Prayer

If I Were

bravery, courage, Easter, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Serving, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I was stern with someone last week. My discernment was laced with condemnation when it became a confront to what I’d noticed, what I’d found wrong.

Seconds ago, I texted an apology.

I pray it’s received, three days late, after all.

My work role requires confronting some days, and some days are hard. When work coincides with loss of a pet, worry over doctors appointments, and lingering concern over good things for grown children.

So, the balanced scales of the helper in the helping profession tilted heavy towards chastise, not guide.

I acknowledged it, was attentive to what the heart knows and the mind refuses to hide.

This morning, I read a writer’s truth that had the balance I need, just enough spot on conviction from God’s word to be sure it’s for me and then a tone of encouragement, a tone of “okay, now you know, do better”.

And then, I opened my Bible to read the little Book of Titus that inspired her reminder to me of how others should see me live.

But first, my Psalm for today, the 51st.

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭51:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

‭

And then, quietly pencilled my truth, my “if I’m honest” revelation…

If I were a speaker, a teacher, a preacher, I’d want to be a balanced presenter.

I’d want to encourage in a way that surely gives hope for those not fully and consistently living their potential as God sees, knows, and filled them with, their promise and purpose.

I’d want my instruction to be because of my own knowing, not my curt examination and self-righteous critique of another.

If I were a teacher, a preacher, a speaker

I’d long that my words be my brave and possibly shocking truth, not some occasional and wobbly walk, falling to waysides with regularity.

If I were a teacher, I’d hope I’d include a talk on how this meander in our walk is a part of our journey; yet, not the map God has designed and that that’s why He is merciful and patient

and clear in His giving of directions.

If I were a preacher, a teacher, a speaker or advisor

On many days it’d be best that I’m wordless, my words depending on my ways, not His will, His way.

It’d be best I keep quiet.

Because on those days, I am prone to judgement, frustration and feel my efforts are futile.

On those days, those mornings like this morning.

Oh, it’s so very good to be made right, to listen, to apologize, to examine my heart and invite, simply invite the clean slate of new day made new with my repentance.

Reconciliation, that’s it, morning is sometimes simply reconciling the day, the week, the moments of before.

“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭51:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Profit and loss-like, losing the excess of self and gaining God through His holy deposits into my soul.

Balanced to begin again.

Teachable, more and teacher less

and hopefully differently.

Daughters Made Well

Angels, Children, courage, Faith, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I’ve been surprised of late, pleasantly so. I’ve put my voice out there, I’ve laid bare my insecurities and I’ve told stories about God and me noticing Him or not.

I’m relatable, understandable, it seems. I’ve some things in common with other women. I feel I fit in, likeminded, like hearted.

All of us persistently if not haphazardly pursuing Jesus, a closer walk.

If you can imagine being wrapped all nice and soft in a big embrace from people you have no idea you’ll ever truly meet, this is how this enlarging of my borders that God is doing makes me feel, the reply to my morning prayer.

“Oh that you would bless me and enlarge my border…the prayer of Jabez

Feeling embraced real steady, not a quick barely connected hug, saying “take care” and then skipping on on their ways.

I’m not too acquainted with relationship as in lunching, shopping, “weekends with girls”.

I’m cautious of being known, cautious of being flattered, even more cautious of expectations and commitments of me I don’t meet and then get left behind, alone.

Cautious of what hints of luring me in to cast me aside.

Maybe because I was a sister amongst brothers or the quiet one choosing alone, book or pencils or at the hem of my grandma’s apron. High school girls found me sweet, kind, smart and quiet, smiled at me in my outfits all wrong.

College girls brought a challenge, who might. allow me in, how far might I go to belong?

Faced with choosing to try hard to make it into the good group or avoid the shame altogether, I chose the easier path as opposed to the higher, righter one, the road not taken and I’ll forever be changed by the difference it made, the course of my life it changed, hardened and brought harm,

Gave me my story, my sharing, my song.

I was blindsided by the college girl melting pot, not at all prepared for joining in or standing out.

I chose the misfits, the rowdy girls, the ones quirky and the rebellious on purpose.

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t me; but, acceptance felt better than rejection by the pretty ones, the perky, the preppy and pristine.

