Prayer

Hiding Myself In Him

Angels, courage, Faith, fear, heaven, Holy Spirit, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

“And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
‭‭Revelation‬ ‭21‬:‭5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Morning Window

A dream kept me trapped for a time last night. Scientists say (I’ve heard) dreams are really just seconds, maybe minutes and yet they feel so very lasting, so lengthy, so binding.

You want to disengage your body from the story your deep sleep mind is telling.

Dreams are intriguing, often troubling.

I find myself mentally inventorying my meals, my television input, the words read before sleep. I search for the reasons for dreams that are scary, always deep.

Last night I dreamt of being in a tiny town where all were being required to be taken away. The ones who returned told stories of fear, told of being entrapped, of being forced to harm others, of being unable to see because of a poison emitted from some unavoidable place.

And I got separated from my group, they never came back and kindness met me in the place in between going or staying and

I woke up.

Shaken by yet another dream I couldn’t see the reason for.

I had chocolate milk before sleep. I watched the Braves lose and hated it because it was my cousin’s husband’s birthday and Atlanta should’ve won for him.

I read Psalms and Proverbs before sleep. The bed was comfy, the room was cool.

And I laid still as the dream slipped from heavy to safe and I said to myself the lyrics of “Rock of Ages”…cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee.

Knowing the dream wasn’t so much a nightmare as a vision (please know I’m not assigning any special qualifications to myself…if you know me, you know I’d never do that!).

But, I do know the dream wasn’t about present day, it was about the end days that are coming.

Yes, “end times”.

I will stop here because I don’t talk about things I’m not fully equipped to explain.

I’m a learner. I am learning through the Holy Spirit’s voice spoken uniquely to me.

As to you if you believe.

In the dream, I was kept safe from suffering. I lingered in showing up to the “required sign in”. I didn’t surrender my soul to what these captors required.

And I was left unharmed, a man with a smile comforted me and I woke up.

I can’t begin to explain the supernatural and sovereign ways of God.

I just know what used to scare the s**t out of me, yelled from an angry and judgmental pulpit, now feels like a treasure,

the sweet scent of the nearness of God, the unveiling slowly and steadily revealing the goodness, no greatness of a God who loves me.

God loves me.

God loves you.

Years ago, I wrote about birds and the message continues, in more tangible ways.

I am cared for.

This morning, the mama returned then flitted away once she saw me in the window.

There’s only one tiny bird in this nest I assumed the mama had abandoned.

Now, I hear a tiny sound.

I hear a life beginning.

I pray you see God today, feel him, sense him, know there’s so much more than earth for us.

I pray he surprises you with goodness, with His glory.

Last month, I longed to ask a friend who’s ambivalent about God, even more so about Jesus and certainly skeptical about a spirit longing to be inside her, Holy.

A simple question.

Have you ever considered what your life might look like if you decided to believe in Jesus?

I know it seems a given, but it’s one worth asking every day.

“Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6‬:‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Older Now

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, fear, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

When my granddaughter balanced on the highest beams and danced on the lofty walls up the playground equipment, I imagined her losing her footing. I was ready to drop all my stuff and catch her. Instead, she offered joy. She shared her confidence with me.

She demonstrated faith in herself and faith in me and reminded me of God that she sees, clearly more clearly than me.

“I’m older now. I can do this.” ELB

When I read about the man who was blind I can’t help but see a boy. I don’t know why.

“As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.”
‭‭John‬ ‭9‬:‭1‬-‭3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Jesus is saying exactly what he means.

As God’s Son, the “light of the world”, it was God’s plan that this man, blind from birth would have an encounter with Jesus and be healed. That he would follow the “doctor’s orders” and go to a pool called Siloam and put muddy water on his eyes.

This man, a beggar before this day, all on his own with no hope for better and no hope on the part of his parents.

He was healed and everybody thought it was impossible. So they refuted, doubted, questioned the simplicity of it.

