Redemption

Write, Lisa

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, wonder

People from other sides of fences.

Two of them this week, same matter of factly without hesitation

Said, "Write, Lisa".

One added, her words disputing my feeling as if needing to hide away.

She said.

"Some will wonder why, many could care less.

Others wish they were brave enough.

The few who respond are the many who matter."

So, I'll share again the honesty with hints of hard things again, the post selected by another.

Gently Found

And I'm sitting alone after long day, a smile no one else can see.

It's grace, grace, grace. Here's an Instagram post below…is it possible to be humble and happy all at once. I do believe so when it's a nudge in your tummy, a slight catching of our breath in realization combined with awe.

To see the words that so very clearly express your heart, surreal to see, amazing to recall.

So, for August, I'm the featured post on a blog. The reality is, it's the baring of my soul about just how clearly I feel I could have stood alongside the Samaritan woman and we'd have said to one another, "Me too."

I think we only have hard stuff to be able to look back and share the grace that came in the hard places and the hard times. Visit Kelly Basham's blog and if so inclined say thank you for mercy along with me and thank you for grace.

Link in profile to my blog.

#blossominfaith #gentlesavior #quietconfidence

Work of Hands

Art, bravery, grace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

This thing I do, getting lost in words and paint, is not at all the work of my hands, but of His.

“And yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter. We all are formed by your hand.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭64:8‬ ‭NLT‬

I can barely move this morning, huge canvas laid out on the floor last night, I set aside the angel commissions, set my sights on something I thought might be quite special.

Painting and repainting, my knees sore from kneeling, my back aching from reaching, my hands covered in blue grey beige brown paint, thick.

I will begin again today. Have already, spent unhurried time in my Bible and in the book I'm reading, Draw the Circle 40 Day Prayer Challenge, a book I've decided won't be set aside come Day 40.

Draw the Circle

I'll paint today. This time I'll tie my apron, I'll be less hurried. I will let it be or not yet, perhaps I'll finish the angels I've promised before getting upset over the landscape or maybe it will be today, I finish, hang it on the waiting wall.

Day 23 of Draw the Circle prayer challenge is about God saying No to prayers, then answering with a Yes that came from a Not Yet. I am horrible at waiting when it comes to anything that requires I do my part. I painted for five hours straight last night. It was miserable, there was no joy, there was aggravation, frustration and refusing to stop until it was done. Stubborn determination. Then it was done and was nothing at all like I'd hoped. I was disappointed. I had an idea, a perfect place for landscape, rearranged one whole wall and now it's waiting for me, the sun coming in and giving me a new idea.

I'll try again today, but this time with an easy hand, an accepting brushstroke and I'll wait again before I get all wrapped up and forget to eat, forget to rest. I'll not make it an idol, the measure or not of my worth.

The space may be vacant until it is right for what's good to be finished.

My circle today has multiple thick lines circling my thing I'm committed to continue.

Another circle has tiny words, names, needs and prayers for incomprehensible peace. I've taken to praying this way, filling one with others and one with a solitary request for me: things like peace, courage, clarity, and revelations.

Asking God, "Show me the way, make clear your desires for these things you've graced me with the ability to do."

The Circle with others, well I may never know, but I'm praying mighty things for people, things undeniably from God.

Waiting for the promises, trusting in the Father. Being okay with No and at peace with Not yet.

Letting the work of my hands be led by the maker of them.

Singing my Redemption Song

Abuse Survivor, bravery, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability

For a while I lingered there, the story of the woman from Samaria who had an encounter with Jesus at the well.

I understood the way he sought her, it's the way He sought me, the way He still does.

He made no demands, He knew she'd had enough demands made of her, knew all about her. He understood.

This morning, I read my words on another's blog. I was moved by my own redemption song, my story so beautifully raw and evidence of a gentle Savior.

I am praising God for this opportunity, this enlarging of my border.

Visit Kelly Basham's blog and join her series on the fruits of the spirit. Last month, it was joy, for August it is gentleness and she chose my words as the expression.

Here's an excerpt with the link to the post following. I am praying for the places these words will go, praying for the hearts that will come to know or be reminded of a gentle Jesus who invites us all in.

Do you ever feel like hiding your sins, even your doubts or sorrows? Are there times you know your heart has drifted back to who you were before redemption? It’s a dangerous place, deciding to be who we were for fear of never being enough for Jesus.

Blossom in Faith – Gently Found

Thinking Grace

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


If it hadn’t been for the tide coming in

I’d have sat longer. 

I prayed. 

I pondered.

  I dozed, the soft thickness of fading easy.  

Legs outstretched and eyes closed behind shades and ball cap. 

I was praying, not napping. 

I was recalling grace. 

I’ll spare the details of it all, the times grace came near in forms other than answer or reprieve. 

Real rescues, touchable.

People. 

There are some times grace looked my way and were it not for grace 

there are places there and 

then I’d have gone.

And maybe not come back the same. 

Grace, so very hard to grab hold of like oh, goodness thank you God, when you had no idea of grace 

being grace back then. 

You were gone, too far gone to see. 

So you think of grace as evidence, as your protector standing from a distance watching and nodding to say, 

told you. 

There’s a reason you are still here.