as meant for me.

Paul’s strong statement, “I have learned…”

Reassuring for me.

Continue. Continue and believe.

Learning is peace.

You’re Movin’ Too Fast

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, curiousity, Faith, family, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, pride, surrender, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3:5-6‬ ‭NIV‬‬

On Monday, the weather was cool and all day long, the sky was grey with thick theatrical draping, the clouds seemed so heavy.

I watched through the windows that day, we stayed inside.

A beautiful bird visited.

If we’d have ventured out, we might have walked for miles, found ourselves in the place where the cornfield was being cut down.

We might have worried the neighborly man plopped in the big machinery, the one who’d been working all morning tending his field.

You could hear it all day muffled, way off from the back porch, the machinery and the voices, someone giving instructions.

A pause and then the noise of work again.

Getting the season’s work done.

If Monday morning had been led by different thoughts, I would have jumped from the couch, waking up a startled and half asleep five month old.

She, most likely would have gazed towards me and her blue eyes would have softened all at the same time they met the face of mine, her grandma.

She would have smiled.

We might have hurried out onto the porch. I’d have had her little bottom cupped under my arms, holding tight in the way I like to hold her.

The way that lets her see the whole wide world.

We might have watched and then kept seeking, walking quickly and carefully into the open field.

But, we didn’t.

We didn’t go chasing hoping to be closer to what got my attention.

We didn’t follow and end up lost in the deep country woods.

A hawk was on the porch that morning.

Elizabeth slept and I saw it. It lingered only long enough for me to see its shadow and the broad wing.

I only experienced the knowledge of its presence, not close enough to capture on my phone and share or to sit close beside.

The hawk made its presence known.

I noticed God.

We rested, didn’t go off crazy chasing a photo for Instagram.

I was content that the grand bird was near.

That’s how God is.

Notice. Listen.

You will see, not everything all at once, tiny glimpses and assuring hints.

Things you will never fully know.

Touch or see up close.

God is always near.

On Tuesday, the day was different, warm and bright blue.

We walked down pine needle littered trails and the baby dozed while I pushed through dry dirt down the familiar road.

We ended up at the back porch and her eyes opened when I rested. The snoozing baby awakened, looked up.

We lingered outside long enough to see the wide and majestic dark wings against the heavens.

The hawk returned and was content above us and us, content below.

I’m moving slower now.

The vertigo episode of a couple of weeks ago with no determined cause requires a thoughtful pace.

I still am humbled by it all, the way of God getting my notice.

Causing me to take nothing for granted.

Strange, the lesson of it, the clean bill of physical health causing consideration of mental.

It makes no other sense.

A word came, “frenetic”.

A word I do not think I’d ever used.

As I thought it, eventually said it, it felt extreme.

Still does.

After all, I am retired, have no heavy responsibilities or pressured roles.

Or do I?

I worry that my hope will run out of time, be cut off.

The list I made today, it surprised me, pressure self imposed.

The idea of do everything now, you are aging, you might never see your dream come true, the dream of your private soul, the ones involving art

And words. The ones your mind is all tangled up in, dangerously entangled maybe.

fre·net·ic
/frəˈnedik/
adjective
  1. fast and energetic in a rather wild and uncontrolled way “a frenetic pace of activity”

Where was this pace?

In the place between my ears that led to that incapacitated dizziness?

I’m not sure what I’ll accomplish today.

It’s already mid morning.

I have many irons in the fire of my creative passion. Sparks are sparking, wheels turning.

Slow down, don’t let them fall off the rims, note to self.

I have a following now.

I have orders and commissions and I have writing opportunities.

I will proceed at a pace that doesn’t say wait or quit or run harder, just says keep going, keep going.

Pause and rest.

Don’t chase.

Don’t stress.

Don’t go chasing waterfalls. Stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to. Don’t have it your way or nothing at all…you might find you’re moving too fast.

I love the mind God gave me.

One that writes stories of adventures that tell the tale of chasing after a hawk then settles itself for the lesson from God and verses…verses from the Bible and R&B, the “Book of TLC” and Simon and Garfunkel.

Slow down, Lisa Anne.

You move too fast…gotta make the morning last.

sing along now…

“Feelin’ groovy…😊

And a final one from my mama…

Stress’ll kill you. Bette Jean Peacock Hendrix

Hope and Strength 2020

Angels, Art, courage, curiousity, hope, love, mercy, obedience, painting, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I sometimes wish I didn’t love both.

Art and words.

I paint what I call “female forms”.

Some call them angels.

I’ve designed a 2020 calendar. Each month has a thought, a little nudge and a Bible verse.

11×17 on ivory, images large enough for framing.

More photos later and I’ll add to my shop.

For now….just writing about it here.

I’ve done something new.

Feels like a whim.

Is a whim a leap of faith?

Maybe.

Maybe.

More info on ordering this week!