Peace

31 Days, Freely – Why

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, memoir, mercy, painting, Peace, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Day 4 of 31 Days of Writing, trying to be brief and light and think about “my why”. I remembered why in an old hymn, just the chorus.

“Let others see Jesus in you…”

It’s simple but it’s hard, I’m either focused and feeling faithful or I teeter on my own inconsistency to come back around and hopeful again, once again.

What is my why? …a provoking question often used to motivate or continue something begun hopefully or associated with a personal goal.

Why do I write? This one I’ve been pondering lately. Does anyone really care, isn’t my life quite fine without it?

It’s not at all necessary, not as noticed as needed to go someplace grander, more visible, more esteemed.

Someone suggested I write fiction, perhaps people are sick of the sorrowful stories of women who’ve been restored, redeemed, renewed. I was perplexed, set off course and wondered why a made-up story instead of my truth?

Maybe I could, I’m not sure I should. Maybe I will; but, only after I’ve written on why, why I believe, why I have hope now when I was so very hopeless before.

Why you should too.

Have hope.

In the back of a worn little book of Psalms and Proverbs, pages missing and places with corners turned down, there’s a note among other notes:

If I wrote a book it would be a long letter explaining why I believe in Jesus, in His love and in His mercy.

There are countless versions bound into books with more significant stories than mine.

Still, my why is mine.

Why I pause to pray when I could easily turn and go the other way. My knees find peace and my soul finds rest in the personal and private moments I am intentional and I choose to pray.

Why I open my mind to learn from His word, finding new understanding in ancient recordings that develop slowly, requiring discipline and distraction-free commitment of time.

Like the verse about the yoke and rest, I can see it now. I couldn’t take the steps designed for me by God if I didn’t stay in a simple and steady rhythmic walk, I can’t follow God’s path on my own, can’t carry my stuff for too long.

Why I’ve come so very far because of His mercy, yet realize I’ve so much further to go and why I am blown away that He considers me worthy of the cross.

Thank you, thank you for the cross.

Why I am astounded that He prompts me still to pray and that answers come and each time I am moved, so very moved by His splendid and sweet mercy.

Why I think the most important thing about me if there’s anything at all are in the words to this song:

Your life’s a book before their eyes
They’re reading it through and through
Say does it point them to the skies
Do others see Jesus in you?

I understand others seeing Jesus in me differently now than before, more a gentle light causing need for others to come near, to know more, to see a difference in me, my art, my words, my everything.

Potentially

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, waiting, wonder, writing

The idea of God’s mercy never-ending lining up with the potential He sees in me is almost too much to take in.

I put potential in a corner, my pattern of hoping not to be a bother, praying not be noticed, doing what I learned to believe was my role, to be content, to never need more than just enough…

Potential is a mystery some days, a misnomer, how could it be for me?

An inaccurate description, uncertain pursuit.

It takes a while to believe in it. I have to hear, read it in God’s word and get little glimpses of it when I least expect.

Yesterday, I heard a radio pastor remind me that I have no clue all that God will enable me to do if I simply choose to believe and continue with Him.

A conversation immediately clicked like a light, the realization of something God is making possible for me through an exchange with another I remembered.

A second encounter, a stranger saw my art and introduced an idea I’d never thought, possibly I’ll pursue.

And a third, I was intrigued by a new mindset in fundraising for our struggling non-profit. Just a slight change in wording, if businesses are for profit, we should be calling our programs “for purpose”, taking the “non” completely out the equation and mindset.

I assure you, this was not expected!

Clarity

Potential

Mercy, all lining up!

“Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭33:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

His mercy never ends and it triumphs judgment.

I hear more clearly now as He says

“Oh no…don’t you believe the lie that you’re not able, not worthy, that there’s no potential in you. Look around, look to me, you’ll see little by little and then occasionally more clearly.