And he told all the protesters of his sudden sight recovery that he didn’t fully understand either. He just knew he could see them.

In the margin of my Bible I have written,

Can it really be true? I am healed?

The next chapter over, John details the story of the death of Lazarus and of the way Jesus tarried in attending to his friend.

When Mary and Martha, who were friends of Jesus, worshippers of him, came to tell him about their brother, he didn’t immediately go to see about him…he waited two days.

What was he thinking? Isn’t Lazarus dead? What is the reason you’re not hurrying to heal this man, your friend…don’t you love this whole family, Jesus?

Valid questions.

Jesus told the disciples essentially, I know what I’m doing…you will see.

“Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.”
‭‭John‬ ‭11‬:‭14‬-‭15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When Jesus saw for himself, he wept.

“Jesus wept.”
‭‭John‬ ‭11‬:‭35‬ ‭ESV‬‬

As the Son of God, he was broken over the death and yet, He knew God’s intention. This death and resurrection will be recorded. It will make a difference in the lives of others.

It will help others make sense of their own unattended to and lingering sickness of heart, mind and body.

When Jesus says “this illness (trauma, circumstance, abuse, neglect, poverty, anxiety, fear, addiction or unmet longing) will not lead to death, he’s not saying it won’t be difficult, He is saying, if you will allow me to enlighten you, to heal you.

You will be light for others.”

And that is the why, the worth, the reason for suffering.

So that we grow into who God knows we are, that we are resurrected from the lives of before.

That we live like a rescued adult, cushioned by grace.

No longer like that child with hurts, questions and or mistakes.

Joyously.

The intention of Jesus for you.

“These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.”
‭‭John‬ ‭15‬:‭11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Keep going, higher than ever and with joy and hope.

Continue and believe. You are fully known and loved, have been all along.

You will see.

Resemblance

Art, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, family, grandchildren, hope, memoir, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

Walking, exhausted and walking, I thought about a storm I must’ve missed.

Fragments on the pavement, objects fallen and scattered.

I’d been away for three days.

Fern fronds, one facing upward the other folded, wilted. Similar, of the same family

Yet, different.

I’d just gotten home from two days with family, the aunt like my mama, cousins, siblings, nephews, nieces.

Grandchildren.

Shown off on social media, the celebration.

It happened again.

Someone said “she’s your mini me”, referring to my granddaughter, Elizabeth.

And it prompted me to think again

About resemblance.

I have two children, a daughter and a son.

One is fair, blonde hair, blue eyes and porcelain complexion prone to freckles.

The other, dark almost coal hair, brown eyes and a more easily bronzed complexion.

Still, I’ve heard through the years.

Oh, he/she looks so much like you!

Of course, I love the assessment.

Last week, I smiled as I saw the light in the eyes of an adopted child on her birthday.

This child, brown in complexion, parented by blondes I was fortunate to meet and be a part of their story.

I saw her mama’s smile. I recognized her father’s confidence in her shoulders.

Not genetic, not inherited.

I see my granddaughter and I see the glimmer of her grandmother, “Gamma” in her eyes. I see her daddy’s expression in her confident answers. I see her cousins’ smile in hers.

I see her mama in the freckles sprinkled across her nose and in her stubborn tenacity.

I see my heart when I see hers and I also see the heart of others.

And that’s what I’ve decided about resemblance…

It’s the heart that shows and the heart that knows.

One child can be seen as the echo of so many all at the same time.

Cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, caregivers and protectors.

All of us, imparting resemblance.

It’s not the curve of the cheek, the tip of the nose, the color of the eyes or the way the lips turn above the chin.

Instead, it’s the imprint of love.

Less severe the likeness, more sweetness and nuance.

Love is the reason for the resemblance.

And resemblance is the evidence of that love.

Wildflowers, oak leaves and children.

The remnants of rhododendron.

All the same and on their own on display.

When others say my granddaughter is so much like me in her sweet little face

I know the resemblance is so far from physical and every bit

Spiritual.

