Petals and Remembrance

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust

If you knew what might be said of you, an act or characteristic that all would agree, “That’s what I remember most about….”

What might that one thing be, when might that moment have occurred or what might be the description of you that followed pensive pause?

I read today about a woman who loved Jesus.

With intention, she sought and found Jesus. She found him at the house of Simon, a man with leprosy. Others were there. She made her way to Jesus, broke open the alabaster vase and tenderly poured the costly perfume on his head, anointing him, an act of love.

She had heard of his coming death. The others, indignant and critical, vying for the approval of Jesus, pointed out her waste, her lack of discretion. Jesus, instead corrected them, humbled and touched by her beautiful and timely act.

The act of love she’d be remembered by, the story of the broken vase, the perfume, Jesus told them all this is what will be told in memory of her…

the woman from Bethany, the one with intentional love for me.

“She has done what she could. She has anointed my body beforehand for burial. Truly, I say to you wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.” Jesus. Mark 14:8-9

There are camellia petals, still rich and soft, in my Bible.

There are little asterisks, notes, and lengthy prayers scattered among bullet lists of blessings.

There’s a place I’m found every morning for a while now. Bible and nicely flowing pen or pencil, time with God. I’m most content there.

It’s not at all profound or amazing; yet, I’d like to know there may be memories of me there, in my morning chair.

The place of finding Jesus.

Grace in the Silence of Morning

courage, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I heard it most clearly

As the rain fell steady and fluid.

It continued through the night.

I’d wake and hear it’s shrill and consistent cry.

Then, drifting back as opportunity allowed, only to be roused again.

A solitary bird, must be a baby I decided…somehow stranded, lost, seeking to be found.

So, morning comes and the dogs must have heard it too.

So anxious to be let out

Rushing through the door, bolting towards back yard, barking frantically at the sky, full retrieval mode.

Barking and circling the yard, looking up from rain-soaked trunks, tracking the cry of a solitary bird.

Where are you?

What do you need?

Their barks, a seeking and determined banter.

And I followed behind, just as intent, looking up towards skinny and broken pine limbs way up high.

Looking to find the place of this needy, deliberate, and insisting cry.

Others joined, a variety of bird, more melodic as daylight pushed its way through drizzled gray.

The lone bird’s cry paused, finally.

Had been responded to, so grew softer then, more expectant.

Not so shrill, not so impatiently anxious.

The morning then, a harmonious repose.

So. as the morning goes, I find myself in my familiar place.

Jotting, reading, praying, sipping coffee and finding words.

Opening my heart, it’s an effortless sort of graceful gift.

God hears my silent and seeking cry again.

As my thoughts become settled and silent.

God’s words making sense every morning.

Easy in the silence.

The Lord will fight for you, and you only have to be silent.

Exodus 14:14

Psalm 23, Art and Rest

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Psalm 23…scribbled in the corner

I almost painted over it…the brush strokes too wide and thick. “Psalm 23”, I called this one and decided to leave the words in its corner.

On the 26th day, I read Psalm 23, following the guide in the back of my Bible. Before that, I’d read from Genesis. Fine pencil lines marking the words of Joseph’s father, a very old man, realizing his son had not died. A beautiful story, son clinging to father, tears soaking shoulder.

I read from the Book of Mark, an account of Jesus in the early days of healing. A man, paralyzed, delivered to Jesus to be healed, forgiven, walking. Believing first, then with healed legs, moving forward.

Then, Psalm 23, I lingered there. I thought of green pastures.

Shady, wide-branched trees and blue, blue sky.

And on this day, I thought all day long of resting.

This painting was purchased weeks ago, I wondered by whom for awhile. It’s size large and painted on antique door.

Then, this week a call, a note for me had been mailed to the shop.

The young newlywed wife from Oregon wrote to thank me.

“The painting hangs over our bed” , she wrote. “It’s calming.

I’m not religious, but Psalm 23 speaks to me.”

I read the note, tears in my eyes because I’d lingered there that morning, 23rd Chapter, Book of Psalms.

I cherish this now, a thank you note from a couple, my painting hangs in their home evoking rest.

And just last week, walking, a longing in my heart.

I’d prayed, “Lord, help me see my worth, help me know I matter.”

23rd Psalm, resting, restoring…walking in valleys and shadows.

Little sketches or big paintings on old wood….comforting like cool grass under shade of tree.

I shall lie down…my soul restored.

Goodness and Possibility

courage, Faith, family, grace, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

May the Lord fulfill all your petitions! Psalm 20:5

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

This daily, hourly, prompted or not

Offering up, recording, pouring out or simply conversing with you, God.

Less uncertainty

More possibility.

Less effort, more expectation.

Believing, although not knowing.

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

For intercession.

For just the slightest of change in my dilemma, desire or discontent.

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

For big, big changes that cause my awe of you.

Give credence to my conviction.

