My word for 2025 sort of lingered like a stranger at the door, uncertain of asking to be invited in. Initially I chose it in a conversation with an art curator. She’d been watching me from a distance. I initiated the messaging. I told her I hoped to develop a clear brand for my art. I used the word “polished”. She assured me that she felt my brand was clear. I suppose I didn’t believe her.
As the months progressed, I pondered the word and why it had chosen me, grabbed my attention.
Here at December’s end, I’ve been holding like a treasure next to my heart, what I’ve learned about my “2025 Word”.
I’ve been protected but I’ve also endured more than usual in terms of how my past trauma refused to be silenced.
Maybe it’s because I said “Yes” to doors that invited me to step forward, to share my artist story and how my trauma both inspires and sort of “dares me” to keep painting.
In many ways, I felt similar although not at all dangerous threats and betrayals. Maybe the old weapons that were still hanging on had to be smoothed down to the almost nothing left to defend against the wounds.
I found a verse a few months ago that helped me accept that being polished had nothing to do with my aesthetic and everything to do with my calling.
“He made my mouth like a sharp sword; in the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me a polished arrow; in his quiver he hid me away.”
Isaiah 49:2 ESV
All year long, I’ve been being readied for more than I ever felt possible. In the waiting, I’ve been protected.
I understand this now and that understanding has led to a word for 2026, “Embrace”.
It may change over the months but to me, it represents me no longer trying to resist the parts of me that are hard stories to acknowledge.
To embrace rather than the incessant need to have it all not be a part of me, to embrace every cell of my makeup as my identity rather than through every effort available to me, try and try to erase it.
To embrace what can’t be erased and to let those parts of my story lend themselves to my creativity, unhindered.
To embrace is to be at ease. To erase requires pressure.
To embrace welcomes change. To erase leaves no chance for redemption’s touch to be made visible.
To embrace is to honor every part. To erase is to abandon the muse, the stories that made me.
I’m unsure how this new mindset might challenge or grow me. I’m certain it won’t be a steady change. It’ll occur in increments.
Are there parts of your story you’re desperate to erase at last and be done?
Can you see yourself deciding to hold it all so very close, the hard and the soft, the ugly and the beautiful, the damage and the restored?
The empty lot on the street lined with homes is the home for the leaning tree.
The branches are thick and twisted, gnarly but producing papery leaves on wiry branches.
Long before the homes took up space here, the road was hard and dusty, clay.
My children were small and we walked like explorers down the road. Once or twice, the hills were covered in snow and they slid and fell and ran around in thick socks tucked down in tennis shoes, makeshift boots for children of the South.
I walked past this tree yesterday. The subdivision neighbors all know me I suppose, that woman who looks at the clouds, the one who walks very fast, the one not inclined to stop and chat.
I noticed the tree the day after I’d read about God’s response to Adam and his wife Eve.
I read of how God responded by making them clothing from animal skins to replace the covering they’d contrived in shame that was made of scratchy leaves.
I spent some time reminding myself of the interactions, of the course of Eve and Adam’s recognition of mistake and of their shame.
“And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate.” Genesis 3:2-6 ESV
In the garden, Eve succumbed to the need to know more than she needed to know, to know more than was necessary for thriving.
God had provided everything.
She wasn’t quite sure, I suppose. She wanted to know more and wanted more.
The tone of God’s voice in response is sternly disappointed. The course of life changed not just for them but for everyone.
I wonder if God just wondered, is everything I’ve provided not enough?
They knew quickly that they were changed and with that realization came shame.
“Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.” Genesis 3:7-8 ESV
God responded.
This part of scripture is the one that brought me to tears, the provision of God in their time, although a rebellious time of need.
Sometimes I think we carry the most memorable parts of God’s story and use those passages as guidance while only occasionally remembering the mercy of God.
Maybe not you, sometimes me.
I imagine the remorse of Eve.
