praise

Closer to Love

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I wonder if your first waking thoughts are placed there mid sleeping and waking by God as His way to say,

“Begin again, let’s go!

Follow my lead, follow your leader.

Follow your heart, your soul.”

I woke, thrilled to have slept past 7 and kept my eyes closed for a few minutes.

Did not reach for my phone.

I thought and thought again,

“Stop looking for likes.”

Then wrote it down, hoping it more deeply would sink in.

I’ve just spent almost an hour in between making breakfast and coffee and conversation about new cars with my husband, tracking down which blog post was most “liked”.

It was in 2014 and it was entitled “not knowing”. It was about my children and God and well, being okay with not knowing.

Stats show which day is best, which theme more enticing and I suppose which posts are so good that people click the little star that says “like”.

Actually, I don’t have a whole lot of “likes”. I do have a lots of views and viewers and some commenters who I always thank “for reading my words” and mean it, sincerely.

I was curious, then got weary of discerning my “likers” based on my stats.

What I saw was my life since 2014, I saw God’s guiding, his pulling me from the ditch of doubt, His rescuing me before I fall too far from the pit of pride and pedestal.

So, I’m more settled, less seeking and more set on seeing me as God sees me and

“likes” me.

Prayerful, this morning in my journal about writing for “Daughters of the Deep” and for Lisa Brittain’s “Saturday Shares” and other places my soul feels led and prompted by prayer and the Holy Spirit.

Places and people who I’d never encounter were it not for words and God, women like Nan Jones, women who write and women who don’t write; but, surely are praying. I am worried other making a list, it’s so vast, I’d surely forget one or two or three who make up my “community”.

This morning I read from My Utmost for His Highest and the thoughts are lingering and lined up, as did the other words and verses established for today.

I’m getting closer every day to the me God sees.

Not yet arrived, surely on my way though.

Noticing and embracing words like these, believing waking thoughts as God’s instruction and loving affirmation.

As you journey with God, the only thing He intends to be clear is the way He deals with your soul.

My Utmost for His Highest devotion

Closer to love.

Closer to God and speaking more bravely.

Two times last week, I believe my words came as a surprise to others (and me).

I’m so glad God brought you into my life.

Me, through God

The first time, a crowded restaurant and as a goodbye to our unplanned encounter.

The second, a parking lot after “so happy to run into you” send off.

Both times, I was sure in my saying so and both times, the ones who were with me, their smiles spread wide as the sky and we parted, all of us thinking of God.

So, if you’re reading this,

I’m so glad brought you into my life. So happy He brought us both here. me

Quiet Like That

Faith, grace, Peace, praise, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

The rain has lulled me to even more lazy. I can’t get my thoughts to dance together and my excitement over chances to write has become anxious obligation overload.

Brain overloaded, lethargic and slightly rattled. I make things difficult that are simple, too many noises and voices all colliding.

I’m gonna have to get solitary, have to get quiet, have to get still.

Quiet like the way I felt as the sunlight traveled in through the windows to rest in my mama’s chair. Quiet, like that, content just to be there in the room.

Quiet like being told by someone that they’d pray and being moved by the expression of another whose beliefs you’d decided didn’t line up with yours.

Quiet when you walk away still draped in their sincerity and being really ashamed that you’d considered them unworthy, not able.

Before.

Quiet when your soul is your teacher and you listen and then pause a long few minutes to let it settle, a lesson on the love that you say you believe.

Real quiet, I was.

Quiet like the aging beagle girl looking for her blanket tossing in the dryer, then making her way to my warm lap and being surprised that I let her stay so long.

Exceptions, bent rules, exceptionally quiet we were.

img_2338

Quiet like the touching of my soles and toes of my feet, smooth caresses of the senses on freshly laundered sheets and deciding for myself there’s no rule I can’t wash them daily.

Excitedly quiet like that.

The words will come in the quiet moments suggesting, “More, please.”

God wants us to develop the character, wisdom, and structure to sustain His abundance.

Christine Caine

Quiet like the day I read this quote, copied, pasted and printed to remember it.

