rest

31 Days, Freely – Start

Art, birds, bravery, contentment, Faith, family, Forgiveness, grace, happy, memoir, mercy, painting, Peace, Prayer, rest, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I’m good at neither rushing nor resting.

I concoct purposeful and passionate scenarios of diligent sticking to something and going long and hard without a break.

I imagine myself contentedly uninterrupted, a book in my lap.

But, both elude me.

Both take practice, commitment, a chance to see the benefit.

Going ahead without allowing hesitation or giving myself reprieve, permission to chill.

I’m sitting home alone, it’s Sunday and it’s sunny. The cool air of the night before has the rooms faintly fresher and the shift of the season quite clear.

Captivated by the book in my lap, “Becoming Mrs. Lewis” by Patti Callahan and tea in a pretty cup, I told myself read a chapter and then go, write a chapter.

Seemed like a good plan, inspirational, my content might flow more freely.

But, I’m three chapters in and still reading. This is a gift, this is a pleasure I’d long thought gone, being pulled in and unable to set a thick book aside.

Now, I’m rethinking the ambition of writing new chapters or layering abstracted thick color on a new something I started.

Instead, I’ll keep reading and when my eyes get heavy, I might dose or I may rise to walk the trail before the sneaking up of sunset.

I may look for them again, the tiny blackbirds up high in an old oak or the surprise sighting of seven or so cardinals all gathered together, red dots bouncing and bobbing against the green.

What I have started I will finish, I’ll come back and I’ll continue.

Fearlessly, faithfully what has begun will continue.

“Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance.”

‭‭Jude‬ ‭1:2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Giving myself a little mercy, peace and love on a sunny Sunday.

31 Days, Freely – Search

Angels, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, waiting, wonder

And if you search for him with all your heart and soul, you will find him.”

‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭4:29‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Why do we wake up committed to seeking God? Because it is necessary to know Him, to sense Him.

Only through knowing Him are we able to know ourselves.

Distractions, obligations, the incessant in our faces knowledge of conflict and confusion.

Comments and contributions to subjects that pull us to jump in and join the fight.

It’s so hard to keep the peace.

To keep our peace.

So, I begin today before dawn remembering how I’ve found Him before.

And asking, real early and real honestly.

Help me to find you, Father, in my day!

And oh, I’m so excited to see what good in which places will come my way.

God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice. me

I want to see you God, because I want to fully see me.

31 Days, Freely – Pause

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, writing

“Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:18‬

My “life verse” is bordered before by caution and consequence of stubborn rushing ahead and after, with gracious reminder of what good comes from waiting, from being attentive to God.

“Ah, stubborn children,” declares the Lord, “who carry out a plan, but not mine…”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Beware the place you arrive without pause. me

It wasn’t a life-changing yes or no. I’d done my research, asked for input from another.

A nominal purchase, was my pull towards jumping in to the opportunity because of the way it was marketed as invaluable, making possible my impossible success as a writer or

was it fear of missing chances,

not being able ever at all?

So, I paused. I gave the decision space and an honest self examination.

I chose not to make what was touted as essential, a sure path, success in my creative goals.

I let it be, left it alone.

God revealed another way, something I already own.

At my fingertips, the tools and in my thoughts, deeply planted abilities are gradually peeping through towards the light.

I was reminded in my pause.

Can’t believe sometimes, I continue this writing not much more than a journal. So many bloggers, I’m just one and my readership is oh, so small.

Yet, this daily thing is practice and it flows steady, gently from my daily morning pause.

Uncontrived.

I pause, I’m reminded.

Lord, help me not to flee frantically from the quiet place with you, the place where you keep me, continue to make me strong.

Keep me from the need for acclaim. Keep me in the quiet places where I hear you clearly saying, don’t go after that, I have equipped you, see me, see you. You are able, Lisa Anne; but, never, on your own. Let me lead you in the way you know so very well and let it show.

The way of quiet confidence, be willing.

Believe.

Because of mercy, Amen

“For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” But you were unwilling,”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

31 Days, Freely – Why

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, grace, Labradors, memoir, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

In the work I do, I’ve learned the significance of the “why”.

A quiet, learned and soft-spoken gentleman spoke words almost ten years ago that I’ve used as my guide.

“Why should I care?”, the question potential donors are counting on my application and conversations to have an acceptable and compelling reply.

