Prayer

Words and Pursuit

courage, doubt, Faith, grace, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I love a pretty word, love the way it prompts pursuit.

Draws me to be hopeful it’ll fit just right, my emotion and understanding.

Love the way it awakens me, a word saying “Carry on, continue, you’re not too far gone.”

I found myself drawn to confirm my understanding, the word “ardent”, I felt descriptive of someone committed, zealous, passionate even in their effort to be near, be in relationship with another.

The book I read in the mornings is made of quotes and verses and very often, I must pause to understand the linguistic disconnect.

I’m not sure I’d ever heard it, that God was an ardent pursuer of me, a sort of suitor refusing to accept my rebuff.

Lord knows, back in the day, the nice guys I cast aside, rarely did they continue their pursuit, lost interest, lost cause.

Today, I couldn’t quite believe with my whole heart. I teetered between the why and His will. I wondered if others tired of wanting to understand but, being unable to believe.

Someone stopped by and her whole face was smiling. Another stopped by and she cried, I cried with her.

Another called and I apologized before I ever began, I’m sorry I’m pitiful today. She told me she’d woken the same way.

I sat in my car and she prayed I’d know his nearness, that I’d remember my strength because of a God who pursues and protects me. She prayed there’d be a break in my heavy load and that the big things looming would have His hand on me.

And it wasn’t all of a sudden, like a gathering of hallelujah singers all around, it was a gradual sense of God’s presence.

A calming factor, a sense of hope and an affirmative reminder that I believe.

The to do pad on the fridge, blank until today. Home from long day, I decide on a bike ride. The slight cooling down of evening air on my face, I pedaled strong and determined and never let up, careening around the curve and back through my yard. I hop off my bike and back inside, realize the day is different.

It’s dusk and it’s evening and there’s chili simmering on the stove.

I reach for the fridge and my note to self from early morning.

Believe God.

Now, I know you know I didn’t, haven’t seen God. But, he pursued me today and followed me and happened to have people see me, hear me, listen, smile, cry and pray.

And they were intentional. They were wholehearted and enthusiastic. They were passionate in their pursuit of my heart as I was of theirs and we were mutually ardent in our compassionate responses.

Goodness and mercy found me today. It seems it was not without effort because sometimes I look and don’t find and I grow weary and worn, wilted, drained and deplete.

But, He never lets go His ardent pursuit.

“Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭23:6‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Ardent, a word descriptive of a committed and fervent one. One who never gives up.

A quote from my little morning book from the Rev. John Tauler, born 1290 and deceased in 1361, 71 years of understanding of God’s pursuit:

For God is right diligent to be with us at all seasons, and to teach us, that He may bring us to Himself, when we are like to go astray.

None of us ever desired anything more ardently than God desires to bring men to the knowledge of Himself. J. Tauler

Oh my goodness, knowledge so very close to being too wonderful to know.

To know that I am known by God.

Wonderful to know.

Quiet Voila’

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, courage, doubt, grace, Peace, praise, Prayer, Stillness, Vulnerability

Last week or maybe last year, sporadic in my notice and recognition, I decided “child’s pose” was very much like prayer.

The prayer pose in the dark of early morning beside my bed or in the middle of a day when my pacing feet and pounding heart had left me with no place to go but to

Go there.

To hide away on my side of the bed.

You’d have to walk around to find me.

To hit my knees and find my soul beckoning me rest and my shoulders, lower, lower until they too are closer to the bottom and to wait, my muscles groaning in extension, I’m reaching, now gently.

As far as I can and I wait for God to cause my hands to open towards heaven.

Like a quiet “voila!”.

Saying, this is yours God, not mine.

Like a child, my outstretched hands are both released from my heavy thing and opened for the pure embrace of God.

Lean a little deeper into the prayer like a languished stretch and then ease back upright to maybe a sort of sun salutation.

I rise. I’m better, Son of God, I salute you, your Spirit, now.

I’m better today.