And for subtle and secret answers. Answers that ease mind and soul.

Answers that wrap me in ease of mind, sense of coming change.

Acceptance of my lot or just contentment in the waiting.

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

For seeing, knowing, calming and blessing.

You bless me indeed. Surrounding me with those I love and enlightening me by bringing those I need…people placed on my path to teach and grow me. You keep your hand on me and with gentle caution you stop my rushing forward. You prevent me from causing pain. You hear my thoughts, my prayers.

You intercede on my behalf.

Thank you, God, for goodness and possibility.

In Jesus name, Amen

Faithful as the Day, our God

Children, Faith, family, praise, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

The day began with cold rain.

Nice to hear, fitting in a way. I woke thinking of challenges, questions, contemplations over what the day might bring.

Might not.

I stepped outside, unconcerned with the cold and wet, then turned back towards inside to prepare for the day, the Sunday.

To not be bothered by cold, wet rain speaks volumes in terms of mood, of place in life.

Accepting the day.

Accepting the season.

My spirit, reluctant.

Meal started, dogs settled, lesson studied, dressed for Sunday.

And the sky changed to brilliant blue.

So, we drove; casual talk and heavy, pretty country road, trees clinging to sunlight.

Faith, fear, hopes, goals, concerns and the such.

Almost cliche’, our rambling of topics has become.

Words befitting of our age and place in life, in relationship.

Sunday School lesson taught, choir song sung ….

“Sweet, sweet spirit in this place…surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.”

I join him then. Just us, no children on our pew anymore.

“I could hear your voice, it was good.” He says and holds my hand as we are reminded how to worship.

A sermon on commitment, being committed to your worship.

Being in the moments God brings, noticing He’s there always.

He is faithful.

The day, cold still and darkly stormy again as we drove back home.

Changing three times already, one day, three colors of sky.

House warmed by fire, meal finished up.

We sit together, just the two, with good food.

He offers up prayer that God keep us in His will.

Then football for him, painting for me.

A sweet, sweet spirit in this place, this season.

God will make this happen. For He who calls you is faithful.

I Thessalonians 5:24

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee, Telling His Story

Morning, a lingering

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

If morning were all day and filtered into evening

I may be a little different.

Morning still

My maybe might be sure.

My perhaps would be probably.

I’d be more apt to linger, content in unfolding of day.

My “No’s” might be more steady.

My “Yes’s” more enthused.

My failures be more misunderstandings than mistakes.

If morning lingered longer

I’d wear the color of patience on my smile.

Subtle, pretty and just a hint of shine like a peachy lip

My pauses be more often, intentional in exchange

My words more heart than hurry.

Mornings like today, moved more slowly towards task and rested in time for contemplation.

The sky was more dusk than dawn.

Rain coming, not here yet.

Questioning the time of day…is it earlier than I thought?

Could I have a little more early morn?

Oh, good! Thank you Lord, for mornings lasting longer.

The sky reflective of rest, not at all impatient to commence.

Patient, satisfied and content for whatever may be.

Oh, to the linger a little longer in the mindfulness of morning time.

Thus, prepared for the unfolding of day.

“Restlessness and impatience change nothing except our peace and joy. Peace does not dwell in outward things, but in the heart prepared to wait trustfully and quietly on him who has all things safely in his hands.” Elisabeth Elliot

http://katemotaung.com/five-minute-friday/

Just Stay Near

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

A toddler’s hand, small and supple in the hand of a father

A frail and spotted one held firmly but tenderly as feet move intentional, yet uncertain towards someplace.

Quiet Confidence…Abiding.

The one leading speaking softly, with intention

Stay with me, just hold my hand.

Don’t let go.

Because maybe abiding is not so much perfection or unwavering trust.

Maybe abiding in Christ is just staying near, remembering what happens when hearts and feet wander.

Maybe steadfast trust doesn’t look all bright, shiny and triumphant.

Ironically, more of a resemblance to resignation.

Because surrender is not always defeat.

It’s acceptance with full hearts, hands, feet and mind at rest.

It’s moving forward with deliberate and thoughtful feet, despite the cold, hard questioning days.

Determined, not despondent.

Just staying near. Staying is sufficient.

Sufficient, like grace.

Feet may falter, hearts may fumble.

Frailty might give way to fear.

Just stay near.

I think of how much you have helped me;

I sing for joy in the shadow of your protecting wings.

I follow close behind You;

Your strong right hand holds me securely.

Psalm 63:7-8

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee, telling His story.

Tell His Story

Understanding Skies

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

clarity

I’m not one to toss and turn. If I’m troubled, I go to bed.

Say to myself, tomorrow will be another day.

Then, place one hand on my chest and pray.

Silently, easy like water traveling a slow path to a broad river.

With morning and time come newness.

The sky was a wide expanse of cold, pale lavender today.

Its width cloudless and open. Enough open space to learn.

