praise

The Personality of Praise

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, mercy, praise, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭139:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A flowering bush hidden by the fence is so exotic it seems more fit for another country. The blooms like tiny cups of strawberry buttercream on a tiny spoon, the center a plop of darkness.

My granddaughter decided

“These beautiful flowers, Grandma…they’re blueberry blooms”.

She plucked a few “babies” and I picked a branch full of blooms for inside.

The splendid color praising a very sweet Saturday.

Rarely do I pass by the patch of grass shaded by pines and hidden by high fence.

The place of the flowers showing their brilliant display.

Yesterday, I was moved in a sweet heavy way by the nearness of spontaneous praise, the connectedness to another who felt the words of a song and proclaimed in a way that was personal, something they only knew, were fearing or taking hold of in renewed faith.

Once, I sat beside a woman with a jawline changed by the ravaging in her body evidenced by the cloth covering her head.

I felt her being comforted by song. I embraced it beside her. We listened together.

I touched her arm in a goodbye as we exited. I hope my look said “I care”, words felt unnecessary.

She’d surely heard them in abundance already I was certain.

Another time, I sat next to a man about my age who looked like he’d been a linebacker in his day. He smiled as if he’d been lonely when I asked if the seat was vacant and he made affirming sounds during the message.

My favorite part was his singing, his abandonment to the joining with others maybe better at singing than he or I.

He sang along.

He sang loud enough to be heard clearly, his one voice in the crowd of others.

I listened.

One Sunday, I found a spot next to a woman who was large and strong and dressed up for Sunday in a way that said confident joy. Once the music began, I saw my first impression was accurate.

Joyous.

Because she sang like the old cliche’ “like no one was listening”, like maybe she understood what Maya Angelou felt…

like a splendid bird who had been set free from its cage.

Like me.

Together, we were in an old country church with the windows up in August. She swayed and her swaying body made me sway.

We became secret sisters.

Reluctantly, I went to church last night. Sullen over feeling alone, burdened by answers not coming soon enough and vulnerable over what it seems God is calling me to that I sort of wish He wouldn’t.

I listened to a podcast on the way, one hosted by a woman who is learned because of her scholarly credentials coupled with the dilemma of serious illness, typically an honest and helpful voice, interesting.

She is a researcher, well read and well respected, a historian of religion.

She once believed in “praise and worship” and has now decided she doesn’t. She is now quite critical of what she defines as manipulative.

Although she misses the beauty of joining others in worship, she’s just not “taking the bait” anymore.

So, I stopped listening as I began to feel conflicted and that “critical spirit” that’s not beneficial began to creep in.

I thought of her jadedness. I can relate.

I felt sad for her. Her scary illness had caused her to become cynical, to be expectant of bad things, to decide maybe, after all, God is “not good, not great”.

I switched to music and listened.

One hand on the wheel on the crowded interstate, the other raised in agreement to a song about prayers, circumstances and healing.

Three or four years ago, I too believed most people were faking praise, were desperate for attention or just liked it when church felt more like a nightclub than a sanctuary.

Then, I landed on the second row from the stage because I was late. Pondering on my drive there, my ambivalence over my commitments and asking God to help me know where I belong.

God answered that day.

A thought, a word,

the Holy Spirit.

“You resist most what you need most.”

I need to feel connected to worship, I need to be led by vocalists and musicians to do so.

Not manipulating me, rather encouraging me.

It’ll be rare for me to be seen raising my hands. I’m more private, more quiet. I believe made “wonderfully” that way.

My personality of praise is more receptive, more being alongside the extravagant praises of others and with eyes closed, a simple opening of my hand, palm towards heaven.

In a way, I suppose, an exchange.

Freely receiving the goodness of God and privately, quietly joining others in a praise that says “Thank you”.

I’ll never stop singing.

Quietly.

Steadily, and mostly in secret places.

Being so grateful to stand so close to others made different by God’s design, that the praise they give, I get to join in.

A spirit of grace, love and mercy, one that’s not critical.

May what you’ve been resisting find you today, my prayer.

And another, let there be a song that beckons the jaded, the reluctant, the uncertain of us today.

May we not be resistant.

The Color of Story

Art, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, hope, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, walking, wonder

For a time, all the books were shelved with the pages, not the spines facing forward. Another time, prompted by some sort of famous person, all the spines with titles were organized by color.