I couldn’t bring myself to risk not being chosen, to not be invited over, so I made myself like them, created reasons to be considered wrong enough to belong.

The eighth chapter of Luke begins by introducing us to women who were followers of Jesus. Three women whose names are listed along with others who became a part, women who followed in the community of the disciples and Jesus.

Can you imagine the time? Can you fathom being asked to join in, to come along and see?

“Soon afterward he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. And the twelve were with him, and also some women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod’s household manager, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their means.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭8:1-3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’ve read this opening paragraph, the first few verses in this chapter, the parable about seeds sown and about us not hiding what’s been brought to light, that there is no, not ever a need to hide the secrets we worry might be uncovered, we are to let them be our light!

And the chapter continues to describe the way Jesus healed as they went from place to place together.

Tells of how Jesus interrupted healing one rich man’s daughter to heal a woman filled with shame hiding for good reason and then healed and he called “daughter”.

Jesus told her it wasn’t so much He who made her well; but her faith.

I imagine the expressions of the others, recalling their own encounters remembering for themselves their own healing, their own “made wells”.

“And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭8:48‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Still, all I can think of is the women standing by, the women who accompanied Jesus , the ones who were now free and joyous observers of other women

Because, I understand this. I understand the women coming forth, the women standing near and the women coming closer to say to me, to remind themselves and to show others the way…

Go in peace, daughter you are well.

Your faith,

It has made you well.

Linking up with other stories of Jesus tellers at Tell His Story. Read here about being motivated towards kindness while watching the Olympic Games!

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/

Wonder Why

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, Peace, Prayer, Vulnerability, wonder

I’m prompted to write in response to “Why” and hope to stay concise, hope more to make sense of wondering why.

I agreed as I have before to meet a parent who was considering joining our suicide bereavement group; but, wasn’t quite sure.

My role in this exchange is to listen. I acknowledge I do not fully understand, I just listen, make my workspace their safe space. So, I listened to a father talk about his son and say he had no idea why, why his son decided to complete suicide.

Years ago, I escorted a parent from my office and the issue over believing in God or not came up.

We both wondered how you get by without God, without believing in His comfort and His knowledge. As if it’s an answer to no answer. We don’t know; but, God knows.

So, if there’s anything good about never knowing it’s at least a certainty to know that only God knows.

I suppose when there’s no answer, you eventually maybe can rest in “only God knows”.

That was my rationale and I wished I’d recorded it back then ’cause right now I’m not getting it quite so clearly the way I meant and felt. (reader, you can agree)

A father shared how the mother was worried about heaven or hell. The child had never believed; parents always questioned, maybe believed some things and wavered on others finally giving up altogether because of what circumstances in their lives it seemed God turned a blind eye to.

I responded because I felt he waited for me somehow to reassure, brush off the concerns or as if I, not only was a listener but some skilled and astute theologian.

I’m neither astute nor very theologically skilled. I base my belief on my life experiences with God and God showing me I matter significantly to Him.

I’m a beaten and battered ever questioning sinner saved by grace who believes because of answers to prayers and because I know the me that not believed and I’d not ever want to be her again.

The father waited.

I said what God gave me. “What happens between God and people is personal and there may have been a decision he made, a change in heart and choice to toss out the intellect for the faith and hope and mysterious grace.”

What I intended as consolation caused an expression of concern, confusion and the tone of our talk changed and I went with the change as was appropriate.

But, it bothered me it was not my “place” to say more. It bothered me that I’d never know if that relationship with God happened for his son. It bothered me that the father did not have the Father as a comfort for himself.

The comfort of the only thing that might make sense be the sense made by God.

“Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

The truth of His peace, tangible and ever-present, the truth of His Sovereignty and His abhorrence of evil, evil things, evil people and the power through which they touch us.

Touch some so much more than others.

I don’t know how it feels to lose a child. I cannot say I can feel the emotions I should feel as I’m drawn to the photos of children outside their school, surviving but forever traumatized. I do not know how parents feel who were looking for their teenager, frantic, their chests surely caving into their backbones only to be told what they imagined coming true, their son, their daughter, one of the victims in a school.

I do know; I too, I’m afraid would wonder why.

Why God allows terror and tragedy.

But, I pray I’d not wander far, I’d remember His peace and I’d not abandon or question or dispose of what I believe, what I know. What I’m reminded of every minute, every day.

