Prayer

Love and Rest

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, praise, Prayer, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability

I wake the same way every morning lately. 

My default mindset being, could yesterday have been better, maybe today will be. 

Blank page is bordered with “first thought”, a verse I read; but, I fail to remember the Book. 


This self analysis and prone to self condemnation is for the birds! I proclaim my daughter has taught me not to take myself so seriously; but, man I go right back to that place again! 

Little blips of things I’ve read and heard, absorbed from conversations are all opposing the other, making us look like a confused bunch of passive aggressive souls. 

“Are any of us ever good enough to be loved by Jesus or are we always good enough to be loved by him?”

Like a deep, deep gorge and a shaky bridge between two sides, that’s what it seems we’ve become, questioning the others’ side based on what we believe right or wrong, worthy enough or not at all. 

Who are we to know the heart of another? 

We scarcely know our own! 

Again, today I wake and consider my less than good enough behaviors.

 I question whether my feelings, my faith were strong enough and whether any of what I say I believe is true is believed enough consistently by me. 

We’ve decided, my staff and I to give a mother another chance. Her actions and behaviors had worn us all out; but, we will offer this morning a second chance. 

Work and faith intersect, I’m thinking now, no accident that God had my heart in tune with all of us, all of us a bunch of stumbling misfits. 

I sat amongst a circle of chairs one night. A question offered up, “Do you think you can live a sinful life once you’ve confessed that you believe in Jesus as your Savior?” 

Comments here and there about what you can and can’t do wrong and still be right.

 I was still, sort of trying to comprehend how we all had just heard of a harlot who was courageous and believed in God and how her story is nothing less than validation that we all are less than perfect on any given day. 

I believe we all stumble in many ways. 

Lord, help me admit my stumbling and your holding me back up rather than knocking and keeping down the one you haven’t yet to hold. 

Lately, I’ve been resting with a question, a timely one I believe, 

What is it that God desires most? Is it obedience or to be like Jesus, Christ-like? 

To correct or to love? 

I’m leaning strongly towards being like Jesus. I know him more, he knows me more. It’s relationship and with relationship over time my thoughts become like his thoughts, my ways more closely to his ways. 

That way, when I wake up with questions over my less than perfect ways, I’ll have open hands and heart to give thanks for more chances and to be given more grace and more mercy yet again. 

And I’ll close my hands before rising from bedside floor and squeeze tight that gift of redemption and I’ll walk today in peace and praise hoping others may notice and wonder, give me the chance to tell.  

Perhaps, an invitation to explain my decision to believe. 

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.”

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:1-2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Because, well, because mercy has been given me and has covered and covers a multitude of my wrongs. 

I am loved and free to love. 

Linking up here: http://barbieswihart.com/2017/05/his-promise-still-stands-glimpses-link-up.html

Falling Again

courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Prayer, rest, Trust, Vulnerability

I am quiet and move slowly with my morning, considering the beauty of sunlight or the threat of storm. 


The air crisp or heavy might cause my notice. 

The sun made shadows yesterday morning, a design on the floor, leading to path towards the pool.

The rain, hard the night before and a cool damp breeze found my face. 


Fuschia petals had fallen making scattered and joyful places for my steps to follow. I stared long and longing, no one around to question my standing so long to consider the fallen rose. 

It was early and there were plans for breakfast. Then the day went long and off course by unexpected and accidental things. 

It was midnight when I remembered the fallen petals of the morning. 


And I found myself falling again, to the place that knows my knees. 

I wake today, and they’ve been swept from the walk. 

But, what an abundance of new bloom! 

I’ll not pluck one for new vases, I’ll leave them there, still and less prone to trampling. 

For tomorrow or this evening may perhaps bring a new storm. 

And I will remember to be still, for I know He is my God.  I know he knows. 

‭‭

Cease striving and know that I am God! Psalms‬ ‭46:10‬ ‭

Because I just read a beautiful post about prayer, I’m linking up here: https://i1.wp.com/mom-gene.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/Sunday-Thoughts-Button.jpeg?zoom=2&w=584

Back to Me 

bravery, courage, Faith, Prayer, rest, Trust, Vulnerability

There are two desks in my home. One looks out towards mama’s bird bath and the field across the road. I write there. It’s quiet and clean, serene and special. The story was written, “Angels and Teachers of Grace”. I am satisfied with its message.


The other desk is marked by paint. Walls covered in funky and beautiful, memories and paintings by my children.

