Prayer

Mighty and Well

Children, courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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I saw them twice tonight, the geese that give me pause and give me reason.

I planted my pansies in pretty pots today and thought of my grandma.

Fragile little faces on tender stems, purple, lavender, yellow and a rich burgundy; I dug little holes and crowded them in all clustered together like a crazy extended family.

The hurricane will bring rain and heavy wind this weekend; but, I planted anyway.

I soaked them real good and thought I’ll move them to the garage should the storm get rough.

The geese flew over, twenty or so, as I pushed the wheelbarrow back to its spot.

I’ve not seen so many before, they must sense a storm. I took my hands off the wooden wheelbarrow handle, turned as they flew into the distance and I prayed.

Opened one hand toward heaven as the storm cooled air brushed my face, I said

“Trust.”

The Lord your God is in your midst,
mighty one who will save…

Zephaniah 3:17

Someone I don’t know commented to me about our storm here in S.C. as we shared thoughts on not enough time for writing.

Told her, “My weekend’s full, I’m watching the storm and my son’s home from college.”

She left a reply, “Oh goodness, Father, keep them safe. May this time be one where they look back and see your mighty hand. Amen.”

I’m praying in agreement, that this storm and this time will be one we look back on see your mighty hand, God.

That we understand you as protector with purpose.

I thought to tell her, “There’s more storm now than a tropical threat of flood.”

There was a call and a crisis and now the aftermath.

There was a time to be thankful all is well and to ponder what could have been worse.

So, I walked with dogs like usual, I planted my pansies and I looked towards the sky altered by pressure.

And another bunch of geese, a few lagging behind flew over and it was good.

It was good for me to walk as on any other day, to see that all is well.

A bunch of geese, five of them…nothing majestic or awesome; yet, a mighty sweet sight and a sign of all very well.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/knowing-god-sees-changes-everything-book-giveaway/

 

 

 

 

Coffee and Restoration​ with a side of Sunshine

Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Surely, I’ll be less pitiful today. I woke up knowing I must redeem myself from yesterday’s miserable mood!

Surely, I’ll remember last night’s sky and go into today feeling optimistic.

This was my waking thought.

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Prayer and coffee after fitful sleep

The first thing I see on Tuesday is a request to pray for Haiti.

So, I do.  I pray silently for a place and a people I’ll most likely never see.

Yet, children there fear things I can’t fathom and what they hold in their hands is just a tiny morsel compared to the excess I claim as mine.

The storm is headed their way. I glance towards my coffee.

I pray it doesn’t destroy them.

I pray for my friend, the secret request in my envelope.

Some days I’m sunshine, others I’m a pessimistic shadow of impending distress.

 Tuesday feels better already simply because I prayed for others.  Holy Spirit, bend me towards your way and ripen the fruits of my spirit today. May I be abundant in your produce. 

I flip the pages of my Bible heading to Philippians; but, stopping at Corinthians.

I go and refill my coffee, get distracted by the dogs’ refusal to pee and then wait, staring out the window.

The overgrown tower of green stalks, brown on the bottom has decided to bloom just like he said they would when I asked,

“When are you gonna cut that dead mess down?” “Not yet.” he said, pointing to the buds with tiny specks of yellow.

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I walked slowly outside to see the bright yellow blooms reaching up high.

I see, now they’ve bloomed.

There was still something good to come from the old brown stalks overtaking the fence.

Still good there, bright like sunshine. New like the day.

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 For we are glad when we are weak and you are strong.

Your restoration is what we pray for. II Corinthians 13:9

 

 

 

October Morning with Bible

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized
Morning is mine

Morning is mine

I’m a stubborn woman; but, I’m quiet about it, so you might not know just how set I am on not being swayed.

If there’s something I believe, you can be sure I believe it with all I got.

I won’t believe because someone told me to believe, demanded I consider their perspective and accept their truth.

It’ll be because I’ve pondered and decided it is true and I’m better for its knowledge.

Too many times at the hands of too many people was my body demanded of and my thoughts, my beliefs coerced.

Years ago, I was chastised by a teacher. Told something akin to never being as good as you can be until you read your Bible every day.

Naturally, I resisted. “She’s not telling me what to do.”

When they’d ask for record keeping sake, “How many daily Bible readers do we have?” the number never matched the room and in silence, eyes scanned the semicircle set of chairs, I suppose they wondered who.

If they’d asked, I would have owned up and said why.

 I came to it on my own, eventually and unforced. I admit she was right, I only wish I’d come sooner and it been more peaceably presented.