I pray I’d be at peace with not being all knowing and that eventually, the grief would be less evident, less debilitating and dreadful if I was able not to wonder why.

Would it be sufficient for me to remember some things are secret, are not to be known here on earth by me?  Perhaps, knowing not knowing might ease the pain.

The secret things belong to the Lord your God. Deuteronomy 29:29

I really can’t say, for I’ve not experienced secrets like these.

Ever.

One thing I do know; God would know and be okay with me wondering why and He would welcome my desperate and pleading complaint.

Responding with a peace only He can give, I suppose like a “secret” peace I’ve committed to knowing, not always understanding, often wondering why it’s mine to embrace, still committed to know it more.

What Privilege

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Motherhood, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability

Prompted to write for five minutes on the word “Privilege”, I remembered last night the privilege to understand other women, them to understand me. I was one of four who spoke of being a victim of abuse.

Then, I recalled a mama joining in our discussion on bullying at our suicide prevention meeting earlier in the day. I was moved by her memories. Her daughter, now a professional and an adult, was intelligent, beautiful, the top in her class; yet, she did not walk onto the football field in an extravagant dress to be given her crown.

She quickly changed into her cheerleader uniform to carry out her part on the team. She was, afterwards met by vulgar comments about how “special she thought she was.”

Her mama said to this day she never talks about her Senior year of high school. So, I asked and her reply made me understand more clearly how I might be privileged when, honestly I’d struggled before to understand.

I asked, “So, your daughter was bullied by girls because she was beautiful and smart and because of race?”

“Yes.” she replied.

I understand more clearly what I’ll never understand fully.

But, this morning I’m thinking about another the privilege.

The privilege to take it to the Lord in prayer, the verse in the old hymn that talks about what a friend Jesus is and what a privilege to “carry everything to the Lord in prayer.”

Jesus, my friend seated right next to the Father is advocating for me, interceding on my behalf, surely I felt His presence last night as I took the stage before the sharing of “my story”.

I felt His presence, what a privilege,

The reason I add a little extra before my “in Jesus name”, a little extra closing to keep me ever humbly grateful.

“Because of mercy….”

Linking this post up on this blessed Friday morning with others who are considering “privilege”. Join us here: http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/02/08/fmf-link-up-privilege/

My Saturday’s Share

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, Homeless, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Serving, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

Reading your words from another “space” is hard to describe. Sometimes there’s anxiety. Sometimes there’s awe. Always, there’s the yearning to pick them up, hold them, bring them to my chest to say, “it’s alright, you were brave, you are you”.

I was awakened by this message and unintentionally did a screen shot. Yet, there are no coincidences with God, his desire is that my joy may be full.

“Until now you have asked nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full.”

‭‭John‬ ‭16:24‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I read my post early this morning and it caused new thoughts, new understanding of “asking for help”.

Asking for Help

This comment below on Lisa’s blog describes how God has brought others into my life to grow me and to show me I am loved:

“This post is still teaching me about Jesus, about His humility and His ever present willingness to help me. This morning, it’s reminding me that none of this is about me, only Him through me…I just get the chances to let Him shine. It’s pretty amazing the things our soul tells us when we slow down and listen.

I complain about my “job” sometimes. It’s a field everyone mentions “burn out”, carrying the things I hear and see all day, mental illness, domestic violence, child neglect, homelessness, suicide. Here’s the thing, writing this piece has shown me…if God had not placed me in this position almost nine years ago, I’d never have just gone out on my own to help/to serve. So, praise Him and thank you, Lisa, for the space for all of this to clearly land strongly.”

Surrender

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity

Sometimes I joke about my culinary skills. I’ll say it “skipped a generation” and add that I’m quite okay with not being a great cook, proclaiming “There are other things I’m good at.”

It takes a whole lot of years to learn to be you, I’ve learned, “to do me”.

Letting go the idea of being someone who takes pleasure in meal prep and satisfied tummies and guests who are impressed.

I’m okay to continue with other things God made me to love, to love doing.

Self-acceptance, much like surrender. Quite okay with come what may, my way.

Surrender and acceptance, a balance, an ending to the sentence, the story.

Learning too, that patience is courageous like surrender is acceptance.

