praise

Believing in the Beautiful Divine

bravery, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

The 9th Chapter in the Book of John is filled with dispute, with arguments, with debate, denial, doubt and disbelief.

Even the mama of her boy who’d been blind all her life who believed she was the one to blame refused to take joy in her son’s finally seeing.

She must have known it was Jesus, only a Messiah could accomplish what they’d all decided would never come true.

But, it was the Sabbath, what a rebellion!

He told the disciples, this is not a punishment of God displayed in this man, blind since his birth.

This is an opportunity, a time that will be seen as the display of God’s glory through me.

“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.”

Jesus

‭‭John‬ ‭9:3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And so, Jesus made a healing paste of dirt from the ground mingled with his spit. He covered the man’s eyes with the muddy medicine and told him, go wash it off now.

He came back seeing.

Others saw him and were all abuzz about the beggar that used to sit begging and was blind.

Jesus didn’t hang around to be questioned, noticed, gawked over or even credited.

He went away and the man who could see told them all about Jesus.

It mattered not that the Pharisees were disgruntled over the day of his healing.

It mattered not that his own mother couldn’t quite say for sure that she believed.

He was blind and now believed.

In all the beauty he’d not seen and now could see.

He believed in the Son of Man.

He saw what is possible, if only we’d believe.

Believe in God’s Son

Believe in the times he has shown us His glory.

Believe in the times He will when all around us there are no reasons to believe what we long to see.

“When Jesus heard what had happened, he found the man and asked, “Do you believe in the Son of Man? ” The man answered, “Who is he, sir? I want to believe in him.” “You have seen him,” Jesus said, “and he is speaking to you!”

“Yes, Lord, I believe!” the man said. And he worshiped Jesus.”

‭‭John‬ ‭9:35-38‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And he will leave us with our stories of our healing to the ones all around who may argue, doubt, refuse to believe…and we’ll not be silenced, we’ll maybe find it hard to believe, all the things we have seen because we believe in His beauty, divine.

Does it ever catch your eye

Beauty divine

In an old man’s tears

A little girl’s smile

If it feels like a song

One that belongs

To you

Stop making sense

Your weakest defense

Just quiet your mind

Let the world unwind

See we’re not alone

He makes Himself known

In time

His own time

So breathe

Life will surprise you

Just Be

It’s what the world denies you

You see

The truth is all around you

Believe

We’re not alone

He makes Himself known

In time, His own time

Does it ever catch your eye?

Brandon Heath

Bending Down

courage, Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I love it when I see into your heart for your kids. It makes me see a piece of my Mum, who left for heaven early. I can imagine her praying for us like you do for yours. And I still see prayers she prayed over us reaping fruit: the deeds of the righteous shall follow them. I hope God gives you glimpses into the fruit even now. Those prayers carry the weight of eternal blessings no one can take away from your kids.

You won’t find me joining in on “sending

positive thoughts” or “good energy” or even “hopeful thoughts”.

I’ve seen the pleas of such and I pause, I wonder over the vague imploring for good from those who hope for good.

I designed a book cover…used a picture I loved and a title I believed,

What God Can Do…

my name, my first and middle with last, in a pretty font underneath.

I’d planned to set it aside til pages were filled on the one before.

But, decided to be intentional, after all I’d proclaimed it already…What God can do.

Intentional in my recording, light impressions from lead in light touch of pencil.

Little dot I call “bullet”, I wrote

I will know whether I should write or not.

Thus, the quote above from someone in some place I’ve no idea and who longs for her mama, her “mum” and was kind enough to be the person who, prompted by God who heard my prayer to tell me I should continue writing.

And I was not always an understander of God or a pray-er of prayers; but, I’d love to know that someone may read this and decide to pray, nothing against good thoughts or positive vibes.

But, I pray someone will pray.

Maybe make a bullet list in the morning or night.

One was this (the others I’ll keep secret, sacred):

I will know (because of what God can do)

that I should write, I should write for one person, just one and that one will be quite well enough.

“Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath!”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭116:2

She read Bending with the Road

About my Children

and her comment, no less than a confirmation and an answer…What God Can Do.

Book of Redemption

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Redeemed, I woke up wondering and started my morning thing by writing it down…

redeemed

Underneath the date of today.

I’d picked the teal cup for my coffee, the one gifted me, unexpectedly.

I thought of the word, “redeem” and I went back to Bama’s, my grandma.

I saw her licking the stamps, sitting at the table rimmed in silver with yellow linoleum smooth surface, the place for our plates. I saw her filling up the books, the edges lined just right.

I thought I might ask to help, but always reconsidered, I watched her fill up her books.

Little paper books filled with them, S & H Green Stamps marked on the top with the word,

“Redeem”.

She shopped at the Piggly Wiggly and she redeemed the stamps she pasted into the books.

I never heard her say the word. She wouldn’t have, I don’t believe. She may have said “turn in my stamps” or “take my books to the S & H Green Stamp store”; but, I’m certain I never heard her say “redeemed”.

Yet, I woke up longing to grasp its meaning, “redemption”, in the way lately I’ve been focused on comprehending grace. I’ve felt it, celebrated it, been talking to myself about it…knowing truths like “were it not for grace and

grace, grace, grace”.

Unmerited favor. Yes, I know grace.

I almost give up on me at least three times a day. I get a little helpless and hopeless some days when I wonder why I’m still waiting for what I might not be quite sure I’m able to see come true. I get a little despondent over what not might come to be because of me not being me, bravely me.

So, I prayed this morning with last night’s truth on my mind, the stern hold on…don’t go there…I’d said to myself firm and redirecting…look how far you’ve made it, it would be so wrong to waste it, to not believe the uphill path is possibly not so scary high.

Oh, the books I could fill by now had I collected everything stamped “Redeemed”. You’d not believe the book filled with grace for falters and faults.

So, I’m rereading now, the pencilled in prayer wrote down quick and messy too early this morning:

I prayed.

Redeem my days, Lord Jesus, the ones inattentive or inconclusively sure of tomorrow, lost and aimlessly lulled into selfish and careless.

Those I squandered, let slip by, not including even the smallest consideration of your knowing me fully and lovingly waiting, loving.

And your knowing the entirety of my frame from way, so way back when, so clearly that you lined up my clumsy self

and you kept me from the deep ditches. You helped me find my way out of the others.

You saved me.

You brought me out.

You were with me.

Yes, I’ve been redeemed.

Redeemed, not wasted; surely

Redeemed, I will go

now and from now on,

Redeemed.

“Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.”

‭‭John‬ ‭8:10-11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and this truth: We are marked by God’s love not our mistakes.

Tell His Story

Spaces We Get Stronger

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, praise, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I remember the time before.

I walked, hurriedly to the massive concrete place.

It was early morning, my face was taut from determination, my eyes were worn from the hours of awake, waiting, watching.

How could I be expected to find it, I realize now, many years later. It was a hard day.

I’m no longer that hard on myself.

I walked, already lost and entered every lane. I chose different levels. White, black, grey, red tail lights barely standing out in the black place filled with cars. Occasional glints of shiny color distracting my search, the sun coming up and in gradually.

I had a full meltdown.

The patient waiting without me at the corner of the hospital, the nurse maybe wondering what happened to her mama and my girl most likely sure her mama must be lost.

I lost my car. I stood with the truth of my disaster and accepted what I knew must be true. It’s not here, somehow, someone has taken it.

My daughter waiting, I believe realized I’d “lost it this time” and we’d not discuss it at all.

Same as there’d be no need or time to talk of “what if, what next, what now or why?”

A hospitalization after a procedure that was not a success and she, we go from exam table in pretty Dr.’s room to hospital bed to spend New Year’s Eve.

We were released and my mind, emotionally overloaded could not remember the space among hundreds of cars from two days before on the morning we got to go home.

The morning the sunrise came in through the openings in the hard place up high, I came to terms with what I might not be able to fix or find.

