Bibles and Pantsuits

courage, Faith, family, praise, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

My new Bible, a Christmas gift from Benji and Heather

Every Sunday, she’d ask. “How many daily Bible readers did we have today?” The person who kept the Sunday School record would respond. I waited, scanning the encircled group of class members for expressions as she responded.

“This is the one we thing you all should do…how else will you know how to live?”

For a very long time I rejected her advice, her exhortation felt too much like demand.

Puffed up and independent minded, I reminded myself that I would not concede to pressure. I would not be made to feel inadequate or a sinner by not following one person’s ideas or rules.

My grandma, “Bama” had varicose veins. Big, thick purple bulges held down by thick rubber-like pantyhose that went up above her knees.

She wanted to go to church; but, felt unwelcome. She had to wear slacks, sharp little pantsuits.

She stopped attending church after a bit.

Stopped after judgemental glances from other women dressed in pastel colored dresses with hummingbird pins on their scarves, matching purse in one hand, tightly clenched smiles and fingers wrapped around their Bibles.

Bama, dressed in crisp pantsuit, sharp and fashionable, yet scorned.

I wear pants to church most Sundays, it’s okay, feels right to me.

Not for Bama though, back then.

The preacher, continued on admonishing errant ways of ladies in pants and other behaviors that most likely would lead to burning in hell.

I never understood why wearing pants was wrong back then. My grandmother must have been hurt. She never let it show.

I was.

I don’t recall her ever complaining. She just stayed home.

A preacher’s daughter unwelcome in the church

Yet, she always had her Bible, her little Gideon New Testament in her purse and King James version beside her bed.

I remember her nightly ritual.

I’ve seen my name in the margins of her Bible.

I cherish the image of dimly lit bedroom, me sometimes there beside her, pretending to sleep, under thick quilts.

Sleeping with Bama on Friday nights, careful not to brush against her legs.

Quiet, sweet, calm nights with Bama.

Lying next to her, before sleep Bible reading.

Obedience to God, not people.

I’m a daily Bible reader now. It’s not an obedient-like requirement or a response to curtail retribution or chastisement.

It’s not an avoidance of punishment or hardship; rather, for me an act of expectant submission.

Anticipation of revelation and comfort.

God, revealing new things, His words exhorting me to continue or comforting me in my missteps, misfortune.

I know that to know God is to read His word.

Know that choosing to live with God’s word in my heart and mind is the most certain way to see clearly my life as God designed.

So, I cherish my Bible. I cherish my mornings, marking in the margins of my Bible, like Bama.

Morning by morning he awakens; He awakens my ear to hear.

Isaiah 50: 4

Our King Has Come – Walk in Confidence

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

I laid the Advent Card representing today, beside my journal.

From darkest of darkness came light

My intent to ponder its visual as I’d done with the others.

The day got away from me and I waited for the rain to offer a half hour or so.

I wanted to walk.

I walked, noticing grey skies and vacant landscape. The sky, foreboding, the wind stronger when I turned back towards home.

But, it was okay. I walked on, my steps confident.

Raindrops blowing around me, landing sharply on my face like tiny pin pricks.

Still, I walked on, a confident, good and strong walk.

Trees, dark and severe against the stormy sky. Bare, curly limbs curled, like tight fists clenched.

The air was thick and the clouds began to meld into a more solidly thick darkness.

Still, I walked on.

Noticed barren limbs again on path.

Reminding me of crown made of thorns. Of a dark foreboding day before symbolic and surprisingly new life, His resurrection, mine.

Closer to home, I stopped to look for my companion.

A hawk. First noticed as I turned toward walking path from driveway.

Large bird, solitary and intermittent in showing itself, in unison it seemed.

I walked on, turning to look towards sky.

Back home, greeted by dogs, I look up and see again.

Circling above, still.

Led me home, joined me there, made sure I’m good.

And I think of what I can’t discern, bigger than me, greater than I can figure and I realize there’s no need. His way is not our way

Making sure I’m okay, leading me home

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, the night marked by the birth of a King, our Savior.

A King without a throne.

whose only crown was twisted, mainly limbs of brittle thorn.

A King sired by Holy Spirit. God the Father, to save our souls.

Merry Christmas. Advent has led us here.

Preparing Him Room

Faith, family, grace, praise, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

In all the busyness, the hosting, the planning and the preparing…

Prepare Him Room.

Breathe in his presence and sit with it.

His gift of grace like the spot known as yours on the sofa, next to the twinkle of tree now, it’s Christmas.

Peace, be still and Alleluja

Solace and love there

Heaven and nature singing above and around.

