Redemption

Cats, Cards and Christ

Advent, courage, Faith, grace, heaven, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability, wonder

Christmas cards fastened by clips to twine looped like a garland and no idea why, but I left this little kitty cat on the shelf.

Except it’s where it’s always been and I believe I brought it home from my mama’s or I picked it up when we all went “junkin'”.

I pulled a piece of greenery from my centerpiece and decided the cat should wear it around its neck.

Made a little circle, too small and decided oh well, I’ll add some twine, make it fit.

Now the black cat with polka dots who lives on my shelf looks different, looks like Christmas.

This morning, I read a verse from John. Lots of people know it, children can recite it; it’s a simple one that has another that follows and expands its meaning.

So many times I read only part, retain only a portion, there’s always more for me to know, more to surprise me by my knowing.

About God’s ways, His love, His wants for me, for us all.

This verse is best left simple, best brought to mind at Christmas. We may revisit Luke or Matthew or Mark; maybe Isaiah, looking for the story of Christmas.

We might remember the prophecies of old or cling to and listen more with an idea of hopeful truth that yes, a baby was born a long time ago and it was a sweet, sweet story, so spectacular it seems a fairy tale.

But, simply not so. Spectacular yes.

But fairy tale, no.

Our lives are changed because God made it possible for them to be changed, made new.

Because God loved the world He created.

And since it all got and gets a little sideways still

And He knows it. He gave His Son, His only Son.

Jesus.

Christ.

So, we could have eternal life, not perish in the mess we’ve made of what He created.

In the Book of John, Jesus explains his purpose to a Pharisee named Nicodemus who was a ruler and had a very hard time believing what Jesus made so simple to hear.

What is still so simple to hear. But hard to believe for some, hard to accept.

“For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.”

‭‭John‬ ‭3:16-17‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I sent a few cards this year, not nearly as many as I should.

Small and simple little cards with a sweet tree on the front unadorned with lights, just a tiny tree.

I added to the message of Merry Christmas

only the beginning,

For God so loved the world…

And then I signed, “love in Christ, Lisa”

Hoping I’d left room for longing to know more or that I reminded all who already know and like me can always, always use reminding.

That God is love and that Jesus was born to save all who will believe.

believe, life will surprise you…

Brandon Heath

(lyrics I rest with)

I Say I Believe

Advent, Angels, courage, Faith, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I just spoke with a precious soul who says she feels stuck. She says she can’t fathom how things might be because all she can think of is her guilt over what has not been yet.  All she can think of is this possibility that it might not turn out right again, that what she knows God wants her to believe might not be true.

She calls me her angel and I tell her  “Oh, I’m no angel.”

She said she read this morning about waiting and she felt the most real feeling that clear skies and days are coming soon. She said she felt God telling her that.

And so I told her, then hold on tight to that. Feel the feeling you have when you’re sure good is coming, when you believe what you’ve just said to me, silence the voices set up by your past that say nothing good is ever possible and all your dreams are empty promises.

That’s tough for one conditioned to expect hardship, tough for one accustomed to trauma and only beginning to climb the ladder of seeing more clearly what she might take the chance of believing.

She cried and she cried, streams of tears I thought I should lean towards her and catch in the palm of my hand.  Stop using “stuck” I told her, that’s not a word God would use to describe this time; God might use wait or trust or believe; but, I don’t believe he told you this morning you’re stuck.

She agreed and was better, only momentarily I know, still waiting to see if things will come true. We’ll talk again soon and I’ll remind her of taking steps and I’ll tell her not to be afraid, this time next year,  your life is going to be very different. Her eyes were brighter than before. She smiled, nodded. She knew.

I believe it.

The Book of Luke opens with the account of a righteous couple, Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah. Both of them old and with no children.

Elizabeth was barren. Zechariah had no son to carry on his name.

He was a priest and a dutiful man. I would imagine had accepted their marriage would be childless and they were set in their ways.