Your potential is great. Remember my mercy towards you, there’s a reason it never ends, there’s so much more for you to know, to experience, to contribute. I made you, I should know.”

linking up with others, prompted by potential here: Five Minute Friday

Joy, Complete

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, freedom, grace, memoir, Peace, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

I don’t typically have tea and certainly not when it’s still so hot here. The air conditioner not working so great in my office and a deadline looming on top of disappointing decisions, I decided on tea.

I was lingering over an encounter from earlier and the nearness of our conversation making both of our disclosures so very palpable.

I wished I had a pretty cup, I’ll fix that tomorrow, heated the water anyway and washed the Christmas mug.

Opened the little envelope and understood.

Understood why I chose to have tea, the message I needed God knew. His love for me is unlimited, His ideas and plans for me are incomplete.

I have time still, no limits.

Can you imagine how differently God sees you than you most of the time see yourself?

I start and stop things because I can’t imagine the shame of not finishing so I’d just as soon not begin.

Just as soon settle for the label of just a dreamer over an accomplished doer.

I don’t think that is God’s desire, that we decide to derail His plans for us or that we doubt the possibility of their completion.

The three Books of John are brief, 2nd John having only one chapter, 13 verses.

He wrote letters, compelling them to walk in love and the chapter ended with him saying, I’m leaving you with these guidelines; but, I’m coming now to sit with you, to be with you, to look you in the eye, because I want to be sure you understand, want to be sure that your joy will be fully and amazingly complete.

“Though I have much to write to you, I would rather not use paper and ink. Instead, I hope to come to you and talk face to face, so that our joy may be complete.”

‭‭2 John‬ ‭1:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I don’t think he wanted them to take lightly all of the goodness of God, the way to live fully.

I wonder if he’d struggled too to imagine a life complete and he “got it” and wanted to tell them all “you got this too…with God, the possibilities are unlimited! Believe and your joy will be complete.”

Your joy will be consistent, wait and see, you will see redemption this side of Heaven.

Your joy can be complete.

Linking up with others on the prompt from Kate Motaung “complete” as she writes about 7 years and her joy over recording her mom’s passing in her beautiful memoir, A Place to Land. I understand, Kate. I understand.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/09/20/fmf-link-up-complete/

Time and Turnarounds

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, eating disorder, Faith, freedom, memoir, Peace, praise, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, writing

I wish there was another word for broken, I thought.

I’ve had my heart broken, had my collarbone broken and I’ve been broke, close to destitute quite a long time ago.

You’ll hear speakers talk about it, writers write about it, how we must be “broken” to be whole, to truly be who with and through God we are supposed to be.

Women, broken and beautiful.

I prefer words like surrender, words like committed, words like fully aware that I ain’t able own my own.

I need God every hour.

I prefer to believe if I’m a vessel that I don’t have to be cracked open, broken to be used.

Broken seems so physical, to me so much more body than soul.

My tendency to circle back to old ways because I’m not fully broken still rears its ugly secretive ways.

Yesterday evening, the house was mine alone. Just as quick as I could get in the door, my hand reached for the refrigerator door.

Eyeing the savory tarragon chicken salad with almonds so creamy and heavy on the flavor, I grabbed the container and a spoon and dug in.

Standing with the refrigerator door open thinking just a taste, I went for more and then thought, so salty, I need sweet, need so much more.

The apple pie was going to waste, I decided. Just as quickly as before, I dipped out a chunk not a slice and dug around in the pan deciding I’d just have the apples but, then adding the buttered up crumbles.

Popped open the microwave, turned and opened the freezer for ice cream and my timing was synchronicity, the beep beep saying “it’s warm”.

So, I sat with my pretty little bowl and I enjoyed the dessert I decided must come although there’d been no meal.

I thought I’ve been here before but it has been a good long while.

I could go for more, take advantage of the indulgence opening up an opportunity to eat more, even more, to go over the edge like I used to before.

Empty house, pie and ice cream and salty, savory, sublimely good things, they could be all mine.

It could be just like before, I could simply go back for more and more.

All in my control, this at least I know.

