After All

birds, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

All day long to me, it was Thursday. It made no sense because Tuesday meant meetings and Thursday, always the same.

Wednesday though, in between after my Tuesday starting early and ending late.

Maybe my mind’s compilation and calculations had me thinking such. I’d barely been home at all.

Wednesday evening now and the clouds are boldly gray, all meeting in the middle as if saying hurry, hurry sundown.

Tomorrow is another day.

My mood was knocked off kilter yesterday.

What was expected would be required to change.

Moody, mopey, misaligned, my plan would not come true.

Once again, it’s up to you and you may have said to self, the going well of this or not going well,

Well, that’s gonna be it for me!

You may have decided it’s a pivotal time. I’m tired, I’ve tried.

But, yesterday I went home in between the upended plan and the meeting.

Thirty minutes was all.

Acknowledged the Labrador, allowed him to run, made an iced coffee and went to my room to pray.

Lord, this is the work you’ve given me to do, help me do it well.

I conducted the meeting, the conversations were engaging and new.

Not once felt incapable, I somehow commanded the room.

It was a long day into evening, which is I guess, why Wednesday I decided should be by now Thursday.

Grocery store stop, supper done, dishes done, mess I made in the art/writing/workroom tidied, a load of towels done and tossing and tennis ball retrieving fulfilled.

I ran some, walked some and came back home.

Stopped the music coming through and stood still in our front yard.

The warm wind against my shoulders, circling all around my face. So softly strong there was a sound, sound of whooshing wind and soprano birdsong.

So I stood and closed my eyes to pray and when thoughts did not come not a request or a thank you, Lord, I stood still and I still prayed.

I stood very still to listen.

To pray.

Happy Way of Life #16 To Try

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, courage, freedom, grace, happy, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

There is a persuasion in the soul of man that he is here for a cause, that he was put down in this place by the Creator to do the work for which He inspires him, that he is an overmatch for all antagonists that could combine against him. Ralph Waldo Emerson

Have you considered the deep down joy of trying?

It is possible that trying might be more fantastic than you’ve ever known.

If we’d not discount it based on whether we finished satisfactorily or how everything may have to fall apart to come back together.

Last night, I painted for an hour, the same the night before. The surface waits for me now, paint tubes not closed properly, canvases stacked with halfway pieces and half-hearted attempts.

I’ve been here before. Seeking something big and of notice.

Seeking to be known by the work of my hands.

Instead of my heart.

Self-awareness, oh what a blessed gift you are!

Encouraging my beginning again.

Telling me to try.

I’ve just done a new thing this morning.

An idea I’ve had for a long time, a story and the deadline, oh shoot!

It’s today.

So instead, I pitched my idea…just proposed the heart of the story to see if the publisher might think the reader may like to read more.

This is not a phenomenal feat, it is simply a try and it is new for me.

So, now I move farther into my Saturday.

I’ll run while the air is still cool, make the bed, do some laundry, maybe return to the mess I made and try again and again.

Maybe, again. I will try.

Know that wisdom is such to your soul; if you find it, there will be a future, and your hope will not be cut off. – Proverbs 24:14

A Loyal Peace

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, happy, heaven, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

He restores my soul.

A grassy hill, a sloping field sits in front of our house. Occasionally, when it cools down with a crisp sharp change, a lone deer will stand and stare.

I imagine it sometimes more of a pretty meadow and I love to picture a flock of fat fuzzy sheep gathered together, content in their position.

I read this morning of our all-knowing God, His knowing us completely, our good things and our struggles.

I thought of Him as a shepherd and imagined one sheep who had found a solitary corner, separate from the rest.

One might think illness, pregnant with a baby lamb or some limitation causing it to stay back, to retreat.

Like a sheep all alone on purpose, I’m prone to retreat. Sometimes to rest my mind, filter out the excess. Sometimes healthy or something else.

Other times the cause is remorse, sometimes insecurity, sometimes shame, or uncertainty.

I learned long ago to find a corner and to sit with it all, wanting someone to notice or praying no one noticed at all.

Until I convinced myself to get up and carry on.

We have a shepherd who is loyal, not going to leave us behind or desire that we sulk off separate from rest.