Quiet like this morning when I prayed for God to speak to my heart and then read a message from a friend about how she thought of me as she read of a prophetic’s words that there are writers who are about “to be birthed, to break through”.

Quiet like that.

More inner, less outer. Less waste of time, more nourishment of intention, more carefully attentive.

More God, less me.

Quiet like that.

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Linking up with others who wrote prompted by “simplify”. Can’t help but wonder if others had such a hard time with expressing something so simple.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/11/fmf-link-up-simplify/

Art and Opportunity

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, grace, praise, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Uncategorized

    The post I’m sharing below was originally sent for consideration to be shared with a large platform of readers. It was my fifth attempt to respond to the opportunity to be chosen.

A week before I got the “no” though, I was selected by two others. The very same day, I thought the shop owner was gonna tell me she didn’t think my pieces were right for her shop anymore. Instead, she wrote a sweet note and said: “give me more”. I’ve set up my Etsy page “Angels and Other” and I rearranged my desk today, added a pretty paperweight and crossed off 5 of the 8 things on my “to do”.  I pray for opportunities, remembering to do only my part and let God do the rest.

Always believe something wonderful is about to happen.

Pretty paperweight wisdom

I know that God is for me. I know that I am known.

As are you.

I remembered sharing what I call a “lisaism” in a recent post, the one I felt so proud of, one that I decided would be a difference maker for my children. “You can be miserable or you can be motivated.”

When I got the “no” email telling me how many others had tried and yet, again my submission was not chosen, I was kinda pitiful. But, not for as long as before. I remembered all of the good that’s been coming my way and I decided to carry on.

I remembered another “lisaism”:

You can be pitiful or you can be powerful. Me

I left work late yesterday, went to a grant presentation and hurried to make boot camp because I know physical health is good for my mental health and I’ve made up my mind in general, to press on like a runner towards whatever prizes God has for me.

(Oh, and there were some edits needed, I understand more clearly why my email said no. Live and learn. 🙂)

We were in the same spot that morning. I, for the grits that remind of my mama and her for coffee. The little café that is known for its breakfast, pimento cheese, casseroles and cheesecake, she was new in town and was waiting for her order. The cashier wished me good morning, and I listened as the new person talked about her shop next door. She and her husband had retired from corporate, he a carpenter and she a lover of junk pieces and art, she had opened a new place and was excited to begin displaying local pieces of art.

The words came, and I surprised myself to announce, “I paint.”  She turned and smiled and said “Well, what types of painting do you do?”  To which I replied, “I’ll show you, I have pictures on my phone.”  This was over a year ago, and I still have my wall in her shop.

Shortly before my cafe’ encounter, I’d begun to pray the Jabez prayer again. I have a little in common with Jabez, always have. I find his story relatable in that not too many people; His mother included felt he’d amount to much or worse yet, he might have a life of pain. But, Jabez started young and prayed for the course of his life to be rerouted.

He prayed and asked God to bless him, to bless him indeed. He prayed his abilities and the places he’d be privy to would be expanded far wider than he could believe.

His request was granted.

“Oh, that you would bless me and expand my territory! Please be with me in all that I do, and keep me from all trouble and pain!” I Chronicles 4:10, NLT

Like Jabez, I’ve been surprised by life and opportunity. I’ve been one held back by family dynamics that caused me as a child to be sure I caused no distress, made no mention of being in need, having needs unmet.

Oh, for the foresight to have prayed the prayer of a child born in pain named Jabez rather than become a young adult who sought conciliation in unhealthy ways and paths that bordered self-destruction.

Still, my road has led me to places scary but protected, my stumbles have met cushions upon my falling, and my failures have not been final. I have now what many call an “Angel Ministry” thanks to my friend Connie from the café. She, one of the many who has provided me opportunities that I might never have been shown had I not decided to ask God to enlarge my borders. I might have longed to simply paint in private.

I may have kept my pieces layered with hymns and expressionless angels to myself, maybe give a few away, leaned others against shelves in my home. Were it not for Connie and my prayers for opportunity; I’d have never used the word “commission” nor discussed prices for pieces of art. I would have never had the confidence to create a page on my blog called “The Art of Quiet Confidence”.