Instead, I paid attention to my body’s reaction and my mind caught on. Was I allowing the breaking? I know, at least there was a slight bend, not so unwelcome an idea as before.

I went for my walk/run, returned to shower and spent two hours doing something tangible, demonstrative and intentionally in control of my part with my writing.

img_0613

I organized what I could imagine coming together as chapters, moved the art covering the cork board and planned it all out, quietly, visually, assuredly.

For me, this was a new thing, a turning in my road, a smoother stretch than ever before.

When we don’t go back to the place of before, the struggles that harmed us but feel so very much like rewards, could it be we’re being broken?

When we reject our default responses, the self-medicating maneuvers to avoid the unpleasantries of our days, could it be we’re accepting the tiny opening of cracks in our tightly sealed vessels?

When we anticipate the good stretches, don’t get off kilter by the interruptions of uncertain or not as good as before, could it be we’re broken more than ever, we’re believing in our God of so much more?

We worry less about the wilderness of unknowing while waiting and we don’t fill ourselves up with all our hungry hearts can hold, no need to hoard the good. We don’t have to do that anymore.

I made a turnaround last night.

I embraced the frantic fringe of my almost choosing to binge, to fill up my empty spaces and be in control. Instead, I recognized the misery of me, did what I could to pour my mind and body into the alternative, filled myself up with intention, followed it up with action and had a moment or two when the pieces fell together.

It caused a chill up my spine, my breaking,  and a pause that said,

Yes, Lord you are bringing all of this together now, you are leading my writing way.  You’ve broken me of myself, it had to happen to make room for so much more.

“For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing out in the valleys and hills, a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey,”

‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭8:7-8‬ ESV

Like Moses reminded the Israelites, God reminded me of the horrible places he’d delivered me from and promised me that with His help my turnaround was leading me to so very much more.

img_0615

Broken, surrendered, open to new directions, to making space for Him, clarity for my making known of Him.

Just as sovereignty and providence would have it, I heard a pretty song this morning that made being broken feel quite lovely and welcoming and well, just exactly what and who I should be because of who I was before.

A rebel, a prodigal, imperfect and scarred.

I suppose I’m quite beautiful after all, broken.

 

 

If it’s true you use broken things, then here I am, Lord, I’m all yours.

Matthew West, Broken Things

Linking up with the Tell His Story community and a post today about Jennifer Dukes Lee’s new book, It’s all Under Control. Timely for me and I’m thinking lots of others. Visit here:

https://marygeisen.com/you-have-more-control-than-you-think-and-a-giveaway/

 

Understanding Alone

Abuse Survivor, Angels, bravery, confidence, contentment, freedom, grace, love, mercy, Peace, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

God is in the midst of her…Psalm 46:5

You may know the quote, the one about being courageous enough to grow up and be who you are.

The labels and descriptions you may have spent the bulk of your life trying to prove wrong won’t be thrown off, won’t allow your discarding.

For they know they belong.

You’re not aloof, you just understand more clearly than others maybe, the longing for and gift of alone.

You are finally you, and okay more now than then with your understanding of alone.

My son in law uses an expression quite often that makes me smile when he gets it slightly wrong.

“To each is love, Miss Lisa” , he’ll remind me when we’re noticing people who don’t look, act or talk the same as us.

Maybe he’s right, maybe to each of us “it is our own” and for each us to be here all crowded together, it is love that is required.

I dislike crowds. Some don’t believe me. Speaking in public comes with the territory of my work. Facing crowds with half-hearted expressions and faces to talk about hard things my heart beats for, is hard for me.

When I’m done, I retreat, I long to be hidden, wish I could sit in silence.

I need to be alone.

You know the story about the sheep that Jesus told the disciples in John, 10?

“And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”

‭‭John‬ ‭10:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

If I were a sheep I’d be the one close enough to the fold and keenly listening to be sure I didn’t get separated.

I’m the one Jesus keeps his eye on, knowing my need not to be sort of alone, but still close enough to know His love.