Yesterday, I began my day with my bare feet in the wet grass, the sunshine through moving clouds making pretty shadows on the green.

I welcomed the day with a big sweet dog that fours ago was an uncontrollable crazy question of why.

I returned home last night to a kitchen that wasn’t quite clean enough for me and a bed waiting to be made straight and ready for my rest.

(These are things I can control, small things of mine.)

In twelve hours of day there were interruptions, thoughtful and purposeful conversations and heaviness, heavy long and long drawn exchanges over loss by suicide and why.

I listened and did my best to lead, direct and redirect, knowing there’s no agenda here, there’s no real set of ground rules, no conversational etiquette, a support group for those bereaved by suicide.

There is only me, the timekeeper and host who sits sort of head of the table and gives space for the twelve or so separate unending respective and at times, remorseful whys.

So, I thought of small things before bed, still am just now.

Small things like a goofy rescue dog as crazy as I’ve ever known and all he now knows and has settled down for us and settled a whole lot of stuff for us.

Love him, love us.

I thought of the small mercies and grander mercies I’ve known.

I thought of my cousin’s timely call she’d considered an interruption and how I assured her, oh no!

How she prayed, prompted me to pray.

To pray giving thanks for small things in light of the others’ large, troubling and grievous things of others.

There’s a sweet, sweet song I love, the artist not so famous.

It has a happy little rhythm, a proclamation of sorts. Her voice, dancing lightly the lyrics of how the mountains before us will become plains.

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.

‭‭Zechariah‬ ‭4:10‬ ‭NLT‬‬

The prophet Zechariah spoke these words, recorded for me, for us to know that greater things are still to come.

Not necessarily grander in terms of perfection from our perspective.

But, certainly grander. Grander, in light of your why. Grander, not so much grandeur or achievement or acclaim.

A grander view of God.

Oh, the God of small things.

Alli Rogers “Small Things”

Like tennis balls, wet grass and interruptions we at first are aggravated over and then allow.

And are reminded why, the small things that enlighten us, remind us, compel us to pray,

Saying, thanks. Yes, God, thanks.

Today, I’ll put figures and outcomes and measures together and I’ll combine knowledge with true stories as a way to describe the difference made by a home, a temporary place to transition, to believe in the possibility of better.

Work, life, God and why.

I don’t despise the days of small things.

The mountains before me are becoming gradual plains. I see it more clearly now and understand why I’m so much more certain.

God is with me, can be trusted, can make my big bad things bring small and sometimes even greater good.

Father, our God, let us not despise the day of small things.

Because of mercy, Amen

31 Days, Freely – Inspire

confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, freedom, grace, happy, heaven, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

If the sun where you rose today was even half the spectacle of mine.

Then, like me you’ve got cause to continue.

We were both in the presence of sublime.

There is joy on our horizons or for you, already, by this time.

God is with us.

On earth sometimes as it is, as it shall be for us.

In heaven.

Saying, notice now, ask of me what you’d like to see, trust and be attentive.

You will see.

Wait and see.

“And the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭35:10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

31 Days, Freely – Comfort

confidence, contentment, Faith, grace, Labradors, memoir, mercy, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Trust, waiting, wonder

We had a splendid reunion! An easy afternoon and into the evening.

He ate the broccoli that fell from the counter and so, I gave him another floret or two, then three.

I sat with the Sunday paper.

He plopped his big ole self at my feet, his belly over one and then he nudged until I rested the other to then rub softly the place under his collar.

A long sigh, he was comfortable. He wasn’t mad at me at all.

Then, rather than run, we walked together and ended in the place he loves, up next to the fence, the open valley of field to sit.

I’d been away and he had waited, good dogs are that way, must surely know we will always return.

Won’t be gone too far for too long.

“Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

And be at rest again at home and grateful to be greeted by such grace and favor.

Returning to mercy and the comfort of home, hope for us and our returning, hope that is unshaken.

31 Days, Freely -Belong

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, daughters, Faith, family, grace, memoir, mercy, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

The Spring before my daddy died, he planted potatoes. The air was cool and my children watched, their bottoms plopped down on the dirt, my daughter with her arms wrapped around her baby brother.

If you asked my daddy if he was a farmer he’d have said no because he wasn’t a farmer and the potatoes weren’t a necessary crop.