Often, I take the book covers off a new book, curious over the color chosen by the publishers. The colors are typically soft, often blue, tan or yellow.

They’re muted, not noisy.

Soothing.

The star quilt is the one I chose. My grandmother died and we all gathered around the cedar chest to pick a quilt from the perfectly folded pile. Three quilts came back to Carolina that day. My daughter chose a soft blue sort of willowy with a ring pattern. My son chose the largest with a spattering of vivid, I decided, story telling squares.

There’s a sweet spot on my walking road that caused me to stop long ago. Sometimes with the Labrador, often alone. The vast valley of green field bordered by forest always caught the sun going down and the weeds, grass, wildflowers seemed to be wearing halos.

I’d stop, neighbors maybe looking on and I’d capture the blue sky scattered with clouds over the splendid field.

Then someone, a young couple, decided to put a double-wide home in the space on the end.

It seemed an intrusion to pause there to think. It wasn’t the same place, the field felt somehow disgraced by the change.

But, yesterday evening, I approached the hill that curves around to the big open field. The sky reminded me of waves building, like the tide’s rhythm. I paused for a photo.

As I continued towards home, I saw a girl hurrying down our driveway. I met her. She told me she had mail that might belong to us and then asked for an egg. She told me she lives in the trailer, has a baby, a boyfriend who works too much and a mama who is sick with a second bout of cancer. Then she told me she can’t find the people who should have this handful of junk mail, coupons and such and then asked again, “Do you have an egg?” She wanted to make some cornbread.

So I gave her two eggs, told her my name and that I would pray for her mama.

And she crossed the road back to her home, the robin’s egg blue trailer in the field I loved.

And now, love again.

My star quilt is used to cover a hole in the arm of my then new loveseat. The Labrador we love beyond measure ate a chunk out of the arm as a wild and excited puppy, home alone.

So, I folded my clean quilt, beige and blank side showing to match the furniture and to disguise the damage.

The stars’ colors never showing.

This morning, I’m seeing the change, the quilt folded before bed with the star pattern showing. The colors are dancing next to the cobalt blue of a pillow and the rich green of a painting I painted and framed before I ever had the guts to use the word “artist”.

The same green of the field with tiny new pines is the same green of the grass on this painting and the moss from so much rain, a pillow for a feather I spotted walking.

I suppose I’m noticing God again after a season of just continuing towards what we all felt might soon be better.

I’m considering all the places I’ve missed in the interim and acknowledging some grace I can give myself.

Get chances to give others.

Because the places of goodness in my life hold the promise of more; even more lines, color, and interruptions that aren’t misdirections, detours or disasters.

Simply colors added to my story.

Just so pleasant, the peace of accepting them.

“The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭16:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.

Keep going.

Your colors are showing.

With A Song

birds, Children, confidence, contentment, coronavirus, courage, curiousity, family, grandchildren, hope, memoir, Peace, praise, Redemption, Vulnerability, walking, wisdom, wonder

“And Job died, an old man, and full of days.”
‭‭Job‬ ‭42:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The dark age spot on my right cheek has garnered by granddaughter’s attention. She’s announced to her mama that I need to see her doctor.

She’s reached the age of noticing, good things, flaws and unspoken thoughts too.

Last week, I saw a little boy I first met in 2019. He remembered me. He announced to his mama, big sister and me, “She looks older!”

We laughed at his precocious behavior and I came back with “Well, I’ve been through some stuff…you know…Covid!”

Then we all just nodded towards one another and got back to the reason I was there, a family adopting this sweet and observant sibling.

A trip through my phone’s photos confirmed my aging. But, also how the world gone awry because of pandemic changed other things too.

Try it.

Look back, see if your face and others’ seemed to see things differently back then.

2017, 2018 and ‘19 early.

Less vacant expressions as now, less steely clinched jaws in posing, less uncertainty in linking arms in photos and less open and freely given embraces.

More hesitance, more lost eyes seeking something, what…

Who knows?

Less of need to tout your faith that was bigger than fear. More sure of sure footing and solid faith.

So much more sure, it was less necessary to announce it. I suppose I should say what’s clear, these words are realizations of myself.

Someone will know maybe upon reading this. Was Job sitting in a pile of sorrowful ash-covered questions the entire book of the Bible marked by his name?