I’m the one often mistaken for aloof, sweet little “shy” one, the childhood description that stuck.

The one in the midst of the gathering either making awkward conversation or biding time until I can again be alone.

“To each is love.”

To each of us quiet sheep following our shepherd but lingering on the edge of the crowded and maybe boisterous crowd, to each of us too, is His love.

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.”

‭‭John‬ ‭10:27-28‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We feel safer in our aloneness, quiet in our quiet places.

We hear our shepherd more clearly when we’re not amongst all the others, competitive or compelling the crowd might be, good crowd or just noisy crowd.

We know where we long to be. So does He.

Linking up, prompted by the word “crowd” with others for Five Minute Friday.

Being Taught

Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, freedom, grace, happy, heaven, Homeless, memoir, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

There’s just something about God’s ways that cause the constant return to quiet.

“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭25:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When you’ve had and have so many irons in the fire and you’re persisting, persisting, persisting because you believe not persisting would be giving up and well giving up might be quitting altogether once and for all.

And then you’d have to fake being fine with the oh, well I tried and it wasn’t meant to be for me facade.

I’ve been creating like crazy, so much that there’s no more space for my pieces and a crazy little children’s table I’m determined I’m gonna be stuck with because, no one thinks it’s worth what I’ve put into it and oh,

Well, you’re not really an artist, Lisa. You have talent but you don’t have what it takes to take you anywhere.

And you’re not really a writer except that people actually like your words and you like sharing them and a few people take something with them from their reading. And they tell you and you smile, thinking oh that’s kind of you but I wish I could be more, more, more.

Because you’ve got five or six possible places and ideas and they’re absolutely all over the place and all overdue soon.

You fathom a community changing idea for suicide prevention but you’re naive to believe you can do it your own and you know that so that knowledge joins in the conversation and question of them all.

Give up or try?

Then you realize, just stop.

Just stop for a day or maybe two.

Stop and remember your why that got crowded out by your what if and why not me or the big one for me, “How can I, How should I and mostly How could I not?

Because there’s always the place inside that won’t let you forget God told you these things are your purpose, He made you for these.

Landscapes were painted because the angels seemed less charming, amateurish, I discerned.

Others wanted color, I adjusted my technique and my brushes.

I wrote bravely and hurriedly to comply with a deadline and four days later reread the folded and put away copy and found a sentence that made no sense, a whole paragraph that had no flow.

Obsessively checking emails to see if they chose to publish it anyway. Crazy!

Crazy ever seeking more for me.

Too much, Lisa. Too much Lisa.

Grace upon Grace

You lost your why again.

Art had become a chore, my quiet space an obligation, counting down time ’til I was done with one and then finish three more to be complete, a series I called “Spirit”.

I suppose such is life when you’re teetering over deciding your worth from what you create instead of from your creator.

The things that have always been your sweet spot of comfort become a frantic and frazzled focus, an ever futile challenge.

It is miserable when you veer off the path of what had become your peaceable and pretty place.

So, you take a break, maybe just an hour, a day or two and you ask God to speak before you close your eyes.

You wake and there’s barely light outside, the soft and gradual I’m not gonna overwhelm you revelation of day.

Feels like God saying,

Come now, let’s begin again.

This time be disciplined. Be disciplined not in your doing.

But, be disciplined in your believing.

Make things of beauty because I’ve given you the ability, the hands, the thoughts, the words.

Make them for me, allow me to take them where they belong.

I’ve begun a new piece, returned to my beginning place, the quiet pieces resting on lyrics from old hymnal pages. The works I call “my girls” and some have called my ministry.

I’m at peace again.

Back to my soul.

I’m linking up with the Tell His Story community along with Mary Geisen and this beautiful story: https://marygeisen.com/there-goes-my-heart/

Reflections Clearly

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, love, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Jesus met the woman at the well. She described Him as a stranger and yet was compelled to know Him more.

It is the same with me, the same with us.