If being a farmer depended upon breaking up the soil, walking out the spaces between the slices of potatoes planted, well, yes he was a farmer.

He belonged among the farmers.

I woke up this morning thinking about the harvest, about the keeping at it to reap what I sow.

My daddy was meticulous about how the potatoes were planted.

Just a small plot of land my cousin wasn’t planning to use, next to my house, so I got to watch him stand over it, waiting for what was happening underneath.

I read this morning about perseverance, about persistence.

Thinking about this season my friend is calling our harvest, I sensed a sure stirring, a need to grow.

I’d been distracted, disgruntled, pulled away and pitiful, decided I was never gonna reap from all that I had sown.

Jesus told a story about seeds and what we do with them and how we get disenchanted with the idea of us making something grow.

We don’t stay with it, we let our hopes go.

He told of people who only stick with it for awhile or people who’d just toss their seeds toward the not broken up soil as if to say, that’s it now God, make it grow!

“And the ones on the rock are those who, when they hear the word, receive it with joy. But these have no root; they believe for a while, and in time of testing fall away. And as for what fell among the thorns, they are those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature.”

‭‭Luke 8:13-14

I thought about my daddy and his potatoes, bothered that I couldn’t remember, did we go back to reap the harvest, dig up the little baby red potatoes? Did he get to see how well his last crop had grown, how abundant his harvest was that last year?

Jesus continues, explaining how we are made to flourish, lead others to flourishing.

“As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭8:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The soil was always good where my daddy planted his garden. He had an honest and good heart, he was patient with his potatoes.

Daddy belonged among the farmers, I believe.

Maybe I, among the writers, the planters, the sowers and the patient, holding fast to be mature believers.

31 Days, Freely – Believe

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, daughters, doubt, Faith, family, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, heaven, memoir, mercy, Motherhood, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

My mama never kept a journal or to my knowledge, wrote thoughts in a Bible.

So, I can’t say I “get that from my mama”.

She’d rather speak her truths to you, long conversations with time in between her phrases to let what she’d given you sink in. Look you in the eye or leave something with you and look away, walk away like that’s it, now I’m puttin’ a period there.

I believe every single thing she ever said.

Lots of times there was no acceptable reply, either she’d put me in my place or I had to just keep my mouth shut and let the sometimes unwelcome truth sink in.

She was resilient.

She believed in the possibility of everything working out for good despite so much wrong she endured.

She rarely quoted scripture, just paraphrased God’s truths in her own no holds barred way. Some would call it irreverent, her language was generous with cuss words.

I don’t think she aspired to write and I rarely recall a book in her lap, she’d rather be one with people, one with life.

She talked about books in a different way, telling me “turn the page, Lisa Anne.” when I kept mulling over some misdeed or misfortune.

She was quick to give her commentary on all that might be wrong or someone’s crazy choices or just mean motives.

She’d say “They’re not reading the right book or they’re not on the same page.”

I know she had a Bible. I know because it was mine and towards the end of her days I noticed it moved from the stack of old Southern Living magazines to the place in front of her where she’d fall asleep with the noise of Fox news.

I know she believed. I know she wanted us all, the four of us to always believe.

To pray, believing more often than beckoning or begging.

To smile, thinking how far we’ve all come and how far she and daddy got to see us go and grow.

Yesterday, I had an encounter with someone who has changed. A distant person who acknowledged her resistance towards relationship, she stopped by to give me a book.

She had a cold, I’d had to same one, I shared. She let me hug her and she hugged me back.

We walked out and I told her she’d reminded me of a new favorite word, “countenance”.

She was puzzled, said she had never heard it before and I told her I thought it might be biblical but that it’s such a beautiful word, a beautiful thing to see.

I explained that it means to me, your sweet soul is shining through, the change in expression showing so pretty on your face.

She thanked me twice, and more.

I thanked her for stopping by.

Thanking her and God now for reminding me of my mama.

Reminding me to choose believing.

Believing God is so very good.

“Behold, the hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home, and will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me. I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.””

‭‭John‬ ‭16:32-33‬ ‭ESV‬‬

And to “live life today”, and then tomorrow live and believe again as you “turn the page”.

My mama’s stubborn resilience and God’s unwavering and believable peace and grace, I’m believing in both today.

