Prayer

The Book of Luke, 24 Days of Jesus – An Advent Experience

Abuse Survivor, Advent, Angels, birds, bravery, Children, Christmas, courage, fear, freedom, grief, heaven, hope, love, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

No Fear Now

Yesterday, the birds were gathering outside the window. I saw their shadows and the way they intersected the sun, a flash and dimming of the light coming in.

I didn’t turn to watch them, I missed their morning dance.

Instead, I was intent on the details, I was recording my fear. There were three nightmares and three pages of journal, trying to decipher the power and realistic terror of each of them.

Now, they’ve faded away, their scariness has passed and their power over my day, finally waned.

Jesus, God’s Son came to eliminate our fears. There’s no fear in love and His love came to take away our fears.

He told the disciples to fear one thing, evil, the authority that keeps us in fear, tries hard to keep our thoughts from heaven, to cast us into Hell.

To keep us kept by our nightmares, our minds pulling out the bad stuff in our sleep and it dancing dirty dances all night long. It is crazy, evil’s power making buried stuff come out to play, to mess with our peace , to derail our good days.

It is evil.

Jesus said fear is never from me, be assured, you’re worth so much to me.

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.” Luke‬ ‭12:6-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There’s no fear in love.

Grief, like a terrible nightmare makes me afraid, a different and try as I might, unavoidable afraid.

Christmas comes with grief. It would be wrong not to long for those we lost; yet, that longing turns to sadness. We imagine times when we’d all love to just sit around and laugh and be happy over our happy times with those we miss, those we loved. It’s not that simple, that simplifying of grief.

All the more reason to draw near to Jesus, no masks are worn in His presence. He alone sees our anxious and sad, pretending not to be, hearts.

Do not be afraid. He knows grief sometimes feels like fear.

“”Fear not, little flock.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭12:32‬ ‭ESV‬‬

No one ever told me grief felt so like fear. C.S. Lewis

I avoided the dancing birds. I was hoping not to see the red bird. I longed to see them most days, but, for a little while I felt different than before.

The bird rushing past my work window, a flash of brilliant red or the subdued female hue, I looked away.

This time avoiding the reminder that it’s not really you, only symbolic of you, my father and my mother.

I’ll see them again I know and I’ll accept the gift of their appearing.

A gift of love, a gift that holds no fear.

If I listen closely I might hear “Stop being afraid, Lisa Anne” and I may see my daddy looking over at her before nodding a yes, quietly and simply nodding “yes”.

Always, yes.

The Book of Luke, 24 Days of Jesus – An Advent Experience

Advent, bravery, Children, Christmas, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, grace, heaven, hope, memoir, obedience, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Late getting home yesterday, I caught just a glimpse as I turned the sharp curve at the top of the hill and I asked in a whisper to no one at all.

To me, “Have you seen the crescent?”

Closer to our driveway, it was unavoidable, the way its placement rested above the turn into my home.

My eyes get moist and there’s a shift in the breath in my lungs, I call to mind me as a little girl. Im in the little tan station wagon and we’re going back home.

They tell me I’m wrong and I refuse to not believe it, I know the moon is following me home.

I know I can count on it to be there.

As a child, I was a seeker and still today, I seek it, am enthralled by it, all the places of light that tell me to keep going, keep seeking, you’ve only seen just a tiny bit of what is to be, what is still there.

Jesus told of someone who needed help and was ignored. He told of how this person refused to stop seeking, refused to give up, believed there was help on the side of the unopened door. And there was eventually, there was help and hope for the one who kept knocking on the door, seeking.

“And he said to them, “Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey, and I have nothing to set before him’; and he will answer from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed. I cannot get up and give you anything’?

I tell you, though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, yet because of his impudence he will rise and give him whatever he needs.

And I tell you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭11:5-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The shepherds followed a brilliant star to the place it illuminated the manger.

Last night, the crescent moon and the star I call “Mama”, they were waiting for me to see.

I know I’ll see again.

I am a seeker.

The Book of Luke – 24 Days of Jesus, An Advent Experience

Advent, Angels, Art, bravery, Children, Christmas, courage, doubt, grace, kindness, love, memoir, mercy, painting, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, waiting, wonder, writing

Possible Impossibilities

I wake to have my interest peaked as I scan my emails. Try, try again or consider those kind of doors closed?