“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:26‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Linking up for FMF prompted by “release”.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/04/05/fmf-link-up-release/

Oh, and by the way, my book review of Kate Motaung’s recently released memoir, “A Place to Land” is in a draft right now, I’ll be posting tomorrow and giving away a couple of copies!

or you can order here: https://www.amazon.com/Place-Land-Story-Longing-Belonging/dp/162707662X/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&linkCode=sl1&tag=headhome-20&linkId=3e098af8efaaaff2f28a716b3f563944

They Rested

bravery, courage, Easter, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Never random when she calls, it’s always an interruption for both of us.

Still, we are rapt and attentive, anticipatory.

We pause, we interject.

We listen, we add to the conversation.

We are one and we call one another from the proverbial cliffs of our own anxious waiting.

Sometimes I call her down, sometimes she consoles, corrects, cajoles me.

Either way, there may be tears. There is always prayer and always, always we are both equally better.

Or at least, we’ve filled a big chunk of the space in our minds tainted by what we are dying to know, what we are willing ourselves to believe all will be His will or we are plain worn out from devising outcomes from which to choose and get ready for.

We are both willful we decide.

This morning, I want to know more. I’m reading my Bible like the good book it is, enthralled to know more, I decide to read each account of the day between death and resurrection.

I choose Luke because of one sentence in what amounts to no more than a paragraph.

Just a paragraph, a pause.

John, Mark and Matthew all the same, a resignation of accepting the death of Jesus and a business transaction on the part of a man named Joseph.

“Now there was a man named Joseph, from the Jewish town of Arimathea. He was a member of the council, a good and righteous man, who had not consented to their decision and action; and he was looking for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down and wrapped it in a linen shroud and laid him in a tomb cut in stone, where no one had ever yet been laid. It was the day of Preparation, and the Sabbath was beginning.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:50-54‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The women prepared the spices, they’d taken care to continue in their parts. Verses before, they’d been told of promises.

Jesus saw their longing, their lamenting. He spoke of our own longing, our lamenting when and will and how and how long?

“But turning to them Jesus said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us,’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us.’”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:28-30‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Told them days of blessings are a sure thing. Every single word of Jesus was purposeful, was promise.

Was a promise he kept and still keeps.

As if saying, Believe. You will see!

That day in between, sad but serene resignation, accepting, doing what we can do.

They did what they could, they made the preparations.

They were careful in their role as ones who cared.

They did what they could and then rested.

“Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:56‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Today, I made a new to do list.

I’m in charge of some things and I’ve promised to do another. My children will be with me tomorrow for lunch and I’m ditzy when it comes to hosting and cooking and timelines.

I’ll read the narration for our cantata and I’ll sing and worship.

I added a bold bracket around my list and asked God to use me and my abilities as He sees fit.

And I remembered wisdom from another:

“I will when I can.”

Today, I’ll rest in my waiting. I’ll do my best to embrace the time, the day between.

Sabbath, I surrender to you. I’ll give grace to me and to those around me.

With anticipation and excitement I’ll celebrate the life and newness and resurrection tomorrow.

Like Mary and the others, I’ll hold on hopeful and wholeheartedly to your promise that it is not finished with me, there are still mountains to be moved and beautiful blessings from barren times for me and for the ones I love and humbly pray intercession for.

Prayers spoken and answered, she will call and we’ll sing together because His glory has been shown.

Yes, we have seen God’s glory!

New life!

Closer Walking Words

bravery, courage, Faith, Good Friday, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

It’s fitting I believe, that the morning outside is dreary, a dull gray film making my time feel like mercy and slow acceptance that all will be well, the atmosphere already has changed.

Holy Spirit reminding me, no fear in love.

Walk more closely.

Continue, speechless.

His loss for my words that come.

Good words on Good Friday,  the day marked by suffering.

His suffering for my words, words that come like mercy every morning.

Wordless

I follow my daily guide that gives words in my Bible, a passage about a husband and wife who allowed greed and insecurity to go against what their souls knew they should do.

They chose to hide the excess of what they’d profited from, hid it away possibly insecure over their future, doesn’t say why.

The husband and then the wife died. Makes me wonder if this is where we get the phrase, “can’t take it with you!”

