Enthuse Me to Believe

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I started with the two chapters my guide led me to, then read to the end.

Because I knew the end would give me hope, I knew the ending would set things right or at least enthuse me to believe.

Can you list the things too wonderful for you to know?

I read this from the Book of Job and it never fails, I want to say,

“Could you possibly find a better word there, could you consider using “challenging” or “heart-breaking” or maybe even “shameful”?

Wouldn’t it make sense just to say “unfair” or things you carry on your back like a sack of bricks ’cause you’re confounded wondering “How could I have done better…obviously, it’s my fault that this has happened, please show me, God.” ?

But, “wonderful”?

Job chose to respond to God after losing everything, I mean e v e r y t h i n g,

with words that expressed his understanding of His power and well, that He is God.

I read of the astute men questioning Job, backing him into a corner like the tiny room interrogation of a mislead and mistaken kid caught up in a crime and not at fault.

Everyone looking for an admission of what Job might have done to bring this on himself.

Years ago, I wrote a piece about speculation following the suicide of a young person. Good mamas and daddies lost sons and I heard stories of what tales were being woven over the teen’s choice to die. People speculating the horrors hidden by a family as a way to be certain it might never show up on their doorstep.

Job just listened to those who accused, cornered and questioned him. There had to be some hidden sin, had to be a reason God would destroy the life of such a fine man.

Job’s friends found no answer, so they found him in the wrong, went their way.

Another “burned with anger” towards Job because he justified himself rather than God.

His family had long abandoned him, telling him to curse God and die.

Words like rebuke, contend, assert and condemn, the themes of the chapters describing the attempt of others to understand why God had chosen close to death hardship for Job.

Then, the Lord speaks to Job. He listens and everything is changed.

Forlorn, frustrated, filthy and weak, he listens to God reminding Him who He is.

“Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, that a flood of waters may cover you?

Can you send forth lightning strikes, that they may go and say to you, ‘Here we are?'”

Job 38:34-35

And I visualize Job listening like a child, quietly enthralled by His Father’s presence.

I like to think how it would have been to have God finally speak, the awe, the relief, the absolute welcome of his “coming through” just in time.

I see Job changing, almost a dead man coming back to life, his face more softened and longing to hear more.

Like a parent saying I love you, let’s talk, let me remind you of some things about my love for you.

We will begin again.

I’m still here for you.

Then God asked Job a question, “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty?” Job 40:2

And Job answered, with just a few words.

“Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth.” vs. 4

God continues to uplift and strengthen Job, comparing him to a most massive animal.

Job listens still and then responds with a confession and repentance, words so splendid, I long to never forget them.

“Then Job replied to the LORD: “I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’ Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭42:1-3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Confession? Repentance? But, I thought Job was blameless, thought he was one of God’s chosen and most righteous.

Yes, but he wondered why.

He sat in wonder and was abandoned by, surrounded by others who wondered.

He never succumbed to denying God, he only questioned.

He wondered.

Then, gently he was reminded of his speck of dust part in God’s great and wonderful world.

Yes, I’m enthused to believe.

There are hard things, changes, decisions that make no sense and come like a hard and unexpected kick of your feet from under you.

Rock bottom.

I love that Job questioned his plight.

I love more that he understood his inability to understand and that He still believed in God.

Job was restored and the friends who turned their backs on him, they were forgiven and restored.

Job asked God to forgive them.

“And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job’s more than his beginning.”‘Job 42:12

He’s not finished with me yet.

I’m enthused to believe.

God is here for me.

For you.

I’m linking this post up at Tell His Story with others who write.

img_7319-1

 

A beautiful story with beautiful photos in a beautiful place that took a time to become beautiful!  I love this post that causes me to think of the ways I visualize perfection and miss all the little imperfections that over time are made perfectly complete. Lord, help me to see you are the grand designer, not me.

Read here: 

When Life Doesn’t Go According to Plan

And then, to discover the Featured Writer is Meghan Weyerbacher is well, just more than enough, especially when I read how she keeps facing that big ole mountain and it’s not moving, so she decides to take it down little chunks at a time and more than quite okay with her progress. Yes, I loved this piece. Meghan is an encourager. She reads my blog. Call me naive or not confidently “writerly”, but, that means the world to me!