The idea of submission has captured me again.

Lord, tell me what to say.

Jesus had a captive audience. His presence caused men, women and children to be drawn towards him.

He was a teacher enthused over his lesson plan, he wanted everyone who listened to learn, to be changed by their learning.

He sat one day on the edge of a fishing boat, the fishermen must have called it a day and so Jesus perched himself on the edge and faced the crowd who had gathered on the shore.

Big crowds must have followed him all around, maybe pausing to answer others’ curious questions.

Where are you going?

Who is this man named Jesus anyway?

Why are you following him?

Isn’t he just Joseph’s son?

Do you really believe what they’re saying?

Have you actually seen him do the things people are saying he can do?

Could it be possible?

Simon thought he knew more than Jesus. Jesus told him to let down the nets, to put the boat back in the water, to go and try again.

Simon told Jesus we’ve tried all night and no luck, essentially “nary a bite” man!

Jesus told him try again.

“Getting into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, he asked him to put out a little from the land. And he sat down and taught the people from the boat. And when he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” And Simon answered, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.” And when they had done this, they enclosed a large number of fish, and their nets were breaking. They signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both the boats, so that they began to sink.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭5:3-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I have a paperweight on my desk that says “something wonderful will happen today”, another that says “you haven’t failed until you give up” and a solid and smooth rock engraved with one word, “soar”.

On occasion I notice them, rarely really.

Instead I recall unexpected rescues, kindnesses that correct my budgetary mistakes, staff who encourage me, endure my negativity and cynicism.

A family who supports my work, supports and stands by me.

I see God coming through in ways that come from my keeping on, keeping an even keel.

I know the bountiful catch is coming and I put down my net and maybe just wait. I do my part, I rest.

I listen to sincere encouragement, I discern in the faces and reactions and even the decisions of others.

Whether here or there or even anywhere, are the places I place my words and my art, the places I “let my net down” that came back empty before, now possibly to reap a joyful multiplication that will honor God, nudge others towards Him.

Jesus, God’s son came to earth to use earthly objects and experiences to teach us to hope.

Teachable moments like a burnt out and hopeless fisherman, expert at his trade who wasn’t having a good fishing day.

Jesus suggested he try again.

Advent, a time to prepare ourselves for the hope of Christmas.

Jesus, the Messiah.

He is our hope, the hope of all mankind.

We must do these things we think we cannot do, we must believe again in the possible impossibilities.

What will you try, try again that you thought you may as well give up?

Big things have small beginnings and small things with repetition and resolve come through.

Try. Try again.

The Book of Luke – 24 Days of Jesus, an Advent Experience

Abuse Survivor, Advent, bravery, Christmas, confidence, contentment, daughters, doubt, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

Lessons for the Learned

At some point I must have been set on remembering the sermon.

The margin of my Bible is marked with my interpretations and revelations from a passage.

“And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭4:17-19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The Spirit of the Lord is on me and if you believe in His birth, His death, His resurrection, on you, too.

God has given us all opportunities to proclaim the good news to the poor.

To proclaim liberty to those without purpose, those who are trapped in the bondage of sin, shame, doubt, fear, unbelief. To remind myself and others of the gracious rescue from these places.

To those who are blind, we like Jesus are to help them see the light of the gospel, also known as “good news”.

We need reminding, all distracted at times and unable to see, our eyes covered by the blinders of this crazy world.

We are here now to tell our stories.

Our stories of why we believe, why we know we’re better believing than not.

It’s that simple. Life before Jesus was not what life with Jesus is and will be.

Why we’re tempted not to believe at times and why we know we can’t return to that road or jump from that dangerous place again, taking advantage of the grace that will catch us in our fall.

We’ve heard the Word, we read the accounts and like the crowd Luke wrote about, we are astounded by all the healing, we are now learned ones, for we have experienced salvation and healing and we continue to grow, we continue to be open to His lessons.

Jesus was born to bring us salvation.

For thirty some years he was a healer, a teacher, a speaker through parables, readable lessons.

May I never stop learning, ever progressing towards Him, to be like Jesus. May I embrace the opportunities in front of me to more purposefully tell.

Most of all, may what is said about me be more consistently true, more about Jesus than about me.

I want to leave a legacy.