Peter asked them why they’d not trusted the Spirit, why they chose to hide their mistrust, revealing their lack of belief in God’s provision.

“But Peter said to her, “How is it that you have agreed together to test the Spirit of the Lord? Behold, the feet of those who have buried your husband are at the door, and they will carry you out.”

‭‭Acts‬ ‭5:9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Today is Good Friday, two days before Easter services, sermons and celebrations.

I open my Bible to understand its significance, longing for the perspective of ancient writers and recorders rather than countless commentaries and insight of others.

I long, thankfully so, to be closer to the heart and soul of the day, to glean more significantly my conviction and my certainty of the suffering for my sake.

I consider the Books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John before finally resting on the page that I penciled in my calculation of the time the world was dark for three hours.

Dark because God could not watch His Son suffer.

“And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour, Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭15:33-34‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Observers felt surely rescue would come as the reply. But, it didn’t.

Jesus died.

“And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭15:37‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Good Friday, I woke again asking for mercy and mercy, again met me like so many days before.

Today, easing its way reminding me kindly to test the Lord less often, to trust His graceful provision.

To not hide away, insecurely the disguises of my fear.

To not cover my sins of doubt, of shame that lead to paths uncertain and unsafe, paths that might find me falling down, falling back.

So I rose to the dim morning light and He met me again; Jesus, a merciful advocate showing that indeed, Friday is good.

Not just this one; but, all of them Lisa Anne!

All of your Fridays are good when you live in light of My goodness and my grace.

And if you look you will surely see good in every waking day, every day that you choose not to hide your treasure from me, that you choose not to hide your heart away.

Every moment that you are bold enough to believe!

Every day you choose not to blur your visions, your senses, your walking in agreement with my will and way, not yours.

Just a closer walk.

“”Agree with God, and be at peace; thereby good will come to you.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭22:21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

 

linking this post up with other writers who love to tell His story. Visit here:

Tell His Story

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Morning Light

family, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Uncategorized

Jesus told the disciples how they should pray. They’d seen Him praying and asked to be taught. He responded with The Lord’s Prayer and then continued by telling them to be persistent and specific, to be, I suppose you might say, “a pest”.

This morning I woke up too early. I’d been bragging about my internal clock and being able to wake without alarm at just the right time. Not today, 5:30 a.m. and I begin.

Pretty pencil and pad in my lap, I leave the lamp off.

I think, out of nowhere…Lord, teach me to pray.

Cup one down, I flip on the lamp and find the place in my Bible where this request rests.

Prayed yesterday while walking Colt and before sleep last night and now morning routine, I’m still seeking more.

Lord, do you tire of the same requests?

I wonder do you watch over me and my circling round, back tracking and circumventing supplications?

Do you grow weary of my questions?

Do you feel I’m ever looking for answers; but, not hardly ever seeking you?

Jesus told the disciples that a good father gives his children what they ask for and never anything less or not suitable.

He told the disciples a hungry soul asking to be fed will be fed as long as they are persistent in their need for food.

“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.” Jesus Luke‬ ‭11:5-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I look towards my left, a desk where two boys sat who are now men is filled with old school papers and things like Hot Wheels and Pokémon cards.

On top rests the broken edged pot from my mama’s. The succulents have not survived but, the bird nest rests there, gold coin from a foreign place and the pine cone and the pebble. There’s a feather near and a magnolia type pod.

I’m reminded to pray, prompted by what and who each oddity means.

I’m reminded that my morning routine is never routine to God.

In the Chapter just before the 11th of Luke, Jesus told Martha to be more like her sister, Mary.

Told her to choose the better, to linger at His feet awhile instead of trying to keep straight everyone and everything around her, unfocused, persistent only in her perfections sought after.

Morning light now all around, I’ve sat for longer than I should again, I think.

And then quickly decide no, not at all as another verse God brings to mind. One about a boy who woke to hear clearly what God had to say, had prepared him for.

“Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down, and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant hears.'” So Samuel went and lay down in his place. And the Lord came and stood, calling as at other times, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant hears.”