I found it eventually and made it down to load my girl in the car, her almost adult frame and baby face, understanding how I’d fallen apart and stayed away so long, struggling a real struggle in the parking garage while she waited in a wheelchair below.

She loved me anyway. Didn’t say so then but does everyday now.

So, this time I wasn’t gonna lose my mind and my car. Fatigued for a different reason, sleep deprived and uncertain of how I might be.

We were early, but had to park on the very top, the place that feels oddly special with open sky above, a slightly risky feeling.

I opened the door, grabbed my purse and prepared to walk with my boy into the place he’d be flying away for three months.

Stopped for a second, he slightly ahead on his way. I looked down at the marking on the space. “L” it said, okay I told myself, “L like Lisa, I’m good.”

Then, just to be certain, uncertain of my state upon coming back alone, I quickly got my phone from the pocket of my bag and I took a picture of the place I’d be coming back to.

Because, I remembered and I’m not at all embarrassed now over losing my car before.

The mama mind is naturally consumed sometimes and directionally challenged because of the strong and hard pull of the heart. Times when the baby bird is in need of healing to be better at flying and times when the bird is learning to fly.

Surely, mama bird might struggle in her return to the nest.

I’m certain she does.

Perhaps, they mark it with a bright stem or string, wanting to be confident of where they left off.

And I wonder now, if ever, just for the sake of mama memory, if the mama bird flies back to rest a bit in the place she let them go.

Maybe just for the sake of remembering how strong she made their wings.

No Angel

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Serving, Teaching, Vulnerability

This morning, I am writing on the Five Minute Friday prompt of “support” and my mind goes the way of thinking of work, of funding we lost to support the homeless.

But, I don’t linger there, my mind goes to the place that keeps me humbled, keeps my heart aligned with work, a place where love comes in.

Here goes.

I get a random text from her. She wants to check on me, wants me to know she loves me.

I respond “I love you too, do you need anything and then backspace the question, tell her I am stopping by with food.”

Our system’s flawed on this one if you ask me. No benefits for one who can’t work because of mistakes made years ago.

So, we’ve been helping, we check on her.

A former resident of our shelter called “Nurture Home”.

I pulled in with bags of staples and milk and eggs. I noticed the window broken out in her back seat. My periphery takes in the neighbors and I am aware of loud music from the adjoining duplex.

I knock and she opens the heavy door.

She smiles. We hug long.

And I’m happy to see her home, the place we’re helping her with.

I notice the bedroom wall. I stare long at one framed photograph, left alone in her bedroom for a bit.

A photo of her cradling her son and smiling a heavenly smile.

I’m sad knowing her longing to know him now, the photo of them hanging above her bed, close.

She texted me later, called me “her angel”.

I replied, “I’m no angel. I assure you.”

This extra stuff beyond programmatic interventions some call “support” or “aftercare”.

She calls it love. I see it as grace and perspective.

A reminder of my periphery, my purpose, of the opportunity to notice His nearness.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭34:17-18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Scarlett Effect

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, heaven, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I must’ve had Scarlett on the brain.

We played Clue over and over and because I loved the color of the game piece.

I decided, I’ll be Scarlett.

Then, I woke and thought of Scarlett.

O’Hara, that is.

I woke imagining distress and I figured out myself, figured me out, my ways.

I’m either imagining the horrific or I’m deciding…oh well, my hands are tied.

What will be, will be.

Oh, Lord let it not be hard.

So, yeah, I recognized my ways and decided “no more of that thinking that way…nothing or all, catastrophe or avoidance…no more of that!”

No more.

And it began with a waking thought, an affirmation.

People may question this truth.

But, I assure you it’s true. I linger long enough before rising and a song or a verse comes to mind, says good morning Lisa, here’s what you need today.

This truth happened today:

Fear is not from God.

Fear of what I do not know, cannot know

Is NOT from God.

A sound mind…one settled and set on truth, trust, assurance.

One reined back in towards what’s certain and true.

He’s got the whole world in His hands.