 The solitude of my empty home calls me down the hall and I begin slightly half-hearted until I continue.

This is my pattern. 

Until I go from believing the ability has faded, the inspiration has waned to taking away and adding to, blending and stepping away for drink to return with new eyes. 

Then, I’m back there, me again. 

The place unexplainable, the place of what rests inside, in maybe a little hollowed out sort of cocoon, my soul is there, is found and is given its due.

Yesterday, I shared some thoughts I’d been thinking when our teacher asked for comments. Men and women glanced my way and, I believe wondered, “Is she different?” 

Dazed looks that I can’t decide are either, “Where does she come up with these thoughts?”  or “Who on earth thinks so much?”  or maybe “There she goes again, will she always have something to say?”

Empathy, noticing, feeling, understanding, contemplating, I was born for that. 

We discussed being in the “family of God”  and I offered up it can be difficult because of human nature to always get along and for people like me who truly prefer to be alone, for people who must be alone to sustain their souls and sense. 

No comments, just looks. 

This is why, I listened to the songs, in the way too cold because of the thermostat sanctuary, I prayed with open hands for all mentioned and then about three quarters of the way in,  I picked up my purse, my Bible and quietly left the building. 

Because, my soul craved to be alone and I followed its beckon.

And I listened and returned, to my place of peace. 

Art and words, free and freeing. 

“…to guide us to the path of peace.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭1:78-79‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Me Now

Children, courage, family, grace, mercy, Motherhood, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I wear bedroom slippers now, soft and gray, the kind you slip into and make the scruffy sound across the fluff of rug or hardwood. 


My husband says “pick your feet up” and I can’t decide if I’m old or tiny.

I grab the white robe, lightly patterned waffle texture and it’s mine morning and night. “Are you cold?” he asks.

“No.” I answer and don’t attempt to explain that it doesn’t matter anymore how frumpy I may be. I love my robe, it’s one of my things, sensory pleasing, comfortable against my skin, all wrapped up and at peace. 

My aunt used to wear her makeup to bed, fixed her hair before gardening, now my uncle sweetly fusses for her to shower when she’s been sewing all day and it’s about time for supper. 

She sews on and on, her fabrics feeling the touch of her aging hand.

 I love that woman, love that lostness in the thing she’s making, doing, it’s a not so fierce, 

More a pleasing independence, who she is.

I love that woman. 

Her now. 

Me now. 

I have a cousin, the same, fiercely honest and a master at getting lost in all things digging and planting. 

She is she, profoundly she.

She prays for me, I pray for her. 

A friend told my daughter last week, “Oh, your mama is stepping out, I wouldn’t be surprised what she might do.”

We all smiled. 

Today, the little girl who hid behind her grandma from the moodiness of boisterous grandpa and life will get to do something. 

Today, I tell myself just now, I will smile, unconcerned over the memory of a broken tooth that went unfixed because of time and money and life. 

Today, I will pray before filming a segment on a show hosted by a gracious and easy listening woman. 

I will follow God’s lead in my replies, because I will have prayed that God have his way with us both. 

Today, I’ll not worry about the appearance of knees, round and pale, showing for the world to see, because I love the dress, it’s me. 

I’ll stay where I’ve found is best and true, acknowledging God in these opportunities, the things I call treasures he has given me, a chapter in a book. 

The chance to talk about Him. How he undeniably is all amongst this thing! 

My chapter called, “Leaving Loved” submitted at the suggestion of someone I met while writing a story about her, then selected and I’m asked if I know of a non-profit that serves women and children. 

“Yes, I do, I work for one, it’s called Nurture Home.” Nurture Home 

And then, it’s selected. This is why I believe in taking steps towards possible opportunities. 

So, today I sit with coffee and a copy of “I Heart Mom” and I’ve prayed already and will be praying again. 

Thank you, Lord that I get to do this today and for whatever “this’s” come from here, from you, through you, 

for me now. 

The me I’m becoming, through you. 

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. 

“They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11 NLT

This book, and these publishers, all a part of God’s plans for me, has stories of struggling, gracious and brave moms. 

There are stories of single parenting, of the loss of a child, of in vitro blessings and newborn blessings. 

The stories are authentic and are “every mama” stories. I encourage to consider purchasing one on Amazon for yourself, a mom or a friend. 

A portion of the proceeds will be divided between Nurture Home and another non-profit that works to keep young people safe. 