My Bible is my place of learning, of comfort, of finding the scoundrels and the stubborn who finally gave up control and said,

“Okay, I believe despite question. I believe because you’ve shown me reason to believe.”

So, I journal. I read. I pray. I tell little Instagram stories of my God moments and I tell them quietly; hopefully, bravely enough to bend a listening ear, a searching eye, a longing heart.

Come and hear, all you who fear God, and I will tell you what He has done for my soul. Psalm 66:16

Far be it from me to make tremendous claims or to attempt to convince another as if I’m soothsayer or savant.

Certainly not saint.

I pray I not become boastful, pompous or judgemental.

I pray I only share with clarity my life with God and for the sake of humble remembering, my life before.

May I, every morning attempt to set the direction of my day in knowing more of God through his word and then saying “Okay, I see. I trust. I understand now.” because I stored up a word, an account of something similar and its unraveling from God’s perspective.

Mostly, though, I just hope to keep getting closer to who I say I am, a woman quietly confident in God.

Not what I write, a piece of art or a position in community.

Rather, a woman who God sees when I fall face down to pray and when I smile silently and contentedly as

October sunbeams fall sweetly across the pages of my Bible.

A woman who sees God so clearly others do too.

And discover for themselves, the poetry, love and lessons of their own Holy Bible.

 

Sweet Remembering

Faith, family, grace, grief, Prayer, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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It was late, almost dark.

The clouds were enormously ominous, a bunch of ’em all gathered up together and I could hear my mama saying,

“Looks like there might be a cloud makin’ up over there.”

The geese were holding a meeting in the grassy field. I brought the leash closer and said quietly, “Good boy.”

We hadn’t meant to scare them, we were just strolling lazily, Colt and I.

But, they congregated and flew up and away together with loud flaps and a chorus of harmonious fly alway song.

I was glad to see them because I heard my mama say,

“There they go.”

I remembered my morning prayer written in my journal, “Lord, send a little reminder today, that all is well and help me to see it clearly.”

And I heard my mama saying now, “It’ll all be fine.”

Lightning in the distance, I turn uphill towards home, cutting short our walk.

I’m content…under heaven.

Geese, storm clouds, and memories of mama.

Thank you, God.

That which was bitter to endure

may be sweet to remember.

a proverb

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee as we think about loved ones and heaven.

if you fear death, are puzzled by heaven, or wonder if you’ll live forever – #tellhisstory

Letting Be

Faith, family, grace, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

imageShe called me “sweetie” when I walked in and naturally I pondered whether that was a sweet thing or condescending like lost puppy talk.

It was a kind welcome, “sweetie” must be her word, I decided, it seemed so natural.

Earlier that morning, someone else called me “Honey”. Same thing, just a thing she called people, I supposed.

The usual instructor not there and the only spot available between two men, one my friend’s husband, uninterested in small talk and the other, in his 70’s and really focused on his balance.

He practiced a while, one knee bent, and the opposite leg teetering, like a limb bent by heavy fruit, I feared it might snap.

I thought he might tumble and I knew the reaction would be kind, still, I hoped he didn’t for his sake.

I considered leaving; but, the music was so good, acoustic mellowed out guitar versions of ” Let it Be”, “Imagine” and some softened up Tom Petty “Mary Jane”.

I decided instead to relax and breathe in my little strip of space, a little closet-like cocoon.

The poses drew the tensions up and away from my shoulders. I accomplished for the first time, “tree poses” with my eyes set firm and my arms up high above my shoulders.

“Child’s pose”,  I realized is the same as falling on my face in prayer. The instructor told us, “The forehead on the ground is the place where letting go takes place.”

“Oh”…I thought…I know this already.

Ending with “Shavasana”, flat on thin mat, I feel thinner now.

The hard floor underneath me and a weighted bag on my belly, I close my eyes and breathe.

Then, interrupted by the most gentle touch, like a silver spoon dropping a dollop of heavy cream into a warm cup, the instructor gently massages essential oil into the spot above my nose and on my temples.

I notice the scent, contemplate it and decide if it were a color it would be the tint of pale blue sky and I pray,

speaking in a way a bit blunt.

Words spill from my mind like the rat a tat of ammunition and then

they slow with a quiet confirmation.

Gratitude finds its way into my thoughts as warm tears make little puddles around my eyes.

I rise slowly, open my eyes and let the tears evaporate.

Then, listen in farewell “mountain pose” upwards stretching high and then hands at my heart, as the instructor wishes us peace before adding “Namaste”.