I can see her standing there trying to undo her mistake. I envision Adam hearing her out, she just wanted to help them be prepared…
If God gave us all of these things in this environment, surely it’s okay if we “ask for help” in the places we need, all of this is new, we need a way to go forward, the future, the present, the what on earth are we expected to do next?
Surely, it was okay to be as wise as God, she must’ve decided.
God asks “Why?”.
He then unveils the consequences of their questioning of knowing “just enough” and that knowing being enough, being His plan.
Then we learn of Eve being named, a beautifully significant name. And we read of God’s response to the couple covered in fig leaves,
Lovingly responding with provision.
“He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” The man called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living. And the Lord God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them.” Genesis 3:11, 20-21 ESV
I had been dwelling on this passage for a few days when I paused in front of the ancient tree. I thought how odd it must seem that I find its barrenness so compelling.
This tree with nothing but age and no evidence of fruit still exists to remind me of purpose, of the beauty of acceptance of what lingers and what fades, what can be acknowledged as contributing to decline, what might cause shame in light of decisions made and how despite of and because of every bit, still I’m met with grace.
And I’m clothed with God’s love, a softly wrapped tapestry of all my troubles, my questions, his responses, my weaknesses made stronger in their being unhidden, being discovered although desperately hoping they’d go unexposed.
I am found and responded to.
I’m Eve recognizing “some things are not for me to know” and I’m dressed in a more splendid covering than a hurried and shamefully placed fix.
I’m clothed in a robe of redemption.
It’s layered with old scraps of mistakes and shame threaded together so that I remember, with velvety golden threads of rescue, of help, of redirection.
How has God responded to you?
Remember the times you’ve been found, covered and loved.
Held back up gently when you’ve fallen.
“My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.” Psalm 63:8 ESV
I’ve been looking over at the second trio of orchid blooms. I never expected it, I expected the failure that often comes with my orchids.
I shift the pot the plant is in, turning it away from the window. I wonder if the cold air from the vent is the reason the branch becomes more bent like it’s struggling no matter the pot’s position.
One evening I walked in the heavy humidity. Told myself give thirty minutes to intentional movement and maybe add some motivational listening.
I tried two podcasts. One was way too chipper, the other too chatty.
I decided to walk quietly.
I remembered words I heard earlier, a suggestion for focused prayer with a question.
So, I asked it.
“God, what is this season that I am currently in?”
I’ll tell you, I was barely three steps farther along and the answer came with no haggling or hindrance.
“Acceptance…This season is a season of acceptance for you.”
Waiting For Me
I walked on and remembered several days ago as I walked around the house, doing nothing and yet thinking about doing everything. “Malaise” comes to mind to describe it labeling myself lazy but what if
I’m just takin’ it easy, letting things rest?
Thoughts of my latest artwork, thoughts of the completed pieces leaning like sacred treasures against the wall in my tiny little “art room”.
I felt the affirmation rise up in my soul, the conviction to continue anyway.
“Come what may.” I told myself and then very quietly carried on with my “grandma day”.
Just a couple of hours later, an email was noticed. The word “beautiful” caused me slow.
“Your work is beautiful.” the sender said, “we’d like to feature you.”
Only a week or so prior, I’d sent a submission to be a featured artist in “What Women Create” a quarterly publication for artists, a stunning magazine with rich colors and pages weighted heavily.
I told only a couple of people and I never expressed my joy, only my surprise.
Coming Soon
“Come what may.” I’d told myself earlier, an expression of settledness in what might happen one way or the other.
I walked on that recent evening and thought about acceptance and began to see why God may have spoken this quality as the one I must understand more clearly in this, my season.
I wondered if I accept the disappointments in my life as sort of “Oh sure, it’s always this way” acceptance and I continue on in that way of expectancy.
More comfortable accepting defeat or delay and treating good things that come my way as
A surprise or a fluke?
When I look back over my life, specifically as a writer and an artist and one who shares both, I have to be honest with myself.
I’m joyous over a ribbon that’s labeled “Best in Show”, over words that describe my artwork as “beautiful” and over kind and loving expressions to me about me and my art.