I consider myself lucky that it’s not the same face to face chronological recitation of my wrongs, rather the knowing that He knows and with no need for discussion speaks gently to my soul saying,

“Lisa Anne, let’s move on.”

Move with me now, not against me.

And like the woman drawing out her supply of water, I allow myself to go without far too long and I come back to the well.

“The woman said to him, “Sir, you have nothing to draw water with, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?”

‭‭John‬ ‭4:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

He tells her. She asks to be quenched of her thirst and Jesus suggests she go and fetch her husband to join them.

She tells him she’s not married and He answers like a parent who’s been carefully observing and waiting for the proper time for telling,

Yes, I know. I know what you have done. I know you have a reputation.

I know you’ve been with many men.

She’s surprised, not humiliated or else I believe she would’ve run. Imagine a man you consider a stranger being bold enough to confront your attempt to cover.

It’s time for new water, He says, let me share mine with you.

And she accepted His offer.

Then she left her water jar beside the well and ran quickly to tell others.

“So the woman left her water jar and went away into town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?”

‭‭John‬ ‭4:28-29‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Changed by her encounter she had much to say. She couldn’t wait!

I sat with someone this week who came asking for help for someone other than herself. She brought him along, his eyes were sad and yet, open to change.

Desperate for a resolution, she said she thought I might know more and phone calls on speaker were made, options discussed and possible plans suggested.

The conversation shifted. She was tired, I was right, her choice was wrong, what will she do now?

I suggested the same as I suggested before and reminded her how I thought her mama life should line up now.

Straightforward responses that caused the troubled one with her to lift his face in surprise that I might be so bold.

He commented, “I like you, you shoot straight.”

She sat still, face towards her lap and I told him it’s only a small amount of time I get someone within my reach and so if I want to help, I don’t hold back on my words.

“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

If I have opportunity to tell, Lord, help me to tell. Me

The door opened wider and she told me she’d gotten away from God, that she doesn’t seek Him, doesn’t make time.

She said it began weeks ago.

I told her I knew, that I had seen it in her eyes, in the way we’d met before and she’d insisted all was good; but, she hurried away and shot out the door.

On this day she sat and I suggested what I know to be true, a true indication of my own distance from or closeness to God.

Begin to pray again, read your Bible, get quiet.

Look in the mirror today and then continue, coming back to it and remember the mirror now in comparison to before.

You’ll like what you see, your eyes more open, your cheeks back up and resting where they belong, your smile will be not of your own making, instead from Him.

It’ll be like you are singing your song again, dancing your dance.

Joy will be your reflection. Your spirit no longer thirsting for whatever was wasted on your attempts to quench it.

This I know, because I know.

I’ve tested my suggestion, I’m well acquainted with my countenance either content or conflicted.

This morning, I woke and prayed:

God help me to tell others the things you have told me.

Things like the mirror story, I tell it because it is mine and things like meeting Jesus and the mercy of His knowing my wrongs.

And remembering them no more.

There’s a song that sounds like love to me.

The lyrics and the tone sway gently with its story, Jesus holding us close and taking the lead, leading me on in a dance of love.

You steady me.

You set my feet to dancing.

Bethel Music

Listen and you might better understand the love of Jesus, the way He says come near, stay near, dance with me now and forever.

We Dance

Beautiful is our reflection.

When it is from Him.

Heaven, Rain Down

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, freedom, heaven, love, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

“Do you know the balancings of the clouds, the wondrous works of him who is perfect in knowledge…?”

‭‭Job‬ ‭37:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There are countless things I do not know.

I’m afraid my need to know overshadows my trust in the one I say I know.

Some may say it is so, that when evening comes, my morning proclamations fade and my trust might be pretend.

I told my husband I’d be happy if it rained all day today. Something ’bout a day filled with rain makes some things more permissible.

Rest, and not obsessing over lack or just a nod saying,

retreat, gather your thoughts and get ready

continue the redirection you started and then allowed your feet and faith to falter.