The angel Gabriel appeared to Zechariah and told him, you’re going to be a father.  Elizabeth is going have a son. He should be named John and he has a purpose, God is giving you this son and this son, John will prepare the way for Jesus. His purpose will be to ready the way for the Lord.

Zechariah was afraid. He questioned the possibility of this outlandish announcement by an angel who appeared as he carried out his priestly chores.

And then he was silent.

Zechariah said to the angel, “How can I be sure this will happen? I’m an old man now, and my wife is also well along in years.”

Then the angel said, “I am Gabriel! I stand in the very presence of God. It was he who sent me to bring you this good news! But now, since you didn’t believe what I said, you will be silent and unable to speak until the child is born. For my words will certainly be fulfilled at the proper time.” Luke 1:18-20

This passage stirs my curiosity. Did Zechariah persist in his argument? Was he made mute because of his arguments and insisting impossibility?

Or was Zechariah silenced for fear that his questions might lessen the magnitude of the angel’s appearing, of God’s plans for the coming John, making the way for Jesus?

Zechariah could not speak until the baby was born, required to wait until what he doubted was fulfilled.

Was he simply not prepared to share a story of such magnitude?!

Everyone must have wondered. He exited the temple to a throng of confused faces, tried to express what had happened using his hands in motion and then went home to wait with Elizabeth, hidden for five months. Was she afraid of announcing her miracle, was she waiting to be sure she was far enough along to make known she was with child?

Was there evidence of what the angel said?

Did she wait for the feeling of tiny foot in her torso or the flutter stirring up next to her soul, that mother thing we call intuition?

After six months the angel appeared to Mary, told her about Elizabeth and told her she too would conceive a baby. Mary was afraid, how could it be possible? I am young. I am a virgin.  The angel told her of Elizabeth’s conception, told her “nothing will be impossible with God.’ Luke 1: 37

And Mary began to believe and hurried to visit Elizabeth to see.

She walked through the door and the baby inside the womb of Elizabeth sensed the spirit already in Mary and responded with joyous movement.

Sort of an affirmation, yes, it is true.

They decided themselves both blessed.

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice, she exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy.Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!” Luke 1: 41-45

Meanwhile, Zechariah remained mute.

I imagine he had things to say, just couldn’t figure out how or maybe a welcome relief to be unable to speak.

Nobody waiting to listen, oh, his words would surely need to be profound.

An excuse for being sure enough of his words, certain of his proclamation, excited over his announcement.

I met with a friend last week. Gave her the first chapter of a book idea and asked her if she found it too brave.

I’ve asked her to be my writing accountability partner.

Told her I’m stuck.

We talked of how I’m conflicted over some things, write brave and authentic truths or water down and make pretty at least for the few minutes someone reads it to feel they might make it through.

I expected her to say don’t unearth everything.  Don’t be too hard, don’t cause others to worry or to feel uneasy. She said let God bring you the things needed to remember, don’t fret over what you can’t. Time has passed. Good will come from recollection you’re supposed to tell.

We talked about one memory and I shared with her what a revelation it was to hear a long ago memory of me, not at all pleasant; but true.

It was strangely affirming.

We both smiled and she said “How many women have felt the same way, regretted the same behavior and yet, long for someone else to say “me too?”

I’m more silent now and okay with it really.

I’m not unable to write, just waiting to be sure that the words I write will be the ones that God wants others to hear.

Like Zechariah, when questioned, why are you not naming your baby after yourself, to carry on the name, this is what’s expected and you finally got your chance?

Not just doing what’s expected.

“No.”, Elizabeth said and he agreed, we will do as God has planned. His name will be John and when asked to record the name in writing, the name Gabriel, the angel had advised them of, Zechariah’s voice returned, he could speak of his son.

He waited and in time, found his voice still there.

I will not give up on the story, the one I call “The Colors of My Bible”. I’ll just not rush it, conflicted over how it will be welcomed or whether others will approve sufficiently. I’ll wait until the words come back, until the time God knows I truly believe in His design, not mine.