This morning, I happened upon another favorite scripture. It caused me to consider whether David, too may have been changed by the story of Jabez, whether all the opportunities and challenges he approached with the assurance of God were perhaps with a recollection of a boy named Jabez.

For I have surely been blessed indeed. The boundaries and borders have bent my way, led me to consider all the good I never expected to know.

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

Prayerfully waiting and willing to walk in places God decides are mine.

 

 

Linking up with others at Tell His Story.  Jennifer writes about the difference a day can make:  http://jenniferdukeslee.com/whatever-youre-facing-now-give-24-hours-first/

Misery and Motivation

Angels, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Yesterday, I read somewhere about the way Jesus cherished Peter, the disciple who denied Him.

I’m thinking this morning, of what motivates me to follow, to know each day invites my turning to God. Morning new mercies are motivation enough; still I let misery take over in regards to what I don’t see and well, I get better at recalling the mercy unending, better as I go.

It astounds me how Jesus knew it would be Peter to deny Him and how he knew and told Peter, “You will, and I’ll confirm my knowing of your choice not to stay loyal by the sound of a rooster, crowing two times to announce your denial.”

“And immediately the rooster crowed a second time. And Peter remembered how Jesus had said to him, “Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.” And he broke down and wept.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭14:72‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It astounds me the way the disciples saw so much healing, so much mercy and kindness and were doubtful at times.

I’d love to have met some of the ones healed; the leper, Lazarus, the woman who could not stop bleeding and the man who thought he’d never see. I would treasure talking with Martha, the sister like me who couldn’t slow down long enough to believe; but, then did.

Signs and wonders, yet Thomas needed to see the open wound, needed to touched the body of Jesus, pierced in order to have us believe.

“So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side.

Do not disbelieve, but believe.”

‭‭John‬ ‭20:25-27‬ ‭ESV‬‬

How miserable he surely must have been in his disbelief, to say he would never believe! I wonder just how amazed he was, if his seeing and touching increased his believing or if he continued for all of his days praying for help in his miserable disbelief.

I believe he was motivated by his former misery.

I used to say all sorts of little “motivational mantras” to my children when they were athletes. I must have surely annoyed them to the point of nausea, that and the mandatory daily banana!

Thankfully, if there was eye-rolling, it was not in my presence.

Yes, I am fortunate, I know.

One of my bits of wisdom was:

You can be miserable or you can be motivated. Me

Every bit of wisdom I shared, I was saying so much more clearly back to myself.

It’s the same with my sharing here, on social media or in personal encounters. I’m encouraging, redirecting myself every step of the way, with every exchange.

I believe Peter was more motivated when Jesus invited him again to follow. I believe Thomas’ testimony more profound because Jesus granted him extra mercy to make up for his debilitating doubt.

Me too. I’m motivated by His unending and more than expected mercy.

Turn us to you, God. Show us a life other than miserable doubt and inconsistent faith.

Motivate us Lord, to recall that you are mindful of us and mostly that you’d never choose misery for us; we choose it for ourselves and it surely can be used for good, for motivation to follow, to believe.

I’m thankful for the FMF prompt of motivate. I’ve exceeded the 5 minutes allowed; but I’ll share knowing there’s also mercy in this group of followers who motivate me, one another!

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/04/fmf-link-up-motivate/amp/

Cats, Cards and Christ

Advent, courage, Faith, grace, heaven, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability, wonder

Christmas cards fastened by clips to twine looped like a garland and no idea why, but I left this little kitty cat on the shelf.

Except it’s where it’s always been and I believe I brought it home from my mama’s or I picked it up when we all went “junkin'”.

I pulled a piece of greenery from my centerpiece and decided the cat should wear it around its neck.

Made a little circle, too small and decided oh well, I’ll add some twine, make it fit.

Now the black cat with polka dots who lives on my shelf looks different, looks like Christmas.

This morning, I read a verse from John. Lots of people know it, children can recite it; it’s a simple one that has another that follows and expands its meaning.

