rest

Apples of His Eye

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I fell asleep trying to remember what I’m supposed to do if my car starts to slide on the slick road touched by just a smattering of snow.

I believe I decided not to slam down on the brakes, not to jerk the wheel, to sort of allow the slide into a safe place to rest.

It’s a phenomenal occurrence, snow in southern South Carolina.

patiently waiting for snow

I made a plan, I’d just follow the pull and trust the direction.

My first thought in the dark of early morning deciding to rise or linger, “I’m not who I was.”

I asked my son last week, “Why do you think so many planes are skidding off the runways?”

And his analysis was different than mine, starkly different and obviously more expert in comparison since the only plane I’ve ever boarded was a crop duster with a farm boy hoping to impress me.

He said the runways are slick, it’s winter and the pilots in some foreign countries are simply not as well trained and perhaps, not as attentive or exact.

Oh, okay.

Slightly veering off course might be to be expected.

I met someone yesterday who wore the evidence of faith on her face.

Someone who’s appointment was timely, my faith faltering, getting off course and on the cusp of falling over fear’s cliff.

I’d not seen her in two years and our meeting had a serious purpose, still just as before we began to talk about our faith.

She’d had a medical emergency, simple procedure led to sepsis and she, according to the more skilled physician who she feels saved her life, had only a day between living and dying.

I told her I saw it, I saw how her eyes expressed the stillness of hope, the assurance of God, the unwavering trust in Him that caused her cheeks to be lifted happily, her jaw relaxed into a calm perseverance.

Her countenance had changed, a serenity from strength.

We smiled.

She thanked me, thanked me for noticing.

I wondered if she needed to be reminded or if she saw my need of reminding.

I sometimes do. I’m easily taken back to a place of unworthy, unable, incapable.

Powerful words have been spoken over me, for me, through me and yet, I feel less capable than ever before.

Trauma lingers, woven early on or fallen into as we go, sometimes our own fault, other times harsh circumstances from heavy, hate filled arms and loud voices.

She knew. We both know, hurts and harms linger and become the gauge for our worth and ability.

I teeter on the edge, close to going from not sure I can to despondent…oh, well I just won’t.

We walked together towards the door and embraced. I’m going to be praying for you, she said and I told her I’d be doing the same.

We both agreed that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, that God knows full well that He has good for us.

We agreed that Satan knows as well, just as well.

We carry doubts, fears, anxieties and insecurities that rush over us like a hard knock me down wave in the wide,wide ocean.

Facing the shore, considering all of the good things awaiting me, I stand solitary and stoic, convinced I will finally be the me God sees, then I feel the ocean underneath changing, pulling, pulling, pulling from behind.

From before.

Before, when I wasn’t who I am.

Do I surrender to the strong and angry sea hoping to level my soul, even drown me or do I turn towards the wave, confront its instigating and gracefully allow it to carry me forward, hold me in its strong embrace?

And realize I’m not so small, I’m strong.

I’ll be strong, I’ll be stronger than I’ve ever known.

“My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped. I call upon you, for you will answer me, O God; incline your ear to me; hear my words. Wondrously show your steadfast love, O Savior of those who seek refuge from their adversaries at your right hand. Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings, from the wicked who do me violence, my deadly enemies who surround me.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭17:5-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“I’m not who I was.” my waking thought and now that day is done and

I’m safely home, not skidded off track or pulled back by the hand of doubt, my destination still, with God, my faithful pursuit.

Today, a good day, with just a smattering of snow.

Today, even more distant from who I was and closer to who God has me to be.

The apple of His eye.

Closer to Love

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I wonder if your first waking thoughts are placed there mid sleeping and waking by God as His way to say,

“Begin again, let’s go!

Follow my lead, follow your leader.

Follow your heart, your soul.”

I woke, thrilled to have slept past 7 and kept my eyes closed for a few minutes.

Did not reach for my phone.

I thought and thought again,

“Stop looking for likes.”

Then wrote it down, hoping it more deeply would sink in.