This is true.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.”

‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Rest now, oh wandering and imaginatively, tragically creative mind.

Tell yourself stories of good, oh, sound mind, rest.

Rest, assured.

When I Listened

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, praise, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I found time to paint and with a chunk empty, I gave it to quiet distraction.

I took the apron from the nail on the wall and tied a loose bow around my waist.

Inundated with images of storms and ravaged places, I’d been hard on myself, “Is there something I could write, are there comforts I might provide here?”

But, I’ve nothing to add that might be worthy.

I’ve not weathered their storm.

For those who feel deeply, you’ll understand, how it was just so perplexing to me, to not connect with all the other “one anothers”.

I was systematic in my approach to canvas, tediously attentive to the grace I desired be displayed.

5 Angel Paintings, 5 hymns, one buyer of my art as Christmas gifts. I took my time, layering colors, blending over laid down with purpose lyrics.

And the girls, the slant of their shoulders, the sway of their gowns, the simplicity of their glances, I was resting with them, myself graced by the spreading of the paint and the perfecting of soft background.

Music playing, my Lauren Daigle station, all softness with a just a touch of James Taylor type folk.

It was a thoughtful time, my heart slowly responsive.

And then, a new song, and I decided quickly, oh…I know who needs this.

Listened to its telling the listener of her worth, of her value, her serenade…oh, realize you are loved.

Sat with this for a few, then sent it to a special someone.

Then, I second guessed my assumption of knowing her need and oh, my goodness why do I feel like it’s my job to lift the souls of everyone around me as if I of all people could possibly know the need of their own very soul?

But, the little bubble had the word “Delivered” underneath.

My head dropped to my lap and regret mixed with hope. Hope it’s taken as I meant.

Hope it’s okay.

Now, I’ll tell you what happened next if you promise you won’t think I’ve lost it, that I’m deeply and darkly sad or that I’m just way too deep.

Well, most likely you may already, oh well.

I’ll tell you because it was amazing.

I’ll tell you because I bet you’ve had extraordinary moments too, you just don’t share it with the world or a few curious and a few intrigued readers.

But, how might the world know? How might another soul find a similar song?

I listened again to the song, “Wonderfully Made” by Ellie Holcomb, mainly checking myself, and my like a “soul reader”, conclusion of her need of it’s word…and God’s

I sat with my 5 angel paintings awaiting deeper detail. My hands messy from blending and the desk a wreck of scattered tubes, brushes, pastels, pencils, pages of old hymns.

I’m messy. I am, I thought.

I listened.

It started soon and it started slow. My cheeks grew warm and then rivulets of tears fell, puddling just a second in the laugh line on either side of my lips and then slowly, slowly, easily, eventually sliding into the place I think is called clavicle.

Then, the song ended and I sat. No concern for being found in such a state or of my husband asking “What’s wrong?”

I would have said “Nothing.” and I would have meant it.

Simply taken by being taken to the place I needed to go, the place I needed to feel.

The song, well it’s beautiful in its message. I hope you listen. I hope it makes you cry.

I hope it causes you to know how beautifully, fearfully, wonderfully made you are despite your years, your days, your choices, your harms uninvited.

I hope you listen.

Wonderfully Made

I hope you cry when you believe the words to God’s song.

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭139:14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Oh, and little word changed to “Read”‘and then a reply of gratitude for my reaching out.

 

Linking up with Quietly Through today.  http://quietlyreminded.com/2017/09/07/hold-fast-quietly-thursday-link-14/

Enthuse Me to Believe

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I started with the two chapters my guide led me to, then read to the end.

Because I knew the end would give me hope, I knew the ending would set things right or at least enthuse me to believe.

Can you list the things too wonderful for you to know?

I read this from the Book of Job and it never fails, I want to say,

“Could you possibly find a better word there, could you consider using “challenging” or “heart-breaking” or maybe even “shameful”?

Wouldn’t it make sense just to say “unfair” or things you carry on your back like a sack of bricks ’cause you’re confounded wondering “How could I have done better…obviously, it’s my fault that this has happened, please show me, God.” ?