This!  

You see, I had always pictured the verse Mark 11:23 to be like an instantaneous happening. Every now and again I feel like if I pray and a mountain doesn’t move, that I don’t have enough faith or what it takes to do what I truly believe God led me to do.  Meghan Weyerbacher

Resting Again

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, heaven, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Tonight, I’m resting. Kinda had to after getting knocked down by out of nowhere, can barely move yucky sick.

So, I rested in bed, then rested in the country, couch, bed, couch and again, back home to bed.

Resting still. No idea where it came from, knocked me down, a phantom illness.

My cousin says the sky is bigger in the country. She believes it. I believe it.

Others don’t understand. I wonder though, why it is that I’m almost immediately able to breathe with more ease

When I’m surrounded by sky?

Friday, I was not well. Made it to work and left after an hour, barely able to drive.

I’d been noticing my health, eating right, proud of my progress, even saying prayers of thanks for my health.

But, I’d been pushing it mentally, sleep deprived and stressed over work worries and other unforeseen imagined things that might happen.

I didn’t think I’d been quite so stressed til I woke up and my body made me slow down. I even dreamed of being sick, of a crisis at work, of some other worry, can’t recall.

Friday was rough, but, I kept on moving… you’ll be better, just keep pushing.

So, I made my way to the country at sunset to dog sit. I just had to get there, that’s all, I said, won’t feel any better or worse there.

I sat on the porch under the chimes and the sky changed colors while the dogs got reacquainted.

Slept not well, dogs watching guard and this strange unwavering fatigue, I tossed all night. I suppose around 3:00 the dogs gave out and one plopped by the back door while the other climbed in bed.

Woke, missing sunrise, but thinking coffee and made my way to the kitchen in the big old house. Drank a sip, fell back into the covers and how I could sleep more, I have no idea. But, I dozed.

Woke again. Hopeful for feeling better.

Just a little, I did.

I warmed my coffee and found a cool breeze. Forgot my journal, so I just sat and felt the cool air on my face and slowly, slowly, careful for nausea not to return, I relaxed.

And I began to realize I’d been rushing ahead, feeling like a godly rush of what I’d decided a fervor, but a total disregard for where I might be headed.

I read a chapter from “She’s Still There” a book written by Chrystal Evans Hurst, a preacher’s daughter who got way off track…she talks about our “drifts” from the path we should be on, the path God has for us.

The way we get pulled off track and if aren’t careful might not notice and have to be shown.

This morning her words rang true because I believe I’d forgotten to notice how my striving was wearing me out, my soul had become weary and my body finally caught up.

Pay attention to the beauty of your soul and the pulse of your existence. Chrystal Evans Hurst

So, I rested all day and am now still.

I stopped in my tracks about 36 hours ago. My feet could barely carry my weight, my voice was hushed and raspy, my heart pounding as I lie in bed waiting for wave of illness to pass.

And I prayed it would pass quickly.

But, it hasn’t completely.

Not yet.

I’m resting still, about to sleep some more and I have lots to do tomorrow, so I pray I wake all fresh and new.

But, if I don’t I’ll know I’m not ready.

I’ll know I need more time, more time to let my heart beat more softly and my soul be more certain. I’ll understand more clearly why I got hit like a freight train when I didn’t have the sense to watch for the collision.

The verse I call my life verse is soft and sure. It’s about being quietly confident.

But, you might never have read the verse that follows. It’s something we do sometimes, find a pretty promise or an assurance of grace and we don’t notice the other part, the words that cause conviction, the words that teach us hard lessons much needed.

Isaiah 30 is about a rebellious people, people running from a life of following God, maybe people growing weary, perhaps distracting themselves with effort but no faith…so they became disenchanted, left their quiet confidence and fled.

“This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: “Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength. But you would have none of it. You said, ‘No, we will get our help from Egypt. They will give us swift horses for riding into battle.’ But the only swiftness you are going to see is the swiftness of your enemies chasing you!”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:15-16‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I’ve been rushing maybe. I’m the only who’d know, not an outward rush, an internal constant chastisement of self over not enough, pressure to be more and to feel more content while doing it.