Still, I often don’t truly believe those blessings were chosen for me. I somehow convince myself it was some sort of accident.
Awareness is the first step towards new thinking, acknowledgement is the key to open those doors widely waiting and questioning why I’ve yet to enter in.
This may not make sense to you.
You may be one who is thrilled by the things you worked hard to complete or compete for actually coming true.
Or maybe you do understand and if so, I share these rambling thoughts and this realization for you.
Do you expect struggle?
Do you anticipate things not coming together?
Do you only half-heartedly commit because not “getting in” feels better than being excluded.
Every success begins with a decision and that decision is more than just trying, it is the decision to believe God has good things for you.
Not only are there good things for us; but, God actually planned them in advance (and is patiently waiting for our acceptance?).
It all comes together
“For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.” Ephesians 2:10 NLT
Why do we “accept the bad with the good” more than we believe that in reverse? Or let my mama’s expression, “It’s all in it, Lisa.” be a bandaid over a hurt instead of a healing balm?
My recent collection of paintings, “Not Yet Seen” have resonated for many, but I almost didn’t paint them. I told myself “I love them but they’re different for me, no one has seen this type work from me, so many other artists already do this, etc.”
The woeful voice in my head, “If I release these and none of them sell, I’ll be disappointed again, I’ll need to acknowledge they weren’t as special as I thought.”
But, I painted twelve, not eleven as first planned and now there are just six remaining.
“I’m so happy I followed my heart.” I told the gallery owner. She answered, “Me too.”
Maybe the seesaw of good and bad and the acceptance of both with equal energy amounts to just how well we “follow our hearts”
And that our hearts most importantly of all, be guarded by love, the love of God and acceptance of that love for us above all else.
my morning corner
“So above all, guard the affections of your heart, for they affect all that you are. Pay attention to the welfare of your innermost being, for from there flows the wellspring of life.” Proverbs 4:23 TPT
Every morning I sit in the soft chair in the corner embraced by artwork on the wall behind me.
Often, I rise to begin my day, turn and pause and although there is an array of canvas and paper and color, my eyes land on love and I carry that all day.
Accepting more as truth every moment just how immensely God loves me.
Most importantly, accepting that more than any other thing, any doubt, any denial, any thing at all that will likely come my way today and tomorrow to detour me.
I’ll accept the better.
“Come what may.” I shall say
and when good comes I’ll believe it as truth, I will claim and accept the better.
An unexpected gift I was given on Christmas Day is now a morning ritual.
finding the light
A voice like comfort responds to my ask. Her name is Alexa. I know you’ve probably known her for a bit. I’m just getting to know her.
Today is the third morning I’ve spoken into to the predawn darkness and asked for the “verse of the day”.
The first day the verse was from the Book of John, the words of Jesus telling the disciples not to worry. He was leaving but he’d be preparing a place, they’d be with Him soon.
I listened. My takeaway was the pure confidence in the words of Jesus and the accepted promise and confidence in the listeners who could not perceive all of it as certain truth.
The second day the verse came from John 16, the verse again in the words of Jesus, again with assurance but this time, an assurance of difficulties.
This morning, New Year’s Eve, I asked my little nightstand friend for the verse again.
Today’s verses? Isaiah 43:16-19
I thought, I know these by heart.
There’s a sketch in the margin here from years ago, a time marking the embrace of this promise.
“This is what the Lord says— he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters, who drew out the chariots and horses, the army and reinforcements together, and they lay there, never to rise again, extinguished, snuffed out like a wick: “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”
Isaiah 43:16-19 NIV
I know this passage. I’ve held it closely as a promise and I’ve used it often for not so gentle redirection.
Perceive: to obtain knowledge by the senses, to understand, to discern
“Do you not perceive it?”
These five words begged me to listen longer, to examine myself, to consider my perceptions.
How my perceptions of life past and present affect my influence.
My influencing others toward hope, toward peace and toward newness regardless of their past.