I’ve invited Him in.

Prepared Him room.

Revel in and then rest there, His presence in your room.

Let every heart prepare Him Room.

For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Isaiah 9:6

Yesterday and Today

courage, Faith, praise, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

Yesterday started with daylight only sparsely present. I walked outside and noticed the clouds shifting in a swooping motion.

It was supposed to be more chilly, I thought. My daughter said, “It hasn’t moved through yet. It’s coming.”

And it did, we had dinner after shopping later, the wind cold and the sky filling with stars above a fuzzy peace sunset.

I remembered earlier in the day, I had sat aside the Advent Card for Day 20, noticing the image so much like stars, clouds, waiting for change.

Little triangle shapes like Christmas trees planted for next year’s home.

little trees growing

Thinking of how nervous and anxious I was on Thursday for what I’d be doing Friday, speaking in front a large group, cameras, prominent people…but I was okay, it was okay.

Yesterday was good. Good and unexpected things made me smile. There was some bad, some annoying and out of nowhere mean, sharp words.

A good day, but a long one.

Yesterday becoming today.

Yesterday was good. Today will be too.

We’re closer to Christmas, closer to Christ.

Come thou long expected Jesus.

But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.

She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

Matthew 1:20-21

Angel moon and stars

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

The moon tonight had an angelic halo type haze circled around.

Many years ago, we’d made it back home from my mama’s funeral and had collapsed back into the house.

Worn, weary and drained.

Grief has a way of doing that.

You go through the motions of the ceremonial last gathering and when you’re done…you’re really done and emptied of most everything.

But, on that night almost six years ago, my nephew called.

Told us all, “Go outside, look at the moon…grandma Bette is looking down.”

And we did, my daughter and I, walked out into the cold January night and turned towards heaven to see the moon.

To stay there in that place, moonlit bright, shiny and fuzzy with glow as we felt mama, Grandma Bette looking down.

Tonight, the moon looked the same and I paused, not sorrowful or longing for backward steps; instead moving on as I drove.

Secure in the presence of moon, of mama.

Weaving on roads with few other people out, a cool night, stars all around and a crescent moon with a soft glow.

Making my way back home to son, daughter, husband and dogs…the glow of Christmas to greet me, the colors of Jesus filling the rooms.

I thought of the stars again, imagining how brightly they must have shone on the night our Savior was born, unobstructed by city light, by busy life.

I thought of shepherds following one star.

I wondered if they were convinced or unsure.

Doubted whether to continue on…following a star.

I wondered if their only hope was hope enough, to glance upward to stay on course, continuing on because of the one they were seeking.

The long expected one to guide us when star shine faded.

… they went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was.

When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.

Matthew 2:9-10

Overjoyed by where the star led them.

Like me, maybe my nephew, my daughter, nieces, brothers and sister. We look towards the moon that leads us to remember, its aura, like an angel with halo.

We pause to lift our faces towards heaven.

Drawing Lines and Looking for Mercy

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

On a Saturday morning with sunlight making designs on the furniture, I study today’s Advent card.

Six sketches, reminding of Christmas trees, but one different from the others. One more starkly covered, filled in with thick black marking.

There’s a story in the Book of John of a woman known for her sin.

Her indiscretions brought to light by accusers circled around in the sand at their feet, waiting for…demanding punishment with stone.

Accusers who retreated when handed their rocks to be thrown only if they’d never sinned themselves.

They wandered off one by one, their self-righteousness in check.

Then Jesus gently affirmed her sin, by saying ” Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.” John 8:11

Thank you God, for the glorious gift of your Son, my Savior. Thank you for the unfathomable reach of His grace and his mercy. Thank you God, most of all that yours is not a condemning acknowledgement of our failures, rather a gentle beckon…come or come back to me. Let’s walk together again. Go and sin no more.

We look for your mercy.

Amen

Everyday Delight

Faith, family, grace, praise, rest, Uncategorized

There’s a place I begin each day.

It’s quite heavenly for me.

A delightful time allowed myself, a commitment.

Not rushing forward to join the day.

Just making a point to hold my thin little book and pen

and to write a few or many words. It differs day to day.

Sitting, feet tucked under to read words of wisdom, to add with fluid black ink marking thick ivory page.

Recording words that resonate and then to go on about my day.

Allowing them to catch up with me later, my favorite part.

This is my happy way of life, this little snippet of each day.

It’s sort of like little mental post-it notes, pretty pastels tucked here or there, saying “This is why you needed this verse.” .

If I write, I remember.

Just when I need it.