“my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭130:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Waiting is not timid, not tentative and not at all for the tender hearted.

No, surrender is strong and to be patient is to be courageous, quietly and assuredly courageous.

Prompted by Five Minute Friday, “Surrender”.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/25/fmf-link-up-surrender/

Morning Glories

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

I woke up in the country and threw back the curtain to this wide open sky.

Yesterday, we saw the workers pruning the branches, making ways for the bright growth soon bursting through. I’ll ride these roads to my girl’s a month from now or so and I’ll be barely able to close my eyes because of all the majestic beauty of peach season!

Isn’t that what God does?

He holds our hand through the enduring, makes us new and strong in our growth, promises us a glorious new season if we’ll let him cut us from the old.

To stop wearing our old tattered and faded garments, to dress in his newness.

Morning glories, realizations filled to the brim, awaiting my drinking in and feeling led to pouring out like cream in warm coffee.

I’m without my devotionals, three of my daily ones; but, I’ve a new one called “Joy and Strength”. The quotes and the verses are ancient wisdom. The numbers, numeral and Roman, causing a longer pause.

So far, two days in and aligning with my season.

Preparing me to be re-planted in God’s freshly broken up ground.

My cousin gifted me the new one, maybe knowing I needed my soul made new.

No, most assuredly I know, it was God knowing, prompting her to know.

“No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment. If he does, the patch tears away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭2:21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The wisdom of the new little book I’ll open to find daily words, words that focus on after here and about what will matter then.

The truth of not just earth; but, heaven too.

Heaven more.

“But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.”

‭‭2 Peter‬ ‭3:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Without my set routine, not in my morning spot, my books, pencil and my Bible.

I began to wonder how I might otherwise find what God would have me know.

I looked through the wide and uncurtained kitchen window and decided it will be good to look to the day to hear, to see and to know.

And because the kitchen, the pots and the bowls, none of them were familiar or like mine,

My daughter made us oatmeal, the old way, on top of the stove.

And I tasted and saw that it was good.

So good.

So new and morning gloriously good!

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and others who “Tell His Story”

You can join us here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/

Shown the Way

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, heaven, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Serving, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability

A skinny stretch of sunlight lays across the rug and I’m captivated by the idea of a path, a choice, a plan and its leading.

I do this. I’d not say so, were it not true. I wake with slow unveiling and I soon find my confirmation in the unfolding.

“Follow that thought…there’s more for you to see, follow that train, that starting point, that pointing of the way through me.”

God, to me on this pretty morning.

This morning, I woke with the thought “How do I know the way?”

Then I read a friend’s blog post about walking in the deep spaces in the snow, her teenage grandson’s footsteps.

He lead the way, not wanting her to slip and fall.

I searched for the passage in John about “the way” and found Thomas asking Jesus what they’re supposed to do, how are they to know the way?

I continued on in Chapter 14 and found another question, Phillip asked Jesus to show him the way. I love this little epiphany God planned for me this morning, that the writer ended Jesus’ reply with an exclamation mark!

I tried to imagine Jesus reassuring me, so adamantly it would merit exclamation.

I began to sense the urgency, the hope that they, that I, that we might finally believe based on what we’ve seen, what we’ve survived, what we have made it through and all the stories of Jesus all around us through others whose lives Jesus touched, lives held in His embrace.

Like Phillip, I’m honest about my doubts, I keep asking to be shown more as an indication that all will be well.

Phillip wanted to see God the Father, wanted to be sure and Jesus said you’ve seen Him fully, faithfully through me already

and all around.

Yes, I have.

“Jesus replied, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and yet you still don’t know who I am? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father! So why are you asking me to show him to you?”

‭‭John‬ ‭14:9‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Our lives are nothing short of miraculous if we consider all we’ve been given, been brought through, most of all been promised. All the times we’ve been “shown the way” through Jesus to the Father.

Intentional

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, grace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I love the word. It feels good, hopeful, concrete and optimistic.

I like the part of it that feels like a plan.

Feels like faith not force.

“To the faithful you show yourself faithful; to those with integrity you show integrity.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭18:25‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I especially love that it’s Friday and all of my plans have not yet come to fruition; but, there is still time.

I woke with vigor, deciding there’s still the grace of “try” again and thanked God for that waking thought, prayed He’d equip me for writing, art, work and simply, the day.