Because, I’ve not been visited by an angel; but, I refuse to believe this idea just came from nowhere, the telling of my colorful redemption story and the women who gave me hope.

I may just write about the dogs for a bit, paint some angels, jot down my prayer list, being sure to include “walk closely with Jesus”, a new daily one.

I may simply write about geese that fly over or the funny way it sounds to tell of “my embroidery” hobby.  I may slip in some stories about my family. I’ll continue to write about hope and heaven.

I’ll write about noticing God still.

Until I’m able to write the words so clearly, so truly, so hope-filled that I will be able to say Yes, this is my treasure, thank you for this treasure I thought impossible.

I’ve just written over 1400 words here and I’m betting someone’s gonna say, “Man, she’s all over the place!”

But, it’s good, good for me to write. Good will get better, better will get right.

For now, I’ll hold onto that feeling, the feeling that good is coming.

Not stuck, but waiting.

The truth I say I believe and told another the same.

Good things are just around the bend.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story.

Recollecting Providence

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Redemption, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

A Christmas card from one I thought might not pull through, one I was worried maybe I’d done all and it had not been enough.

One who I thought my help may have run dry, she says

“Thank you for believing in me.”

I reply, “We are all in need of grace.”

A gift of a doll from my daughter. I wanted one being tossed from a float in a Christmas parade on that Sunday afternoon.

A child caught and kept one, gave it to his 1st grade teacher.

The teacher told him her mama wanted one.

He said, “I know, that’s why I brought it.”

Some call this serendipity.

I consider it providence.

Providence,

protective care of God or protective care of God or of nature as a spiritual of nature as a spiritual

I’m embroidering tiny little knots of floss in bright colors onto stockings for Christmas.

I’m struggling to thread the needle and I’m finding myself much like my grandmother wetting the thread to push through the eye of the needle, squinting and

Holding my mouth just so.

But, the most special thing is a little girl who told my daughter that Santa Claus is Jesus’ helper, he helps Jesus with the gifts.

And I’ve been thinking about it since I heard this, how I wish I’d thought to say the same.

But, deciding it’s quite okay to believe now, now and maybe later with grandbabies to help them to believe in Santa and in Jesus

and in helping.

Mostly in helping without ceasing.

In being someone another might know they had not stopped believing, believing

in.

Peace – Conscious of Christmas

Advent, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Is it harder now to find places to sense peace, to be conscious of Christmas?

Most things we do feel like a production, a scurrying, a hurried and hectic undertaking.

I spoke a little too sternly yesterday about all the noise driving me crazy. Another person said they were getting “addled” and I was thrilled to know someone was likeminded.

She quickly told me though, not nearly so much as you.

Yes, I know.

I knew.

Others just waited for the noise to settle down as if they all were resting in a bubble of peace, a comfortable and softly draped wrap of serene.

This week of Advent, the preparation for the birth of Jesus, asks me to consider peace.

On Saturday morning, I stood close to the edge of wooden dock on a misty cold marsh. Large oaks all around and their branches fat from age and layered with growth of bright green fern.

I considered and am still, could this be my church? Is this place and sometimes others I find, the place I am made to worship God?

I assure you it feels quite so.

Free of busy and business, just me and sometimes one or two others approaching whole body and soul a place we are called to by our longings?

A congregation consisting of white birds trying to avoid our cameras and a wide, wide sky?

I’m sure that’s not God’s desire, a solitary island dweller, he didn’t design me to be.

But, oh how at peace I am in the places I get alone with quiet and Him.

To notice God.

I’m different, I suppose, craving quiet and being made anxious by disorder.

He is my peace.

Not my surroundings nor those in my midst.

He himself is my peace.

I’m reminded in the quiet.

Peace that can’t be manufactured, demanded or insisted upon; but, that emanates from within me keeping me calm when all around is so very uncalm.

That’s the call to Christmas, the call to seek peace, surround ourselves in it and get immersed again in the story of the starry night, the Holy Night when peace was born.

“Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth”

The weary me, the weary world rejoices.

Night, divine. A night divine.

The night, the day, the moment divine when peace came near, made itself clearly known.

Still does, I call it ” noticing God”.

“In sin and error pining, until He appeared

and the soul felt its worth.”

O’ Holy Night.

Oh, to be seen as one with worth because of the Holy night, the Holy one, not at all because of what I do or anything I’ve done.

It’s been a tough couple of days with shifts and situations gone awry.

Not sure why things happen, wonder what might could have made it different.

Things that made, make no sense.

I bolted from church last night, it had become too noisy, too busy, too much a feeling like a clamoring for what might make one feel worthy.

I drove under the starry sky back home like escaping.

And I rested once home and woke this morning to read about peace, this week’s Advent focus.

Found myself peaceful, again. It was a welcome, I assure you, to come back to a place of peace.

A friend heard I’d never read a special book at Christmas and so she gifted me last week.

I’m grateful for her deciding to send it my way, gifting me in an intentional way.

I love her for it.

I broke my rule this morning about pencil marks on pages and I underlined and circled the words that spoke peace to me, made me more conscious of Christmas.

More understanding of peace

More conscious of Christmas.

And peace because of Christ.

So, if you’re alive today, sing redemption’s song.

Louie Giglio

Sing your song.

Do your dance, your quiet sway of peace.

I know I’ll do mine.

Joy Finding

Advent, Faith, family, grace, heaven, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

We have the same reason for joy as they did way back then.

I pray I’m intentional in my choice to let Christmas be all about Jesus. Here’s the truth, I believe, the joy stealers don’t rest at Christmas, there’s no reprieve from those set on negativity and strife. And then there’s unexpected sadness that makes no sense and seems to happen more at Christmas. Or maybe in our seeking to be joyous, we’re thrown off by its unfair interruption.

I’m not sure. I only know that we each can choose joy and like someone told me yesterday, I was caught off guard, “your face seems happier.” And I had prayed earlier that God would put someone on my path, literally wrote this in my journal,

“God send someone to my path who needs to know about your grace.”

This person who told me she saw a difference in me, I said to her, smiling over her words, “I’m getting better at understanding God’s grace and it’s no longer a striving thing, I am not working so hard for something that requires nothing of me, God’s grace.”

My day started this way yesterday. How can I not proclaim the joy as I circled prayers today, some still praying and this one given an asterisk for answered?

I consider it joy.

You know that joy when a longing you’d gotten a little disheartened over slips in and comes true in a way unexpected?

That’s the joy and joys I’m keen on noticing now.

If it takes writing them down or slowing my morning to be certain I give them their due, my time and attention, I am more aware because of doing so.

I think of my grandma’s little hands, her practice of keeping her “memorandum” book and I look towards the jewels she meticulously pinned into bright ornaments, I see her joy in her art.

I see joy, find it here.

Most especially when it comes in a way surprising me, a way that speaks truth to our Father’s all-knowing.

Like an angel I suppose, saying hold out for it and hold on sure but tenderly to this hope, your joy is coming.

You shall bear the light of this truth, that when you believe what you can’t see, you will get to see it come true.

Bear light of it just like young Mary, a mother unprepared and untouched by man, bearing the Son of Man, light of the world.

Remember the time another Mary and her sister Martha chose to believe?

Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”  John 11:40

I’ve not known joy quite so miraculous as the risen dead, still I’ve known the joy of Jesus coming through, on my behalf, the behalf of those I love.

Known the joy found in what we believe will be true.

Jennifer Dukes Lee shares her thoughts about how to “Prepare Him Room” and a story that is oh, so very relatable, the task of Christmas decor and how we should simply rest in the beauty of our homes, stamped and shaped by our hearts.