The heart of me in her alongside the heart of others who love her.

A high compliment, I was once given and until now have kept secret,

“Your Bible could be in a museum one day.” D.W.

I paused in awe of his assertion, this skilled photographer who discovered me through the sketches I share from the margins of my Bible was quite convinced of this possibility.

I can only hope that if my Bible is found by someone when I’m long gone, that the gift of it finds them in the same lasting way.

That their response to God’s word catches them by surprise, that their reaction is a quiet and lasting one, a reaction that resembles mine.

On page 576 of my Crossway Journaling Bible they will find a sketch of a figure facing forward, she’s not small and her shoulders are bent in either thought or simply aged posture. Her hands are cupped in front of her and cascading behind her is a flow like a river that curves and grows larger.

She is pouring out all that’s within her, joy.

“With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭12‬:‭3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

She is giving to others what she has gone searching for, drawn up from deep wells.

I pray I resemble her.

That I focus less on the outer aging, conflicted and overly burdened by activity me and that I consider the gifting inside me, not my gifts, talents, words or physical abilities.

Instead, I hope my life is a resemblance of joy.

Babies are born and bystanders ooh and ah as they decide who the nose, the eyes, the hands are from like a fun little challenging trivia game.

What matters less is who they resemble and more the ones God puts around them to contribute to the best of our ability what joys and gifts and graces deep within us that we embody and get to give them.

When someone says “ELB” looks like me, I smile because I know in that moment caught in a photo it’s not at all that we resemble.

Rather, it’s that the person who caught the moment on film also captured my joy and it was joy, not looks that were mirrored in a toddlers face.

Who resembles you?

Who do you resemble?

Years from now, a grandchild may flip through the thin pages of my Bible and I hope they find a drawing in the margin and say sort of quietly to themselves.

That’s me. That looks like me in that same story.

And rest in their hearts in this,

“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord himself, is my strength and my defense; he has become my salvation.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭12‬:‭2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Who resembles you?

Desire and Hope

Art, bravery, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, family, hope, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭37‬:‭4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

What are the desires of your heart? Or as Jesus asked,

“And stopping, Jesus called them and said, “What do you want me to do for you?”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭20‬:‭32‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I keep a very old dictionary next to my morning spot. Its pages are thin from age and dark like dried clay.

I researched “delight” this morning, it’s a word that is defined as “to gratify or please greatly”, “high satisfaction”.

So, the psalmist tells us we will have whatever our hearts desire when we delight ourselves in God.

How do we delight in God? I think we set our hearts on pleasing Him and we couple it with joy that expresses to Him and others…”I’m satisfied with God.”

Then over time, our desires might surprise us or they may continue to be deeply important and personal, may seem like an impossible hope.

I get that.

I have a couple of those. But, my heart is at peace knowing, God knows and He has heard my prayers.

God knows the desires of my heart and He desires that I delight in Him…not just what I want. Maybe in a little while, what we desire most will be God and maybe that’s the discovery God knows we need and He’s so sweetly patient as we discover this ourselves.

He’s gentle and loving that way, isn’t He?

We can hope,have hope.

Not long ago, someone devastated by an injury and a woeful prognosis for her son had a tone of hopelessness in her voice.

And God brought a verse to mind.

I can tell you, this astounds me. Much of the Bible is still a mystery to me and I can’t recite the books in order or articulate truth accurately with confidence.

Still, there are things that pop up and I share them, the promises of God.

I told this mom that she could not stop hoping, that she couldn’t postpone, pack away or defer her hope.

That if she did, she would only be more heartbroken, heartsick and well, hopeless.

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life.”
‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭13‬:‭12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And as with every word I speak or write, every canvas I create, I’m telling myself the story first, the story of hoping.

The truth of a God who loves us, the embrace of a greater understanding of His faithfulness to love, protect and guide.

Desire and hope, such precious and fragile,

Secrets, mostly.