Job, a man who honored God was the chosen soldier of faith to see if he’d surrender the battle or hold on unwaveringly to his relationship with Holy God and faith.

Stricken by the trial and test, his life gone awry.

His wife told him give up and die; his friends hung with him for a bit until saying clearly it’s you that’s wrong.

“And they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.”
‭‭Job‬ ‭2:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I wonder if he just kept sitting, unable to stand when his friends became devoid of empathy, questioned his plight.

“But now it has come to you, and you are impatient; it touches you, and you are dismayed. Is not your fear of God your confidence, and the integrity of your ways your hope?”
‭‭Job‬ ‭4:5-6‬ ‭ESV

Monday was a dark blue day, I named it. By evening the blue lifted.

Tuesday, before breakfast, we baked a promised cherry pie and then “skipped to my Lou my darlin’” together.

Something’s happening, last month it was chocolate meringue. Little things, joyously small, sweeter than the cliche’, I’m doing them, I’ve decided.

Baby steps towards allowing joy, being less afraid something or some world event will snatch it away.

My wondering over the trials of Job came as we set out barefooted. The ground was cool and my granddaughter ran way ahead, stopping here and there to gather sticks.

I’m a lover of his story, longing to understand more is the pull of me towards my Bible. I’ll not find details of when he found the strength to stand up, but I can still wonder and I can allow his struggle and recovery to help me recover.

How long was his lamenting conversation with God and was his rising again gradual or all of a sudden…were his feet weak and prone to wobbling or was his recovery smooth and sudden?

I told my cousin yesterday, I feel like we’re all in recovery and we’re apt to slip ups, prone to dismay. We need to say so, if just to ourselves and wait, watch and know the fog will lift, we will see clearly how to walk again.

I’m growing, but not fully grown. I’m walking with strong stride and steady steps, but still not able to walk on my own.

We wound our soft sticks together into an oval, twisted the knotty vines and tangled branches. I carried hers and she, mine.

Laid them on the counter among the flattened wildflowers from our pockets and we drank lemonade on the porch steps together.

Singing a silly sweet song and talking to the crows

This world is not my home, I’m just a passin’ through and you belong among the wildflowers, Lou, Lou skip to my Lou

became our Tuesday song.

“I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.”
‭‭Job‬ ‭42:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Sing your song. Walk on.

Redemption Stories

Abuse Survivor, Art, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, freedom, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

Seen and Yet Perplexed

Have you wondered if God sees the wrong, personal and in your home, our world? I’m comparing Hagar and Martha, two women distraught and dissatisfied. God saw them both, brought gentle words, reassurance and courage, made them more wise.

Wisdom

She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me, for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.” Genesis 16: 13 NIV

Is the mystery of knowing God is sovereign a contradiction at times? Have you experienced uncertainty that has led to a feeling of loneliness? Is there some situation you feel held captive by and alone? Have you found yourself in a relationship or a pattern that either has you trapped or do you somehow feel you contributed to it and thus, belong?

Women, especially mothers who are in unhealthy relationships are in complex situations. Unhealthy relationships that entrap us are very misunderstood. There is no easy answer to the question, “Why didn’t you leave?”, a question no woman should be asked.

This is a question for which many women have no answer. The layers and the reasons are hard to explain. Abusive relationships, emotionally or unhealthy in other ways have a way of numbing a woman to the day to day. Once women are able to find the strength to leave, there’s no value in revisiting the rationale for staying. I suppose I’m saying “Don’t ask.” along with “Stop asking yourself.”

Women who find themselves in situations apart from God, from friends and family are trapped, they are perplexed.

“Perplexed”, the meaning is completely baffled, very puzzled.

I think of two women in the Bible, Hagar and Martha. Hagar, because she found herself the bait of a tormented woman who wanted her way and got it. Hagar, the servant who provided a longed-for child in exchange for provision found herself cast aside and alone, having to make the decision to allow her son to die alone so she did not have to witness the loss.

Martha, who was a friend of Jesus’s and had been gently warned of her priorities found herself at a loss over why her brother was dying and Jesus had not yet come.

I wonder if it occurred to them, they got what they deserved; many women do, believe they deserve abuse and for that abuse to go unnoticed by God.

I pray you’ve never thought this way.

I pray you never do again.