I’ve just spent almost an hour in between making breakfast and coffee and conversation about new cars with my husband, tracking down which blog post was most “liked”.

It was in 2014 and it was entitled “not knowing”. It was about my children and God and well, being okay with not knowing.

Stats show which day is best, which theme more enticing and I suppose which posts are so good that people click the little star that says “like”.

Actually, I don’t have a whole lot of “likes”. I do have a lots of views and viewers and some commenters who I always thank “for reading my words” and mean it, sincerely.

I was curious, then got weary of discerning my “likers” based on my stats.

What I saw was my life since 2014, I saw God’s guiding, his pulling me from the ditch of doubt, His rescuing me before I fall too far from the pit of pride and pedestal.

So, I’m more settled, less seeking and more set on seeing me as God sees me and

“likes” me.

Prayerful, this morning in my journal about writing for “Daughters of the Deep” and for Lisa Brittain’s “Saturday Shares” and other places my soul feels led and prompted by prayer and the Holy Spirit.

Places and people who I’d never encounter were it not for words and God, women like Nan Jones, women who write and women who don’t write; but, surely are praying. I am worried other making a list, it’s so vast, I’d surely forget one or two or three who make up my “community”.

This morning I read from My Utmost for His Highest and the thoughts are lingering and lined up, as did the other words and verses established for today.

I’m getting closer every day to the me God sees.

Not yet arrived, surely on my way though.

Noticing and embracing words like these, believing waking thoughts as God’s instruction and loving affirmation.

As you journey with God, the only thing He intends to be clear is the way He deals with your soul.

My Utmost for His Highest devotion

Closer to love.

Closer to God and speaking more bravely.

Two times last week, I believe my words came as a surprise to others (and me).

I’m so glad God brought you into my life.

Me, through God

The first time, a crowded restaurant and as a goodbye to our unplanned encounter.

The second, a parking lot after “so happy to run into you” send off.

Both times, I was sure in my saying so and both times, the ones who were with me, their smiles spread wide as the sky and we parted, all of us thinking of God.

So, if you’re reading this,

I’m so glad brought you into my life. So happy He brought us both here. me

Quiet Like That

Faith, grace, Peace, praise, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

The rain has lulled me to even more lazy. I can’t get my thoughts to dance together and my excitement over chances to write has become anxious obligation overload.

Brain overloaded, lethargic and slightly rattled. I make things difficult that are simple, too many noises and voices all colliding.

I’m gonna have to get solitary, have to get quiet, have to get still.

Quiet like the way I felt as the sunlight traveled in through the windows to rest in my mama’s chair. Quiet, like that, content just to be there in the room.

Quiet like being told by someone that they’d pray and being moved by the expression of another whose beliefs you’d decided didn’t line up with yours.

Quiet when you walk away still draped in their sincerity and being really ashamed that you’d considered them unworthy, not able.

Before.

Quiet when your soul is your teacher and you listen and then pause a long few minutes to let it settle, a lesson on the love that you say you believe.

Real quiet, I was.

Quiet like the aging beagle girl looking for her blanket tossing in the dryer, then making her way to my warm lap and being surprised that I let her stay so long.

Exceptions, bent rules, exceptionally quiet we were.

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Quiet like the touching of my soles and toes of my feet, smooth caresses of the senses on freshly laundered sheets and deciding for myself there’s no rule I can’t wash them daily.

Excitedly quiet like that.

The words will come in the quiet moments suggesting, “More, please.”

God wants us to develop the character, wisdom, and structure to sustain His abundance.

Christine Caine

Quiet like the day I read this quote, copied, pasted and printed to remember it.

Quiet like this morning when I prayed for God to speak to my heart and then read a message from a friend about how she thought of me as she read of a prophetic’s words that there are writers who are about “to be birthed, to break through”.

Quiet like that.

More inner, less outer. Less waste of time, more nourishment of intention, more carefully attentive.

More God, less me.

Quiet like that.

