Grace in the Silence of Morning

courage, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I heard it most clearly

As the rain fell steady and fluid.

It continued through the night.

I’d wake and hear it’s shrill and consistent cry.

Then, drifting back as opportunity allowed, only to be roused again.

A solitary bird, must be a baby I decided…somehow stranded, lost, seeking to be found.

So, morning comes and the dogs must have heard it too.

So anxious to be let out

Rushing through the door, bolting towards back yard, barking frantically at the sky, full retrieval mode.

Barking and circling the yard, looking up from rain-soaked trunks, tracking the cry of a solitary bird.

Where are you?

What do you need?

Their barks, a seeking and determined banter.

And I followed behind, just as intent, looking up towards skinny and broken pine limbs way up high.

Looking to find the place of this needy, deliberate, and insisting cry.

Others joined, a variety of bird, more melodic as daylight pushed its way through drizzled gray.

The lone bird’s cry paused, finally.

Had been responded to, so grew softer then, more expectant.

Not so shrill, not so impatiently anxious.

The morning then, a harmonious repose.

So. as the morning goes, I find myself in my familiar place.

Jotting, reading, praying, sipping coffee and finding words.

Opening my heart, it’s an effortless sort of graceful gift.

God hears my silent and seeking cry again.

As my thoughts become settled and silent.

God’s words making sense every morning.

Easy in the silence.

The Lord will fight for you, and you only have to be silent.

Exodus 14:14

To Be with Jesus

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I wouldn’t say it was the very first thought today.

But, once I had sweet creamy coffee in hand, I sat and then thought.

Morning

Lord, what is it you will teach me today?

I’d read from the Book of Mark yesterday and would be picking back up there. Jesus with people, seeking, following or doubting…all hearers of His stories, parables and encounters. I’d have been captivated

I would hope so.

I wonder, if I’d been one of the chosen 12 or at least had time in His midst

Would I have been an attentive and engrossed student

Listening closely, comforted and content?

Or might I have been one to question, to be agitated by notions of what should have been a more prolific and royal presence?

Mark 6:6

Would I have been disappointed?

Wondering, who is this friend of sinners, teacher and one who beckoned everyone…come closer, listen?

Would I have hunkered down, found a quiet place in the boat, raging storm all around; nevertheless, secure because of His nearness?

Or would my fears have gotten the best of me, untrusting

And He marveled because of their unbelief. And He went about among the villages teaching. Mark 6:6

Unwilling to believe?

Would my terror have led to anger, so much that I questioned this man sleeping in stormy waters…this healer, this soon to be Savior?

I wonder if I would have known His peace or panicked.

I wonder if I’d been one following close behind Him on narrow paths of dirt

If I’d have been a happy disciple or a fatigued and weary traveler.

Would I have been bitter over Jesus stopping to notice a greedy little man in a tree, a filthy, lonely soul covered in sores, or a brazen woman aware of her sin, yet still hoping for redemption?

Or would I have known the purpose of the stories?

Would I have been impatient, expecting an elaborate and rehearsed lecture to prepare for the kingdom, culture, or citizenship to come.

Scholarly and pompous, would I have shown up only to be given wise instructions?

Or would I have listened like a child at His feet, hanging on words that told of a wayward son’s choosing wealth over work, pig troughs, the worth of sparrows, not hiding lights under bushels, and seeds sown the right way so as to grow big, big faith?

I hope I’d have been the one who rose early to be with Jesus

To ask

Morning glorious

“Jesus, what is it I need to hear today?”

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story

Psalm 23, Art and Rest

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

Psalm 23…scribbled in the corner

I almost painted over it…the brush strokes too wide and thick. “Psalm 23”, I called this one and decided to leave the words in its corner.

On the 26th day, I read Psalm 23, following the guide in the back of my Bible. Before that, I’d read from Genesis. Fine pencil lines marking the words of Joseph’s father, a very old man, realizing his son had not died. A beautiful story, son clinging to father, tears soaking shoulder.