Because…
I can only influence others. I don’t bring change, only offer quietly, my influence.
I can and should assess the perceptions of others of me.
Do I love with pure intentions only?
Are my regrets sincere?
Do I surrender the impossibly hard feelings and things or do they wreak havoc on my influence, my presence?
Do I coddle my past like a sick baby needing constant attention or do I honor that past in light of my present wellness? Do I care for my past wounds from a healthy distance?
new strength every morning
Our perceptions determine our influence.
What ways has God made a way for you?
What dried up and deserted places have been refreshed to flow like peaceful streams?
Are you focused on the old things, even as recent as yesterday, and worn blinders to obscure the new things springing up?
God loves you. You have a future.
Do you not perceive it? Isaiah 43:19
Happy New Year’s Eve.
Can you hear the voice of hope?
Listen closely and remember mostly, it’s a soft voice like morning light in the distance, a comforting whisper responding to your questions.
Gently calling and asking you to remember and keep remembering.
We left the gathering, an annual one that’s held in a building adjacent to a country home. The barn-like place is love-filled, its walls are covered with memorabilia and photos representing life and the life spans of family.
We arrive and we move from table to table, from people not seen in a year or so and maybe a couple or a few you may have passed in the grocery store.
The conversations are sweet, it’s a catching up and it’s a reunion for the cousins. They love it. They recognize many families neglect this type gathering.
The one who prays acknowledges this. I mostly observe. I join in and say words when it seems to fit.
That’s not because of the “rules” of the get-together. It’s simply my nature.
My mama used to tell us all that her husband, my daddy saw no need to speak unless there was something important to say.
Although, he was a quiet man, one of few words, I cherish the smoothness of his voice.
I remember the way he paused as he spoke. There was a sense of waiting for the hearer to absorb his contribution.
I listened.
A word woke me this morning.
I added it to my list, a list that came from a realization that in life and in Christmas, we often have grandiose expectations.
We expect Christmas be a certain way. Not to mention the comparison of others’ celebrations.
I wondered how my heart would settle if I decided to
“Expect less, acknowledge more.”
A list was formed.
Safety, Food aplenty, Gifts, Smiles, Gatherings, a sense of God’s nearness, Pink Dawns…
Quietude
Google informed me of the meaning, no surprise I loved it.
Another gift came from Google, a sweet surprise. This word has a color named for it.
A shade that’s a blending of grey and blue and green.
“Quietude” is the chosen name for the HGTV 2025 color.
I finished the 3rd of three paintings last night, large 30×40’s.
The first, “Now Found”,
“Now Found”, detail
the second, “Light and Momentary”
“Light and Momentary”, detail
and the third, “Have Hope”.
“Have Hope”, detail
Driving home from the cousin gathering, my husband wanted to talk. I told him I was talked out, let’s be quiet.
He insisted and prodded me with a well-thought question…
“Who would you like to talk to that you’d be just so captivated by the conversation, on the edge of your seat and just waiting for every word?”
Stubborn me replied, after a few seconds, “No one, that’s a good question but I can’t think of anyone I want to talk to right now.”
He believed me. He knows me well.
But, he spoke in the long pause of accepting my answer.
“I thought you’d say Jesus.”
“Yes, I just thought of that.” I smiled and answered.
We finished the Christmas Eve country drive home and I sat in my quiet spot with my grown son who is often quiet himself.
morning quiet
Understood, I felt understood.
“Accepted”, a word I’m adding to the list of acknowledgments.
“Grace”, too.
Just now, I revisited Christmases past through my photos. Babies have grown, changes have come, tough days have occurred, peace has been given and endurance has become even more a quiet strength for me.
Because I’ve learned and am learning a couple of things from my “telling it to Jesus alone.”
He giveth more grace.
I am loved.
There’s so much more coming for me.
Because I’ve accepted, I’m the “quiet one” and always will be.
“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.” Psalm 131:2 ESV
Always hope.
I look toward my tall Christmas tree, the one ornament, a tiny home, my granddaughter insisted be for it and my uncertainty because it “wasn’t really me.”