Thank you, Jesus for your grace towards me thus far. What a love, what a grace.
Learn more here about how God brought me to this place of now:

http://www.relevantpagespressllc.com/anthology

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee. Her story, also on Fox News website had me anticipating the answer and when I found the answer to “loving others”, the only comment that made sense was “awesome”. 

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/surprising-virtue-strongest-people-know/

Blessing and Beauty Divine

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I saw a canvas, the happiest tone of pink with what I believe may be poppies strewn across the surface. The paint, thick and creamy and a sporadic peppering of words like joy and in the corner was the page torn from a song book. 

This, I saw when visiting my sister after a long time, this canvas at the top of her stairs. I paused in the moment of gentle surprise of forgotten inspiration for my art.

I’ve got what my friend calls an “angel ministry”. I sit in my girl’s old bedroom and I sing in an empty house, lyrics of grace and peace, of gardens and of mercy and trust. 

I paint for hours. I am lost in the process of paint covered fingers and layering of color and expression. My angels are without facial features, I pray their figure brings a pleasing pause, a contemplation or comfort.

Like the pink canvas and I in my sister’s Savannah home. 

Little pages torn from old hymnals are the starting point to my pieces, just one of the many reasons lately I find myself singing praise.

I’m singing “praise God from whom all blessings flow.” a whole lot more, acknowledging His gift of grace. 

For he has heard my purposeful morning and intermittent recitation of the ancient prayer of a young man who felt he’d do well just to not be a burden. 

Every day, I pray in different form or fashion sometimes, thinking of  his expectation of nothing more than a life of hardship. 

I pray the words of Jabez “Oh that you would bless me and enlarge my border, and that you would keep me from harm so that it might not bring me pain!” 

And God granted what he asked.  

I Chronicles 4: 10

And I have blessed, I have been given opportunities I never expected. God has enlarged my border, extended opportunities.

I decided not to be afraid and I surrendered it to Him. 

This is why I sing a song from pre-Pandora or Spotify days, a CD my daughter made for me and my son and I sang along to sometimes…” Does it ever catch your eye…beauty divine? 

Believe, life will surprise you. Believe.”

Brandon Heath 

Made Peaceable 

Faith, grace, mercy, Prayer, rest, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability

We have meetings to hear all the sides and to keep pushing to a place of simply able to coexist, sometimes. 

Such is the environment of working in or  calling a homeless shelter a home.

Different dilemmas and dynamics all get together after nearly falling apart and landing like the big fairy tale egg at our doorstep.  Mothers, women, daughters and sons, different paths scattered by different ways.

I dreaded a meeting; but, knew it had to be and we all gathered, three of us who do the work and an objective listener. 

The agenda set with a plan of issues to clarify, I walked up on the big porch of the historic home now a shelter, steps flanked by lush ferns to greet our families coming home. 

I had not planned to do so; but, I used my sometimes negative attitude and demeanor as an example…spoke of how I’m sometimes prone to  stomping in and taking charge, of correcting whatever might be wrong. 

“I’m guilty of that.” I said, of being all puffed up because the ferns on the porch didn’t get watered. 

The three of them smiled and for a minute or two, I believe simply called to mind things and attitudes they know were theirs. 

Sometime ago I heard a sermon on the Beatitudes. The radio preacher, essentially said that the proclamations in these verses are how we as Christians should live. 

“And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. 

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. 

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”‭‭ Matthew 5:3-11

These days we’re living in everyone knows most of how another is feeling and believing. 

Bandwagon faith or fault finding. 

There’s a big mindset I believe, toward declaring oneself a “believer ” of everything. We set the tone for loving all, embracing, all.  I suppose erring on the side of not finding any error at all. 

Far be it from us to question or debate one’s belief over ours, we fear being called judgemental or condemning. 

It’s a delicate walk for the Christian who boldly cherishes God’s word.

 Cherishes it, truly. 

Especially, the red words. 

It’s going to continue I’m afraid, so we’ll need to learn to be peacemakers. 

Be more peaceable people. 

We’ll need courage to say what we believe and we’ll need to check our attitudes. 

We all stumble in many ways. One leans over, we lean too and there we go falling down that slippery slide of holier than they. 

I told a friend yesterday about sitting with someone whose ideas and beliefs are different from mine, talking about fathers and how we loved. We talked about family junk, favorites, keeping score and grief. 

We both knew.

We found common ground and that common ground path led to my sharing how I came to a place of acceptance in the very similar struggle we share. 

I told her about prayer and God and she listened to me share the things that keep me sane, grow my assurance of and faith in God. 

It was a pleasant exchange, unprompted. 

