prayer, life

Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

 

It occurred to me just now that I never prayed for Paris.

I posted an image and  typed a captioned prayer; but, I never prayed for Paris.

My words, a prayer for Paris.  But, I never prayed.

I captioned my prayer with a  photo for impact, shared it and got “likes” and “Amen’s”.

My prayer:

Dear Lord, comfort those who are afraid, terrorized and in shock. Strengthen us, equip us to stand courageously and turn our hearts towards you even more so as we remain faithful to you, our God. #prayforparis

FB_IMG_1447896513028 And I know without doubt my prayer was seen by God.

Was a sincere and imploring request for peace and mercy.

Still, I never prayed for Paris.

So, tonight, inundated by media, social and otherwise; I felt sad at the realization that I had joined the Pray for Paris trend, yet never thought to pray.

I wonder how many did. How many prayed?

Prayer, to me is surrender in a conversation with God.

Lately, I’ve been reminded that my prayer life, my understanding of prayer is not the same as others.

I’m not opposed to Mimosas; but, I am opposed to Prayer Breakfasts that are simply gatherings with champagne and orange juice held in the early morning hours.

I am thankful to be a part of meetings that still open in prayer;  but,  if the prayer is scripted and poetic, I will just pray silently in my seat.

For me,  prayer is more than ritual, it’s God waiting to hear what He already knows as we give it over to be unraveled, worked out… the expression of our hearts…hurt, joy, anger, distress and dilemma given over to God in childlike submission and acknowledgement of sovereign knowledge.

I see prayer as humble respect of authority.

I talk to God and I wait and then, I see.

I notice little things, answers found within smallest of occurrence in my day.

Something will happen and there it is, “Yes, God, you heard me”.

I thank God often, not as often as I should;  I ask for answers sometimes, other times I desperately plea for a sign of His favor.

I pray “Show me your glory.” or  “Bless my children today in unexpected ways.”

Everyday, a surrender.

Everyday, a chance to pray knowing God is in control.

I pray for my children and my husband daily.

Sometimes, unknown to them, at their bedside with knees down, open hands upward, my face cushioned by their covers.

I want them to sense God.

I ask God, simply and sincerely to put smiles on their faces.

Paris seemed so far away I guess, so I only thought of praying.

I joined thousands who said they were praying, that they would

Pray for Paris.

I will pray for Paris tonight and try to remember to again pray tomorrow.

For Paris

If I forget or get busy I am certain of tonight’s prayer being heard.

Because, tonight I will.

Pray for Paris

And my prayer will be heard.

 

 

 

Troubled Hearts and All

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder
The day, already designed

The day, already designed

If it were possible for God to be perplexed by us

I wonder which would trouble Him more

Our hearts or our minds?

The sky was filtering early signs of sunlight finally, today.

Just before dawn I noticed and stopped to ponder my wavering faith.

To settle my thoughts on one word, All.

To trust in all my ways with all  my heart .

Proverbs 3:5-6

Proverbs 3:5-6

If God were troubled, annoyed, frustrated

Would my less than grateful heart be the cause?

My heart is confident and assured at times, but if reminded somehow of loss or regret I go right back to solemn and sullen. So quickly my mood can move from presence of good to  overshadowed by the past.

So, I’m wondering this morning what life would be like if God grew impatient and bewildered when we turn our hearts back to the shadows and we

get stuck there

unwilling to embrace goodness.

Would he be more confounded by darkened hearts or questioning minds?

Minds that doubt His design, losing sleep.

A prayer before sleep last night, a lament of surrender led me to wake earlier today.  Vacant thoughts slowly led to recall of a  “memory verse” that beckoned me forward.

Trust more, Lisa.

All your heart, not just a little.

All your ways, not just some.

And then in the quiet, a reply,  “It’s good that you’re back, Lisa.  Hope you stay a little longer this time.”

Grace, grace, God’s grace.

He’s a good, good Father.

Just a hint, rising up, peeking through. Waiting and believing with all my heart, all my mind.

Just a hint of light, peeking through. Waiting and believing with all my heart, all my mind.

Following Closely

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

Having absolutely no natural sense of direction, I was unsure of the right road.

I almost stopped, rolled down my window and asked for help.