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Linking up with others who wrote prompted by “simplify”. Can’t help but wonder if others had such a hard time with expressing something so simple.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/11/fmf-link-up-simplify/

Art and Opportunity

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, grace, praise, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Uncategorized

    The post I’m sharing below was originally sent for consideration to be shared with a large platform of readers. It was my fifth attempt to respond to the opportunity to be chosen.

A week before I got the “no” though, I was selected by two others. The very same day, I thought the shop owner was gonna tell me she didn’t think my pieces were right for her shop anymore. Instead, she wrote a sweet note and said: “give me more”. I’ve set up my Etsy page “Angels and Other” and I rearranged my desk today, added a pretty paperweight and crossed off 5 of the 8 things on my “to do”.  I pray for opportunities, remembering to do only my part and let God do the rest.

Always believe something wonderful is about to happen.

Pretty paperweight wisdom

I know that God is for me. I know that I am known.

As are you.

I remembered sharing what I call a “lisaism” in a recent post, the one I felt so proud of, one that I decided would be a difference maker for my children. “You can be miserable or you can be motivated.”

When I got the “no” email telling me how many others had tried and yet, again my submission was not chosen, I was kinda pitiful. But, not for as long as before. I remembered all of the good that’s been coming my way and I decided to carry on.

I remembered another “lisaism”:

You can be pitiful or you can be powerful. Me

I left work late yesterday, went to a grant presentation and hurried to make boot camp because I know physical health is good for my mental health and I’ve made up my mind in general, to press on like a runner towards whatever prizes God has for me.

(Oh, and there were some edits needed, I understand more clearly why my email said no. Live and learn. 🙂)

We were in the same spot that morning. I, for the grits that remind of my mama and her for coffee. The little café that is known for its breakfast, pimento cheese, casseroles and cheesecake, she was new in town and was waiting for her order. The cashier wished me good morning, and I listened as the new person talked about her shop next door. She and her husband had retired from corporate, he a carpenter and she a lover of junk pieces and art, she had opened a new place and was excited to begin displaying local pieces of art.

The words came, and I surprised myself to announce, “I paint.”  She turned and smiled and said “Well, what types of painting do you do?”  To which I replied, “I’ll show you, I have pictures on my phone.”  This was over a year ago, and I still have my wall in her shop.

Shortly before my cafe’ encounter, I’d begun to pray the Jabez prayer again. I have a little in common with Jabez, always have. I find his story relatable in that not too many people; His mother included felt he’d amount to much or worse yet, he might have a life of pain. But, Jabez started young and prayed for the course of his life to be rerouted.

He prayed and asked God to bless him, to bless him indeed. He prayed his abilities and the places he’d be privy to would be expanded far wider than he could believe.

His request was granted.

“Oh, that you would bless me and expand my territory! Please be with me in all that I do, and keep me from all trouble and pain!” I Chronicles 4:10, NLT

Like Jabez, I’ve been surprised by life and opportunity. I’ve been one held back by family dynamics that caused me as a child to be sure I caused no distress, made no mention of being in need, having needs unmet.

Oh, for the foresight to have prayed the prayer of a child born in pain named Jabez rather than become a young adult who sought conciliation in unhealthy ways and paths that bordered self-destruction.

Still, my road has led me to places scary but protected, my stumbles have met cushions upon my falling, and my failures have not been final. I have now what many call an “Angel Ministry” thanks to my friend Connie from the café. She, one of the many who has provided me opportunities that I might never have been shown had I not decided to ask God to enlarge my borders. I might have longed to simply paint in private.

I may have kept my pieces layered with hymns and expressionless angels to myself, maybe give a few away, leaned others against shelves in my home. Were it not for Connie and my prayers for opportunity; I’d have never used the word “commission” nor discussed prices for pieces of art. I would have never had the confidence to create a page on my blog called “The Art of Quiet Confidence”.

This morning, I happened upon another favorite scripture. It caused me to consider whether David, too may have been changed by the story of Jabez, whether all the opportunities and challenges he approached with the assurance of God were perhaps with a recollection of a boy named Jabez.