‭‭1 Samuel‬ ‭3:9-10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Morning light, now fully bright.

Thank you, Father I’ve sought you and I’ve sat and you have spoken to my heart.

I’m now prepared.

Thank you for my routine every morning.

I’m thankful for FMF prompts. Admittedly, I rarely stay within 5 minutes…still I enjoy linking up and learning from others.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/03/22/fmf-link-up-routine/

P.S. pray for Colt, the big brown lab aka Colton Dixon, his old hip injury has him limping this morning, not his usual goofy self. 😒

Purify my Intention

courage, Faith, grace, Peace, Prayer, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Morning is the purest time and

I’ve become cautious over its treasure, careful not to be simply habitual.

Four or five books and my Bible

A pattern, a little system to my journaled prayers.

If I’m not careful I’ll jinx it, do this then that, then this…afraid a misstep or missed morning might lessen God’s notice of me.

Slippery slope down the path of my believing my measure of worth depends on what I do, what I continue to do…

“When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your unfailing love, Lord, supported me.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭94:18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Protected time. My little spot. I’m safe again.

I’m remembering yesterday morning tonight.

Yesterday morning, I was sparked by remembering that I’d written somewhere else. I scanned my emails for notice of a comment telling me I’d been noticed by others.

Anxious for accolades.

Then, stopped. Suddenly, I stopped myself. Sat still and sat quietly, clearly and in tune.

Told myself my words will go where God has for them to go. My words will be seen by those who need to see them.

That is all.

This is enough. This is me, now.

Then I skipped reading my devotionals and began my day. Mid morning, found my little book and turned to the page marked March 20.

And I was met by intentional, intuitive and gradual grace through words of another.

The words in the book titled “Joy and Strength” are a little quirky in an ancient centuries ago way. The fonts are so delicate, the pages fragile and the verses are numbered a forgotten Roman system.

The words of a French Roman Catholic mystic convinced me that impatience is the disdain of prayer, that grace has a quality so clearly, gradual.

Gradual, God’s expectations are and accepting are His allowances.

He shows us the way forward, slowly not regimented or rigid. Not ever habitual or rote.

“Be content to go on quietly.

When you discover somewhat in yourself which is earthly and imperfect, be patient while you strive to cast it out.

Your perceptions will grow, at first, God will show you very obvious stumbling blocks; be diligent in clearing these away, and do not aim at heights to which you are not equal.

Leave all to God, and while you earnestly desire that He would purify your intention, and seek to work with Him to that end, be satisfied with the gradual progress He sets before you; and remember that He often works in ways unseen by us.”

Jean Nicolas Grou

Tomorrow morning, new thoughts, prayers and wisdom will meet me here and

Content, I’ll go on quietly.

Not Sought After

courage, doubt, Faith, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

I almost hurried to finish what I only had one day to complete. It would be my first time not submitting, my first time not trying, my first time not getting all optimistic and hopeful that this time I’d surely be selected.

“Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭27:14‬ ‭NLT‬

Almost midnight, I get a message with just a question, “What has become of “Colors”?

Accountability, an unexpected “ding” and my reply was ready. “Work in progress. Truly.”

He replied with thumbs up.

The message sent by someone maybe seeming an unlikely supporter, wise one, writerly and truthful.

He’d read the first chapter of “Colors” as he calls the book, and he understood clearly when I spoke strongly of wanting not to be just a cute little inspirational writer, I wanted to be true, honest, brave.

All those things and now, most of all though humble and hopeful.

Closer to me and my story for them, for others, for God.

Ready to convey Hope and Healed in a way others see healing as not just possible but potential and probable.

So, I didn’t submit for the fourth time (actually, maybe fifth) to the well known platform for Christian women writers.

I wasn’t prompted by God with anything to say. I knew the words would be just mine and they’d be impulsively conjured up and confident only in me, not Him.

Yesterday, I told someone I’d always found humility to be tough, tough for people who have already had such a hard time with finding themselves worthy.

It can be so conflicting sometimes to believe in good things, to believe ourselves deserving and hear voices that shout loudly inside that warn of pride.