Nothing good comes by force. Nor from running away on the swift horse named regret for what hasn’t been yet.

I found grace this weekend again. I remembered God longs to be gracious to me and in the wide open space of the place I call “Pretty Place”

I had no more fight, no fervor, and I found my pace, the pace of grace.

No demand other than rest and I surrendered to my body and soul fatigue to find Him there waiting for me to rest again.

“So the Lord must wait for you to come to him so he can show you his love and compassion. For the Lord is a faithful God. Blessed are those who wait for his help.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:18‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Again, I rest.

Grace, I Pause

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

This morning the tiny icon shaped like a bell said, “Congratulations, it’s your anniversary. You’ve been blogging four years!”

Oh my! I don’t dare read the first year or so, convinced I’ve made no progress or worse yet, I’m in the same old place.

The timing of the announcement collided head on with seven or so paragraphs in draft where I’d once again belabor the significant or insignificant challenge that battled back and to.

Got a little taste of accolade occasionally and I found myself hungry, starving for me, miserably full, filled.

Full of myself.

So, that piece, it’s staying in the draft for now, hopefully forever, while I come to terms with the reality of this space I write, what it’s been, what it should be becoming.

I came home tonight on wet roads and under little pockets of orange behind thickness of dark clouds.

This morning the Rose of Sharon plant towering late summer, brought me back to a place I’d been missing, the pause.

I was intentional, opening myself to the beauty that should fill me again, not striving to see; instead, finding what might come in the pause.

The place where I remembered not to seek, instead waiting to have little thoughts come to mind with no expectation, only patience.

Like falling from above, landing ’round my feet, scooped up and brought to my chest, allowed to rest near my heart.

I’d gotten away from simplicity, I’d been sipping the juice of significance and I was thirsty, so desperately thirsty for more.

My longing for notice becoming impossible to quench.

I wondered what is this blogging I do if nothing more than a pink diary and your sister found the key?

I considered the way I’ve reacted to a tiny bit of glory.

Paintings selling, guest posts and strangers saying they hope I never quit writing.

Too much, Lisa.

Having a taste of it made me strive to be filled and in that scrounging for another little morsel of praise, I lost my voice, the thing I call treasure. I’d made joy ugly effort; I’d pressured myself to be measured by most everything other than my worth decided already by my Heavenly Father.

Too much Lisa

So, I sat.

I thought, I slept and prayed. I stumbled upon truths and began to believe in what I’d decided a “treasure” again.

Stepped back and away to come back not better, not broken, or made hard from shame.

Instead, softer like glow, welcome home.

I pray I learn to write this way, a soft but, still brave way…that I not spill my angst all over the page, contradictory to my declared quiet confidence.

I pray I wait.

Wait to be filled, my heart bursting with longing to tell, so that my writing be so graceful and grace-filled it will be quite clear it’s only grace

Grace that’s brought me thus far.

And there will be a reader or two or three who might have heard of grace ad nauseam; but, maybe might all of sudden wonder…

Could grace be for me? Could the grace that found Lisa Anne find me too?

That will be glory, that will be glory to God.

To know my words cause wonder, cause another to wonder…What is this mercy? Who is this Jesus?

Perhaps, I should know.

This is how I shall write I pray, not tripping over self into the abyss of bottomless searching for significance, for notice.

Satisfied in the place of pause, abandoned and found again in the place I remember to whom goes the glory.

From whom I’ve become acquainted with the knowledge of grace.

“May grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.”

‭‭2 Peter‬ ‭1:2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

View from Above

bravery, courage, Faith, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Less than a few days ago, I read about the meaning of the times that wake us up from sleep. The 3:00 a.m to 4:00 or 5 is symbolic of a word, a message, a spiritual point needing our attention.

God is speaking, His view, from above.

This morning I dreamt of a deep and grey, muddy ocean, the water becoming wider and the shore, a distant angle I couldn’t decide how I’d reach, why it continued to grow more narrow.

I stood searching, one side and the other, the space before me and all around and I wondered might I finally drown.

Instead, I began to swim.

I rose up heavy because of Saturday morning and prayed bedside;

“God, help me pay attention today.”