For I have surely been blessed indeed. The boundaries and borders have bent my way, led me to consider all the good I never expected to know.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. Psalm 16:6 ESV

Prayerfully waiting and willing to walk in places God decides are mine.

 

 

Linking up with others at Tell His Story.  Jennifer writes about the difference a day can make:  http://jenniferdukeslee.com/whatever-youre-facing-now-give-24-hours-first/

Misery and Motivation

Angels, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Yesterday, I read somewhere about the way Jesus cherished Peter, the disciple who denied Him.

I’m thinking this morning, of what motivates me to follow, to know each day invites my turning to God. Morning new mercies are motivation enough; still I let misery take over in regards to what I don’t see and well, I get better at recalling the mercy unending, better as I go.

It astounds me how Jesus knew it would be Peter to deny Him and how he knew and told Peter, “You will, and I’ll confirm my knowing of your choice not to stay loyal by the sound of a rooster, crowing two times to announce your denial.”

“And immediately the rooster crowed a second time. And Peter remembered how Jesus had said to him, “Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.” And he broke down and wept.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭14:72‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It astounds me the way the disciples saw so much healing, so much mercy and kindness and were doubtful at times.

I’d love to have met some of the ones healed; the leper, Lazarus, the woman who could not stop bleeding and the man who thought he’d never see. I would treasure talking with Martha, the sister like me who couldn’t slow down long enough to believe; but, then did.

Signs and wonders, yet Thomas needed to see the open wound, needed to touched the body of Jesus, pierced in order to have us believe.

“So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side.

Do not disbelieve, but believe.”

‭‭John‬ ‭20:25-27‬ ‭ESV‬‬

How miserable he surely must have been in his disbelief, to say he would never believe! I wonder just how amazed he was, if his seeing and touching increased his believing or if he continued for all of his days praying for help in his miserable disbelief.

I believe he was motivated by his former misery.

I used to say all sorts of little “motivational mantras” to my children when they were athletes. I must have surely annoyed them to the point of nausea, that and the mandatory daily banana!

Thankfully, if there was eye-rolling, it was not in my presence.

Yes, I am fortunate, I know.

One of my bits of wisdom was:

You can be miserable or you can be motivated. Me

Every bit of wisdom I shared, I was saying so much more clearly back to myself.

It’s the same with my sharing here, on social media or in personal encounters. I’m encouraging, redirecting myself every step of the way, with every exchange.

I believe Peter was more motivated when Jesus invited him again to follow. I believe Thomas’ testimony more profound because Jesus granted him extra mercy to make up for his debilitating doubt.

Me too. I’m motivated by His unending and more than expected mercy.

Turn us to you, God. Show us a life other than miserable doubt and inconsistent faith.

Motivate us Lord, to recall that you are mindful of us and mostly that you’d never choose misery for us; we choose it for ourselves and it surely can be used for good, for motivation to follow, to believe.

I’m thankful for the FMF prompt of motivate. I’ve exceeded the 5 minutes allowed; but I’ll share knowing there’s also mercy in this group of followers who motivate me, one another!

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/04/fmf-link-up-motivate/amp/

Called “Precious”

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Y’all, I often minimize things or maybe it’s my pattern of not getting too excited about the way my life plays out. It’s not humility, the good kind of staying meek and quiet; it’s truly being joy-filled to the point of oh, my goodness can’t believe I’m seeing this stuff happening in my life.

It’s quiet confidence making itself embraceable, tangible.

And to think,  I’ve only just barely begun to surrender!

 

img_2170

“Do not fear, only believe.”  Jesus  

 

You might find it small. I consider it God showing me more clarity every day and that I am loved. Nan Jones found my blog through another blogger. She asked me to write. She first asked me about what is happening in my life now, what are my prayers, what is on my heart. I answered by telling of my prayers for my daughter’s healing and she asked me to write about it.

At first, it was all fluff then I decided to be truthful about fear and believing, the lessons I’ve been learning in my listening.

She’s sharing my words and my art here.  I am so very grateful for yet another person God in his infinite wisdom “enlarged my borders” with, people who I never knew might be my teachers, my guides, my spiritual pointers of the way to walk, to write, to be unafraid.