Visit here:

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/prepare-him-room/

Linking up with Kelli LaFram, at Quietly Through

http://quietlyreminded.com/2017/12/07/confess-sins-quietly-thursday-link-20/?ct=t(RSS_EMAIL_CAMPAIGN)&mc_cid=68c27bf7bd&mc_eid=8fccf10d46

A Blessing Simply

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, marriage, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Yesterday began with creamy oatmeal, warm in my lap and just a touch of the crunch of peanut butter.

I believe I shall have this today as well.

Made a pot of soup later and had a whole house quiet til afternoon.

“It’s a blessing,” he said, as I questioned whether I’d need a jacket to walk the dog.

The temperature just right and he’d come in from the country place where his parents lived before they died.

I ventured out and walked all the way around. We met three little girls who were new to the neighborhood and bouncy with their bubbliness “a dog!” I heard one say.

So, I eased him over and had him sit while I guided their tiny hands, one at a time to pet him. They smiled big dimpled smiles, one with chocolate on her cheek and their hair was all tousled and let be.

We walked on and I unleashed him on the trail, he started into a little trot and I walked slightly ahead then called him to come back.

As we turned back to the main road, I saw them there, their backs bent and their faces close the ground. The rhythm of their work so simple their eyes never rose to meet us.

An empty lot, a new home unoccupied and the lawn already laid down in pieces, someone had smoothed the pine straw in a sort of kidney-shaped border amongst the pines.

A few more feet we walked and I saw the determined face of the wife, not the husband. Her long gray hair fell over her face, her hand smoothing it behind her ear, I thought her eyes will see us; but, she carried on with her picking up and dropping into a bucket.

Not a sound, not a word, no invitation for how are you or what a pretty day, obliging conversation.

I thought of their tranquility as I walked on, thought of their solitude and silence, together.

The task at their hands wasn’t their responsibility, but a choice.

As if all the pine cones had been picked up from their yard already, just around the corner and they sought and found another place to do the work of their hands, the work of a simple life.

We came to the place where the three daughters now live and seeing us from far off, the oldest must have planned it just right as they skipped towards the end of their driveway to see the dog again.

Fascinated by his softness, their voices soft and admiring, I allowed them a little more time to be little, captivated by their sweet faces and the joy of their conversation.

We headed back up the hill, the big Lab relaxed into a saunter and I thought wow, he was right, it’s a blessing, this day.

This simple day.

The evening came and I thought of them again, the couple uninterested in us, singing the song of solitude, of silence, a simple life.

Then lyrics found their way in and the thought of this season, a simple season of love and grace understood more clearly, held much closer to an embrace. I thought of Alison Krauss and went searching because I remembered her wanting something simple like that.

Simple Love

A love song seemed fitting, more than enough, so I sang it.

Yesterday was simple, in its solitude. I believe today I shall find it too, grace, mercy, peace, and love. Find it unexpectedly when not looking or not so a surprise in my seeking.

Because yesterday had room to breathe, it was made of open spaces and things just fell into them without agenda. And God gave me grace and since I’d decided, not sure why, it didn’t seem an intentional choice, to rest from berating myself for what not done; or the agony of the fear over never being done, I was open.

Open to mercy, to love, then came peace.

“May God give you more and more mercy, peace, and love.”

‭‭Jude‬ ‭1:2‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I’m linking up with others here: nitaojeda.com/2017/11/26/imm-november-12/

Jennifer Dukes Lee spoke so much truth here, thank you seemed like never enough:

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/dont-get-know-time/

Because of Love

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, Homeless, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Serving, Trust, Unity, Vulnerability

There was no excuse in my not turning back. I stopped.

She stopped. I waited and she stood still.

I turned left towards town and quick thoughts were an effort to make sense of my driving away.

“You’re headed to a kitchen called Grace, Lisa.”

“You are serving breakfast to the homeless. It is 36 degrees outside and there’s a woman bundled up in black and burdened down by her baggage and you left her there, afraid of what she might do.”

So, I turned around and saw her walking in the cold and damp high weeds.

I pulled over. Spoke to her through my open window.

She was not impressed.

She would not let me take her to a shelter. She said I didn’t know, I didn’t understand.