I read from the Book of Mark, an account of Jesus in the early days of healing. A man, paralyzed, delivered to Jesus to be healed, forgiven, walking. Believing first, then with healed legs, moving forward.

Then, Psalm 23, I lingered there. I thought of green pastures.

Shady, wide-branched trees and blue, blue sky.

And on this day, I thought all day long of resting.

This painting was purchased weeks ago, I wondered by whom for awhile. It’s size large and painted on antique door.

Then, this week a call, a note for me had been mailed to the shop.

The young newlywed wife from Oregon wrote to thank me.

“The painting hangs over our bed” , she wrote. “It’s calming.

I’m not religious, but Psalm 23 speaks to me.”

I read the note, tears in my eyes because I’d lingered there that morning, 23rd Chapter, Book of Psalms.

I cherish this now, a thank you note from a couple, my painting hangs in their home evoking rest.

And just last week, walking, a longing in my heart.

I’d prayed, “Lord, help me see my worth, help me know I matter.”

23rd Psalm, resting, restoring…walking in valleys and shadows.

Little sketches or big paintings on old wood….comforting like cool grass under shade of tree.

I shall lie down…my soul restored.

Goodness and Possibility

courage, Faith, family, grace, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

May the Lord fulfill all your petitions! Psalm 20:5

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

This daily, hourly, prompted or not

Offering up, recording, pouring out or simply conversing with you, God.

Less uncertainty

More possibility.

Less effort, more expectation.

Believing, although not knowing.

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

For intercession.

For just the slightest of change in my dilemma, desire or discontent.

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

For big, big changes that cause my awe of you.

Give credence to my conviction.

And for subtle and secret answers. Answers that ease mind and soul.

Answers that wrap me in ease of mind, sense of coming change.

Acceptance of my lot or just contentment in the waiting.

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

For seeing, knowing, calming and blessing.

You bless me indeed. Surrounding me with those I love and enlightening me by bringing those I need…people placed on my path to teach and grow me. You keep your hand on me and with gentle caution you stop my rushing forward. You prevent me from causing pain. You hear my thoughts, my prayers.

You intercede on my behalf.

Thank you, God, for goodness and possibility.

In Jesus name, Amen

Semblance of Word

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

I especially like when words match feelings to a “t”.

Did you know to endure means to suffer patiently?

As if to expect tough times; yet, with patience

Enduring, knowing salvation will come.

But the one who endures to the end will be saved. Matthew 24:13

I love too, when what we think is random or coincidence is in fact much more.

So much more.

When I’m surprised by the semblance of one thing and another.

And I stop.

Oh, my. This is God.

This is God.

I bought this little cinched up bag, folded slips of paper inside.

Reach in, take one out, think about it, maybe tuck under magnet on fridge.

Bible verses, take one out, see if it resonates.

So, today…the verse spoke of endurance.

Praying before reading, as usual. I asked for good days for my children, a reprieve, for a “let-up” so to speak.

Requesting goodness, ease, blessings and for them to sense God.

They’ve been enduring.

And I’ve been praying.

This morning, I pulled a little slip out and read. Then, my daily reading per outline, Genesis, Psalms, Matthew.

Matthew 24, today. Day 21.

Synchronicity in words.

Enduring.

Semblance of prayer and word.

Over 31,000 verses in the Bible. Today I needed just one…twice.

God in the details.

Enduring.

Just Stay Near

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

A toddler’s hand, small and supple in the hand of a father

A frail and spotted one held firmly but tenderly as feet move intentional, yet uncertain towards someplace.

Quiet Confidence…Abiding.

The one leading speaking softly, with intention

Stay with me, just hold my hand.

Don’t let go.

Because maybe abiding is not so much perfection or unwavering trust.

Maybe abiding in Christ is just staying near, remembering what happens when hearts and feet wander.

Maybe steadfast trust doesn’t look all bright, shiny and triumphant.

Ironically, more of a resemblance to resignation.