But, “wonderful”?

Job chose to respond to God after losing everything, I mean e v e r y t h i n g,

with words that expressed his understanding of His power and well, that He is God.

I read of the astute men questioning Job, backing him into a corner like the tiny room interrogation of a mislead and mistaken kid caught up in a crime and not at fault.

Everyone looking for an admission of what Job might have done to bring this on himself.

Years ago, I wrote a piece about speculation following the suicide of a young person. Good mamas and daddies lost sons and I heard stories of what tales were being woven over the teen’s choice to die. People speculating the horrors hidden by a family as a way to be certain it might never show up on their doorstep.

Job just listened to those who accused, cornered and questioned him. There had to be some hidden sin, had to be a reason God would destroy the life of such a fine man.

Job’s friends found no answer, so they found him in the wrong, went their way.

Another “burned with anger” towards Job because he justified himself rather than God.

His family had long abandoned him, telling him to curse God and die.

Words like rebuke, contend, assert and condemn, the themes of the chapters describing the attempt of others to understand why God had chosen close to death hardship for Job.

Then, the Lord speaks to Job. He listens and everything is changed.

Forlorn, frustrated, filthy and weak, he listens to God reminding Him who He is.

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

Can you send forth lightning strikes, that they may go and say to you, ‘Here we are?'”

Job 38:34-35

And I visualize Job listening like a child, quietly enthralled by His Father’s presence.

I like to think how it would have been to have God finally speak, the awe, the relief, the absolute welcome of his “coming through” just in time.

I see Job changing, almost a dead man coming back to life, his face more softened and longing to hear more.

Like a parent saying I love you, let’s talk, let me remind you of some things about my love for you.

We will begin again.

I’m still here for you.

Then God asked Job a question, “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty?” Job 40:2

And Job answered, with just a few words.

“Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth.” vs. 4

God continues to uplift and strengthen Job, comparing him to a most massive animal.

Job listens still and then responds with a confession and repentance, words so splendid, I long to never forget them.

“Then Job replied to the LORD: “I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’ Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭42:1-3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Confession? Repentance? But, I thought Job was blameless, thought he was one of God’s chosen and most righteous.

Yes, but he wondered why.

He sat in wonder and was abandoned by, surrounded by others who wondered.

He never succumbed to denying God, he only questioned.

He wondered.

Then, gently he was reminded of his speck of dust part in God’s great and wonderful world.

Yes, I’m enthused to believe.

There are hard things, changes, decisions that make no sense and come like a hard and unexpected kick of your feet from under you.

Rock bottom.

I love that Job questioned his plight.

I love more that he understood his inability to understand and that He still believed in God.

Job was restored and the friends who turned their backs on him, they were forgiven and restored.

Job asked God to forgive them.

“And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job’s more than his beginning.”‘Job 42:12

He’s not finished with me yet.

I’m enthused to believe.

God is here for me.

For you.

I’m linking this post up at Tell His Story with others who write.

img_7319-1

 

A beautiful story with beautiful photos in a beautiful place that took a time to become beautiful!  I love this post that causes me to think of the ways I visualize perfection and miss all the little imperfections that over time are made perfectly complete. Lord, help me to see you are the grand designer, not me.

Read here: 

When Life Doesn’t Go According to Plan

And then, to discover the Featured Writer is Meghan Weyerbacher is well, just more than enough, especially when I read how she keeps facing that big ole mountain and it’s not moving, so she decides to take it down little chunks at a time and more than quite okay with her progress. Yes, I loved this piece. Meghan is an encourager. She reads my blog. Call me naive or not confidently “writerly”, but, that means the world to me!

This!  

You see, I had always pictured the verse Mark 11:23 to be like an instantaneous happening. Every now and again I feel like if I pray and a mountain doesn’t move, that I don’t have enough faith or what it takes to do what I truly believe God led me to do.  Meghan Weyerbacher

Grace, I Pause

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

This morning the tiny icon shaped like a bell said, “Congratulations, it’s your anniversary. You’ve been blogging four years!”