I implored her to tell me more, told her where I was headed, told her I work with the homeless…”Come and have breakfast” I said.

“No.”

Her face was anxious and her eyes angry…she said “I don’t think so.

No.”

I waited. She walked on. I drove away.

Chose a different road, not sure if I wanted not to see her again or her see to me drive away. I changed my direction.

I looked to my left towards the sun breaking through, landing on the open fields and the clouds were slowly shifting,

telling me to move on.

Told me to let go, let God. You can pray. You will.

I cried for just a second. For her condition and mine too and hoped I might see her at the kitchen called Grace.

But, no.

We served scrambled eggs, grits, bacon, biscuits, coffee and gave out bags we’d put together with items needed to be clean and fresh.

Arms reached for them. Eyes met mine. Good morning, Good Day, God is good and could I get another bag for my friend?

And then, a kind word and a smile on the face of a woman that saw my soul.

“How are you this morning?” She asked and touched my hand.

I said “I am good, God has good things for me to see today.”

She said, “Yes, it is good to see another day.”

And I sat with her a second, settled by her love.

And realized I had turned back this morning because of love and love had been offered up and love given me in return.

And the moment that I’d decided might ruin my day made it so much more significant, the love I had chance to give, the love given me.

“And do everything with love.”

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭16:14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Believing in the Beautiful Divine

bravery, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

The 9th Chapter in the Book of John is filled with dispute, with arguments, with debate, denial, doubt and disbelief.

Even the mama of her boy who’d been blind all her life who believed she was the one to blame refused to take joy in her son’s finally seeing.

She must have known it was Jesus, only a Messiah could accomplish what they’d all decided would never come true.

But, it was the Sabbath, what a rebellion!

He told the disciples, this is not a punishment of God displayed in this man, blind since his birth.

This is an opportunity, a time that will be seen as the display of God’s glory through me.

“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.”

Jesus

‭‭John‬ ‭9:3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And so, Jesus made a healing paste of dirt from the ground mingled with his spit. He covered the man’s eyes with the muddy medicine and told him, go wash it off now.

He came back seeing.

Others saw him and were all abuzz about the beggar that used to sit begging and was blind.

Jesus didn’t hang around to be questioned, noticed, gawked over or even credited.

He went away and the man who could see told them all about Jesus.

It mattered not that the Pharisees were disgruntled over the day of his healing.

It mattered not that his own mother couldn’t quite say for sure that she believed.

He was blind and now believed.

In all the beauty he’d not seen and now could see.

He believed in the Son of Man.

He saw what is possible, if only we’d believe.

Believe in God’s Son

Believe in the times he has shown us His glory.

Believe in the times He will when all around us there are no reasons to believe what we long to see.

“When Jesus heard what had happened, he found the man and asked, “Do you believe in the Son of Man? ” The man answered, “Who is he, sir? I want to believe in him.” “You have seen him,” Jesus said, “and he is speaking to you!”

“Yes, Lord, I believe!” the man said. And he worshiped Jesus.”

‭‭John‬ ‭9:35-38‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And he will leave us with our stories of our healing to the ones all around who may argue, doubt, refuse to believe…and we’ll not be silenced, we’ll maybe find it hard to believe, all the things we have seen because we believe in His beauty, divine.

Does it ever catch your eye

Beauty divine

In an old man’s tears

A little girl’s smile

If it feels like a song

One that belongs

To you

Stop making sense

Your weakest defense

Just quiet your mind

Let the world unwind

See we’re not alone

He makes Himself known

In time

His own time

So breathe

Life will surprise you

Just Be

It’s what the world denies you

You see

The truth is all around you

Believe

We’re not alone

He makes Himself known

In time, His own time

Does it ever catch your eye?

Brandon Heath

More Silent an Ambition

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Prayer, Redemption, Serving, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

The whole house quiet with the embrace of a frosty fog, I was awakened by the ding of a message from another place I couldn’t begin to know what it’s like there.