Pleasant, because it came from her inviting. Her struggle led to my sharing, her listening led me to continue. 

This is why I’m certain Jesus taught peacemaking as the way. 

Judgement, avoidance or questioning our differences would not have led to our warm goodbye. 

I said, “I’ll pray for you.” she said. 

“Please do.” 

Maybe we listen for invitations to share, not kick open the doors to demand a listen. 

Lots of people say “love wins” or is “the answer”.

I’m telling you, though, I believe it’s peace. 

I believe it’s peace, peace they will see. 

“Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to share His Story. 

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/storms-raging-around-jesus-meets-right/

Other Prayers

courage, family, grace, mercy, Prayer, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

I asked a fellow blogger, “Why do some of us notice, while others stay insulated by self?”

Yes, work was a little more than overwhelming today; but, I took paintings to work with me and arrived at 8:00 (Write it down! she said, you made it in early) because a reporter asked to talk with me about my angels, my paintings, she’s noticed. 

I consider it opportunity, I told her, an opportunity to have others feel comforted, maybe at rest. 

An opportunity to tell of the opportunities God kept for me, brought me to, knew were there all along. 

Regardless of notice or lull, I’ve been revived by found treasure, I’ll be painting. 

So, I did my best to tell her why I paint, why I know for certain it’s a seed that finally found a bit of light to cause its growth. 

We talked of life too, being without our fathers. Eventually resting in the love we gave them, no longer disputing who among us loved well or more. 

Resigned in our relationships with our fathers. 

An elderly man has been killed by a stranger for no reason at all.

I read that he loved his family, grandchildren, great-grands. 

Randomly, he has left them. 

A mama, pregnant with a daughter she’s at last decided to welcome was upset today, 

Her four year old pouted when she sent him inside our homeless shelter to talk about grown up things with us. 

Sometimes I forget about that grace thing I say…But, for grace I might have gone there. 

I need reminding.  

Thank you, Jesus for bringing me to reasons for pause, to notice others.

I struggled with explaining to a reporter why my angels have no faces.  

I’d never been asked. 

Told her they’re all around, waiting to be a comfort, the sway of the hip, the curve of a shoulder, the stance shaped by flow of gown. 

They are hopeful comfort, almost like quiet observers interspersed in our life and are without wings because they’re 

here among us,  not above

You and I. 

They wait to be noticed as they notice.  

I worked hard today and tonight I will sleep, having texted my son “Sleep well, SYP’s (say your prayers)”  and catching the dinging reply in which he says. “Thanks, you too.”

I’ll say them, my prayers for struggles I’ve not known, for things other than self…it’s a worthy discipline, you should consider its practice. 

To pray for tragedies and people wrapped up in them, that we don’t know or understand,

And tho’ I’ll not know the ones I pray for, I am comforted in the assurance of being heard, 

Like an angel without features, a quietly comforting presence. 

We are all standing in need of prayers.

How can we not pray? 

How can we not comfort? 

Before Beginning

courage, Easter, Faith, grace, mercy, Prayer, rest, Trust

Yesterday, I thought of the women in mourning. All day long, sort of tucked back and settled there, my thoughts were on the times in between. 


In between believing it was the end or I might see beginning again, again. 

I keep this on my desk, a little slip of paper.

There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. Yet that will be the beginning.   Louis L’Amour

I’ve had some of those. Not only mornings,  I’ve made it through a night or two when your mind finally decided to give it a rest, that real or imagined trauma.

 I’ve made it through days moving through, sometimes falling into bed earlier than made sense just so tomorrow could come. 

I’d say, “I’m going to sleep, tomorrow will be a new day.”

And each and every time I’ve been face first on the floor or knees down, hands open and up, I have made it through. 

Sometimes I had no words, only my heart spread wide open to God. 

He knows. 

Many believe circumstances are designed by God to teach us to hold out hope, to walk by faith, not by sight. 

I know this to be true because I have seen newness of days after months of droughtful delay. 

Like childbirth or special times with someone you love after a too long separation, the hard stuff fades, the pain or consuming wonder over why is so insignificant when the day is new. 

Yesterday, the day in the middle of death and of life. God, I thank you for designing it to be this way. 

For such a time as this, that we worship or we contemplate or maybe question and wonder. 

We see now, Lord.

 I do, I know…more and more and more…age, wisdom and circumstance; but, mostly proof, mostly proof has made me see. 

Like the morning you weren’t there and they waited with heartache to see you again. 