So many times I read only part, retain only a portion, there’s always more for me to know, more to surprise me by my knowing.

About God’s ways, His love, His wants for me, for us all.

This verse is best left simple, best brought to mind at Christmas. We may revisit Luke or Matthew or Mark; maybe Isaiah, looking for the story of Christmas.

We might remember the prophecies of old or cling to and listen more with an idea of hopeful truth that yes, a baby was born a long time ago and it was a sweet, sweet story, so spectacular it seems a fairy tale.

But, simply not so. Spectacular yes.

But fairy tale, no.

Our lives are changed because God made it possible for them to be changed, made new.

Because God loved the world He created.

And since it all got and gets a little sideways still

And He knows it. He gave His Son, His only Son.

Jesus.

Christ.

So, we could have eternal life, not perish in the mess we’ve made of what He created.

In the Book of John, Jesus explains his purpose to a Pharisee named Nicodemus who was a ruler and had a very hard time believing what Jesus made so simple to hear.

What is still so simple to hear. But hard to believe for some, hard to accept.

“For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.”

‭‭John‬ ‭3:16-17‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I sent a few cards this year, not nearly as many as I should.

Small and simple little cards with a sweet tree on the front unadorned with lights, just a tiny tree.

I added to the message of Merry Christmas

only the beginning,

For God so loved the world…

And then I signed, “love in Christ, Lisa”

Hoping I’d left room for longing to know more or that I reminded all who already know and like me can always, always use reminding.

That God is love and that Jesus was born to save all who will believe.

believe, life will surprise you…

Brandon Heath

(lyrics I rest with)

Joy Finding

Advent, Faith, family, grace, heaven, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

We have the same reason for joy as they did way back then.

I pray I’m intentional in my choice to let Christmas be all about Jesus. Here’s the truth, I believe, the joy stealers don’t rest at Christmas, there’s no reprieve from those set on negativity and strife. And then there’s unexpected sadness that makes no sense and seems to happen more at Christmas. Or maybe in our seeking to be joyous, we’re thrown off by its unfair interruption.

I’m not sure. I only know that we each can choose joy and like someone told me yesterday, I was caught off guard, “your face seems happier.” And I had prayed earlier that God would put someone on my path, literally wrote this in my journal,

“God send someone to my path who needs to know about your grace.”

This person who told me she saw a difference in me, I said to her, smiling over her words, “I’m getting better at understanding God’s grace and it’s no longer a striving thing, I am not working so hard for something that requires nothing of me, God’s grace.”

My day started this way yesterday. How can I not proclaim the joy as I circled prayers today, some still praying and this one given an asterisk for answered?

I consider it joy.

You know that joy when a longing you’d gotten a little disheartened over slips in and comes true in a way unexpected?

That’s the joy and joys I’m keen on noticing now.

If it takes writing them down or slowing my morning to be certain I give them their due, my time and attention, I am more aware because of doing so.

I think of my grandma’s little hands, her practice of keeping her “memorandum” book and I look towards the jewels she meticulously pinned into bright ornaments, I see her joy in her art.

I see joy, find it here.

Most especially when it comes in a way surprising me, a way that speaks truth to our Father’s all-knowing.

Like an angel I suppose, saying hold out for it and hold on sure but tenderly to this hope, your joy is coming.

You shall bear the light of this truth, that when you believe what you can’t see, you will get to see it come true.

Bear light of it just like young Mary, a mother unprepared and untouched by man, bearing the Son of Man, light of the world.

Remember the time another Mary and her sister Martha chose to believe?

Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”  John 11:40

I’ve not known joy quite so miraculous as the risen dead, still I’ve known the joy of Jesus coming through, on my behalf, the behalf of those I love.

Known the joy found in what we believe will be true.

Jennifer Dukes Lee shares her thoughts about how to “Prepare Him Room” and a story that is oh, so very relatable, the task of Christmas decor and how we should simply rest in the beauty of our homes, stamped and shaped by our hearts.