“and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death,”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭3:9-10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

My surrender is my story.

The Book of Luke – 24 Days of Jesus, an Advent Experience

Advent, Angels, Art, Children, contentment, courage, daughters, family, hope, kindness, love, memoir, mercy, Motherhood, painting, praise, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

It Matters to Me

Luke, Chapter 3 is evidence of the writer’s intellect, I decide. Luke, a physician explored and recorded the lineage of Jesus. It would be easy to avoid the 15 verses with challenging names, like skipping over the Book of Leviticus on yet another plan to read through the Bible.

But, it is relevant, this lineage, this record of ancestry.

All the relatives of Joseph and thereby Jesus, the Son of God.

“the son of Enos, the son of Seth, the son of Adam, the son of God.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭3:38‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It matters to me, the humanity of Jesus, the lining up of people, just like the people lined up before me.

Makes me reflect on our genetics and our similarities, the ones before me, making straight my way through the memories of their own ways.

“Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall become straight, and the rough places shall become level ways,”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭3:5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

My grandma made the best of paths she may have thought might be straight, she made it through the crooked places and leveled her life with scripture and determination, she always made a way.

I told my “Aunt Boo” that I felt my grandma with me and in me. I’ve sold hand-painted Christmas cards this year.

I remembered her carefully designing her velvety Christmas ornaments, covered in pieces and parts of old jewelry.

She used the long stick pins and carefully created elaborate pieces. I see her now.

She’s in the room they added on, the double bed filled up the room and there was space just wide enough for her beside it. She retreated to this place, I was invited in to sit quietly on the bed.

A dresser was covered with sectioned flat containers, sparkly, metallic, extravagant and antique. She stood for hours, her tiny frame steady, her hands working constantly. No words spoken and her mouth set just so, her tongue tipped up toward the curve of her lip, peeking through, she worked with her mouth “set just right”.

She was industrious. She placed the ornaments in big flat boxes and with her little memorandum pad, she loaded her car and she made her deliveries.

I am forever impacted by her choice to pursue something so joyful, to do something that was fully and completely her choice to do.

It matters to me, this characteristic of my grandmother in me.

I’ve been selling my art again.

Luke reminds us that everything is purposeful and everything matters.

In the first verses of Chapter 3, John begins to tell of a new concept, repentance and forgiveness of sins. Isaiah the prophet had written of John, a voice that would come from the wilderness. The same John who “jumped” in his mother, Elizabeth’s womb while in the room with Mary, pregnant with Jesus, this John would baptize many and baptize Jesus.

And Jesus heard his father, God say, “you are my son”.

“Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heavens were opened, and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form, like a dove; and a voice came from heaven, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭3:21-22‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It’s doubtful I’ll ever be a theologian, doubtful I’ll return to any further education.

Life and God are my teachers now.

Life, the enormity of it around me, exposure to wisdom, thoughts, experiences. God helps me see the relevance of Him in it all.

I’ve just finished reading an article I’ll read again and maybe more. The wisdom of a man over why his ancestry is significant, why clarity matters, why approaching things hidden or unexplored is something we all should do.

It is never too late.

Two gentlemen, both guys who are wise and caring and ones I respect, pointed me in the direction of this piece.

Bruce Springsteen

We are all individuals formed by those who made us. Our heredity is more than physical, it is experiential.

It is a brave choice to consider the weaving of our ways, to look at them and say, oh, I see now this horrible or wonderful thing, how it made me, me.

Some might wonder what these thoughts have to do with Christmas. I get that.

I don’t know why; but, I said a long series of “thank you, Gods” beside my bed today. It began and then just became a spontaneous building of more and more. God kept up the conversation, brought to memory all of my before to say hey, look at now!

This life I have, this life I know.

It is absolutely a life of hope. My lineage and my life experiences at one time convinced me it could never be so.

Like Luke details the way the 30 year old Jesus came to be, it is similar for you and me.

The breath of heaven that brought Jesus is the same breath of God that created you and me.

On purpose and with purpose that life causes us to sometimes lose. I told someone yesterday I wish I hadn’t returned to art so late in life.

One of my thank yous this morning was that I am here and I have art and life and so much more.

I have hope.

Advent, the days before Christmas, these are the days to have hope.