It’s delightful like today’s image for Advent, Day 10. The most beautiful of happy colors, like square-shaped sticky notes, reminding me of the sweetness of a life God desires for me.

Things that delight my heart are the things the Lord the desires for me:

My children smiling, my home at peace, a solace in storm and a welcoming return for friends and family;

Good health for ones I love and the gift of knowing Jesus for all I meet.

Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37: 4

All the Tiny Pieces

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

It’s not at all easy for me to fathom

That looking down on us God sees us, each of us separate and unique.

But, I do.

Believe the unseen, believe I am seen.

And because of seeing all things I can see.

I walked on Saturday, through the crinkled up brown leaves strewn over the path.

I turned the corner to see even more bordered with cushions of rich green moss peeking through.

Layers and layers of same but different fallen leaves.

I continued on and stopped to notice the breeze as it rustled leaves, still clinging to branches, the wind cupping their edges to curve up, touching the sky.

Each tiny leaf, a creation of God and each one different.

It’s quite remarkable really, to be known by God.

To be more than a tiny piece in an enormous collection of pieces, indistinguishable from the one beside.

We’re more to God than that. We’re each unique, His plans for us waiting to be understood in full.

Few of us ever know fully, I’m afraid.

Few truly live so closely to His Sovereign will that it’s possible to see all He has for us.

It’s sufficient though to God each moment we spend seeking.

Thoughtful moments with leaves underfoot and breeze making music in the trees.

Sufficient because his grace is, sufficient.

The image that marks today’s Advent reminded me of dust and blackbirds.

It’s not at all easy for me to fathom that God sees more than specks of dust when he leans down to

listen

to see

That he hears my prayers, unspoken or not.

knows my thoughts

Sees my doubts, my dissapointments, my dilemmas.

To know that I am worth more

Than many sparrows.

But, I do believe he sees me.

No need to be afraid.

Sing Your Song

Children, Faith, family, grace, praise

I stood outside my daughter’s bedroom one day.

She was singing before church.

Her voice, clear and honest, uninhibited.

Not too long ago, I walked as softly as possible towards my son’s door as he played his guitar.

Day 4 of Advent is depicted in bright, vibrant combination of colors.

Hark! The Herald Angels Sing…Glory to the newborn king.

I bet the angels sang like a Sunday morning praise with no one around or a Sunday afternoon strum to calm the soul.

When Jesus was born in a manger under a starry sky of cobalt blue.

Unabashedly, joyously and unreserved.

My friend Carolyn is an accomplished artist. She encourages me.

She prefers oils, pastel or watercolor.

She and I talked of layering, of color and of creating with abandon.

Our hands covered in color, applied with intent or spontaneity, uninhibited.

Velvety vivid, touchable colors created for emotion

With emotion.

Singing when no one’s around or fingertips covered in color.

All art is praise.

Joy.

Glory to the newborn king

Born to be our Savior.

To be gloriously and happily praised.

In the quiet private and the wide open.

Golden Morn

Children, courage, family, Motherhood, praise, Vulnerability, wonder

From my morning spot on the couch, the sun came through in an all of sudden attention seeking way.

I glanced up to feel its greeting and then basked in its exhibition.

A wall, covered in memorabilia admittedly in excess, I remembered our color game.

I spy with my little eye…

Blue denim jacket, straw-colored pony tail, coal-black labrador and brown crinkled winter grass among brown,white, tan-colored beagle

Loved you long, long time labs and beagles, she has.

And red striped swimsuit next to hand holding sister in pretty peach, ladylike tiny hand hair held back from brown freckled cheeks.

And rusty, brown, yellow and white kitten lapping snow-white milk from a silvery bowl, little chubby pink cheeked blonde boy, kneeling beside with happy brown eyes

A magenta painted door behind ornate black Charleston gate. No reason for keeping until now, a place my heart is drawn.

A postcard from travel, a thank you note from a young man, handwritten words faded gray.

Sandy white gulls under powder blue sky, white tidal froth and bronze colored little boy arms tossing bread towards the sky, sailboat scattered print hanging from tiny torso.

A beautiful young woman, pretty blue eyes framed by incandescent lemony hair.

Lime green frame, artsy black text added.. love you to the moon and back…a bright red heart and orange crescent moon, a thinking of my mama even though I’m with others gift from Heather.

A rustic bird made of brown, buff and grapevine green, reminding of mountain climb as family.

A starkly detailed pen and ink, a black masterpiece of bugs, Austin creative and elementary.

I spy with my little eye the colors of my world.

Memories colorful and cherished, warmed by early morning light.

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