Know who you are and acknowledge the tendency towards the former, adjust your sails, begin again.

We go slow sometimes in our going towards good, our turning from old to new.

Someone I know loves to look towards the sky. Me too, like her, more now than before.

Yesterday, the clouds were massive. God was very near.

I couldn’t look away, wished now I’d thought to lie out my grandma’s quilt on the ground and do nothing but stare.

Fixing my gaze on heaven not my weighty frame as I laid there, caring about nothing other than clouds.

It would have been heavenly, a little heaven on my tiny space of earth.

It would have and will be, more than enough.

The atmosphere is changing now. The spirit of the Lord is here.

The evidence is all around…

Here as in Heaven, Elevation Music

I get so very distracted, forgetting how far I’ve come.

“Lord, help me be present.”

This morning, I’m four chapters away from finishing the Book of Job.

Chapter 37 has a prophet detailing God’s majesty yet again to Job.

Reminding him God is God and he is not.

We are not.

“For to the snow he says, ‘Fall on the earth,’ likewise to the downpour, his mighty downpour.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭37:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In Chapter 38, God gives further reply.

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

Can you send forth lightnings, that they may go and say to you, ‘Here we are’? Who has put wisdom in the inward parts or given understanding to the mind?

Who can number the clouds by wisdom? Or who can tilt the waterskins of the heavens,”

‭‭Job‬ ‭38:34-37‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Job accepted not knowing.

Job knew God knew.

I’m reading a book now that I’ve set aside, glanced towards to return to and on purpose placed it next to me with pencil for marking.

Its message for me, at first wonderful to know, I guess now seems too wonderful for me to know, to live.

You see, I know it is for me, still so hard to grasp less fleetingly, the knowledge of my need to let God be my full focus.

The day before the author autographed her book, I had committed to a change of perspective.

Told myself, memorizing the order…

God.

Family.

Writing.

Art.

Work.

Knowing full well, for far too long it has been about me, my lack or my striving to be worthy.

That author asked my name, her smile met me and then her eyes for a second more when I replied, “Lisa Anne”.

And the sharpie message to me remains.

God first!

Lisa Whittle

The book, a response to a pieces falling apart time in her own life, “I Want God- Forever Changed by the Revival of Your Soul”.

I Want God

I’m only through Chapter One, because I dance the dance of too much to know and too long I have not known.

Commit or continue on the same.

This is why we must want this with our whole heart and not just know in our head we need it. We can be told a million times over that we should want God, but our flesh will convince us every time it is a lie.

So it then comes down to the ache and the longing of what we want more.

Gradually, I am wanting more, my eyes turn from the mirror reflecting a haphazard pursuit and I look inward to His spirit in me.

More often now, the reflection is radiant.

As I look up and attentively within, compelled more towards my heaven than my earth.

My atmosphere is changing now.

The spirit of the Lord is here.

God, Being God

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

God being God, will bring to you what you need.

I asked this morning why I have a hard time with words like “surrender”?

There’s a word picture I’ve painted when I sit and make my list, the prayers and the same old struggles, worries, hopes and fears.

I’ve taken to opening my hand, palm facing up when I pray.

It’s a small thing.

I’m trying to grasp a better understanding of my part in this thing called surrender.

I notice my hands unfolding more now, I’m less likely to be tightly fisted in every occasion requiring I wait or sit still.

The tension releasing, the simple change of unclenching, a tiny thing in my timely transformation.

This morning, I told God

I want peace.

Well, of course you do, don’t we all, I suppose you may be thinking.

Surrender doesn’t mean defeat, not giving up or lying down and curling up fetal.

Surrender means deciding you can handle this better, God. Your skill set so much more developed than mine.

Surrender is the realization you can no longer meet the need of another, or something other.

So, you say, “Here, God.”

My ancient devotional gifted by my wise cousin has verses in translations that are old and sometimes, odd.