Instead, I sensed moving forward rather than turning would have me end up in the right place. photo-8_kindlephoto-6343999

And just ahead, yes, this is where you should be!

Other times, I’ve lost my way.

Second guessed a left or right turn, rationalized the direction that made sense, felt best or quicker.

Kept going because I’d gone too far, knowing with each step I was lost.

Roads continuing farther away than planned and  me thinking

       “Oh, just go a little farther, don’t turn back yet; just ahead you’ll see you’re where you should be.”

Told myself, stop doubting, worrying, you can trust yourself.

Yet, ending up lost and looking to be found.

I’m lost less often than in years past.

Thank goodness. Thank God.

I’ve learned that traveling alongside the one who directs me is easier than turning back.

Running back, mostly.

Reminded of my need to be guided, assisted, instructed, comforted by one who knows.

Reminded of times of clearest connections.

Of solace following desperate and heartbroken plea.

Remembering now of the best path,  sure although clearly unsure.

Trusting the directions, the One directing.

How can we understand the road we travel?  It is the Lord who directs our steps.   Proverbs 20: 24

‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus.

Oh, for grace to  trust Him more.

 

Humility, a New Path

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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It occurred to me today that moving through change towards your heart’s desire is simply just to keep moving.

I wouldn’t have expected both desires to begin to grow stronger at the same time.

Saturday,  I wrote for two hours and then I painted for three.

My writing was good for me, it was representative of my heart.

My art, tedious and detailed causing me to almost quit

Instead I sat it aside, went back and then

Leaning it against the wall for a long look, I was satisfied in its message.

This morning, I woke thinking of humility vs. insecurity and I determined the difference.

Humility is strength enough to move towards accomplishment with no concern for acclaim.  Humility is simply patience on the path while listening to God’s quiet direction forward.

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Growing up along the fence, I would have missed this if I had not decided to take just a few extra steps to a place in my own backyard.

What does God have for us that’s just a few extra steps off our habitual or unbelieving path?

Beauty and wisdom are found in the places we avoid, are afraid of and for me, maybe you…the impossible places.

A friend said to me on Saturday, “You should be published.” And I smiled and instead of saying, “Oh, it’s hard or maybe or I doubt it” I said,

“God is moving me to the place of His purpose.”

You can make many plans, but the Lord’s purpose will prevail. Proverbs 19:21

Persisting

courage, Faith, praise, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

There are a few, maybe more than a few things I am persistent in.

I always make my bed, taut linens, perfectly smoothed quilt.

I pray every morning in the shower, like singing it’s a place to be secret, a sanctuary.

I journal, sometimes half-heartedly,  gratitude and anxiety.

I walk in the evenings, if daylight allows.  My walking, sometimes good and refreshing, sometimes nothing more than prescribed discipline.

Yet, I persist.

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I walked yesterday evening.  The sky was clear, the roads quiet and empty. I looked for pink skies and found only icy blue.

Earlier than usual, a warm afternoon and the sparrows were gathered,  moving tree to tree in rapid little sweeping flight.

Landing for just a second or two before gathering again to rest in brief refrain.  I caught sight of one resting up high on skinny branch.

Reminding me of rest, of waiting, of listening and trusting.photo 1-6_kindlephoto-41021794

Persisting.

Scribbling, quickly this morning

Again my thoughts on persistence.

It may take years and years and many types of trouble, calamity, crisis and question to truly understand the value of prayer. 

Because the answer holds little value, is really no more than change in circumstances. God loves us so, so much that He will bless us with reprieve, with clarity, with relief.  

Still, this is not the significance of God’s longing for us to discover through prayer.  God’s desire and constant beckoning of our hearts is for us to lay our hearts bare and broken before him…to persist there in that place…aligned with Him. To be fully content in simply abiding.

To return to rest in the safe place of God.

To persist in pursuit of the peace of God.

To be hid in the shadow of His wings and that be all we need to keep us confident and courageous as He bends to listen, protect and strengthen.  This is design and desire of God.

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I am praying to You, because I know You will answer O God.  Bend down, listen as I pray.  Your unfailing  love is wonderful and You save with Your strength those who seek you as a refuge.  Guard me as the apple of Your  eye.  Hide me in the shadow of your wings.  