Because surrender is not always defeat.

It’s acceptance with full hearts, hands, feet and mind at rest.

It’s moving forward with deliberate and thoughtful feet, despite the cold, hard questioning days.

Determined, not despondent.

Just staying near. Staying is sufficient.

Sufficient, like grace.

Feet may falter, hearts may fumble.

Frailty might give way to fear.

Just stay near.

I think of how much you have helped me;

I sing for joy in the shadow of your protecting wings.

I follow close behind You;

Your strong right hand holds me securely.

Psalm 63:7-8

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee, telling His story.

Tell His Story

Understanding Skies

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

clarity

I’m not one to toss and turn. If I’m troubled, I go to bed.

Say to myself, tomorrow will be another day.

Then, place one hand on my chest and pray.

Silently, easy like water traveling a slow path to a broad river.

With morning and time come newness.

The sky was a wide expanse of cold, pale lavender today.

Its width cloudless and open. Enough open space to learn.

An expansive sky, with just a faint glimmer of sunlight in tall tree.

epiphany

My eyes rested there and remembered my earlier revelation.

I hurt someone’s feelings trying to be right. Looking for answers to a question already known with certainty. I have a few sayings.

One of them is never ask a question you know the answer to.

Asking for trouble. Not answers. Asking to be right when being right makes no difference in the hurt, adds harm to hurt.

I was self-righteous. Smug, hot-headed and determined to point of the wrong in another causing hurt that was never intended.

I begged God to fix my mistake. Not the answer you need, said God.

The answer is seeing, truly seeing.

Epiphany, in an insightfully clear sky.

The manifestation of Christ in me, with me despite errant will.

Looking down, it’s still there. I thought of adding to my collection earlier, decided to let it rest instead.

A petite pine cone, stiff with the cold and shining silver in brown straw.

And I smiled, remembering gifts of baby pine cones she brought.

boots and pinecones

O Lord, you have searched me and known me!

You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.

Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.

Psalm 139: 1-8

Dreams and mornings

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, rest, Vulnerability, wonder

Colt and I sat for a bit this morning as the darkness lingered in the rain. His usual sauntering towards the door could wait I suppose, as if he knew.

Some thoughts, memories, random comments spoken yesterday found their way out last night.

Out from the places in my mind that apparently were unsatisfied with the time I devoted to pondering.

That’s where dreams come from, I’ve decided, good, bad, scary or beautifully outlandish.

They’re just bits of thoughts, really.

Not seen through to the end, tied up neatly, put away.

I dream quite grandly. I notice explicitly, don’t just discard my thoughts, that I put them aside for later.

This morning, I unraveled the night’s inventory of yesterday’s profound incompleteness of thoughts.

And, the big dog rested his head on the edge of his bed, heaved a satisfied sigh and waited there.

I notice most everything, ponder things longer than most.

It’s a gift and a burden. A gift, because I care deeply.

A burden because my mind sometimes hoards what should be let go, the irrelevant and the irrational.

Holds onto a thought, a conversation and then goes to bed with

“What if?

So, I rose early on my day off. Saw my daughter who went to bed exhausted and achy as bright as sunshine and crisp as blue sky, heading out into rainy darkness to bless little 4-year olds.

Thankful she was not sick and I smiled at the thought of bride.

Just a little blip of a bad and worrisome dream….not reality,

Yay for a pretty wedding in less than three months!

And my son was asleep, his last day at home. He had not left with his guitar on his back without saying goodbye.

Another dream, not so much a “blip”.

More like a marathon on Netflix, an engrossing drama, looking everywhere for something, all vivid characters and colors.

Dreams that make you thrilled for morning.

Mornings mean clarity and gratitude.

Best things about it to me along with coffee and Bible.

Big dog patiently waiting as I scribble, read, thank.

Until we begin the day, noticing.

Noticing all day, all the goods, turning the not

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Mid-night scattered thoughts on brevity and prayer

courage, Faith, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

There’s nothing like 3:00 a.m. logic.