Don’t let go. Keep hope, wear it like a necklace. (I think that’s a verse). Treasure the knowing that your desires are fully known by the Maker who knew them way before you could.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Simply Becoming

confidence, contentment, Easter, Faith, grace, hope, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
You Shall Not Perish

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
‭‭John‬ ‭3‬:‭16‬-‭17‬ ‭ESV

Yesterday, I read about the truth that with the death of Jesus and our acceptance and belief of this, not only our sin but our shame died too.

I’ve been thinking about the word “acceptance”. All my years I’ve heard the term “accept, believe, confess”.

As I grow, age in every way, I think acceptance becomes a different choice.

Maybe acceptance is allowing ourselves to believe the truth of God’s plan for us…not for others who appear more perfect, others who have lived less damaged lives.

I added red to the woman in the margin, I suppose a banner of my past, my sin, my struggles.

But, I see this woman less often than before and to me, that’s the precious gift of today…the day in between. The day reflecting the horror of before and resting sweetly in the precious promise of new life tomorrow.

We have a long stretch of in between…who we were before we chose to believe in Jesus and who we will be in eternity.

It’s really a precious gift, a beautiful offering that says take this time to get to know me fully because as you know me…you will truly know what I saw and see in you.

Rambling…rambling. Sorry.

Happy day in between.

Rest.

Consider the gift of the grace of growing.

Consider the acceptance of simply becoming. That’s why they call it grace.

Give yourself some today.

Continue and believe.

Befriended

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, contentment, courage, depression, doubt, Faith, fear, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.”
‭‭John‬ ‭15‬:‭13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I asked my friend to counsel me. She invited me to dinner instead and we counseled, consoled and decided some things.

Considered why there’s no 12 step type group for those who are questioners, often to the point of despondency, despairing and the other “D”, depression.

There was healing in our agreement, there was laughter over our recognition of that need.

There was the knowing of ourselves and of one another.

Befriending.

I had dinner with a friend I hadn’t seen in close to two years. I was scurrying to make it and almost cancelled. My hair was dirty, I didn’t feel too “spunky” and well, I’m older than the last time I saw her. I’m not sure why, but lately I’ve been thinking about aging.

But, I made it to the spot, dry shampoo and mascara plumped eyelashes with blush on my cheeks.

I beat her there. She arrived and we held each other long, long, long. “I love you” was the greeting as well as the goodbye.

We talked, we laughed, we counseled one another. We ate pizza over a glass of good wine.

When I woke the next morning, my first thought was “God’s not disappointed in you.” and as the day became sunny and pink with azaleas, I took to heart that I shouldn’t be either and I smiled as I remembered my friend’s hands in mine as we caught up with each other and decided.

“We’re gonna make it after all.”

Two days later, I’m recalling the likemindedness in our chatter. I’m remembering her inquisitive patience. I’m reminding myself of the gift of affirmation, the bravery of listening when listening is more important than adding to the conversation.

Early today, I rethought a familiar prayer, the one prayed by Jabez, (I Chronicles 4:10) the son who was labeled by a name that made his future seem grim.

Lord, help me to trust you to enlarge my boundaries, extend my reach and keep me from chasing after things that will lead to pain, things fueled by insecurity and fear.

I readied myself in the dark for my day, interrupted by the nudge to pray.

A prayer with a shift in perspective.

Jesus, help me to accept fully your befriending.

Because all sorts of songs and trendy Christian talk will proclaim friendship with Jesus.

But, oh to be honest, it’s not up to us at all.

No effort will sustain the relationship.

It’s really much more simple.

Acceptance. Belief.

Be befriended by Jesus.

I’m not sure where I’d be if there were an expiration date on my understanding of such things.

I’m old and I yet young in this friendship actually.

You’ll likely hear this song soon or hear about it. Lauren Daigle’s tender voice and truth admitting she’d be a mess without the friendship of Jesus.

Thank God I Do

I encourage you to listen. I just did with tear soaked cheeks while feeding a baby.