Preparing for the Storm

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, daughters, Faith, family, fear, memoir, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

So very excited to have her, my daughter might be sleeping in her little bed, her husband out working in the storm.

Crisp clean sheets and pillows fresh with light lavender scent and on Saturday night I’d have both she and her brother right next to me in their rooms.

Instead, the storm weakened, there was no need for her to sleep over.

No need for her to stay. I was prepared though, in every possible way.

Several days ago, I heard or read that if there are pleasant hills, there will be valleys.

I wanted not to hear that, wanted to look away as if my understanding of this truth might hasten my finding myself sooner in the valley at the bottom of my current pleasant hill.

My life is not all pleasant; but, pretty much is good, sufficiently and grace-filled.

Has been for the most part for some time. This is why I didn’t want to hear it, shook it off, the possibility of the valley.

David knew valleys. He wrote of them, of the one that skirted the border of death, the one wrought with shame over his significant sexual sin, the one where he faced Goliath, the embodiment of what would prove his strength from God or evil’s victory that would change us all.

David has lessons, lots of them from which we can learn.

Or relearn.

“So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come.

Your righteousness, O God, reaches the high heavens. You who have done great things, O God, who is like you?

You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. You will increase my greatness and comfort me again.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭71:18-21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I love to tell the story of the itinerant preacher man who traveled every weekend to the little church around a curvy clay road at the top of the hill, the one called Poplar Springs.

My life was in shambles. I found myself alone with my girl and my boy.

He visited me at my mama’s because we had been visiting the church, my children first for Sunday School and then I joined in.

Word spread quickly in the tiny rural place of my home, my dilemma a disgrace, it only made me strong.

So, I asked Him how I should pray for God’s help to get through.

His reply,

Just pray for mercy.

So, I did and I do.

Because the mercy I prayed for back then when my babies were young is the mercy I remember still now, and continue to seek.

Mercy in unexpected hardship, mercy in times of unknown outcomes, mercy that wraps its arms around me and is strengthened through remembering.

Strengthened even more in relating to others. Others recorded in God’s word.

The woman at the well called out by others and Jesus. The man who wanted healing but never thought to push himself towards the waters, the man called Saul who became Paul; yet, still knew he wasn’t able on his own.

He knew he needed mercy, for he would always remember how he’d been before, I believe this was his thorn “in his side”.

Like preparing for a storm that didn’t come with the devastation predicted, we should prepare for upheavals of a personal nature.

Praying not just when desperate, learning from God’s word not just searching for something to tell us all is well.

Believing all is well because we remember the mercies of before and we praise Him for the mercy of now.

Today, I’ll prepare good food for my son before he returns from his school’s evacuation. I’ll make enough in case my daughter stops by.

I’ll store up the goodness of these past few days, this weekend’s little victories and exchanges.

I’ll carry them with me as I rest in this time of merciful, this pleasant little place, this hill in my heart.

I’ll move on unafraid towards valleys that might come knowing I’m attended to lovingly, I’m held closely by mercy.

Pray for mercy, just pray for mercy.

My prayer, I once thought such an anxious desperate plea, now a dependence, a comfort and assurance.

If there are hills, there will be valleys.

So, we cling to the mercy of God, treasuring His truth.

God is for us.

God is with us.

Happy Way of Life #17

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, happy, kindness, memoir, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, writing

I made it to the top of the hill and the rain showered my cheeks in a whipping wash.

The storm brought rain mostly and a time to wait, and trust, and to stop depending on the weather or the man to begin, or to stay, to go.

Go, go with the flow. Go slow if you struggle, still go.

So, today the wind said no use for that hat and I set out to walk, to run into the wind with Alison Krauss singing of maybe one day maybe and a simple love like that and please read the letter that I wrote.

Tiny leaves all around, torn from the trees still green and one large maple between two pines is sparsely scattered with yellow now amongst the still lively greens.

img_0576img_0567img_0566

Saying time is changing, you are changing. It is time.

So, I passed a couple walking separate but together, moved uphill running to the opposite and not even a nod did I offer.

For I was moving steady and thinking now about the times against the wind and how that song used to slow me but, now feels quite fine.

Like a letter you write that needs new correspondence because this is now and that was then.  You open the mail to find an invitation to enter a literary competition, to submit again like last year before and you tuck it away knowing already the story, the one about changing names.