Oh my! I don’t dare read the first year or so, convinced I’ve made no progress or worse yet, I’m in the same old place.

The timing of the announcement collided head on with seven or so paragraphs in draft where I’d once again belabor the significant or insignificant challenge that battled back and to.

Got a little taste of accolade occasionally and I found myself hungry, starving for me, miserably full, filled.

Full of myself.

So, that piece, it’s staying in the draft for now, hopefully forever, while I come to terms with the reality of this space I write, what it’s been, what it should be becoming.

I came home tonight on wet roads and under little pockets of orange behind thickness of dark clouds.

This morning the Rose of Sharon plant towering late summer, brought me back to a place I’d been missing, the pause.

I was intentional, opening myself to the beauty that should fill me again, not striving to see; instead, finding what might come in the pause.

The place where I remembered not to seek, instead waiting to have little thoughts come to mind with no expectation, only patience.

Like falling from above, landing ’round my feet, scooped up and brought to my chest, allowed to rest near my heart.

I’d gotten away from simplicity, I’d been sipping the juice of significance and I was thirsty, so desperately thirsty for more.

My longing for notice becoming impossible to quench.

I wondered what is this blogging I do if nothing more than a pink diary and your sister found the key?

I considered the way I’ve reacted to a tiny bit of glory.

Paintings selling, guest posts and strangers saying they hope I never quit writing.

Too much, Lisa.

Having a taste of it made me strive to be filled and in that scrounging for another little morsel of praise, I lost my voice, the thing I call treasure. I’d made joy ugly effort; I’d pressured myself to be measured by most everything other than my worth decided already by my Heavenly Father.

Too much Lisa

So, I sat.

I thought, I slept and prayed. I stumbled upon truths and began to believe in what I’d decided a “treasure” again.

Stepped back and away to come back not better, not broken, or made hard from shame.

Instead, softer like glow, welcome home.

I pray I learn to write this way, a soft but, still brave way…that I not spill my angst all over the page, contradictory to my declared quiet confidence.

I pray I wait.

Wait to be filled, my heart bursting with longing to tell, so that my writing be so graceful and grace-filled it will be quite clear it’s only grace

Grace that’s brought me thus far.

And there will be a reader or two or three who might have heard of grace ad nauseam; but, maybe might all of sudden wonder…

Could grace be for me? Could the grace that found Lisa Anne find me too?

That will be glory, that will be glory to God.

To know my words cause wonder, cause another to wonder…What is this mercy? Who is this Jesus?

Perhaps, I should know.

This is how I shall write I pray, not tripping over self into the abyss of bottomless searching for significance, for notice.

Satisfied in the place of pause, abandoned and found again in the place I remember to whom goes the glory.

From whom I’ve become acquainted with the knowledge of grace.

“May grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.”

‭‭2 Peter‬ ‭1:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Stronger for Trying

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, wonder

I’ve committed to this. I told someone today, it’s more my soul than my body.

My body has changed, but it’s not that change that’s changed me.

It’s the change of after that causes me to anticipate the again.

My drive home, regardless of the sky, signals new and good and strong, stronger.

Every single time, I’m better from going. The challenge, the release of good and serene, the sense of building new from brought down, old and low.

At the end of a long day, the fourth day not Friday yet, a whole lot of unexpectedness coupled with not sure how to respond and missing information along with misinformed.

In the work of helping others, things come to light, gradually unexpected, we learn more as we go.

We press on. We know there are some chances to intervene and there are some doors slammed hard shut.

There are those who see we care, there are those who decide we don’t because it’s easier to blame us than look closely at themselves.

So, workday ends.

I change into workout clothes.

I walk in hesitant, small group of us, we laugh. We engage. I’m better gradually.

Stronger as I go, laughter over my strength from another.

Weights lifted, challenges met and gone through again, less afraid.

A small community I’ve been allowed to join.

And stronger now.