Thinking less of ourselves does not mean thinking ourselves less than what God says.

Maybe humility is simply thinking more of the me God sees and knowing oh, my lord how much more that is, and is not pride it’s just believing without stopping believing.

I decided I make humility harder than it is.

When all it is, is focus, keeping right my focus. Humility is simply modesty aligned with prayer and an open mind to God’s ways more than mine.

Unexpected encounters are the confirmation of why the best things are never sought, always unexpected.

It’s our seeking that leads to pride, the seeking that starts with hope, starts with maybe just an innocent sweet yearning for good.

We might even call it God’s blessing because we know He loves to bless His children.

But, we’re human. We get off track, get impatient over the wait. Insecure over our worthiness.

We get driven and determined over what started as a meek imploring, hope for something to quickly off the rails crashing towards an object or accomplishment that we can NOT live without.

If it doesn’t happen this time or doesn’t happen at all, who am I now?

Who was I ever to God?

We ignore God maybe, then. We begin to believe we should have it, whatever the it is and our motives change.

Our motives change from humility to pride.

No longer do we want what God wants.

We want what we want.

And if we’re not alerted by our soul’s stirring, we act impulsively, we react from our ingratitude for what hasn’t happened yet.

Because we’re human and we can make our way work, we decide to handle the matter, we get things done!

So, two encounters unexpected last night. Two people sought me out in a noisy boisterous crowd.

The first to tell me she starts every day with my Instagram post. I hugged her and I hugged her again. Such a small offering, a few words, maybe a paragraph that’s all I give.

We hugged again and I told her, “It’s just God every morning speaking straight to me and I just share it.”

She smiled as if she saw that, she saw that

I’m imperfect and seeking.

The best place to be.

Humility is no more than that.

The more we find God, the less we look elsewhere for our worth.

Another person, I believe maybe four hugs this time we shared. Overwhelmed and feeling guilty, she decided to resign from our Board of Directors.

I told her I would miss her, I understood, I still hoped to see her.

My husband was standing with us and she told him she just “felt so guilty” about all the things she should do but, she knew she couldn’t.

He pointed towards me and said, “She knows.”

Then she told us what her husband said to her, a comfort and confirmation.

“If you’re feeling guilty it’s not because of you, that feeling, that discomfort, it’s God trying to tell you something.”

Esssentially, her guilt and her discomfort were negative emotions and God never wants us to feel badly about ourselves. He wants us to come to Him to ask for understanding, for guidance, for ways forward.

We don’t need to make tough decisions on our own, they’re always going to leave us conflicted, angry, resentful and divided unless we align with Him, diligent in prayer.

Closer to knowing Him, His ways, His will.

I told her I’d just come to this truth recently, that God does not bring us guilt, doubt, dismay.

We are human in this human and imperfect world. We grasp for understanding when we’re not capable of ever understanding all.

We grasp for what measures our success and what we gauge our contentment by.

Our grasping is always striving, never submission, never settled and waiting for what comes when it is

Not sought after.

The deadline came and passed for the submission. A half-hearted morning prayer was uttered that day “God, give me words that mean in courage.”

Moments, really were all that happened between the reluctant ask and the confident decision, not now, not hurried, not for you, Lisa Anne, not for you.

Because all of my encounters with people and places and platforms that hold my words close and up for others to read have thus far been unexpectedly given, I am completely sure they came from God.

Humility is most of all, prayer and patience. Closer to being the one He knows and Has wonderful unsought after plans for.

Prayer and patience…

Aunt Boo

Acquiescing

courage, doubt, Faith, grace, Labradors, mercy, Peace, Prayer, rest, Serving, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

“So the Lord must wait for you to come to him so he can show you his love and compassion. For the Lord is a faithful God. Blessed are those who wait for his help.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:18‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Of all the things I love, I love to catch him thinking.

Waiting.

Something I heard the other day about dogs, I still don’t believe. I believe it was a well known speaker/preacher and he was talking about us in the world and oh, I don’t remember.