God sees our good. He also sees our not good. Our emotions and negative names we give ourselves are just as troubling to Him as our sin, I believe.

Were we able to audibly hear Him calling our name, saying “Come here, come out from that corner!”

We’d hear him say, I imagine, “I give you safety not fear. I created you to be confident, not afraid, I will equip you to do great things, don’t be insecure. Remorse is not required of you.

You are forgiven.”

Then He might tell me a story or a few of them about others like me who got lost and were found and found again.

And if this were so, I imagine there would be an embrace and perhaps, He would say:

“Stay with me. Stay longer this time, Lisa Anne.

Everything I did and have done. It is for you, for you to follow, fully believing.

I am loyal, your loyal shepherd.

I don’t see your struggles the way you believe I do, I see them simply as not meant for you. I see you meant for more. This is why I am loyal, why I gave my life for your peace.”

But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned-every one-to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. – Isaiah 53:5-6

 

This post was prompted by the Five Minute Friday community, Kate gave us the word loyal and like most times, I’m sure I took more than five minutes to finish, still, I am linking up with others. Kate Motaung writes about the loyalty she observed while in Africa. Read here: Loyal

FF-Square-Images-Round-4-1-2

Where God Has Me

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, love, Peace, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

Lisa Brittain writes about freedom, trust and surrender. She asked me to write about freedom.

She reminds the reader that when we look to the Lord, we are radiant and without fear. (Psalm 34:5).

This morning, I read my contribution to her blog. It’s an odd excitement to see your words in other places, I hope it will always be exciting. I believe it will.

Today, it prompted a sort of urgent self-reflection, a gentle stirring me to right a slight wrong.

Early still, I’m awake and thinking about this new “forgetting and forgiving is freedom” place God has me.

I know it’s the right place, this place of deliverance longed for for so long.

Yet, it’s not about me.

I’m glad I caught it early.

Self-examination in the quiet space of morning caused me to trash quickly a post, one about not joining in the conversations about new and overwhelmingly increasing numbers of sexual abuse disclosures.

I harshly used the word “bandwagon” to judge others who are finding their voice and bravely revealing what they’d hidden for so long.

My 5:30 a.m. journal is a note to self:

Are you boastful when you declare your progress?

Are you self-righteous when you proclaim your healing?

Somewhere I remember self-righteousness being like filthy rags.

Oh.

Maybe.

And my sermon to self?

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

I will preface the sharing of my post on freedom by being clear.

I understand how important it is to confront physical, sexual, emotional abuse and if appropriate, even the abuser.

I understand the powerful freedom that comes from declarative disclosure, ideally with a trusted and trained therapist.

It is important to say aloud and as often as needed:

“He, she, they should not have hurt me.” or “What happened to me was wrong”.

Yes, I do understand.

I understand the strength you never thought was yours equipping you in your disclosure and growing stronger and stronger.

I understand to decide to step away from those wounds, to move on towards new and vibrant places with a countenance of confidence is a decision of will and of faith, of determination and daily rising up to meet the road with God beside me.

I’m not able on my own.

My decisive daily prayer of what to do now with my survivor story that was once horrific and now, hopeful has become:

Lord, what do I have to say that others need to hear, to read, to know? Help me to help and not hinder and to speak more of my hope through you than my harm through them. May it be so.

Because of mercy, Amen

Here’s an excerpt from my post on which Lisa gave space for my freedom story.

   For so long, I’ve held tightly to my harm from abuse.  My days and nights have been marked by reminders that prodded the scars of my heart’s wounds, the scars that would be forever tender. Talking with others who understood or at least could attempt to be empathic, I was committed to my mindset, a decision to “keep my stuff”. It was a huge part of me…

Read more here:

The Freedom of Forgetting

Happy Way of Life #15

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Serving, Stillness, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability, wonder

There is always opportunity to choose peace in a world that gives more opportunities for stirring up over settling down, peace must become a choice.

A happy way of life, being an instrument of God’s peace.