I hope you’ll allow the befriending of Jesus.

It’s a beautiful education of the soul.

Already Known

anxiety, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

It’s both awesome and awful to realize just how completely we are known by God

From our first breath to here.

I stood at the kitchen window and noticed the lime green glow of Spring on the grass.

The trees.

I remembered the sycamore tree, the hand sized leaves and the broken branches.

Thirty-plus years ago, I cut down branches heavy with green leaves and decorated a tiny cinder block room.

There was a grand plan. I’d be teaching children about the man who climbed the tree to get a chance to see Jesus, Zacchaeus.

It would be my first time as a Vacation Bible School teacher and I was intent on winning best decorated classroom.

The first night, a line of children trailing me down the hall, I giddily swung open the door to discover a disaster.

Leaves wilted and woeful covered the floor and the stench was unbearable in the poorly ventilated room.

I don’t remember teaching the children about a greedy man who got to see Jesus and then fed him supper.

I remember who I was then and am grateful to be not quite the same today.

Just as Jesus knew Zacchaeus was hated by many, was sneaky, corrupt and greedy, He knew I was just learning back then.

Just learning what matters to Him.

Not fully grown, but fully known.

We are already known. The secrets, the shame, the actions we take wrongly motivated,

Jesus is not surprised and doesn’t keep a record. It’s we who do.

My mama used to say, Lisa, stress’ll kill you. I’m here to say I believe its not so distant cousin, shame is more fatal.

The Woman at the Well in the heat of the day encounters a man who shouldn’t be there. She calculated her replenishing of her water to go to the well when she could go unnoticed.

She is surprised by a man who tells her he can help. He has a certain kind of water that won’t run out, she’d never have to be sneaky again in coming to the well.

“Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭13‬-‭14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

She’d never have to be thirsty again. She decides to accept the stranger’s offer.

“Please, sir,” the woman said, “give me this water! Then I’ll never be thirsty again, and I won’t have to come here to get water.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And we know Jesus wasn’t talking about a cool drink of ice water on a humid day. He was talking about the refreshing peace of an abundant life.

Jesus tells the woman to go and get her husband and come back. She tells him she’s not married and he answers with “I know.”

Then he tells her what he does know. That she has a reputation and is well known for being with husbands of others and is now with a married man.

Whoa! or “How dare you?” she could’ve said.

She was brazen after all.

But he continued to enlighten her and she listened, connecting his gentle wisdom with the possibility he might be the Messiah.

So, he told her that indeed he was.

“The woman said, “I know the Messiah is coming—the one who is called Christ. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.” Then Jesus told her, “I Am the Messiah!”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭25‬-‭26‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Then she is overjoyed and goes to tell all the townspeople what they already knew about her she’d tried to avoid.

The reputation she tried to cover was now a proclamation…you’ve got to meet Jesus!

“Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me all that I ever did.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭39‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There was no shame anymore, only her story.

Only a tax collector’s, a disciple’s who denied and regretted, a woman’s wearing shame and a lascivious reputation.

A woman like me who didn’t know anything about the value of the story of Zacchaeus, only wanted to be noticed because of trees in a room.

God is patient. He already knew and knows our journeys.

Yesterday, I stood in the parking lot with a woman. As women our age do, we caught up on the lives of our children. We compared wisdom and we exchanged worries.

She asked me to keep writing.

Said she needed my storytelling.

My story of rescue and of tripping and getting back up gradually as I learn.

Today, when you recall your own mistakes, missteps and wrong motivations, will you pause with the truth of being known?

Will you accept the grace that has never said give up, go your own way or isolate in secret shame?

And he gives grace generously. James 4:6

Will you decide to know that being known is love?

You’re already known.

Continue and believe.

Enough Too

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, doubt, hope, memoir, patience, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wisdom, writing

I’m thinking about my reaction to a request for a commission, the story behind the requested pink rose and the words to be added alongside the art.