He was trying to amuse us I think, comparing man to dog, interjecting a point to cause a chuckle, caused me to ponder, I might have even tilted my head to the side, possible eye roll. (?) My facial experiences have a mind of their own.

For the life of me, I can’t remember where or who or why he said what he did.

But, I do remember he said that dogs don’t have thoughts and don’t really have roles or purposes on the earth like we do.

Expectations like being kind, loving, non-judgmental, welcoming to those in need and serving where God places us to serve and doing so without demand or self-seeking.

I was thinking this morning about my prayer yesterday. It was uncomplicated and it was almost happened upon, unsolicited, unquestionable.

A prayer of surrender, which is typically oh, here I go attempting again to be everything for everyone so that I can say my all is everyone’s all and take what you need because I have everything I need.

Work, commitment, a task…surrender has always felt like work.

Never felt like open ended sentence, open minded acceptance.

the action of surrendering.

synonyms

capitulation, submission, yielding, succumbing, acquiescence; fall, defeat, resignation

“the ordeal ended with their peaceful surrender”

What came from my heart yesterday was a sureness of God being purposeful in my life, an acknowledgment that He always has been; but, now an acceptance of this truth and a joining in of my part.

My prayer, simple:

I surrender to your preparing, Lord.

I am acquiescing. I am subtle in my surrender, accepting, allowing, waiting with calm and quiet confidence.

Lord, I am acquiescing.

What a beautiful word, the thought of it, a new favorite.

acquiesced; acquiescing

: to accept, comply, or submit tacitly or passively

The morning told me right away, your sleep was more settled and you are slightly changing, surrendered still, not striving and stressing. Continue here.

Colt waits for me to rise from my morning place.

He expects my rising slowly for a second cup of coffee and his food poured and fresh water given.

He waits. He knows my lingering, accepts it and joins in the mood. He sits for a minute, oblivious to me and looks towards the morning, surrendered to our day.

The day that has become his, this I for one believe, he’s happily thinking.

Colt and I, acquiescing.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/jesus-really-enough-2/

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Sweet Spot

Art, bravery, courage, Faith, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

The blanket’s all stretchy from my toes and it’s folded tightly underneath my feet resting on pretty footstool.

Pillows moved to the end of sofa, my Bible, my books, my pencil and my pad, these are my morning things.

My eyes move towards the mantel and rest there, reminding of the sea, the abstract I got right, one I decided I’d keep.

I long to stay here, paint later, then write, I long to be a home woman.

I am in my sweet spot. I’m exhausted from other places, I want to stay, to paint, to write.

I told my husband, told my daughter. They’ve heard it before.

I’m tired of other things, things I don’t enjoy; but, have to do, I call it “peopling”.

I long to be selective with where my energy goes. I long to stay in my sweet spot, to do work that feels like treasure not toil.

Retired last night thinking this and woke with the same.

Then, remembered, it’s not me who gets to choose timing. I’m not the keeper of doors closing or opening wider. I just do what I can where I am and let God do the rest.

Right?

Yes, If I’m honest it’s not that I’m weary, it’s more that I’m waiting, excitedly and expectantly.

Like up to bat and on a hitting streak, I can’t wait to get back in my batters box, my painting desk, my writing desk, my sweet spots.

Closer to the wholeness that God will use, tired of the halfheartedness of before.

Maybe not so tired of what I have to do; just more sure of the sweetness of my sweet spot and the seeking His will there.

Going out into the work world and returning here every day.

“Therefore thus says the Lord: “If you return, I will restore you, and you shall stand before me. If you utter what is precious, and not what is worthless, you shall be as my mouth.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭15:19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Rambling and all over the place today, still linking up with FMF on the prompt of tired.

Bare Branches and Strong Spines

bravery, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

“You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭56:8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The tree limbs are starkly dark. There’s no denying the contrast against the clarity of cloudless day.

It seems the season has come early and the barren aged tree is ragged, unadorned, and the limbs exposed.

I was drawn towards the blackness of branch, the hard and seemingly morbid lack of promise for new.

Surrounded by delicate fragile blooms of white, pink, yellow popping forth from little green capsules of petal, my gaze rested, enthralled by the trees still winter barren.