Quotes from ancient writers, teachers, theologians and poets often require a whole lot of concentration.

Read. Ponder. Read.

The topic today? Fretting.

Fret not thyself, it tendeth only to evil-doing. Psalm 37:8 R.V

Spellcheck is confused. Do you mean tends instead of tendeth?

I kinda like the word fret. I totally get its meaning and it reminds me of my grandma.

fret1

fret/

verb

1 1.
be constantly or visibly worried or anxious.”she fretted about the cost of groceries”

2 synonyms:

3 worry, be anxious, feel uneasy, be distressed, be upset, upset oneself, concern oneself;

I see her scurrying around in her kitchen making us all pancakes and bacon and I imagine she’d tell me now.

Stop fretting! It will be alright.

Fretting comes so much more naturally than surrender.

God, being God lined up my lessons this morning. A fellow blogger sent an email out to her subscribers, reminding us to continue even when it feels a strain against your natural flow, that’s transformation in the underneath, there are refinements happening I can’t see.

Then, a Joy and Strength historic quote:

Do not be disquieted about your faults. Love without ceasing, and much will be forgiven you, because you have loved much. Francois de la Mothe Fe’nelon

This fretting thing has clearly been around for ages.

surrender, too.

Decidedly, it’s what we commit to that matters.

What we decide to pursue in our thoughts and actions that will bring peace.

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act.

He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday.

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; fret not yourself…”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭37:4-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Linking up with Mary Geisen at Tell His Story. Mary compares the back and to of control and surrender to the game on volleyball. It’s an awesome piece reminding me that God has control of the ball.

Tell His Story

Freedom Fear

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, freedom, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

“for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”

‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I captured a butterfly and then decided I was wrong. Hope it’s not too late.

It must be set free.

Caught up high in the corner of our porch, it didn’t resist my catching and barely fluttered to flee.

Found a pretty jelly jar, punched a hole for air and then reached for the lid.

The wings were motionless between my thumb and forefinger, no resistance at all.

Morning came and I regretted its capture as I thought of my fears and my efforts to keep most everything intact.

Under my thumb, clearly planned and not ever questioned.

Fear is a liar.

Fear is cunning the way it creeps back in.

It manifests and masquerades as regret, doubt, indecisiveness, insecurity, “overly analyticalness”.

Fear makes you forget you were ever strong.

Fear can fade an answered prayer into the back crevices of your mind quicker than you can say “Amen”.

Fear has already finagled itself back in.

Fear is a glaring, eyes covered with frantic hands, obnoxiously startling thing or a flicker-like tiny light in a dark room that no matter how you try, you open your sleepy eyes and there you go.

Right back to fear.

Faith, a quiet warm light at your bedside or to greet you as you turn your eyes from your driving to arrive back home.

Faith never confronts us, simply beckons our return.

Fear is a quickly spreading wildfire, hastening to burn you out,

Cast it off quickly, run back to your refuge.

Your journal, the place you write your prayers, your honest and scary questions and your figuring them all out with God.

Your knees, your quiet waiting.

The wings are beginning to flutter.

In time, maybe when I leave and let it be it will fly free.

But, now, tentative and questioning

Fear has returned to cause my considering,

Was I really free…is freedom really for me?

Last night I listened to lyrics I thought before were telling to give God all my heart, tell me what to do, Lord.

The song became new.

Rather than tell me what to do, the asking for more knowing

God, tell me what is true, God remind me only of what is true.

Saying, “Here’s my heart, Lord. Here’s my heart, Lord. Speak what is true.

Speak what is true.”

The butterfly will be free. I’ll check on it this evening and the little glass will be empty, the blue velvety creature will have remembered its wings.

What makes you afraid again? What is it for you that causes the writing of tragic stories?

Remember what is true. What is holy and what is for you not against you.

Freedom unexpectedly feels scary because it is new, years of living captive by fear make it foreign.

Embrace it, fly free and easy in time and maybe time and time again.

I pray we feel more free.

Here’s My Heart