Wisdom

Hagar and Martha were fully seen and known by God. The mystery? The perplexing thing? Why so long, God? Why was my desperation needed for you to come through? These are questions much like the question posed to a victim of abuse for which we won’t have answers.

There is comfort in comparing our stories, not just with Biblical women; but, with others. We intersect women with dropped faces and lost dispositions, babies in their arms, children tagging along. We can offer understanding, a smile, a knowing nod and prayer.

We can find a way to relate to others who are trapped in perplexing situations while waiting for God’s rescue. We can assure them it will come.

We can give praise alongside when it does.

A Prayer:

Father, our God who sees and knows, help us to help one another. Help us to respond with an offer of connection rather than question. We are comforted by the knowledge of being seen by you, even if we do not fully understand. Make us open to the hardship of others without judgement. Remind us of your ever-present gaze. We are thankful to be able to say, because of mercy, in Jesus’ name, Amen.

The two paintings in this post will be available on April 1st through The Scouted Studio’s Emerging Artist Show. Other art can be found at http://www.lisaannetindal.me

Tender Mercies

Advent, Christmas, contentment, courage, Faith, freedom, grace, hope, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, surrender, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

Because of the tender mercy of our God…

Luke 1:78

I didn’t realize it at the time, but yesterday on a couple of occasions, I felt God seeing me. I felt Him near. The veil between earth and heaven was translucently thin.

In my car, with a list of places to deliver art and calendars, in between being among hurried and intent on shopping people, a playlist emerged. Songs I hadn’t heard before both caused me to pray and to praise. A deep connectedness to God’s spirit within me, led to warm tears and others to a lifted open hand.

No wonder, I’ve been resting with the words, “Be near me Lord Jesus, I ask you to stay.”

My favorite people in the Bible are the vulnerable and uncertain ones. I’m drawn to Job. I’m strengthened by David. I adore Martha and can relate to Jonah. Thomas, the one who needed proof and wasn’t afraid to admit it. I love the ones who wondered.

“Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
‭‭John‬ ‭20:29‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Who believe and cling to times when their belief was solidified, made tangible evidence.

The Lord is near.

Believe. Accept the freedom of a sweeter commitment, the language of the heart, not rational.

Heavenly.

Lord, I believe.

I believe in your tender mercies.

In moments so tender,

So tender, a hand on mine, a strong hug.

Love so true, a touch of your hand in mine.

Time To Grow

Advent, confidence, contentment, doubt, Faith, hope, love, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, surrender, Trust, wisdom, wonder

The orchid, delicately teasing me with the buds barely visible, has been nothing other than knotty branches since I (read the instructions) shook the dust off the gnarled roots and repotted it.

God will help her when morning dawns.

While the dollar store Christmas cactus is popping out fuchsia shoots.

Left alone, barely watered since a Christmas last year with no blooms even hinting.

I thought “cease striving” last week, worried over the decision to order an extra 100 calendars from the printer.

I told myself, based on your history, forget about it, let it go, it’ll come back around, the interest in the calendar with your art.

Today, I woke at 5:00 and thought again, “cease striving”.

Let come what may.

Let things grow in their own time and way, not yours.

These are words I tell myself with regularity.

I opened my Bible to find Psalm 46:10 to read the psalmist’s same recommendation.

It wasn’t there. Instead, the words are “be still” in every translation I searched for comparison.

Somewhere I, and I believe others decided we may need a tone more disciplined, more direct.

“Cease striving”…with perhaps, once and for all added for emphasis, at least for me.

Psalm 46 is about rest. It is an exhortation to remember the strengths of God, his handiwork and plans.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.

Selah

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns. The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah

Come, behold the works of the Lord, how he has brought desolations on the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the chariots with fire. “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭46:1-11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe.

Be still. Cease striving.

Every Place Exposed

Advent, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, mercy, Peace, praise, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

What we allow to be influenced by Jesus, by love, by vulnerable secret places exposed to light, lends itself to our stories being rewritten.

We begin to believe the vastness of God’s grace is for us, not just for others.

We loosen the bitter, cynical ropes that tether us to making sense of past wrongs and in a gradual epiphany type way, we see hope as more than a sweet little word.

We may wonder why it took so long and we may fear falling back into the questioning pattern tattooed on our soul by trauma.

We may wonder over this change causing glimpses of heaven.

Or we might decide to embrace it.