It matters to me that my grandma chose hope, that she became independent in her pursuit of making beautiful things, that she was about my age when she began this thing that kept her captivated, made her feel significant, brought joy to so many.

It matters to me that I got to see what I didn’t understand as hope back then, but understand it now.

She prepared the way for me. I pray I’m preparing the way for my own daughter, my son and all the other children yet to come.

Luke, a Book about the life of Jesus. I’m no seminarian, I’m just sharing what he’s bringing to light …24 Days of Jesus, my Advent Experience.

Hope.

Changes in Just a Moment

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Homeless, Prayer, Serving, Vulnerability

When I told her I realized clearly a name for the feeling, I believe she knew, was surprised but she knew. I told her I’d been doing all I could with very little coming back in return.

I couldn’t name the feeling, fatigue like emotional drudgery.

But, on the way to work this morning, God named my feeling. Things happen a lot of times, you, alone in your car. Clarity comes.

I felt useless.

Now for no other reason than to chronicle the way it all was so momentary, I record it here.

We’re close to broke. I’ve been asking for money like the boy crying wolf.

All the helpers and helping places are asking now.

I understand the conclusion drawn that we don’t really need it, it’s just time to ask.

I had a letter to write, the year-end appeal. I was circling round our homeless shelter, looking for angles to capture in a photo.

Our need is great. Our hopes are high.

An image that would convey:

We need you now.

I stopped in to the shelter, barged in, worried again over budget. I realized my tone was less than helpful.

I thought I bet she wished I hadn’t stopped in.

Her demeanor was slightly solemn, her posture different in a tired sort of surrender.

I listened. She was worried about someone she loves. I had no words. I felt compelled to hold her.

We hugged.

I returned to my desk to see a message left for me.

The Foundation funding representative calling, asked that I return the call.

I dialed the number then regretted not pulling out the application, anticipating clarity needed, budgetary explanation.

Instead, we’re fully funded, are you available for a pre-press conference?

My legs felt it first, the emotion and a sizzle-like current ran up and back down and I felt my eyes water, I felt the fullness.

The fullness of feeling useless, doing all I could with a less than favorable, feeling ignored return.

I called her, shared that the reviewers of the grant found her to be “phenomenal”.

She paused. I listened, her joy.

“Oh, I’m so full.”

And I added, it is not me alone.

Remembering the way the reviewers of the grant on our site visit were entranced by her sharing and her speaking from her heart about our work, I told her, it’s you, it’s us together that has made this program so strong.

Then I added. Well, I thank God for making me able to write about our work and for making you able to talk so beautifully and passionately about it.

I’m lying down this evening feeling significantly surprised by my usefulness.

If you’d like to know about my work, visit Mental Health America Aiken County.

If you’re compelled to do so, please donate.

We really do need you now.

Providence

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grace, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I suppose I should surely call myself with confidence, a writer.

Just because of the way I love words, the way God made me to love words.

I wake up with new plans and consider a bullet list Thanksgiving blog.

This little garland left unhung and it was cute in Target, but I’m not sure if it was right for any place in my home. I’ll let it lay, it can go undone.

Again, I’m thinking of the list, the thankful today list. I could fill several pages and yet, not include it all.

Instead, I love the idea of three, so three it shall be.

Thank you, God, you are patient and unconditionally present and tolerant of me and you help others also to be.

Thank you for the way you got me here, to a place of morning sunshine landing on my succulents as I disciplined myself to know you more in the years before and how now, like today it’s an unexplainable joy, my morning space I rush towards in my morning return.

Thank you, God, for your word. When I said to myself I want to know more about providence, you sent me straight to Job, Job who cried out to the God who “molded me like clay” and found himself in a place I only know as well but on a much smaller scale, saying I trust you God, I do because you and only you know me so well.

Lists and exchanges of thanks should surely rule the day.

For me, I prayed I’d be an encourager that those around me would know my love, would surely see my love in a grander more consistent way, only possible if I lean into and stay leaning into You.

Happy Thanksgiving my readers who comment just when I need it, unbeknownst to you, perhaps.

That’s God who nudged you towards encouraging me.

That’s providence.

Thank you, God

“You gave me life and showed me kindness, and in your providence watched over my spirit.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭10:12‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Thank you for all you’ve brought me, brought me through to be used to honor you!