Visit here:

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/prepare-him-room/

Linking up with Kelli LaFram, at Quietly Through

http://quietlyreminded.com/2017/12/07/confess-sins-quietly-thursday-link-20/?ct=t(RSS_EMAIL_CAMPAIGN)&mc_cid=68c27bf7bd&mc_eid=8fccf10d46

Hope First

Advent, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I forgot what we did the Christmas we were last with my mama.

It startled me, my forgetting and then I remembered.

I remembered the beauty, her beauty that day.

I reflected on how things felt tragic and unusual; but, so very special.

Tomorrow begins Advent, something I know so very little of if you consider scripture and scholar as basis for my knowing.

Tomorrow begins with hope and hope is meant to cause our contemplations, to give notice of our waiting.

I’ve arranged my Advent cards, not the place before, not the grand garland the width of our fireplace.

Instead, a corner dimly lit and a chest of drawers I got from my mama’s. The top of it cleared to be adorned with hydrangea stem stained mason jars, now containers for bright tiny ornaments.

The backdrop, an abstract ocean piece painted by my daughter, the cards looped with copper wire and positioned in a peak and valley sort of way.

I’ll glance that way, have been since I couldn’t let be til it was done and finished late night last week.

It’s a simple arranging of Advent decoration.

More hopeful than before it seems. No daily task of studious examination of each day’s card.

I’ll not do this this year.

Instead, I’ll love its entirety.

I’ll enjoy it as is.

This Christmas, I pray and prayed this morning.

“Remind me of you, Jesus”

“May I remind those around me of you.”

May my gentleness be evident, so much so evident, one may sense

The Lord is near.

I texted my cousin, the one who gifted me with the Advent Cards, a surprise two years past.

Told her I loved her, wished her traveling mercy and grace.

She thanked me, said “oh, thank you dear Lisa for being in my life.”

And strange you may think, my strange reply I replied

to which she answered, “Amen”.

Let it be, Jesus. Let it be Jesus in me, my December prayer. Me

So, the first Sunday of December says be still.

To consider hope.

To gaze upon our pretty spaces and places and find it there, in our midst, our hope.

Our hope that was born in a place hidden and curious, but long ago ordained by God.

A place surrounded by a starry sky you and I’ve most likely not seen the likes of.

May I never lose that wonder.

May I ever hope for the wondrous wonder of Christmas, of Christ.

May I linger unlabored there.

Looking upon reminders of my hope.

And memories recalled and cherished even more, strangely hopeful now despite the sorrow that accompanies them.

It’s all wonder.

It’s hope and it’s grace that’s brought me thus far, to here, to now to celebrate Christmas untainted by sorrow and more painted in soft colors of hope.

Hopeful.

“The sun will no more be your light by day, nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you, for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory.

Your sun will never set again, and your moon will wane no more; the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of sorrow will end.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭60:19-20‬ ‭NIV‬‬

You as well, I hope and pray are

Hopeful this Christmas.

Flying Parallel

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, praise, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

This post popped up as a memory from three years ago. So many things have changed, been accomplished in the lives of my children as I sit by simply as a flight consultant, an occasional guide, a woman learning to fly to new heights of my own.

What happened yesterday, I consider spectacular.

Spectacular in a way I almost think I shouldn’t tell a soul.

What happened yesterday was God reading the stories I was writing and somehow coming in and being the Sovereign editor.

A day that was typical, work issues, family thoughts, waiting and wondering and hoping, writing “trust” in ink again on my palm.

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out the whole time conversion of when my son’s plane was to land. I decided to focus on work, to walk to the post office, to pick up lunch.

I walked towards our front door and opened it, looking down.

“Oh.” I stopped.

“Oh.”

I touched the tummy of the bird fallen on our brick. It moved slightly, one leg twitching as if somehow it had folded into itself and couldn’t get unfolded.

“Does that happen?”, I wondered or is it worse than just getting tangled on landing?

Someone saw me, I told them I didn’t know what happened or why the bird had fallen, unable to fly now.

She stood at a distance watching my worry over the bird, walked towards her car and added hopes, that maybe it will be okay.