“Lord make me an instrument of your peace

Where there is hatred let me sow love

Where there is injury, pardon

Where there is doubt, faith

Where there is despair, hope

Where there is darkness, light

And where there is sadness, joy”

Prayer of St. Francis

Everyone’s disgruntled over one thing or the other and it’s broadcast “nationwide” for us to see, lured in constantly by not missing out or being left out of some loop.

Social media, the not so subtle vehicle for gossip and inciting conflict and confusion.

So, look away I tell myself.

Look up, seek peace while it may be found, look towards the clear blue sky, an open invitation saying here, “See, there is still peace for those who seek.”

This little building held a group of people called a coalition and while I differed from them in many ways, we began the meeting the same, a benediction, an invocation.

We stumbled over what to call it considering some there are offended by prayer.

And while I was once puffed up and offended over the avoidance of the name of Jesus, the verbal listing of titles and names of all inclusive beings and people

I listened. I didn’t know the one reading intended her words to be a prayer as in my head bowed down, my hands opened in my lap, an acceptance of heaven here on earth.

I listened.

My eyes were not closed, my posture not bowed down, more open.

I listened and found a tiny place up high in the beautiful old room to fix my eyes.

I listened quietly as did the others as she read, happy to hear that our “focus” she had chosen was peace, happy to be reminded to live peacefully with others and with our Lord of peace, Jesus.

He is with us.

Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in every way. The Lord be with you all. – 2 Thessalonians 3:16

Stuff of Sorrow

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, heaven, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting

Most of my afflictions have been “momentary” and later, I understood them all or with time, accepted them. I can’t say any of my troubles could compare to Job’s and if I’m honest, nor does my unwavering trust.

My choices waver at times, not so much like altogether abandoning my faith; but, like the rich man who couldn’t imagine choosing to follow over keeping all the wealth he had.

And a ruler asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.

You know the commandments: ‘Do not commit adultery, Do not murder, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother.'”

And he said, “All these I have kept from my youth.”

When Jesus heard this, he said to him, “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.”

But when he heard these things, he became very sad, for he was extremely rich. – Luke 18:18-23

Sometimes I’m sorrowful over my sorry state of mind and lack of solid pressing forward.

When Jesus told the rich man what he needed to go beyond just being good, it was more than he wanted to hear; I believe he was looking for one more commandment, maybe a new one he could boast about his adherence.

Instead, Jesus asked him to sacrifice.

He asked him give what he treasured, asked him to give up the thing he measured his worth, his value by.

When Jesus tells me to do something or to do without something, it’s obviously not a tap on the shoulder or a verbal command.

It’s more a stirring, sometimes unpleasant and others exhilarating over what my life might be if I gave my all, gave Him my all.

When that soul stirring says “change” “surrender” “give up” or “give all” it’s a call to follow, to come and see how my life might be.

Mostly, I meander and the hard truth is I often ignore and it’s sort of secretive. Only God and me know, how I might be different were I to choose differently.

Then comes the sorrow, the sorrow we label loosely in other, more understandable ways.

Calling it humility, doubt or disappointment because we don’t want to call it what it is, disobedience.

Doubt somehow is easier on the heart, feels more allowable and forgiving like mercy or grace.

Like the Proverbs verse about the dog returning to his vomit, I’m prone to patterns I know, mostly in my thinking, thankfully.

Job chose a different path than the rich ruler. Both had a whole lot. The rich ruler lost nothing, Job everything.

Job refused to curse God. The rich ruler by his refusal to let go of all his riches, essentially did.

Both were sorrowful. Both were tested. One held fast to God, the other to His riches.

And the LORD said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil? He still holds fast his integrity, although you incited me against him to destroy him without reason.” – Job 2:3

Job lost property and children and did not blame God.

Chapter 2 has a header in my Bible that says “Satan Attacks Job’s Health”. Job’s wife watches as he breaks a pot to alleviate the pain and presence of sores, scraping desperately over the toxic wounds now covering his entire body.

She tells him he should curse God and die.

Job replies that her talk is foolish and reminds her we shouldn’t expect good from God only, that we might experience bad, we might experience evil even.

In the midst of our suffering God is still working, will we hold fast and trust Him?

I wonder how the rich ruler continued on. I’d love to know that he reconsidered his riches, that his cycle of security through wealth was somehow harshly broken.