And now I see, the bluish green, a pale teal that’s happy quietly although boldly, its pretty red door sort of calling, “open me”.
How can it be?
The color in me, the quiet color has become an invitation to me being me.
A little house accepted by me, inviting an even bolder acceptance of the strength in the choice to keep hoping.
“As for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more.” Psalms 71:14 NIV
“For thou art my lamp, O LORD: And the LORD will lighten my darkness.” 2 Samuel 22:29 KJV
I drove tentatively under the leaning trees, doing my best not to imagine the response I’d need in disaster.
Driving slowly thinking the weight of my car and the weight of me might lead to a shifting of the earth.
I crossed under the canopy of three frail leaning trees.
Glanced left and noticed a figure.
A small child of a deer had been watching.
Waiting for me.
We both paused.
Eyes met each other in the predawn light. I wanted to linger.
I thought of quietly opening my door, carefully stepping up the ditch to the edge of the cotton field.
I thought to get closer as a way to thank this beautiful creature that seemed to say…
“See, you are safe. You made it.”
It’s been a bit since I’ve written here. This morning, I decided I miss writing simply about noticing beauty, noticing God all around and then sharing those encounters. I’ve missed writing simply to preserve the noticing and express it through words. Timidly, I’m dipping my toes back into the hopes of writing more.
My noticing of feathers had faded until yesterday.
God is everywhere, don’t forget to notice.
One feather, not spectacular at all caught my eye, my face toward the ground.
A few weeks ago, a bird sat in the driveway. It was not tiny. It seemed paralyzed and I thought it must be my place to help it.
Soon, I discovered it was newborn. Large and loud birds began to appear. It was odd, the realization that they saw me as a threat.
I stood only a minute. I was captivated by their aggression and the way the newborn bird began to move away from me, recognizing because of the elders, I might be unsafe.
They were mockingbirds. That’s what they do, it’s the way of God and nature.
Yesterday, I reached for the feather and I wondered why I’d stopped considering my “finding feathers” as sacred as before.
I decided it’s because of my vision being too “far focused”, either looking into my future with uncertainty and fear or looking into my past with longing to no longer “go there”.
Rarely just in the moment.
So, the wonders that once captivated me with simple surprise were less sacred than before.
Sacred, a word that invited itself into my heart a couple of months ago, a word I’d rarely used to describe my life or my living and its contributions as quietly important.
Significant.
An ask came and with my yes came the assurance that this thing I’d been called to do was sacred.
Now, a memorable gift not to others only but to myself because of that realization.
That secretly and intentionally has led to my noticing wonderful things again.
I’m realizing just now that maybe yesterday was different, the joy in my heart when my grandson nodded yes, smiled and gave me a “high five”, the sincerity in my husband’s voice, the giddiness in my daughter’s voice and in her daughter’s brand new dancer’s pose, my son calling to tell me of a new thing he’ll be trying and the subtle excitement in his voice.
I remembered that yesterday and again this morning, I spoke a new prayer, pondered a word I’m newly fascinated over.
I consecrate this day to you, God.
Consecrate.
: dedicated to a sacred purpose
I consecrated my day to the Lord and I began to notice God again in the small ways.
“May we never lose our wonder…wide-eyed and mystified, may we be just like a child.”
It’s not covered with paint, not a stain or a splatter. It’s not folded and stuffed in a drawer, it’s on a hanger.
Soft material, sort of beige and in a classy black font, one word “influencer”.
It was given to me, not a purchase. Someone thought it was a good fit.
I woke this morning recalling a beautiful dream and contrasting it alongside a question waiting to be responded to.
I journaled,
If I am quiet, I will be able to know which things and which people align with God’s will for my life.
In a way, I was wondering which influences in my life point to hope and which do not.
I asked God to help me see others clearly and to be able to know which influences are healthy and which are not.
I recognized in my soul that just as God sees the vulnerability and weakness of me, He sees it in others and those weaknesses in them cause them to not be a right now good influence on me.