Psalm 17: 6-8

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Linking up to Tell His Story with other writers, persistently praying.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/for-those-times-when-you-dont-see-a-happy-ending-to-your-story-tellhisstory/

Day 7 of 31 days of UNimpressive writing: words of prayer

Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I woke up feeling blah and my mind went back to a certain word.

Words are light

Words are light

I hear a word, find a word it’s descriptive nature so truthful, so perfect… that I go back and ponder its meaning.

Thinking, “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant, so clearly what I felt”.

I’m hesitant to say this.

Not everyone has a love for words like me.

Not all people are “noticers” as my friend who understands me  says we are.

“We notice things.” he says.

We linger in thoughtful remembrance of meaning.

My children, when they were younger, rolled their eyes, groaned and said  “Why do you always have to use such big words? Just use normal words!”

I refused to be swayed. “Why would we have words, if not to use them?  If you have words, you should use them.”

This morning, I woke with a sense of apathy.

I used that word last week when describing my concern over tone in voice that had me worried, an impenetrable attitude, a denial of doubting; yett, their tone spoke a resigned disbelief in most everything.

I told my friend, “There was just such apathy in their voice.”

And then,  another  friend,  I saw this forlorn resignation her face.

A face that’s been saying for so long,  “All is well.” had changed just slightly, head tilted,  eyes more downward.

Perhaps that day they woke with apathy…woke with indifference.

Apathy

Apathy

I heard apathy in the story of a child’s unthinkable choice.

Heard it in a story unexpected, tragic loss that made absolutely no sense. Heard it in the voice of a friend grieving.

Yesterday evening, the heavy stories piled up and I decided I must go for a walk!

I walked and was briefly a little better, guided by sunset horizon of rose-colored clouds.

It had been a while since sunlight.

My daughter, camera in hand, crouched in grassy roadside field taking photos

Seeing her, seeking beauty of light

like me.

Laughter, between us before bed as I disciplined my thoughts to continue towards hope.

Praying, believing.

Woke this morning and there it was to welcome me,  apathy.

I woke with sense of  “No need, doesn’t matter anyway”.

Woke with the notion that I’ve worn out my welcome at the feet of the father. That I’ve talked it to death, that I’ve become quite the nuisance.

The outcome’s been determined already anyway, why must you belabor the matter?

But then, my thoughts went to what I know,  surrender and abiding.

I wondered how is apathy any different from surrender?

If I surrender, I trust.

If I surrender, I am remembering that God is Sovereign…yielding.

Surrender to light

Surrender to light

A surrendered heart is a heart with light, a heart that is resting, not doubting.

Apathy feels like God has done more than he should. More than He will, that woeful mindset of bad things already to come.

Apathy is darkness, doubt and disconnect.  Surrender is abiding in light.

The light makes all the difference.

“And we thank Thee that the darkness reminds us of light.”  T.S. Eliot

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Day 5 of 31 Days of UNimpressive Writing: Geese, Bluebirds and New Chances to Love

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

The geese were back this morning.

First time in days.

I turned to make my way back inside, stopping to gather fallen leaves and heard their approach.Their sound a celebration of the day, exuberant and joyous it seemed.

I held fragile leaves in my hand, turned towards the sounds of geese and joined in their flight, my mind there with them, moving forward, renewed and committed to the day.

 

The ground is soaked here,  covered in pine needles today. We were spared the damage of wind and flood, our yard simply evidence of rain, constant torrential showers.  photo 1I was thankful today for leafy, wind tousled and soaking wet ground.  Wet, muddy yard scattered with pretty color; my feet were planted in a level spot and I glanced towards the damp, steely sky.

 

My cousin called this morning and we talked of life, of children, of God.  We were getting carried away, consistent in our anguish, of things we can’t let go, things that frustrate us. We talked about the flood of our weekend and she shared her experience of Hurricane Katrina. This flood, Joaquin prompted storm, had both she and her husband reliving the trauma. I told her I’m very afraid of water and wonder if people will be found dead in their homes. She said “Most likely” and shared of homes ravaged by Katrina that were marked with an “X” to indicate a dead person inside.

We meandered back to the subject of our children then.