I reply “Namaste” and my heart opened, whisper a silent

“Selah”

and an

“Amen.”

 

A Handful of Quiet

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

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A room filled with women, we arrived and found our table. Five women can live at our homeless shelter at any given time. We’re always full, their stories always different.

One’s had a really tough stretch of days and she rode with me.

I told her on the way over about the way I sometimes write the word “trust” on my palm. I open my hand to look at it and remember or sometimes close my fingers in towards my palm, letting my thumb lie against the place I know the word rests.

She smiled and I drove, running late as usual.

When she realized we were going to the country club for dinner, she said,”Oh, we’re going to be at the country club?!”

I answered, “Yes.” and a added a little “whoop whoop hand in the air shoulder shake”

It’s my signature move. My daughter has built a whole “Snap” story around me.

She added, laughing out loud, ” Raise the roof, Miss  Lisa!”

And then, her eyes glossy, “I laughed. This is the first time I’ve laughed this week.”

We all sat together. The women who live in our shelter, myself and another employee.

When grace was said, I opened my hands on my lap and listened.

Softly and unexpectedly,she put her hand in mine and I covered our hands together as we prayed.

The warmth of her hand was indescribable.

The thought of it still now as warm.

I spoke about our program, remembering little of what I said except “Their stories become my story. It’s only the grace of God that has kept me from the same hardship.” Because I always say that, always.

Some of the women in the fancy dining room listened, really understood. Most likely only some were brave enough to try and understand if I’m honest.

Let’s be honest, many were thinking…Well, I’d never get myself in such a mess like that.

The room was filled with wealthy women and towards the end of the night, one in particular clearly shunned me.

I felt it.

I have experience with this feeling.

I woke up remembering it and almost let it linger; but, remembered more clearly her beautiful hand in mine.

How could I minimize the beauty of the one hand by sulking over the other?

Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and chasing after the wind. Ecclesiastes 4:5

So, I prayed, “Lord thank you that my life has been less than perfect. That I’ve not had the perfect dress for every function. Lord, thank you that you’ve placed me in places that I get to hold the hands of others. Thank you, Lord that she reached for my hand, knowing I’d reach back. Thank you for reminding me to stop chasing the approval of others.

Linking up for Five Minute Friday although, I always feel certain I go over. I’m not so great rule follower at all. 🙂

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Believing Afraid

courage, Faith, praise, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

image.jpegLast night, this thought just sashayed through my mind. Popped up, hung around and I thought, yes, this feels like truth.

Feels like revelation.

I thought, go write it down; but, didn’t for whatever reason. Friday night, long week why must I always think so much anyway?

Then woke and remembered and it was still just as good, just as huge and real.

Thought again of heaven, of first impressions and of impressions I may have made.

I could see it new and different after years of not quite enough, not seamlessly believing without doubt or living without faltering.

I could see that it was good, would be okay.

I imagined standing there before God and him caring less about my fumbling and more about my feeble yet persistent pursuit. I heard him say…

I saw you learning to be loved, learning to believe. It was beautiful to see how those around you saw me through you.

I saw you being afraid, too. I saw the times you let your fears suffocate your belief and so you stumbled and you had some failures in your faith and in some things you let go your pursuit.

But, don’t be troubled. I’m not disappointed.

I saw you, saw you believing more everyday. I saw the times your heart’s rhythm was at ease or was joyous. I saw you, when you believed and your soul thrilled in its place of peace. I saw the blue of your eyes, clearly opened anew and the curve of your quiet lip in a humble smile.

I saw you.

Believing, afraid.

I made a new list, a letter to self. One side, what I believe, the other what I’m afraid of.

Then sat and colored in my Bible in the place where John recorded Jesus’ time on earth, the place where disputes over believing in Him and His outlandish love, healing, and behavior were deemed inappropriate.

They were afraid to believe, I guess.

Aren’t we all, until he reminds us?

Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” John 11:40

 

 

 

Treasure

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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I have sort of a secret. It’s more than sorta personal, the kind of thing you hesitate tell somebody or somebodies because there’s no way their reaction will honor the beauty of what’s been shared.

So, it’s been over a month now since this thing happened. I’ve recorded its occurrence in my journal, they way it appeared least expectedly.

The answer to a prayer while walking one evening. I’ve had answered prayers before, big, heavy and hard ones I’ve laid out before God, mostly about my children,

Rarely, so boldly about me.