Oh, to be so simply satiated in thoughts, words and actions just hours earlier.

Darkest of dark times. Yet, clear as glass.

What a rambling of text, my attempt to convey hope, my writing earlier.

Thinking I’d present a different perspective on faith.

One sentence, maybe two would have sufficed, been quite the gist of it all.

I had prayed earlier in the day for my friend. Walking down the hallway, I remembered…”you need to pray for Melanie, what we’re hoping for will come true for her.”

Believing what we’ve asked

So, I did. I prayed,

Lord, I’m not quite sure of what all is wrong. What needs to be healed. But, Lord please let this be a time of good news, of healing for Mel.”

Went to sleep then…to be woken by thoughts.

Troubled by the discombobulated collection of words written earlier.

Knowing simplicity would suffice. Less is more. No need to circle around and round pounding my rambling words.

I wondered then what God thinks of us when we pray. I wonder if he, engaged like a reader waiting for new words sometimes longs for brevity.

After all, He knows our thoughts and concerns. He just desires we lay them there at His feet and then turn to rest, trust and wait.

To rise with clarity.

To walk as visuals, examples of simple utterance of need already known.

Today, my read through plan of the Bible led me to Matthew 8.

A collection of the stories of requests for healing, of the healed.

A leper who prayed. A Centurion who prayed for lowly servant. A man praying for his mother-in-law. The busy one longing to follow Jesus, worried over who’d have to be left behind. The many possessed by demons, turning towards a good God.

The fearful in midst of storm, calmed by His presence alone.

I have three friends I’ve not seen in many years. One had a scare last year with her heart. Another’s sweet husband has cancer. And Mel, she’s tough as nails and determined.

And we all are praying and we all are believing.

The Lord has heard my plea. The Lord accepts my prayer. Psalm 6:9

In the morning, when I rise, give me Jesus.

Seeking, Walking, Seeing

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I can certainly see why people may find faith, trust and surrender to God as futile activities. All require the giving up of control, of engagement in outcome and of the opportunity to collaborate outcomes for our own lives.

Still, I begin my day with God. Some days, though, I’m only midway through and have forgotten the strength of my time.

I falter, seeking again to see things unclear. Just a few minutes every morning, storing up reserves of wisdom, most likely needed for recall by noon. Some days I’m more disciplined, more connected. Some not.

A day can change directions in an instant when doubt, fear, and insecurities take the wheel.

I’ve begun to read through the Bible this year. I’m up to Chapter 6 of Genesis. Already, I’m understanding Eve and her choice to eat from the forbidden tree in a new way. I can empathize with Eve, the one responsible for changing the plans of God

What a frighteningly honest admission.

The one who caused our viscious cycle of honoring God only to question God. The first of us, responsible for all of man, of woman, incapable of resting in the place of not knowing, the place of trust.

Eve was tricked, she rationalized her behavior…how can it be wrong for me to know good from evil, to know what is to come? The words of the serpent made sense. Sometimes make sense to me.

For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Genesis 3:5

Today started strong for me as far as my faith. An engaging lesson, a beautiful song and my pastor’s convicting message.

After lunch though, my mind drifted, couldn’t find rest. I wondered about this, doubted that.

Moving through afternoon with nothing more than mindless chores towards evening, I decided at dusk to walk.

Reluctantly moving my thoughts, my feet, my mood, seeking God nevertheless. My walks are seeking walks. Whether I intend them to be or not.

The sky was blue this evening. Not blue like ocean, bright tiles or happy eyes on freckled face child. The blue was of winter on a Sunday marking the end of the day on the cusp of hopeful next.

I turned to see the sunset from various spots on my path. And it happened. I paused in God’s nearness.

Then walked on towards home, towards the unknowns of tomorrow.

Its good and its evil, perhaps.

My life in God’s hands.

Content in the reminding.

O’ Lord, in the morning you hear my voice… Psalm 5:3

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