I cupped the bird in my hand. It resisted at first and then moved its body in a cautious hop to a wobbly standing position.

I’ve never seen such beauty up close, the wings in its back caught the afternoon sun and caused a golden sheen. Its little eye was still and focused forward, almost seemed resigned in some way.

As much as I love birds, I had never held one, never touched its spindly claws, never caressed a creature so supple, so sublime.

I held the bird in my hand, my day interrupted by its falling.

Back on its little feet; but, afraid to move, I waited.

I’ll go, I decided. I’ll walk to get the mail, pick up my salad and I’ll see when I get back if the sparrow has flown or fallen back down.

My phone in my hand waiting to hear he’d landed, I walked and decided already, this bird falling to the ground and my noticing has a purpose.

I decided, a foreboding or foretelling of either hope or hardship.

Still, I accepted that I’d return and I’d accept what I found.

Which was the bird on my porch, still standing, slightly moving, maybe had waited for me to see, I believe this could be.

Water, I thought. I’ll get a little water in a jar lid and I’ll set it down in front of its feet.

But not interested, it shuffled just a little towards the steps and then flew, low at first and then up and away.

“Oh.”

Later, I decided to leave work early. I had yet to hear that my son’s plane had landed in another country, a place I can’t get to.

It was too much for me to figure out if I was wrong about the time or if, oh, I don’t know what if.

I had three stops to get the contents of the mission project bags. Each Christmas, our church contributes to bags that are dispersed to prisoners. I needed 100 more pre-stamped envelopes. I had planned to get those tomorrow or Friday since I go to the post office anyway.

Instead, I told myself to finish, to at least have all of my supplies, then the job of putting them together will be all that’s needed.

The clerk asked what I needed and then asked me to count behind him.

“See if you get 30,” he said.

I reached for the stack, the envelopes usually stamped with our flag and “Forever” underneath.

I smiled and counted along with him.

I thought to tell him about the bird and how I was waiting to hear that the plane had landed.

Instead, I kept it close.

I smiled.

“Oh.”

Got into my car and kept moving on. I’ll get the tree, I’ll make wreaths for the front windows. Christmas is my favorite, this will help.

Then, the message came. “Just landed, the flight was longer than I thought.”

“Oh!”

I’m hesitant to share this story I consider spectacular.

I guess if I had a book to ask it be included it would be the one that talks about when God winks or it might be good for Reader’s Digest or at the very least, I decided it must be recorded here.

I started my morning yesterday very afraid inside, afraid of what might happen or not, a recurring theme in my story.

I thought of asking for prayer; instead kept it inside and remembered I’d already cried and cried quietly to Jesus in prayer.

Sometimes it happens this way, the way He shows us He knows in spectacular ways.

God is everywhere, don’t forget to notice. me

We’re worth more than we know to Him.

Worth more than the sparrow and to me, He knows that’s a whole lot because I sure do love the sparrows, the bluebird, the cardinals and the dove.

“What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭10:29-31‬ ‭NLT‬‬

A Blessing Simply

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, marriage, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Yesterday began with creamy oatmeal, warm in my lap and just a touch of the crunch of peanut butter.

I believe I shall have this today as well.

Made a pot of soup later and had a whole house quiet til afternoon.

“It’s a blessing,” he said, as I questioned whether I’d need a jacket to walk the dog.

The temperature just right and he’d come in from the country place where his parents lived before they died.

I ventured out and walked all the way around. We met three little girls who were new to the neighborhood and bouncy with their bubbliness “a dog!” I heard one say.

So, I eased him over and had him sit while I guided their tiny hands, one at a time to pet him. They smiled big dimpled smiles, one with chocolate on her cheek and their hair was all tousled and let be.

We walked on and I unleashed him on the trail, he started into a little trot and I walked slightly ahead then called him to come back.

As we turned back to the main road, I saw them there, their backs bent and their faces close the ground. The rhythm of their work so simple their eyes never rose to meet us.

An empty lot, a new home unoccupied and the lawn already laid down in pieces, someone had smoothed the pine straw in a sort of kidney-shaped border amongst the pines.