So, I made a bullet list, not one that says “you don’t belong”, just a quiet inventory of those who contribute to my hope and those who don’t.
Not a cancel type thing, just a recognition, a nudge of clarity so that I don’t give up hope.
I have a bookmark in my Bible.
“Only speak words that make souls stronger.” Ann Voskamp
I’ve been trying to commit to this as a filter in all I speak, write or even show in my facial expression.
I’ve been set on being at peace so that I can bring peace into every room I enter.
So that through me, the light of Christ and the voice of hope is observed and considered,
Not simply tolerated.
And so, I quietly asked myself, right now which conversations and interactions are making me
Hopeful?
Which are contributing to
Doubt?
Which feels like a reverent posture of pure and humble wisdom.
The stance God desires.
When this journaling began this morning, this inventory of the “yes’s” I need to nurture
I had not opened my Bible.
I turned to today’s date in “Joy and Strength” and was led to Deuteronomy.
Wisdom that complemented my own words.
A warning for a woman like me, a people pleaser, a longing to belong “belonger”, a person who is easily manipulated in ways that seem innocent, that aren’t harmful, just not best.
“If a prophet or a dreamer of dreams arises among you and gives you a sign or a wonder, and the sign or wonder that he tells you comes to pass, and if he says, ‘Let us go after other gods,’ which you have not known, ‘and let us serve them,’
you shall not listen to the words of that prophet or that dreamer of dreams.
For the Lord your God is testing you, to know whether you love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul.”
Deuteronomy 13:1-3 ESV
Get quiet with God. Silence the naysayers. Listen to the voices that speak hope and healing.
Those who softly warn you of your straying rather than string you along.
Those who love you, not just court you.
Nurture the “yes’s” while not discarding the “no’s”. Tend to the hope God planted inside your soul so that it becomes bigger than anything about you.
“And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.”
Solitary Watcher
I’ll likely forget it but I chose “healed” on a reset of yet another password forgotten.
Such is life.
Such is the life of one grandmother on the beach walking, eyes to the crannies and nooks created by the rocky barrier.
Deciding I found the perfect golden conch yesterday.
Announcing to my daughter “I’ve never found one like this before”.
No need for new discoveries today, I just whispered to myself.
That one, a reply to a choice to “find the joy today” on yesterday morning needs nothing more.
Not a grander discovery.
No comparisons.
I’m on the beach alone under the tent erected by my kind son in law. Chairs waiting to be plopped down on remain bottomless.
Surveying all the people. Older ones strolling, younger ones strutting.
Noticing
I consider their lives, curious over their stories.
I remember my self-defensive anger so many years ago when a woman who was struggling and angry over expectations of a program I oversaw,
Shouted at me,
“You don’t understand! You’ve got a picture perfect life!”
And I replied not with shouting but more of a how dare you to presume I’ve never had a “bad life”, I assure you I have not!
Today, walking along the edge of the ocean, glancing up towards our umbrella to greet my family’s arrival,
I realized a new thing.
Discoveries
I paused to pray for healing for typical childhood ailments, for others undergoing treatment and for pending resolutions to questions.
I thanked God for the good things already.
And I felt my breath catch in my chest and stood still to really acknowledge
The realization that maybe thinking of others, praying for others, offering open-handed surrender of others to heaven, rather than prayers and longings for self…
Might just be the evidence of one who is
Healed.
On the way to there, at least.
Farther along.
Because maybe, just maybe my life is not perfect but very
Close to the picture of what is closer and closer than I’d ever imagined.
Because of a heart that’s surrendered to softening, has opened all the locked windows and flung open the doors to hurts hidden, held onto for far too long.
we run away from our discomfort... but it doesn't leave us. to heal we need to turn around and face it, experience it and once we truly do we are out of it. We heal and we grow.
2 Timothy 1:7-8 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. This blog is about my Christian walk. Join me for the adventure.
Lisa Anne Tindal 