Jesus himself stood among them and said, “Peace to you.” John 24:36

I’ve had my mornings, Lord and I know they are because of you. 

Mornings and long stretches of waiting. 

I see now, just the time and season before beginning.

I pray you know this peace unfathomable, yet true. With time and mornings, truth and life. 

Knowing Grace

bravery, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Vulnerability

I wasn’t looking for this book, went in search of another, one more purposefully instructive.  I found grace though in the pages and if it weren’t the library’s there’d be little gray asterisks throughout. 

When we go from rashly and clenched to grateful, we sometimes get to note the experience of grace, in knowing that we could not have gotten ourselves from where we were stuck, in haste or self-righteousness or self-loathing (which are the same thing), to freedom. The movement of grace in our lives toward freedom is the mystery. So we simply say “Thanks.” 

Something had to give, and I don’t have a clue how to get things to do that. But they did, or grace did. 

Anne Lamont 

Help Thanks Wow – The Three Essential Prayers

Yes, grace thus far, but fit grace. 

Grace, grace, grace. 

May 

Mercy, peace and love

Be Multiplied. 

To you. (Jude 1:2)

 

Palm Sunday Sundown 

courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Palm Sunday, Prayer, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

There’s a wide open field sitting catticorner as I turn down the last turn towards home. 

If I stay for church after choir, I’m affirmed in my choice because this field always causes me to stop.  No one around, I let the window down and I pay homage to the display, the sun is going down in a splendid way for me. Always does here. 

Tomorrow will be a new day. 


I consider it all together; the day, the words, the verses showing themselves as I waver over my thoughts and questions, lately enigmatic, where do I go from here? 

Maybe nowhere just yet. Linger, Lisa. 

He makes everything beautiful in His time. 

Become not overwhelmed with lofty what if or when. Let not the discernment of your thoughts be based on anything other than the loudly clear truth that comes when you get quiet and still. 

It’s then you notice what matters, not the validation of others; but, the undeniable notice of one, my Heavenly Father. 

 It happens by surprise, your thoughts lovingly taken captive. 

I cried in church this morning. 

My thoughts drifted during the sermon. I noticed the tiny little footnotes marked by teeny tinier numbers interspersed with scripture. 

I read ahead a little of the sermon on the three crosses and the thieves and skipped to the place marked “The Death of Jesus”. 

“It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭23:44-46‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I was curious about the explanation marked by footnote, so I looked more closely to understand. 

The time of day was noon, the sixth hour. 

The sun went away leaving what I imagine a large expanse of fear and darkness, of troubled minds, hearts and souls. 

It was dark until 3:00, the ninth hour, the middle of a day. 

Darkness marked the time and day,  Jesus died for the sins of us in between a man bold enough to be humble and believe and the other too proud, angry and defeated to accept the possibility of grace. 
I cried in church this morning. I read about the dark and sunless sky and I cried. 

I thought of Mary, his mother; but, mostly I wondered about God. 

I wondered if maybe God decided it was just too difficult to watch. 

Now, I’ll tell you that’s not scriptural, still I wondered if that may have been His reason. 

And I cried in church this morning over the darkness that marked death.  Had I not recorded it here, no one would know, that I sat next to my husband, looking down at my Bible and I cried. 

My tears were tender. They were soft and not for show, as if my reading of the black sky rested in my thoughts until a hand reached down somehow and clutched my heart, gently prompting a reaction I’d not let be forgotten. 

I’ve been journaling about the people who met Jesus. Women caught, found out, brought out and yet, redeemed. 

The intellectuals made to tuck their tails and turn from places in the sand preventing stones hurled at “sinners”. 

I wrote about the woman at the well who met Jesus and then went about thrilled over all the bad he knew of her yet loved her. 

She told every single person about her encounter at the well. She was astounded in a joyously unabashed way. 

I cried at church today.  I cried to think of how God took away the sun in the middle of the day as his Son died for me and you. 

How could I not tell you of it, my tears and my redemption? 

How could I scarcely keep it in, the way the sun escorted me home the day I mourned its going away? 

Everything, beautiful in its time 

He makes it.  Darkness only lasts for a time, long enough to remind me of what matters most. 

This “calling”, this thing I call my treasure because God led me to name it so, it will flourish and it will grow to whatever size and benefit God decides will serve the purpose of his glory. 

I know some things grow best in the dark. 

Faith, especially, the strength our eyes do not see. 
Linking up with Michele Morin as she talks about her fears and a blind man who responded when Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do?”