An expansive sky, with just a faint glimmer of sunlight in tall tree.

epiphany

My eyes rested there and remembered my earlier revelation.

I hurt someone’s feelings trying to be right. Looking for answers to a question already known with certainty. I have a few sayings.

One of them is never ask a question you know the answer to.

Asking for trouble. Not answers. Asking to be right when being right makes no difference in the hurt, adds harm to hurt.

I was self-righteous. Smug, hot-headed and determined to point of the wrong in another causing hurt that was never intended.

I begged God to fix my mistake. Not the answer you need, said God.

The answer is seeing, truly seeing.

Epiphany, in an insightfully clear sky.

The manifestation of Christ in me, with me despite errant will.

Looking down, it’s still there. I thought of adding to my collection earlier, decided to let it rest instead.

A petite pine cone, stiff with the cold and shining silver in brown straw.

And I smiled, remembering gifts of baby pine cones she brought.

boots and pinecones

O Lord, you have searched me and known me!

You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.

Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.

Psalm 139: 1-8

Dreams and mornings

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, rest, Vulnerability, wonder

Colt and I sat for a bit this morning as the darkness lingered in the rain. His usual sauntering towards the door could wait I suppose, as if he knew.

Some thoughts, memories, random comments spoken yesterday found their way out last night.

Out from the places in my mind that apparently were unsatisfied with the time I devoted to pondering.

That’s where dreams come from, I’ve decided, good, bad, scary or beautifully outlandish.

They’re just bits of thoughts, really.

Not seen through to the end, tied up neatly, put away.

I dream quite grandly. I notice explicitly, don’t just discard my thoughts, that I put them aside for later.

This morning, I unraveled the night’s inventory of yesterday’s profound incompleteness of thoughts.

And, the big dog rested his head on the edge of his bed, heaved a satisfied sigh and waited there.

I notice most everything, ponder things longer than most.

It’s a gift and a burden. A gift, because I care deeply.

A burden because my mind sometimes hoards what should be let go, the irrelevant and the irrational.

Holds onto a thought, a conversation and then goes to bed with

“What if?

So, I rose early on my day off. Saw my daughter who went to bed exhausted and achy as bright as sunshine and crisp as blue sky, heading out into rainy darkness to bless little 4-year olds.

Thankful she was not sick and I smiled at the thought of bride.

Just a little blip of a bad and worrisome dream….not reality,

Yay for a pretty wedding in less than three months!

And my son was asleep, his last day at home. He had not left with his guitar on his back without saying goodbye.

Another dream, not so much a “blip”.

More like a marathon on Netflix, an engrossing drama, looking everywhere for something, all vivid characters and colors.

Dreams that make you thrilled for morning.

Mornings mean clarity and gratitude.

Best things about it to me along with coffee and Bible.

Big dog patiently waiting as I scribble, read, thank.

Until we begin the day, noticing.

Noticing all day, all the goods, turning the not

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Mid-night scattered thoughts on brevity and prayer

courage, Faith, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

There’s nothing like 3:00 a.m. logic.

Oh, to be so simply satiated in thoughts, words and actions just hours earlier.

Darkest of dark times. Yet, clear as glass.

What a rambling of text, my attempt to convey hope, my writing earlier.

Thinking I’d present a different perspective on faith.

One sentence, maybe two would have sufficed, been quite the gist of it all.

I had prayed earlier in the day for my friend. Walking down the hallway, I remembered…”you need to pray for Melanie, what we’re hoping for will come true for her.”

Believing what we’ve asked

So, I did. I prayed,

Lord, I’m not quite sure of what all is wrong. What needs to be healed. But, Lord please let this be a time of good news, of healing for Mel.”

Went to sleep then…to be woken by thoughts.

Troubled by the discombobulated collection of words written earlier.

Knowing simplicity would suffice. Less is more. No need to circle around and round pounding my rambling words.

I wondered then what God thinks of us when we pray. I wonder if he, engaged like a reader waiting for new words sometimes longs for brevity.

After all, He knows our thoughts and concerns. He just desires we lay them there at His feet and then turn to rest, trust and wait.

To rise with clarity.

To walk as visuals, examples of simple utterance of need already known.

Today, my read through plan of the Bible led me to Matthew 8.

A collection of the stories of requests for healing, of the healed.

A leper who prayed. A Centurion who prayed for lowly servant. A man praying for his mother-in-law. The busy one longing to follow Jesus, worried over who’d have to be left behind. The many possessed by demons, turning towards a good God.

The fearful in midst of storm, calmed by His presence alone.

I have three friends I’ve not seen in many years. One had a scare last year with her heart. Another’s sweet husband has cancer. And Mel, she’s tough as nails and determined.

And we all are praying and we all are believing.

The Lord has heard my plea. The Lord accepts my prayer. Psalm 6:9

In the morning, when I rise, give me Jesus.

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