Because like Samuel as a child, I question whether it’s you.

“So he said to Samuel, “Go and lie down again, and if someone calls again, say, ‘Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.”

‭‭1 Samuel‬ ‭3:9‬ ‭NLT‬‬

My morning dream, a deep ocean, an elusive shore, deciding to swim.

Linking up with other writers prompted by the word “Speak”

Stronger for Trying

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, wonder

I’ve committed to this. I told someone today, it’s more my soul than my body.

My body has changed, but it’s not that change that’s changed me.

It’s the change of after that causes me to anticipate the again.

My drive home, regardless of the sky, signals new and good and strong, stronger.

Every single time, I’m better from going. The challenge, the release of good and serene, the sense of building new from brought down, old and low.

At the end of a long day, the fourth day not Friday yet, a whole lot of unexpectedness coupled with not sure how to respond and missing information along with misinformed.

In the work of helping others, things come to light, gradually unexpected, we learn more as we go.

We press on. We know there are some chances to intervene and there are some doors slammed hard shut.

There are those who see we care, there are those who decide we don’t because it’s easier to blame us than look closely at themselves.

So, workday ends.

I change into workout clothes.

I walk in hesitant, small group of us, we laugh. We engage. I’m better gradually.

Stronger as I go, laughter over my strength from another.

Weights lifted, challenges met and gone through again, less afraid.

A small community I’ve been allowed to join.

And stronger now.

Have Mercy

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Today would have been Day 4 of my 40 day fast from social media, if I’d stuck with the grand plan, the idea to step up my game while freeing my mind and being able to say “Oh, I’m fasting from Facebook.”

Which I imagined would have been followed by, “Oh, wows” and wonder why’s and possibly edge of the seat waiting to hear how I’d come to this decision.

And I’d anticipated how some great and flowery after the fast enlightenment would result from 40 days without following and even more anticipated how people would be waiting to hear and consider a fast themselves.

Wow.

Lord, have mercy.

Oh, my goodness…”too much Lisa!”

Yeah, I did that, recognized it, thank you Lord, and then shifted my focus to how I might navigate the days and how they might make more narrow my wide and distracted path.

I’d not be seeing all the people selling all sorts of things to better me, convincing me to try something amazing.

I’d not be bogged down by information overload about the glasses I need to look at the sun and oh, I better make plans, everybody’s doing something somewhere.

I’d not feel different from most in that I’m not anticipating the eclipse; but, am more quietly considering spending the couple of moments in a quiet place at home.

I’d have been able to avoid the commentaries, people taking sides, analyzing, criticizing, sneering and opportunists seeking a place to expound their opinions.

But, I’d have missed out on the good words and goodness of people asking for goodness from others and for that I’d have been sorry.

Because I did that,

Said, “I’m sorry about Charlottesville.”

Acknowledged I could never fully understand and we embraced, both of us nodding, holding our hands up to heaven.

I believe she believes me because we’ve left it at that.

I digress, though.

Last week, I  was captivated by the idea. I announced that I’d be fasting soon, had calculated the days and I’d abstain from social media and two other distractions that I’d decided were dulling my sense of God.

And I was right, five days later…I am able to do without those things, discipline and moderation are refreshing, almost

effortless.

But, social media, I’ve decided not to abandon or restrain.

The reason? Wise words from women.  One, my daughter, one, my cousin and the others, two sisters. One said, “Oh, that’s trendy, everybody does that!”  The other, surprised me. She paused, leaned back in her cushy armchair and said…”You need to pray about this, I’ve been reading your words every morning…you’ll have to figure this out.” So, I replied that I’d just limit myself, maybe just post my thoughts about faith and God and things I’m being shown in the mornings, nothing else all day, leave it alone.

She again said, “You are going to need to pray about this, I just don’t know.”

“Okay, I will.” I said, confused and two days later sat in my morning spot and as clarity does, it came slowly, rested with me there a bit, making sure I gathered up its message.

 

The thing is, I opened my Bible to the Book of Luke. The first day, I refreshed my memory of Luke and his take on the life of Jesus. I read the first chapter.  I noticed the tone, a more gentle approach, the opening lines more of a beckon to read than a command.