A powerful and emotional story I’m changed by.

“You are enough.”

When my friend explained the reason behind the words, I paused.

I slowly reversed my thought to pass judgement.

Did you know there are books written about this one “forbidden phrase”?

There are.

And the reasoning behind it is worth understanding, that we’re not enough on our own as believers, we need to be influenced by and aligned with Jesus.

We need to remember we don’t fly solo in this trip around the sun.

Days have passed since I painted and got the approval of the painting.

I’ve been unafraid to reconsider the expression, to rethink it.

Maybe, add some clarifiers.

Like this morning’s thought.

“You are enough to contribute…”

As are you.

As was Esther, an orphaned girl who faced fear in the face and used her words to make a difference, to save her people from perishing.

“And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”
‭‭Esther‬ ‭4‬:‭14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe, carefully considering how some trending and trendy sayings might paralyze you being you.

Or take you back to a time you were certain you’d never ever amount to much.

I planted pink snapdragons yesterday, deciding again to believe in beauty, in perseverance, in deciding against apathy and negative thinking.

Springtime revelations,

You are enough to contribute.

You have value.

Carefully consider the power of words, the not so completely true.

Bravely remind yourself,

You are enough to….

Inviting Emotion

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, Art, bravery, confidence, courage, creativity, doubt, Faith, fear, hope, memoir, mixed media painting, painting, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, writing

The world around me was dark on Wednesday.

Gorgeous though.

On either side, grey with spattering of a heavier shade of green. Illuminated by headlights switched courteously to dim, the asphalt blended in and danced with shining specks.

The colors of the morning like a softly blended oil painting evoking thought, allowing questions.

I slowed to press the Audio button to resume my walking podcast, again, again. It didn’t work. Thought to find the charger wire and took the second or two struggle with the plug. Then, made the decision to travel quietly.

To have the only noise be the noise of my thoughts being easier to address, more approachable as emotions, less of a hurry to stuff them down, keep them hidden.

Have them buffered by chatty voices or lamenting songs.

In the early morning hours, I woke without alarm, lyrics waltzing.

“We will never the see the end of your goodness.”

I wrote in my journal, “Don’t lose heart.”

On the first day in February, I had a thought about emotions.

The emotions we wish were not ours, the ones that come back pounding on the door like an official bent on taking us away.

I thought wrongly at first.

Emotions must not go unaddressed, I thought and

then thought to be more truthful,

emotions will not go unexpressed.

They won’t allow being held back. They’re bullies that way.

Because we cannot choose emotion, only our behaviors that tend them, embrace them, coax them gently to go away.

What are those behaviors? I’m sure I can’t accurately say for everyone.

We can choose behaviors that allow the beneficial expression of emotions.

Walking (without advice or music)

Praying (unashamedly allowing your anxiety to be exposed privately to God)

Sitting quietly (unhurried for evidence of His attentiveness)

Drawing (pencil on paper, no skill necessary and no ideas for precision or perfection)

Here it is February 2nd and I have already forgotten how to prevent that squeeze in my chest over my not yet enoughness.

Then I remember the words of David that woke me.

“Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭51‬:‭12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m participating (at least for today) in a creative challenge called Artfull February. It’s a way to acquaint myself with other artists, to engage. Yesterday, I introduced myself, told my artist story.

Today’s prompt suggests we share our “studio”. This space in my home is called “my art room” by my husband. It’s an add on room that was built for my daughter when our family became “blended”.

It’s tiny. It’s deficient in natural light and the floor is covered in old rugs. The corners are filled and growing higher with works on paper and the walls all have paintings completed and not purchased leaning against them.

I catch my paint thickened apron hung sweetly on the easel and I see a recent piece newly edited, “Pursuit”.

I snap a photo of the beauty to me in the midst of the mess.

David penned this prayer after a big mess he made. He’d slept with another man’s wife and that secret he tried to keep was only a tiny part of his descent into remorse.