I prayed that miserably hot afternoon, “Lord, is it your will that I write this book?” (I almost left the word “book” out here, doubts, fear, etc. saying don’t put that out there…don’t be so brave, keep it to yourself). The talk with God rambled on as I walked.

“Lord, I don’t want to think the way I’ve always thought. Maybe, deep down I don’t believe it’s possible. I believe it’s only a dream and this battle between believing it possible and fearing failure is strong.

So, Father I’m asking,  do you want me to follow through, is writing a book a part of your plan for me?”

Walked on, relieved to have gotten it all out in the open. Better for being straight with God, like finally breaking the silent treatment with your spouse, the tension of what needed to be said is lifted.

It’s a start, at least towards good.

You say what you need to say and decide to just carry on regardless.

Not like a limbo state, just a sense of okay either way. Might seem like nothing but at least your load’s been lifted.

And now, I ramble.

The morning after the walk and talk, I do my normal sitting, reading, praying and lingering.

Typical morning, same routine and route.

Heading in to the office, good music, traffic info and some talk of events on the radio.

Then a word out of nowhere. Something I heard, crazy I couldn’t remember why or when.

“Treasure” it said and rested in my mind.

“Treasure”

“Treasure”

“This is your treasure, Lisa. This is your ability, your opportunity. This is your thing, I planted there, a tiny thing that you’re only beginning to see. But, you see it now because you’ve gotten quiet. You see it now, because you’ve gotten loud and unafraid about it. You see it now because it won’t let you not see it. Don’t conceal it any longer.

This is your treasure. This is your treasure. The thing you carry around with you everyday, embrace it some days and fear it others…the thing you’re crazy excited to do and the thing that you’re terrified of.

This is your treasure, it has great significance.”

i heard God’s  voice. It’s impossible to minimize this experience or to detail it in a way that matches its reality and quiet awe.  It was real, not spectacular, just real.

It was His answer and so, I will write the stories, compile them with grace, with brave and honest recollections, “The Colors of my Bible” will be its title.

Because, six months ago, I scribbled this hurried question across the page of my journal. Writing the words in an anxious “gotta write this down before I decide it’s too heavy to write…to even think!”

“Lisa, what if it is God’s will for you to write a book…200 pages or so…and one person, maybe two connects with your story and has hope, understands God more clearly, believes in redemption in a way that’s not just a word for others?  Isn’t that enough? Wouldn’t that be more than enough? “

So, continue. Finish. This is your treasure, honor it. Write God’s book.

This is your Treasure in you, a humble and hesitant jar of earthly clay, created by God.

 

 

Healed

Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized

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She walked in slowly, not yet feeling welcome.

I’ve known her almost a year now and yet, she has a ways to go in not being afraid or unworthy.

We worked together on a matter of crisis she might not have been able to handle.

We talked about her worth. She was surprised when I listed her qualities, when I questioned whether she agreed; maybe more surprised by how strongly I insisted on her worthiness.

She broke her leg last year. We had to move her to the downstairs room of our shelter. It was a tough time.

She said to me out of the blue, in the middle of our meeting, “I can’t believe my leg doesn’t even hurt. I can’t believe that broken bone got healed.”

We both smiled.

A friend stopped by on Tuesday to talk about our programs collaborating more. We decided on a new initiative to prioritize a mother’s thinking, giving value and purpose to their lives, the gift of their child.

We prayed together; she first, then me.

I thanked God for her and the time she prayed for me, in agreement with me and the falling apart time she got me through.

I heard her sigh and felt the emotion of her surprise, my mentioning her to God.

It was raw, almost touchable, as if she felt God’s hearing of my voice.

Because in that moment, the thing we didn’t discuss, my healing, was real and she’d been a part of it.

The broken place was healed finally.

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of grace who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. I Peter 5:10

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five minute friday :: heal

 

Love and Prayer

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

 

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…one of his disciples said, “Lord teach us to pray.” Luke 11:1

And he answered them.

If there are things people might know me by, have to come to mind when my name is mentioned,

May it be that I pray and that I love.

That love may not only show in acts; but my eyes reflect the softness of accepting another…as they are.

And may my prayers be quietly powerful, repelling all harsh or hard things, wrapping others in the beautiful paradox of God’s gentle strength.

More than my paintings, expressive words, talks in fancy settings or boastful sharings of the gifts of my children and family.

Not some big to-do, just lots and lots of little “do’s” done with love. Constant and confident recollections of God hearing my prayer and coming near, of His demonstrative love towards us all.

Love and prayer, prayer and love. Content in this place of solitude, this pursuit of discipleship,

I pray I be.