We’ve never met, yet she says she sees me as “precious” and all I can do is smile and cry just a little to know that I am called precious. Finding God in Quiet Confidence

 

Thank you, Nan! Thank you so!

Art and My Word

Art, bravery, courage, Faith, grace, New Years Day, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

May we all have more of what feeds our soul. Find ourselves in that place that calls us back and we lose track of time.

May we have the love of those who love us and leave us there, alone.

Because they love so well the we we are when we’ve been in that place that causes us to be us, they’ve learned we are better from being there.

Happiest of New Years to all my followers as I’ve decided “still” is my word and my place.

And tonight, at midnight I’ll add some color and I’ll begin or complete some paragraphs.

And then I will pray before sleep.

I want to be doing what I want to be doin’ all year.

Because like greens and black eyed peas, cornbread and pork on tomorrow, I believe and am all in for tradition and I’m so very much anticipating what God will do when I finally get better at being still.

Crazy how exciting stillness can be.

Happy New Year, ya’ll!

May you surely know more clearly our God who loves us so.

Wording and Waiting

Angels, Art, Faith, Peace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I am strangely becoming more settled.

Countering where I have been with the counterintuitive tilt of my thinking.

I’m sure it’s such a joy to be met by words proclaiming revelation or breakthrough.

Words that invite, oh, let’s watch her now, let’s see if she means it this time.

Then realizing where this morning has me is contradictory in a gradually huge way.

Gradual, a word that feels like ease. Feels like the quiet me.

Accountability matters to women, I read. It’s why we don’t talk about diets, don’t announce our goals, hesitate to bring notice to our habits.

Last year, around this time I decided I’d have a “breakthrough” year. I did and I didn’t.

I didn’t write the manuscript. I did not finish and have barely begun.

I regretted, I panicked, I wanted to hide and I considered all of the let downs.

Myself and others.

I wrote more. Had a chapter published in a book, my name on Amazon. I painted so much more. I read, I noticed God and I was given opportunity. Given not chased after.

I considered new perspectives.

I forgave myself over time.

Asked a friend to hold me accountable, the book and all…all.

A few days ago, I read a verse that most of us know.

I read it differently because of that peace, that change in perspective.

“Be still, and know that I am God! ”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭46:10‬ ‭NLT‬‬

The weight of the words, more easy to know, the meaning slightly shifted either all of a sudden or have been all along.

The hashtag “breakthrough17” I boasted of this year enthused me early on and later led to hectic half-hearted writing and rushing.

Days were hectic, my writing a chore, a demand unmet and self-discipline became self-destruction.

I’ve been praying daily in December, equip me to write, help me to focus and give me words that heal not hinder, provide hope, not harm. Honest prayers.

The verse above I saw before of magnitude and strength, words that made sure I knew just how much God can do.

And I always focused on that and still do,

Still know that He is God.

But, as I sit this morning deciding to accept all I’ve not done thus far, I’m content in what has come already, what God has brought my way in ways of opportunities that have eased me forward.

Not pushed my way through…not at all breakthrough speed or fashion.

But, breaking through like the sunrise this morning, pink ribboned sky now fully shining and making shadows, warm and soft.

Yes, this is God’s way for me to see His plan, for others to see Him through me.

A dear, kind friend told me of visiting someone grieving this Christmas.

It wasn’t necessary or required he check in.

But, he did and she thanked him, adding she knew it wasn’t something he had to do.

His reply has changed my heart a little, has softened my striving, has granted me grace in all I’ve not done and had decided was failure.

“I didn’t stop by. ‘Someone Else stopped by through me.” J.

Oh, the humility of stepping aside while stepping towards what God designs.

His reply me that my work, my art, my words will fail me, will fail to come, will fail to find favor, if they are the measure of me.

Has reminded me to be still.

To be quiet.

To be confident in that quiet, that stillness.

He is God. Greater things are still to come.

Still, perhaps my word, “Still18”.

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.

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.