And that when he had nothing of his own making, he believed Jesus and was made new.

This world is not our home, nor all the stuff we pile up round our rooms or anxiously work to acquire and feel we are finally enough.

But, eternity and the riches of heaven, oh my goodness, it is ours for the asking and while heaven can never be here on earth, it’s so very much closer in and around us when keep what we need, our faith and care so very little about the things that are just “the rest”.

God honored Job’s integrity, gave him and his family back all that had been taken. His days continued, they were full with so much more because he accepted what was taken, all.

And Job died, an old man, and full of days. – Job 42:17

Sun, Sit

Faith, family, grace, grief, heaven, Peace, Prayer, Stillness, Vulnerability

He sat so that I might see

The sunbeams that were

Soon to be sunset.

We’d walked a sauntering stroll

Purposefully so and the same prayer,

A thought unspoken.

Peace for them, peace surround them

Evidently, all around and real.

As our neighbor lies passing.

The thought I keep thinking.

He paused and I attempted new prayer

But, nothing came.

Peace, I asked again.

Peace.

And the Lab sat until I said “Come on.”

We continued on.

Continued on.

What I Lost

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, memoir, mercy, Peace, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized

On the morning of my birthday, I lost a treasured gift.  A trinket, a charm my hand loved to seek out to be sure still there or to cling not so tightly to, my thumb and index finger, for secret security.

It was early and I was dressing to be with a crowd of women who were hopeful writers, speakers, famous and not famous, wise and seeking wisdom. I had thought to go fancy, bright colors and bold statement jewelry, then settled on a crisp white top with navy stripes, jeans, favorite worn leather sandals and blue grey beads that landed just right. Simple earrings, favorite bracelet, watch and birthstone ring. I decided to be me and the morning was going pretty good.  It was good, a good hair day, feeling my best me.

One more thing though, I was hesitant over wearing it, would it be just the right touch?  Was it necessary to offset the subtle sparkle of bead and would it send the right message, give the right image?

My fingers reached for the tiny hook that opens the clasp, the thick rope chain that has always kept it safe.

Seconds between thinking, of course you wear it,  people will notice and then…No, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t act as if your day depends on what you wear or whether you’re someone to be seen and especially righteous by the wearing of your tiny gold cross.

Showy, Lisa Anne, that’s showy, that’s seeking notice.

Another second was all that passed and I convinced myself that’s silly, wear the necklace, no shame in your game, let it shine!

But, on the morning of my birthday,

I lost my cross.

It slipped from my hand and the delicate charm I was washing to make shine fell quickly into the drain of the hotel sink.

Well then, there you go, I thought. I tried to pull the drain from the sink, wedged the end of my toothbrush in and then decided it was okay.

I let it go.

No time to worry, no time to panic. Only time to carry on knowing what I needed to know.

I’d be fine without my cross resting on my chest.

No, I’d be better.

I’d be less showy, less fan girl of the authors hoping they notice me.

I’d be more quiet background and less front row.

I’d be able to see them, hear them, not be heard and not to be seen.

I’d be there to soak in what was poured out, not to be dying of thirst and hoping some special soul might notice and offer me a cool drink from their famously special cup.

A drink of attention, acclaim, of admiration of me and my appearance.

I’d be there to be changed.

And I was.

Two hours in,  my shirt’s all wrinkled and my lipstick has faded. My hair is puffy on one side and flat on the other. I’m next to a pretty young woman.  We’re facing the mirrors and she smiles as I smile and say, “humidity hair”.

Two or three others agree. After lunch with time before the next session, I join a group clustered and we begin to talk and we ask questions that seem so very much the same and we smile and we answer, we laugh and we agree.  We’ve learned so much more than we expected today but exactly what we prayed we would.

It’s all of us that matter, our stories of Jesus, not a one the same as the other.

Our messages are meant to be written and gradual or sudden nudges for others to know more.  To know more of our story before and even more of it now. We’re stewards or our stories, not proud owners and most of all not fancy paraders for our glory or our lingering disdain.

We are bearers of light; yet, not the light.

I am closer and closer to no longer fretting over what I lost or perceived as a loss. Closer to forgetting my need to remember, to hold on to, to believe I must appear to be so or just so.