We understand why we’ve mothered the way we have; just don’t know why we keep going back there,

Trying to be the mother they’ve outgrown.

The mother that meets our need, not theirs.

We’re making progress though, beginning to think as God thinks of us, agreeing that the greatest desire of our lives has been to parent well, differently, unquestionably committed to our sons and daughters.

We have been and are good mothers. We know this.

Never occurred to me until just now, I thought to myself.  “I’ve parented well, absolutely wholeheartedly. Let God lead them now. ”

photo-8_kindlephoto-10073793

She got quiet, thinking, I assumed then excitedly announced  “There are bluebirds in my yard. The most beautiful bluebirds are just outside on my porch!”

“God is telling us to have hope”,  I said. ” He’s telling us to let go now, we’ve done our part, he’s ready to take it from here.”

They’ve left our nests; well-loved and knowing they are loved.

There are new, bright places for them to grow,  us too.

Loved well and loving well.

New places to grow

photo-9_kindlephoto-10185522

 

 

Day 4 of 31Days of UNimpressive writing: Good Stories

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust

Every month, I get the chance to share my thoughts, my heart, my place with God and through God in a monthly Faith column.

It’s an honest place for my thoughts to land and is always a reflection of life,work, family, helping, trusting, questioning and living a life that reminds of grace.  Persistent prayer, the truthful and loving lesson of God, the conversation starters of God’s glorious mercy revealed.

I get to write stories of God every month

I get to write stories of God every month

October’s Faith Column, Good Stories

Yesterday, I had the chance to sit amongst several elderly women as they gathered for their Women’s Mission group.  Their first meeting after a summer off, they were given the opportunity to share a happy memory of their summer.  One shared about becoming a great-grandparent, another about a surprise 50th wedding anniversary gift and finally a third, a widow, shared about moving to a new home.  She greeted me upon entering the room, vibrant and with a welcomingly genuine smile. Her face, I noticed was smooth and beautiful with the glow of happiness, a foundation that can’t be purchased at any cosmetics counter.  Her new home, she shared, is an apartment in an assisted living facility. She smiled when I told her she lives just across the street from my office and that I could come by for a visit, that I bet she has some very good stories.  She said “Oh, please do stop by.”  I thought of the stories she may have, her countenance one of peace, I found myself longing to hear her stories of grace, of faith, of persistence.

I was their guest speaker.  They wanted to hear about a program that’s often described as a mission: Nurture Home, a transitional shelter for women and children who are homeless.  They listened as I detailed facts and figures, the structure of the program and the overall condition of homelessness in South Carolina. I stopped when we focused on the effect of homelessness on children and integrated a favorite story of a precious little boy telling me, “ I love my new house, thank you for my bed”.  I shared my favorite stories of lives we’ve touched, opportunities to come alongside women and walk with them as they navigate the detours of their lives. I couldn’t help but notice that the faces of the listeners changed as I sat aside my materials and told the stories of hardship and hope restored. They agreed with me; stories make all the difference.

Stories like Jesus told, parables of people like you and I travelling the road of life, relying on hope and faith. The parables of Jesus are of people who believed after meeting Jesus and of people who were steadfast despite setbacks.  The stories are of Jesus as he engaged with his listeners and his disciples, his followers and his doubters; Jesus was the ultimate story teller. His parables are timeless, making our circumstances and our concerns relatable.

In the book of Luke, Chapter 18, we have a chance to understand the value of persistence. Having recently experienced a big answered prayer in my life followed closely by another set of questions and doubt, it has become clear to me that the prayer God longs for is the prayer of persistence. The prayer that doesn’t say, “Oh, thank you, God that was awesome, I’ll talk to you later.”, rather a prayer that demonstrates a commitment to a relationship of patient supplication and trust.  In verses 1 through 8, we hear the story of a widow who refused to give up on her plea for justice. An ungodly judge refused to grant her request for justice against her adversary, (vs.3) He eventually honored her persistent plea even though he thought he had no fear of her God, saying “I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually wear me out with her coming!” (vs.5) He saw she wasn’t giving up.   Jesus shared this parable with his disciples to demonstrate that surely if an unkind judge would grant a persistent widow’s wish; wouldn’t it make sense that God will hear the cries of his chosen ones when we cry out to him day and night?