I painted last night before “boot camp”, I started a piece and instead of hovering over it for hours to finish, I rose from my seat and went to exercise hard and with intention.

A piece I’m calling “Made New”

That’s progress for me, leaving it there, a work in progress to return to.

Not feverishly intent on the finish, instead certain in the decision to be intentional in my choice to continue.

I woke early and will be early for work. I had an idea last night. I’ll be intentional to begin to see it through.

Today, I’ll be intentional.

I’ll see the gift of the chance to continue.

I’ll forgive myself the incompletion in the days before.

Moving forward with intention.

linking up and guess, what?! I stuck to the time limit today, yay!

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/18/fmf-link-up-intentional/amp/

Apples of His Eye

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

I fell asleep trying to remember what I’m supposed to do if my car starts to slide on the slick road touched by just a smattering of snow.

I believe I decided not to slam down on the brakes, not to jerk the wheel, to sort of allow the slide into a safe place to rest.

It’s a phenomenal occurrence, snow in southern South Carolina.

patiently waiting for snow

I made a plan, I’d just follow the pull and trust the direction.

My first thought in the dark of early morning deciding to rise or linger, “I’m not who I was.”

I asked my son last week, “Why do you think so many planes are skidding off the runways?”

And his analysis was different than mine, starkly different and obviously more expert in comparison since the only plane I’ve ever boarded was a crop duster with a farm boy hoping to impress me.

He said the runways are slick, it’s winter and the pilots in some foreign countries are simply not as well trained and perhaps, not as attentive or exact.

Oh, okay.

Slightly veering off course might be to be expected.

I met someone yesterday who wore the evidence of faith on her face.

Someone who’s appointment was timely, my faith faltering, getting off course and on the cusp of falling over fear’s cliff.

I’d not seen her in two years and our meeting had a serious purpose, still just as before we began to talk about our faith.

She’d had a medical emergency, simple procedure led to sepsis and she, according to the more skilled physician who she feels saved her life, had only a day between living and dying.

I told her I saw it, I saw how her eyes expressed the stillness of hope, the assurance of God, the unwavering trust in Him that caused her cheeks to be lifted happily, her jaw relaxed into a calm perseverance.

Her countenance had changed, a serenity from strength.

We smiled.

She thanked me, thanked me for noticing.

I wondered if she needed to be reminded or if she saw my need of reminding.

I sometimes do. I’m easily taken back to a place of unworthy, unable, incapable.

Powerful words have been spoken over me, for me, through me and yet, I feel less capable than ever before.

Trauma lingers, woven early on or fallen into as we go, sometimes our own fault, other times harsh circumstances from heavy, hate filled arms and loud voices.

She knew. We both know, hurts and harms linger and become the gauge for our worth and ability.

I teeter on the edge, close to going from not sure I can to despondent…oh, well I just won’t.

We walked together towards the door and embraced. I’m going to be praying for you, she said and I told her I’d be doing the same.

We both agreed that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, that God knows full well that He has good for us.

We agreed that Satan knows as well, just as well.

We carry doubts, fears, anxieties and insecurities that rush over us like a hard knock me down wave in the wide,wide ocean.

Facing the shore, considering all of the good things awaiting me, I stand solitary and stoic, convinced I will finally be the me God sees, then I feel the ocean underneath changing, pulling, pulling, pulling from behind.

From before.

Before, when I wasn’t who I am.

Do I surrender to the strong and angry sea hoping to level my soul, even drown me or do I turn towards the wave, confront its instigating and gracefully allow it to carry me forward, hold me in its strong embrace?

And realize I’m not so small, I’m strong.

I’ll be strong, I’ll be stronger than I’ve ever known.

“My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped. I call upon you, for you will answer me, O God; incline your ear to me; hear my words. Wondrously show your steadfast love, O Savior of those who seek refuge from their adversaries at your right hand. Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings, from the wicked who do me violence, my deadly enemies who surround me.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭17:5-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“I’m not who I was.” my waking thought and now that day is done and

I’m safely home, not skidded off track or pulled back by the hand of doubt, my destination still, with God, my faithful pursuit.

Today, a good day, with just a smattering of snow.

Today, even more distant from who I was and closer to who God has me to be.

The apple of His eye.