I open the back door and the sun is working its way through the pines to the place where they all played.

He sends me photos and a video of the place where Jesus sat in the middle of the men he’d had walking with him, had been giving them glimpses of His glory, His grace, grooming them to carry on without Him. They had supper together before He was crucified for them, for us.

The little bulleted prayer list now has an asterisk “guide Austin’s steps” denoting God’s answer.

Changing my path too,

I’m slowly seeing more surely.

I’m sitting in the silence and reading, confounded over this place here that holds my words. Seems my audience has gone silent. I’ve decided, this is a sovereign sign.

I have been a bit ambitious for acceptance, might have gotten a little lost in the “ahh”

Of approval.

Just now, I read it’s not up to me to pick my purpose. It’s only up to me to let God have what he’s given me to see it come to be.

To sit quietly as He develops the story or stories to tell.

To live quietly, my words from His words, the creations of my hands, they’re formed by His hand.

Lord, set me free from depending on the notice of others, I pray.

“Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands, just as we instructed you before.”

“Then people who are not believers will respect the way you live, and you will not need to depend on others.”

‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭4:11-12‬ ‭

Thankful for the Five Minute Friday prompt, lining up my thoughts and words and believing in the gift of getting silent.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/11/09/fmf-link-up-silence/

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About Grace

bravery, Faith, grace, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

The most beautiful things in life are lost in our searching for more, I believe.

Like looking for what you think might be phenomenal, if you could only capture it, to notice later something there all along you’d considered only as a backdrop.

Grace is like that.

It waits for us to notice it’s there, been there all along.

She sat down, had not intended to, was slipping away from the crowd, I suppose, to be alone.

But, I was there and so she paused. We began to talk and we began to listen.

We both had thoughts, both had frustrations, both had hopes that had yet been fulfilled.

Things in common, things we wondered why and stuff we’d like to see done differently and if only others would be brave enough to consider…we were in agreement.

The conversation shifted when I saw the longing in a young woman on the cusp of her future eyes, a little glossed over.

So, I thought I might try my best to talk about grace, about living and walking and breathing and hoping in the air we breathe called grace.

I didn’t say it all the way I wished I could. I saw myself in her, miserably questioning everything in life, missing the trees for the forest of questions, considerations, doubts, and fears.

I told her of when I’m at my best; but, I tripped all over my words trying to help her see.

I am at my best when I am living in a way that says I am walking with grace, on grace, through grace.

(That’s not what I said; but, it is what I tried to say.)

When I don’t discount grace. When I don’t treat grace like a compliment over a blouse in the back of my closet…like saying Oh, grace…yeah it found me and I kept it but I must have forgotten about it…but, I’m glad it’s still there….can’t imagine why since I’d forgotten about it. Man, I feel bad about that grace I hung in the back of my closet, so I can’t really say it’s mine ’cause I didn’t act like it was mine to wear.

I do not at all understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.

Anne Lamott

Grace is defined as unmerited favor.

But, that doesn’t mean we have to walk around feeling undeserving.

Making apologies for getting it as a gift.

I told her to look for grace. To stop looking for answers, to walk and sit and sleep with that grace. She’ll know when she’s living in light of grace, breathing the air it’s in.

To revel in that grace and to wait for what revelation will come from her time of not questioning, not distracting, not deciding on discontent over things that are not of our concern.

Not for now, wait. Rest.

Well, I didn’t tell her then; I wish I had. I am now.

Telling us both, what I know about grace.

How I’m wishing now we’d spent more time talking about grace instead of all the places we’d gone wrong, found to be wrong.

And I believe we both know now. We shared, we listened. We were in agreement, we were confused, we were challenged and we confided.

It was grace that brought us there.

Grace will see us through.

Will not leave us where we were found.

 

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and other writers at Tell His Story. This week she’s sharing a brightly colored PDF to remind me to be grateful every day!

Check it out and start being intentionally grateful!

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/join-us-30-days-gratitude/