I’ve been thinking about persistence in terms of the longings of my heart; thinking of setbacks, of issues I felt had been resolved through answered prayer that had proven otherwise, or not quite yet. I thought of friends who are waiting for answers in health issues, serious diagnoses and uncertainty of their days.  I thought of the widow who lives across the street and how I’d love to hear her stories of confident determination and persistence in prayer. I’m convinced her stories include prayers, and that they are persistent prayers and I just may go over for a visit.  Everyone has a story, a story made better with God, a good story.

Day 2 of 31 Days of UNimpressive writing: only from the heart: Our Given Names

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability

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There’s a story about my mama’s name, mine too.  She, Bette Jean, was supposed to have been called Elizabeth.

Mama wanted to call me Libby. Daddy said “No, that’s a can of peaches.”  My grandma, “Bama” agreed to my name being Lisa; but, insisted on the Anne that follows.

Who’s to say whether we, over time, become our names or they were just right for us all along. My mama surely was not Elizabeth-like.

Couldn’t see her as a Liz or a Beth; Bette, for sure.

And me? Libby is cute, perky, and pretty. Not me. Lisa Anne is who I am, who I have become.

Heather could have been Olivia and Austin was almost Zachary.

Teaching love

Heather Analise, a child of God

Heather, open to life and at peace near open fields and cows. Her name fits. Analise added as a middle, pretty and classic.

Austin, James Austin, again just right. James a solid and reputable name, Austin, a  nod to the dry humor and surprisingly big heart of his great-grandfather.

James Austin.a child of God

James Austin.a child of God

My children’s names, the names they have become.

I am thinking of the unthinkable today. One in college, the other a teacher leading a classroom of the youngest students.

I am trying, but struggling to place myself in the minds of the parents of students killed in Oregon.

I am wondering how, in the aftermath of terror and shock, I would feel to know that when asked, my children said they were Christians, told to stand and then shot.

I visualize not so clearly and can sort of imagine the scene.

Young adults, students, surprised by the intrusive presence of a peer with a gun, afraid; but,  deciding to go with his demands, to not cause anger, to remain quiet, not draw attention to self.

To cower. To be compliant. I imagine this might have been their thinking in effort to survive.

Until, the question

“Are you a Christian?”

My children are Christians.

I witnessed the salvation of both and I’ve seen them acknowledge in ways big, small, private and outspoken, their faith.

They know Jesus.  Jesus knows them.

People know that they know Jesus.

Children of God. A name that can’t be denied.

I am praying for the Oregon mamas and daddies, parents of children of God.

Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become  Children of God. John 1:12

Thank you, Lord, for my name and for the names of my children.

Day 1 of 31: Slow Mornings and Clarity

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

There will be no planning ahead in this 31 day challenge.  My words, if I remember them all,  will be thoughts that show up and make sense in an all of sudden way.

For me, for now.

This morning, I added in the final page of my latest journal its dates, 6/19-10/30.

A thick journal filled with quite alot, heavy and pretty ecru colored pages marked with dailies. I have loved this book and its time.

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I woke this morning, surprised I’d not heard the rain.

Made sense though, I slept through the normal noises of morning.

Coffee, lamplight, stack of books and me

My morning spot.

New journal in hand, the one quaintly adorned with a feather to remind, I begin my day.

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Resigned and surrendered to what may come as I read the words of Matthew, their beckoning tone of rest.   A new place for me, accepting and trusting, come what may or what will.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”  Matthew 11:28-30

I moved about lazily as I am prone to do, moving closer towards leaving my spot in the lamplight, my little morning corner.

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Quiet house,  slow and easy, my favorite way now.

Thinking of answered prayers, of prayers offered and of prayer meeting last night,

Ten or so of us, standing in hand holding circle to pray.

Each pray-er a different tone, a different grateful heart, a different sound of supplicate

I stopped then to remember more clearly as I glanced again, pausing at the prayer filled journal

A compilation of yearning, of growth, of challenge and surrender.

My mind, quiet then and more clearly causing me to wait, to let my thoughts making sense rest for a bit there.

To say:

“This morning, Lisa, here is where you are.”

” I have learned so much of myself, many things more clearly

all because

I have finally allowed God to teach me.”