The hotel called to say they’d found my cross. I asked them to mail it and told them I appreciated it so, it was from my husband and special to me because of it being a long ago birthday gift.

I drove right past the hotel as I headed home from the conference.  I thought to exit but decided instead to go on.

Decided to continue on back towards home, to arrive at the place where it matters no more what I left behind, only what I’ve come to know now.

What I lost mattering not, only what I’ve found and continue to find through Him.

I once was lost. Now I’m found. Was blind but now I’m (beginning) to see.

On the day I turned 58 I lost my cross, had to let go and leave it behind.

But, I’m pretty sure I found my message. Yes, I believe I found my song.

Linking up with Mary Geisen and others at Tell His Story. Yes, we’re just a blip on God’s radar, we’re small in this great big world. Still, we matter. 

Tell His Storyimg_5038

For Women

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, daughters, Motherhood, Peace, praise, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I came real close to calling her back.

Thought about it more than once, a non-writer, blogger, random probably, reader of my words.

I couldn’t remember the way she said what she said.

I told her it meant so very much and now I can’t even remember how, but

we went from work related conversation to her making mention of my instagram, my words that morning

And other mornings.

“Something about it…” she said.

“Something about your words, always, always for women”

2 days later, I’m settled here, settled and satisfied that sometimes some things I say matter for someone other than me.

Just now I’ve had a texting convo with my girl and before that a friend and before that this one who made my day when she told me I likely had no idea how much my words mean to so many women.

Like a prayer, I’m inclined to say

Amen.

Prompted by the FMF ladies…the word, WOMAN

Woman

Bird’s Eye, Mine

birds, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, heaven, Peace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I couldn’t have captured them if I tried.

But, I certainly would if I could and so I’m always looking, ever aware of my pursuit.

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! Psalm 27:13 ESV

The one that met me as I began or the one that made its presence known as I drove intent on my part in making things better for someone.

Nor the ones all clustered together to then scatter separately in happy lilting flutters.

I smiled watching as my feet pounded the gravelly trail

Running as a release, and knowing that there’s no need to pause as if I’d cause their pausing. They were all around, teasingly entreating my notice.

Birds are just that way.

Momentarily glimpses of God, in my periphery or suddenly right in front.

And yet, not even as I rounded the curve and the straight place, again, there they were the same small clique, waiting to have me see.

And remember them and the ones before.

The first one, blue.

The second, red and the group, too distant to know, their wings mottled grey and brown.

I couldn’t have captured their appearance if I tried, if I’d flicked my wrist and angled the tiny lens just so and simultaneously tapped the button for a photo.

Even then, I couldn’t have fully captured it, their message to me saying you are seen, you are known, continue singing.

Continue to fly, to walk, to run towards God’s goodness.

Something happens when I step out to walk, to run when I make it a mandate for me.

An unraveling, solitude, unconcern over others around and ears muted to outsiders and filling up with a strong song.

Maybe the getting closer to the sky or unconfined behind desks and screens or maybe it’s the physicality of the unhindered release of mind, of limbs lethargic.

Out amongst the things of God, sounds, movements, and makings, I might otherwise consider only insignificant landscape.

The flight of birds, their singing and skirting about in my presence, it matters to me.

Assures me I matter to God. More than unexpected acclaim or surprising occurrence of good.

The birds remind me I’m small in His presence and yet He knows.

So, I’ll continue changed by the birds I see, I’ll be unchanged by the oddness of it that others might perceive.

I’ll continue joyously at ease every time I see one; the bluebird quick and rare in my presence, the red one, daily and often for me, and the obscure ones gathered together in their little community of engagement.

For with you is the fountain of life; in your light do we see light. – Psalm 36:9 ESV

Each of them for my seeing, elusive in their leading me to carry on, carry on towards the days of goodness in this land of the living.

The birds, the open sky, the invitation to pursue, to wait for all that is good all the good in the light I must go to see, to seek under great big skies, bordered by bird and tree, I must open my eyes to see, open them to heaven!

The unraveling of my anxious thoughts, making space for Him.

Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! Psalm 27:4