We may just move this Christmas season from believing and accepting Christ Jesus

To fully embracing Him.

We’ll be easy on our fragile human hearts when they try to grow stiff again.

We’ll pivot towards the soft light of love, we will reset our hearts on hope again.

We will say to ourselves, maybe on little post-its or with pen on our wrists.

“healed”

…by his wounds, I am healed.

We’ll continue seeing God. We’ll be amazed where He is.

“having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might”
‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭1:18-19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

What a joyful way, to live enlightened.

Can you feel it?

God is near.

Finding God

Angels, Art, bravery, contentment, depression, doubt, Faith, mercy, Peace, praise, rest, Teaching, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

I lost my glasses on Monday, the cute ones, the ones a little bolder than my typical tortoise or black. Like most people my age, there are spare pairs everywhere. But, not on Monday.

We drove down the pretty road bordered with deeply rooted trees. Her mama had left a forgotten treat in the mailbox.

So early in the day, my readers must have slipped from my pocket or fell from my lap.

It’s an interesting dependence I now have on them, like a security blanket for a baby.

I catch myself thinking I have a pair like a headband only to pat the top of my head to be sure they’re there and find only hair.

On Monday, I was without them. I warned people I responded to in texts. They were unbothered by my typos.

By the end of the day I was managing just fine. My daughter didn’t find them on the road and I decided, oh well they’re just gone.

I gathered my things in the passenger seat once I was at home. Glanced down in the space between seat and console and saw a strange sight. I decided my husband had left some stuff in my car.

A little glass case, black with faux fancy logo with a pair of readers in the color peridot. I lost them so long ago.

Not as fancy as the blue, but I loved them and missed them.

Why am I writing about finding reading glasses?

It’s the thought that came after, the clarity in a sweet message from God.

About good in God’s time and God’s way, about the way answers come when we accept we don’t know, can’t be in control of everything.

The way God is the very best at the “art of surprising”.

On Tuesday, my granddaughter wanted another treat. It was close to lunchtime and she had a slight runny nose, but would never tell her grandma she was feeling bad.

(Memories of her strong mama here, rarely voicing a need or trouble.)

I let her lay on the floor, not flailing but fussing. Let her let her mood play out, allowed her to reconcile what she wanted with what her person in charge decided was best.

From the kitchen, I heard her whine change to elation.

“I found Gamma’s cross! Grandma, I found Gamma’s cross!”

She ran over and handed me the tiny gold cross, the one Gamma lost months ago and we all searched until we settled on not finding and stopped searching.

I called Gamma. Told her “Guess what?” and quoted our precious granddaughter.

She found the cross.

Under the couch, found when a little toddler tantrum decided to get quiet and lift the fabric of the couch to hide underneath. How she spotted it is really nothing short of a miracle.

No one else would’ve looked there.

Yesterday, we had a sweet day together. The back seat of my car strewn with a used pull-up, tiny books, little cards and juicy cups, and “guess what?”

My fancy blue glasses.

Hmmm, a surprise.

I had a thought yesterday as I listened to the words of a popular song “My Jesus”.

I thought “I don’t feel the nearness of Jesus now.”

I told God that very thing, asked Him to help me see what’s blocking my view or maybe, just to show me it’s okay to not always be searching, rather to wait for his revealing.

Gamma and Grandma both wear crosses, I suppose it’s one of our granddaughter, Elizabeth’s favorite things, our necklaces.

And our bracelets.

Yesterday, she sat in my lap and asked about every charm on my bracelet, the tiny artist palette, the little girl and boy silhouettes, her mommy and her uncle. She spotted the tiny angel, a gift from my husband prior to her birth. She said “That’s like my angel”, an angel her mama’s grandma gave her when she was just a baby.

One charm she skipped over is the circle with the missing charm, a tiny mustard seed enclosed in glass. Lost so long ago, I stopped searching.

When I called Gamma, teary with excitement, she called our granddaughter “my angel” and I agreed.

She added, “Now, let’s wait for her to find your mustard seed!”

“That would be something!” I said.

The sketches on the thin pages of my Bible often overlap with faded color, the Psalms especially.

Unashamed

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, kindness, praise, Prayer, rest, Vulnerability

“Be kind to yourself.”

Continue and Believe

In my career days of meeting with those bereaved by suicide, these were my words, “Take it easy on yourself.”