The thought of it wouldn’t let me go, I’d promised a friend a Bible and then it just became sort of an oh well, nice thought… I don’t think she really expected it kinda thing.

And I said shame on me to ignore such a simple request, to let it fade into the place of “just a thought” suggestions, hopes, pleasant ideas.

How shallow and self-absorbed I felt.

So, I made my way back to the mega store with the discount everything and perused the shelves immediately inside the doors.

Children’s books about bunnies, books with spaces to fill in color, cookbooks, romance, how-to do anything books and Bibles.

I was looking for the Bible with the robins and sparrows on its cover, pretty colors subtle with brown of feather, coral on bellies and touches of blue on wings.

It was not there. I scanned over about a hundred covers, collecting titles I’d heard of, wondered about, decided to keep four with me.

Similar assertions they all made, promises that might be inside the pages, chapters all exploring doubts and fear and failures.

New writers writing about old things in hopefully new ways.

For a moment I considered, “Are we all just a community of tortured and tragic souls?”

Women who believe in Jesus but struggle to believe in ourselves?

Does every single book attempt to affirm for us what in our hearts we know but lose our grips on, occasionally needing to hold on again and longer?

Do we need to be broken so that we can remember His brokenness?

Do we need to be lost and looking all over the place, bumping into people and places here on earth, never fitting in and then remembering oh, my heavens…we were made for heaven, not here?

I sat at my desk the other morning, feeling as if all I do amounts to nothing and stuffing down my frustrations over people and things not measuring up as they should.

I thought about my longing to write, my assurance of God wanting me to write about the “lost years” and the women who never considered me a lost cause.

I resented my days filled to the brim, my heart ached with guilt that I might never finish my telling and it becoming memoir bound together and held by strong spine.

I was afraid of not fulfilling God’s purpose.

The thing He named my treasure.

Then, I sat in the empty space of my large office, on my desk are little vignettes on either corner, newly picked petals and a painting I’m saving for someone, paperweight, a penny on heads and I remembered.

God sees what you don’t say, Lisa.

There’s not a fear he doesn’t know, not a sorrow he can’t understand.

There’s no disappointment He’s not abreast of and hoping you’ll hold on through.

There’s no struggle He does not see.

I thought of the books I’d purchased.

One about freedom, one about being the you God made you to be, one, by Rev. Billy Graham and the last one about leaving the childhood church scarred to find the grown-up church of mercy, grace, of Jesus.

So, I reconsidered my concern over all the books about walking a walk of faith that included all the trips and falls and failures.

I reconsidered how that might be too much. I realized it can never be enough.

Never enough likeminded souls seeking a closer walk with Jesus.

Never enough joining of hands and hearts to say, I understand, it’s progress not perfection and let me tell you how far I fell before I figured how to stand again.

I thought of David again, how he struggled with being chosen to be a fighter. I thought of the emotional cries for help, pleas for rescue as well as his praises to God for provision.

The Book of Psalms, a menagerie of misery and yet, innumerable expressions of praise.

The Book, like the ones on my shelf, stories of struggling people turned toward God.

Maybe we need even more stories.

Maybe mine.

“For you have delivered my soul from death, yes, my feet from falling, that I may walk before God in the light of life.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭56:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Almost 30 years ago, a friend had mercy on me. She said she “wasn’t gonna let me go.”

Today, she got a Bible in the mail.

There were no tiny birds on its cover; instead, the teeny tiniest little flowers scattered on pale green stems.

I found the ribbon inside and marked the place, added in light pencil, an angel in the margin, then ever so faintly, I circled the number of the promise.

The one she loves most.

God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns.

Psalms‬ ‭46:5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

God in my midst, I’ll not be moved. My help comes with every new morning.

Joy, strength, quiet beginnings and chances again made new.

Morning.

I’m linking this post up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story. If you ever struggle with what it means to leave your past behind, Jennifer’s truth on how Jesus feels about our past gives s new perspective. Three words I’ll hold onto, “Keep your mat.”

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/dont-hide-scars/