Your Glory Today

Angels, courage, Homeless, memoir, mercy, obedience, Prayer, Serving, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

All day long she sat alone.

Waiting for me to figure something out, fourth, fifth, maybe the sixth day the same.

Something or some things happened to change her, cause her to hear noises not there, to believe harm was always beating hard against her windows.

My friend asked yesterday why I thought God had given me this assignment. I don’t believe I answered.

I don’t know.

In the beginning, I thought God had sent my mama, this woman who calls me “lady” had a similar helpless tone.

Like my mama did when she was very sick and very sad. I thought maybe here’s your chance again, save this situation, make right the failure of the one before. She’s so difficult to deal with but she’s human. She’s a soul.

But, no, there’s some other reason, I believe, I don’t know.

She continues to come back, waiting every morning at our door.

Countless calls for collaboration, asking family to take her in, to others to put our heads together, just suggestions or ideas.

No solution so far.

Other than hotel rooms for a couple of nights to know she’s not outside, not curled up on someone’s porch, or walking in the night, just walking.

She told me people see her. She’s afraid she’ll be arrested. Some drivers slow down to speak, ask if she’s okay and others look away.

She’s a pleasant sight, really. I smile when I see her resolve, I find it meaningful that she wears her earrings.

I’ve yet to see her without her gold “hoops” in, complementing her high cheeks.

She’s a mystery, how her condition came to be, the way she served others before, the way she engaged in community.

Before she got so afraid.

Today, she told me I won’t see her, said she could handle herself today. We paid for her one night of sleep and I gave her cash for some minutes on her phone and bought her a double when she said she’d take a single, no fries, a baked potato instead.

She’d asked the lady checking her in for a safe room, the lady said they’re all safe here and asked her not to complain about the noises again.

I listened, piecing more of her mystery together.

I’ll call others today, I’m praying for a resolution or at least someone to pay for another night in the hotel.

I woke in my warm bed, the chill of the room against my face and I prayed “Thanks, God”.

I slept so very well.

I turned to kneel beside my bed.

Again, “Thanks, God.”

For assignments, for opportunities

For interruptions and issues like homelessness, like suicide, like budgets that never have enough to cover and ideas I can’t get back when I want to so I consider throwing in the towel.

You order my days.

You, God, not me.

Enlighten me, Lord.

Show me your glory. Cause me to stick with something as long as you find it necessary to bring you glory while being humbled by the assignment.

Help not to despise your assignments.

Help me to see you in them, just like the day so very long ago when I was chastised by a boy who happened to be my son. I questioned the validity of someone’s need, and the boy spoke up to say…

“What if he’s Jesus?”

“”With the merciful you show yourself merciful; with the blameless man you show yourself blameless; with the purified you deal purely, and with the crooked you make yourself seem tortuous. You save a humble people, but your eyes are on the haughty to bring them down. For you are my lamp, O Lord, and my God lightens my darkness.”

‭‭2 Samuel‬ ‭22:26-29‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Show me the way, Lord.

Show me the way.

Level Places of One

bravery, courage, Faith, grief, mercy, Prayer, rest, Stillness, suicide loss, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Few chances come anymore to feel as if others are one.

Last week we had to bring in more chairs. People I had not seen in a good while and some who I had spoken to by phone but never met all arrived around the same time.

One person I had never encountered walked in bravely.

Alone, she entered a room full of strangers and found a seat cornered between two others at the corner of the table.

One other arrived a little late and I was happy he made it, told one of the regulars he’ll most likely “saunter” in.

This one elderly man, a father grieving his daughter, seated close to me smiled as if he and I shared an inside joke and whispered that was a good description of him.

I consider us friends.

The sauntering and kind gentleman called later to comment on the meeting, concerned over some of the new people, wondering if he can be available to them.

I told him I appreciate the way he helps guide the discussion and the way he’s both truthful even if hard to hear, his words as well as compassion and concern.

He thanked me.

I told him that the diversity in the stories that night, the circumstances that led to suicides and the contributing factors as well as starkly contrasting personal struggles and family make ups were evident.

But, not evidenced in any of the faces of the listeners, the words offered in comfort, comparison or even explanations possible.

It’s level ground, it’s like a mercy table, one meeting I am a part of that sees past differences and looks at the one thing.

The one thing of suicide.

One of many things I do not fully understand.