He asked God to give him a willing spirit. I suppose he could’ve justifiably given up, hidden, quit living altogether or decide there’s nothing in my future.

Nothing I’m worthy of pursuing or participating in.

Instead he was honest.

With himself and God. The anxiety that tried to catch me as I surveyed the place others call “studio” and added to it the pending works of art I’ve promised but can’t seem to start was unpleasant and stifling.

But, not for long. I acknowledged it. Decided to realize today I may not paint.

That won’t be disastrous.

I asked God to give me ten more years of the “late to the game” pastime that’s becoming vocation.

Still, today is just one day.

Restoration, Refinement and Redemption aren’t instantaneous.

Emotions stem from destruction deeply imbedded. Be hopeful that you have the guts to address them.

Listen to what they’re telling you and then bravely reply

“This is not that.”

It just feels like it.

Then embrace the restoration you know, hold it like a treasure, press its cheek against your soul.

You’re not fully grown; but oh how you’ve grown.

Believe. Continue and believe.

Choose loving kindness for yourself.

Remember to be willing to do what is your heart’s desire as well as your obligations.

Maybe remember the old sayin’

“Lord willing and the creek don’t rise…”

Then exchange your grappling with graciousness, your tentative tasks with tenderness and your insufficient mindset with the certainty that we’re not the ones in control.

Be happy in that.

There’s an emotion worth choosing.

Happiness in knowing.

You’re not alone. Anxiety is a thing.

A thing tamed by acknowledgment.

Windows and Will

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, grace, hope, memoir, painting, Prayer, Redemption, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

From the upstairs window, I watched their coming and going. The wife, tentative in her steps and the husband, with an armload of groceries, one hand against the small of her back. I noticed their commitment to one another, their quietness and settled joy.

I mostly avoided them. We, the upstairs tenants and them, below. My baby brother and I lived together. What a life it was. Barely getting by, outrageous behaviors, dangerous rendezvouses and mostly him being certain I was okay and I less caring and attentive to him, carried on in my reckless ways.

My brother and I were together, it’s an invitation to be safe I will forever treasure.

All the while, the diminutive couple surely observed us. Never confronted or complained about our noise up above, only nodded occasionally in a knowing way.

One Sunday I was brave. I watched from our window as their sedan found its spot. The gentleman had gotten his wife settled in and I walked lightly down the stairs and stood facing his caring eyes.

And he did not look away.

“How can I know the will of God?” I asked with timidity.

Close to forty years ago and I can’t say what he answered, only that his tone was gentle and he gave me a small book.

A book I only skimmed, a paperback long ago packed or trashed away.

The will of God is not a detailed plan, more a captivating pursuit.

I believe it is simply and profoundly a decision

to trust and to renew that trust as often as necessary.

To sit quietly waiting.

To consider how decades later, a church going senior citizen’s response matters.

There was no correction in his tone, no critical reply or even “come to church with us next Sunday.”

Instead, he instructed me to be a seeker. He gave me a book. He compelled me towards words and the Word.

This morning, I sat in the place I love. I pondered all of the voices of advisors…

Podcasters, those who believe they’re gifted with prophecy, experts on enneagram and such…people who are benefiting themselves by joining the trauma healing (bandwagon) force.

The voices are loud, lauding quick and exciting never known to be possible results.

Yesterday walking, I mentally answered a question.

Who is God to you?

I answered. “God is my creator.”

Remembering the sufficiency of that astounding truth, I watched the sun for more than a glance.

The golden light landed on my art. I watched it become more outlined.

Become a window.

So I sat for a minute more and answered my heart’s question.

The will of God is for me to see Him. To settle my search inviting other relief or rescue.

To see God on a chilly morning because I sat still long enough.

And to remember the value of a gentle response, never haughty and a hindrance.

Hopeful, always hope.

“Joyful is the person who finds wisdom, the one who gains understanding.”
‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3‬:‭13‬ ‭NLT‬‬