A few more feet we walked and I saw the determined face of the wife, not the husband. Her long gray hair fell over her face, her hand smoothing it behind her ear, I thought her eyes will see us; but, she carried on with her picking up and dropping into a bucket.

Not a sound, not a word, no invitation for how are you or what a pretty day, obliging conversation.

I thought of their tranquility as I walked on, thought of their solitude and silence, together.

The task at their hands wasn’t their responsibility, but a choice.

As if all the pine cones had been picked up from their yard already, just around the corner and they sought and found another place to do the work of their hands, the work of a simple life.

We came to the place where the three daughters now live and seeing us from far off, the oldest must have planned it just right as they skipped towards the end of their driveway to see the dog again.

Fascinated by his softness, their voices soft and admiring, I allowed them a little more time to be little, captivated by their sweet faces and the joy of their conversation.

We headed back up the hill, the big Lab relaxed into a saunter and I thought wow, he was right, it’s a blessing, this day.

This simple day.

The evening came and I thought of them again, the couple uninterested in us, singing the song of solitude, of silence, a simple life.

Then lyrics found their way in and the thought of this season, a simple season of love and grace understood more clearly, held much closer to an embrace. I thought of Alison Krauss and went searching because I remembered her wanting something simple like that.

Simple Love

A love song seemed fitting, more than enough, so I sang it.

Yesterday was simple, in its solitude. I believe today I shall find it too, grace, mercy, peace, and love. Find it unexpectedly when not looking or not so a surprise in my seeking.

Because yesterday had room to breathe, it was made of open spaces and things just fell into them without agenda. And God gave me grace and since I’d decided, not sure why, it didn’t seem an intentional choice, to rest from berating myself for what not done; or the agony of the fear over never being done, I was open.

Open to mercy, to love, then came peace.

“May God give you more and more mercy, peace, and love.”

‭‭Jude‬ ‭1:2‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I’m linking up with others here: nitaojeda.com/2017/11/26/imm-november-12/

Jennifer Dukes Lee spoke so much truth here, thank you seemed like never enough:

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/dont-get-know-time/

Because of Love

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, Homeless, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Serving, Trust, Unity, Vulnerability

There was no excuse in my not turning back. I stopped.

She stopped. I waited and she stood still.

I turned left towards town and quick thoughts were an effort to make sense of my driving away.

“You’re headed to a kitchen called Grace, Lisa.”

“You are serving breakfast to the homeless. It is 36 degrees outside and there’s a woman bundled up in black and burdened down by her baggage and you left her there, afraid of what she might do.”

So, I turned around and saw her walking in the cold and damp high weeds.

I pulled over. Spoke to her through my open window.

She was not impressed.

She would not let me take her to a shelter. She said I didn’t know, I didn’t understand.

I implored her to tell me more, told her where I was headed, told her I work with the homeless…”Come and have breakfast” I said.

“No.”

Her face was anxious and her eyes angry…she said “I don’t think so.

No.”

I waited. She walked on. I drove away.

Chose a different road, not sure if I wanted not to see her again or her see to me drive away. I changed my direction.

I looked to my left towards the sun breaking through, landing on the open fields and the clouds were slowly shifting,

telling me to move on.

Told me to let go, let God. You can pray. You will.

I cried for just a second. For her condition and mine too and hoped I might see her at the kitchen called Grace.

But, no.

We served scrambled eggs, grits, bacon, biscuits, coffee and gave out bags we’d put together with items needed to be clean and fresh.

Arms reached for them. Eyes met mine. Good morning, Good Day, God is good and could I get another bag for my friend?

And then, a kind word and a smile on the face of a woman that saw my soul.

“How are you this morning?” She asked and touched my hand.

I said “I am good, God has good things for me to see today.”

She said, “Yes, it is good to see another day.”

And I sat with her a second, settled by her love.

And realized I had turned back this morning because of love and love had been offered up and love given me in return.

And the moment that I’d decided might ruin my day made it so much more significant, the love I had chance to give, the love given me.

“And do everything with love.”

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭16:14‬ ‭NLT‬‬