Same with women who acknowledged mistakes and were trying to move past them, without their pasts causing shame.

Years later, I’m still saying to others and mostly to myself, “Be kind to yourself.”

This morning my mind goes back to the ugly work of shame.

Shame, when you feel unworthy, humiliated, powerless is an internal emotion tied to a circumstance or behavior.

Strangely, it’s a feeling we decide on, either because we have the sense we shouldn’t feel a certain way or we’ve felt that way for what we decide has been too long.

I thought of a feeling, a sadness I was convinced I shouldn’t have and I told myself embrace it, acknowledge its understandable place in your life now and most of all,

Understand that acknowledgement brings healing.

Talking to God about it and at least one other listening friend is freeing.

Denying sadness, fear or hurt because we convince ourselves we shouldn’t feel them only adds injury to the loosely bandaged wound.

Pretending stunts healing, numbs the work and wonder of God’s purpose in our acceptance of the circumstances we wish were not ours.

The hard things we deny being still hard only harden us.

Don’t be afraid to be honest with God. He knows anyway.

Refuse to be ashamed of your feelings.

Last week, I communicated with a stranger about anxiety and depression. It helped me to offer help to her. It helped me to hear the familiar words, “I usually just keep this to myself.”

Nothing shall hurt you.
That’s a big, hard to fathom promise. It follows the reminder of the power within us, prayer and connecting with God’s spirit in us, even as Jesus saw Satan fall from heaven.

This morning, I got a text from someone I only know by phone, asking about counseling for anxiety and depression. I gave her a list of people I know and added “I understand and my weapons are patience with myself and prayer and more prayer and more prayer.”

Because, if we get tangled up in why am I depressed or anxious we’re only piling on more anxiety and depression.

When we pour it all out in prayer, the scary, sad or lonely question, we invite the power of God in.

We get better this way or we seek counseling and possible medication.

Either way, we grow when we know ourselves, can see it coming for good reason or out of nowhere. We employ our faith, we add to it as needed.

I found this verse by what I thought was accident this morning. No accident though, there are no coincidences or lucky discoveries with God.

“He knows all about this.” is another phrase, a tool against anxiety or depression that I employ.


Continue and believe.

Be kind to yourself, unashamed.

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭5:3-5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Redeemed

courage, curiousity, Faith, family, hope, memoir, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder

“Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he has redeemed from trouble”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭107:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Georgia

When this kitty cat came to me as a homeless sort, sleeping in a horse stall because she got separated from the litter and the mama, she hid under the house.

Imagine me lying on my belly in the overgrown elephant ear plants in the corner near the kitchen.

There was no coaxing her out. She came to me reluctantly the next morning.

Last week someone suggested I might not be the best kitten mother, maybe I don’t have the time or patience to tame her.

I considered it, that I’m not a real animal person, that she’d be better in another place.

But, I persisted.

I approached her with the understanding of her lack of trust, understanding she felt more safe all alone, she could only trust herself, she’d learned.

I had empathy with a tiny grey cat and changed one thing.

I became unselfish with my morning quiet. I made it her time first.

I allow her to find my lap. I don’t reach for the journal, the Bible, the pen or the stack of books.

I cup my warm coffee cup and I sit quietly. I think. I breathe.

I pray. We sit.

Early on, I considered the kitten sheltering under the house, hidden and afraid and I decided to see her perspective.

This new place, these new noisy people, this warmth inside, this back favorite room where the sun warms the blanket.

This woman, this man, these people plus a little toddler, a bit overwhelming.

The person who cautioned over the adjustment was also adamant not to allow my granddaughter near.

I wondered. I decided it will be okay. Because my grandchild understands the need for a gentle voice, a gentle hand.

She’s not bothered if kitty cat runs away, we’ll just try another time.

Gently.

Gently and with our persistence she sees we’re redeeming her uncertain beginning.

Same with us, the invitation to the Savior’s call, the gentle beckoning of us to come near, be safe.

“And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.”
‭‭1 John‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Be taken care of.

I pray you don’t resist the call to be rescued by the sacrifice provided by God, our Father

His Son, our teacher, our Savior.


“Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore,
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love, and pow’r.


I will arise and go to Jesus;
He will embrace me in His arms.
In the arms of my dear Savior,
Oh, there are ten thousand charms.” Come Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy J. Hart, 1759