One thing I do not know.

And so I’m one with them only in my presence, one only because I am there and I’m one because neither do I understand.

I’m one with this group I lead, this group of solemn yet, steady and supportive encouragers.

“Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.”

‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭5:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The man who sauntered in closed in prayer after asking permission.

In the pause of his, I presume thinking, two ladies added their supplication. I considered being the third and all my heart could come up with was “Thank you, God for bringing these people to my life.”

I knew God would understand what I meant. I was afraid they would not.

I sat silent and I listened as the gentle man closed out his prayer for the others around the table.

Bringing the support group for those bereaved by suicide, “a club no one wants to be a member of” to a close.

Today, I’m linking up with others here, prompted by the word “One”.

One

If you or someone you know has experienced suicide loss, our group meets monthly. You can find other groups in your area by searching afsp.org.

Tomorrow is International Survivors Day. Across the country people will gather to talk, listen, be one with one another.

Info on this can be found here:

International Survivor Day

I am thankful God brought these people to me. They’ve grown me, taught me that silence is good, that I don’t always have to give my insight and that we are all one in God’s eyes, all of us humans down here.

Grace and Calling or No

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, grace, memoir, mercy, obedience, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, surrender, Teaching, Uncategorized, writing

I couldn’t guess if I tried how many bloggers are out there with words floating all about.

Occasional assertions like a “calling” to write or an unwavering assurance or this I must do. I must write.

Like so many other things, we’ve a sense of celebrity to it, we read what the successful ones publish, we lean in and listen, we get enthused with the possibilities or we slink away when the reality of luck and timing and perseverance cause us to crash.

I heard today that about 85% of people have ideas, believe their life contains a story that could be a book.

Yesterday, I came home from church and I read the words of Paul. I considered writing only momentarily. I rested instead and considered giving up my blog, print all of my favorite posts first and stack the stack of stories atop my desk and eventually pack away in a drawer.

But, here I am. I’ve returned.

I changed my tagline because someone skilled in blog traffic and “search speak” assessed my site last week.

Why not, I thought and then like an optimistic student hoping for a B, I was deflated, my report came back with the number 72, a D!

I added grace to my tagline, really just shuffled the letters in the line. Least I could do, the only thing I understand how to do.

I’m learning. I need to be open to the shifts, the sways, the steady steps forward. I need to grow.

Yesterday, about the time it is now, I sat alone at home with the dog at my feet.

The sun was warming the edge of the sofa and my Bible on the arm.

Today was different. 4:30 in the afternoon and it was dark and grey.

Raining, cold.

A writing task abandoned, I felt so little like a writer. Feels unlikely, this thing I thought I might do. So, I’m pushing back.

I tidied up my space, let the next tutorial pause a quarter way in.

Two sheets of lined legal pad are filled with potentially captivating titles, subtitles, notes and asterisks.

I put it away and stopped and thought again, you’ll soon be 60, you’ve been talking about this and refusing to give it up since almost three years ago.

I’ve got notes from church yesterday rewritten twice in three places today.

Most likely I’ll be writing them again.

It’s not trying harder. It’s surrender.

Share your story, yes.

Who you were and who you are.

But, mostly notice and follow what the Holy Spirit shows and tells you.

There is something in me that is greater than me.

I didn’t nap yesterday, I read Romans 8 instead.

I have no idea if a book is in me. I thought I surely knew before.

But, I never surrendered the outcome, the beginning nor the end.

I never asked God directly.

I never, in fact even asked at all.

God, is it your will that I write?

A book?

A book that I already gave a title, named and numbered the chapters, and planned the dedication?

I’m asking now.

And I’m not trying as hard.

I promise.

I surrender my words either stacked up in sheets or bound together in a book, my name across the bottom.

I pray you will help me, God, teach me to be content either way.

“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It occurred to me yesterday what a joy my blog is to me. I thought of the feeling when thoughts become words just descriptively fine and I’ve cherished the kind words in comments.

I thought of how sweet it’s been realizing thus far it has been all me.

I paused with the idea of what might be. What might be bolder, sweeter, truer when it’s not just me; but, the power, the power of the Holy Spirit in and through me.

Coming through my words, surrendered for his purpose.

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:28‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m curious and excited now, surrendered to his purpose.

We shall see.