“It seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you…” Luke‬ ‭1:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

So, I continued to read and revisited again the two sisters, Martha and Mary.

Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:38-42 ESV

I read of Martha’s frustration and her pointing out her efforts, her preparation and her lack of help to Jesus.

I’ve been searching; but, can’t find an answer. Did they know that Jesus was coming and bringing along the disciples?

How much time did she have to get the house ready, maybe cook a meal?

The last time I had company coming, a first time ever I’m excited to have person, I took a day off from work. There were linens to wash, little flowers to put in tiny vases, carpets vacuumed, dusting done, options for meals and pillows fluffed.

Making the best of what I had to welcome someone. I was worried we might not have a home good enough to impress her, to hopefully have her return.

I had the whole house to myself, me and the dogs, I was a flurry of stress and striving, driven to perfection, to making an impression.

I believe Martha was feeling this way.

I imagine she lost her sense of composure, her efforts trying to impress this visitor everyone had been talking about and she demanded to know why she didn’t matter…why is it that you’ve not noticed me? I imagine her, hands on her hips, her sister oblivious.

She was a mixture of keeping tabs and keeping up. Everyone a measurement of her value, every effort an opportunity to be satisfied with self, a contrast in diligent servant and frustrated martyr. She was disappointed, but oh so very determined in her display.

She wanted to be enough.

I understand.

And while Mary sat at the feet of Jesus, listening, Martha made sure He knew, to be certain He noticed all she’d been doing.

So, I abandoned the grand plan of the 40 days without Facebook.

We’d talked about the giving up of things, my cousin and I, of striving in our focus, of being more disciplined, of denial of any and all in hopes we might be a little better.

I listened as she explained what she believes and is learning.

We punish ourselves hoping finally, deprivation will lead to acceptance, to acceptance of the love of Jesus.

Her words I stored up. I can’t remember exactly; oh, I wish I could, because it took root, the truth grew and changed my mind, her words, my thoughts of them.

What I do to make up for before does nothing more than validate my shame, my guilt, my doubt.

My efforts only keep me where I believe I must stay, never stronger, only shrinking back to the place I feel most comfortable and guilty.

Grace is not punitive, doesn’t sit waiting for a show, never demands evidence of its due.

 

Grace, the grace of Jesus just shows up and stays, hopes we will rest a while in its presence.

Mercy, the mercy of Jesus reminds us to choose the better and gives us time to see it as better.

Love, the love of Jesus accepts our anxious ways, beckons us to linger, cares little about perfection and looks beyond our imperfections, and notices even less our idea of perfection so that it can show us the way.

The one who told me to pray called today.  I told her, “Oh, I’m not doing the fast. I was looking for affirmation, attention, I was hoping to be a bright and shiny blogger girl who could boast of her accomplishment. I was hoping to be good enough not to go unnoticed.”

To which she replied, languishing in wise southern cousin Peacock way…”Good, good, Oh, that’s good, oh…”

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story…read about a beautiful mission here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/

 

Talking About Georgia

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, marriage, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Last night he asked, "I took you from your home, didn't I?"

And I waited for my words to form.

Answered, a soft sigh, "Yeah."

But, my answer was slow in coming because I thought of all the good in this place.

And I was happy to be asked, to have Georgia remembered.

Driving home from boot camp, I'd stretched myself even more, things like planks, crunches and mostly the people around watching me try had worn me out.

The sun was setting as I turned up the hill that meets sharp curve and the sky a mixture of dark and light after a rain.

I decided, the sky was God to me and God, the sky.

I glance upwards often, it has become my place to remember where I began.

I begin each morning in the same spot. My journal in my lap, pretty pencil in my hand.

Everyday, the prayer of Jabez, the one I've seen answered. That God would bless me indeed, enlarge my borders and keep His hand on me so that I not be in pain.

Then, I read and I think and add penciled prayers to pages.

Today,

Father, thank you for mornings.

For not giving up on me.

For making me fearfully and wonderfully and for calling me towards you so that I every day I'm beginning to know surely and more fully and more well the way you made me for this time

This place.

Thank you for Georgia, the place that made me and thank you for mornings and my morning place in this place.

“He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭23:3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Linking up for Five Minute Friday and thankful God made me to love words and gives opportunity to write and read and grow.

Surprise on Purpose

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

I stepped outside, the feel of change in the air, only slight.

Rain for several days, so much that I'd go from one place to another unconcerned over umbrella and my hair sort of wilted.

But, I stood for a bit, listening and heard faintly only one bird or two. I wondered where they'd gone. I wish I'd been coming out to listen more, my days taken up by other than quiet.

I stood and allowed my mind to empty.

Had a morning talk with me.

If you think about the times whatever "it" was came through, came to be, happened when least expected, you'd understand more the wait.

 

lost jewelry found

 

the voice you so long to hear, try hard to hide the excitement in your hello

 

the lifting up your feet, the lightness in your step, floating more, dragging  less

 

love light that faded surprising you sweet and strong

 

finding what you're looking for once you stop searching, you'd surrendered

But, you may step out into the wide open and try to grasp the day, grab hold of some sense of deep peace and wait to feel its embrace. No one around, you might close your eyes and tilt your face up towards the morning and breathe deeply a slow and seeking prayer.

You may open your eyes, expectantly to see or sense the intervention you've conjured and so, you wonder where the moments may have gone, to return back to you void.

You might turn to go back in your house, groaning in your acceptance of the same, prepare yourself for day and duty and begin to understand.

You've tried to make it happen.

Again.

Tried to manufacture hope, attempting to do things, pushing, looking, straining ears and eyes and heart and soul.

Your striving made you weary and you remembered then how it happens, how it happened before.

So, you say "yes."

Yes, I know. I remember.

The light came in, the rescue came through, the sweet things no longer delayed.

They came on their own.

On time, and maybe on purpose, to surprise me by surprise.

 

"…At the right time, I, the Lord, will make it happen.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭60:22‬ ‭NLT‬‬

 

No Copy Now

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

I have no idea why I'd been glancing towards its spine.

Or why I'd kept it there.

A book from a rummage sale, I think I must have found it pretty, substantial pages, edges rough and worn tinged slightly brown.

The hard cover, a note from the giver to another inside and then, another note below, inquiring who'd been the original receiver of the "get better soon" gift.

I wondered if the book had been exchanged and now settled long with me.

The signatures dated the year I was born and then the year I turned thirteen.

To write of the way I'd been glancing towards its place on the shelf, considering whether I'd actually ever read, is so very insufficient to hope another might understand simply in my telling here.

But, this morning, I did reach for the thin book, a collection of poems.

I reached just before gathering things and going to work and just after I'd journaled.

Intrigued and increasingly drawn into new thoughts on prayer, I'd decided I'd begin a 40 day fast, something I'd never done.

I'd decided the time, counted the days to mark the end once deciding the beginning.

Decided I'd abstain from three things that distract, a vignette I decided, always choosing three.

I thought of what may happen and decided I'm anxious to see, what might change, where my time might grow.

And I held the book, Sonnets from the Portuguse, Elizabeth Barrett Browning in my hand, let it fall open and my eyes fell on the familiar, "How do I love thee?"

I thought, oh, I know this one, the sonnet counting ways of love.

Then, my eyes moved to the page on the left and well, I couldn't for a second believe it. But, I've no reason not to believe.

Sonnet XLII

'My future will not copy fair my past'—

I wrote that once; and thinking at my side

My ministering life-angel justified

The word by his appealing look upcast

To the white throne of God, I turned at last,

And there, instead, saw thee, not unallied

To angels in thy soul! Then I, long tried

By natural ills, received the comfort fast,

While budding, at thy sight, my pilgrim's staff

Gave out green leaves with morning dews impearled.

I seek no copy now of life's first half:

Leave here the pages with long musing curled,

And write me new my future's epigraph,

New angel mine, unhoped for in the world!

And I was astounded.

The mention of angels, new future unseen.

The book that now rests in my lap.

I'm past the point of youth and closer to the place and time where my parents died too soon.

But, farther, yes, farther than the half called before.

The me reading poetry, calling herself artist and smiling when another notices the shift.

I seek no copy now, of life's first half. Elizabeth Barrett Browning