My friend told me, “Your art is very calming.”
I paint with all my heart, usually start a painting and finish it in a day.
I’m frantic in my process; yet, oblivious, content.
I paint as I write. Honest, brave and from my heart.
Otherwise, it’s contrived and it’s letters, words and colors.
Not art.
Not soul.
I sold a painting today. It’s one that I loved.
I have only recently been brave enough to share my art, my soul.
I walked again on the beach this morning. The birds were gathered, foamy white gathered at their feet.
The air was cold, crisp and damp.
Just a few people out, dogs, toddlers and joggers.
I’d grabbed a jacket, thrown on over T-shirt and pajama pants; my only thought, just to walk on the shore.
I’m thinking now, what freedom…to be unconcerned about appearance, seeking only to be filled, fulfilled, connected to God.
I’m not quite sure if it’s age or wisdom or wisdom because of age.
I care a little less about appearance in comparison to other women; still, not nearly enough yet.
I sat next to and walked amongst throngs of women this weekend. All moms of a Citadel cadet, all shown up, fixed up.
There to see ours sons, while looking at each other.
Beautiful women, tall, thin, heavy, dressy, sporty, dresses, shorts jeans, heels, flats, fancy sunglasses, perfect hair, ponytails and buns.
Women, looking for sons and looking at each other.
I was an overweight teenager. I spent hours looking at Glamour magazines, longing to be thin, pretty, a “Glamour do”.
I learned to starve. I learned to starve more and I had more clothes than most, yet never enough.
I lived this way for too many years.
I sat just behind a woman about my age this weekend in a football stadium. I fixated again, it had been awhile. I found myself longing for all she seemed to be.
Her purse, its label, one that comes with a price..around $599.00
I noticed her wristwatch, casually resting against a delicate gold bracelet. Her jeans were smooth in texture, a fabric akin to dry cleaned slacks. Her thin belt, a correspondent to flat leather shoes.
Her cardigan, loose on shoulders fit perfectly to show the subtle gold looped chain that centered itself against crisp white top. Her earrings, thin hoops of gold accented her cheekbones and spoke of casual femininity.
I thought, ” I’d really love a watch like that.”
I’ve not had opportunity to splurge. I’ve not been afforded with riches or income that allow spending without concern.
I’ve become content in the extravagance of a mom who wants her children to have more. I have seen goodness, the goodness of enough, of God.
So, I sat there in the stadium and I thought in a new way, to visualize her riches on me. I wondered if life might be better.
I saw myself wearing her watch. Rising from my seat, reaching for the soft leather of her purse, my purse. I pictured me in her outfit; I imagined my face framed by soft cardigan and pretty earrings…
And I realized; clearly, nothing changed. I am me.
She is she.
This morning, I read only one devotion, my routine different because of travel. I read from Jesus Calling.
Found feather
I read of God illumined in me, of His gift in me…Beautiful.
In me, with me. I gently laid the feather found. This one, washed and covered in gritty sand.
I settled it there to rest.
Battered and imperfect, redeemed.
Beautifully redeemed.
For it is not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you have been redeemed . I Peter 1:18
Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story.
http://jenniferdukeslee.com/six-words-that-can-make-all-the-difference-today-tellhisstory/
The geese were back this morning.
First time in days.
I turned to make my way back inside, stopping to gather fallen leaves and heard their approach.Their sound a celebration of the day, exuberant and joyous it seemed.
I held fragile leaves in my hand, turned towards the sounds of geese and joined in their flight, my mind there with them, moving forward, renewed and committed to the day.
The ground is soaked here, covered in pine needles today. We were spared the damage of wind and flood, our yard simply evidence of rain, constant torrential showers. 
I was thankful today for leafy, wind tousled and soaking wet ground. Wet, muddy yard scattered with pretty color; my feet were planted in a level spot and I glanced towards the damp, steely sky.
My cousin called this morning and we talked of life, of children, of God. We were getting carried away, consistent in our anguish, of things we can’t let go, things that frustrate us. We talked about the flood of our weekend and she shared her experience of Hurricane Katrina. This flood, Joaquin prompted storm, had both she and her husband reliving the trauma. I told her I’m very afraid of water and wonder if people will be found dead in their homes. She said “Most likely” and shared of homes ravaged by Katrina that were marked with an “X” to indicate a dead person inside.
We meandered back to the subject of our children then.
We understand why we’ve mothered the way we have; just don’t know why we keep going back there,
Trying to be the mother they’ve outgrown.
The mother that meets our need, not theirs.
We’re making progress though, beginning to think as God thinks of us, agreeing that the greatest desire of our lives has been to parent well, differently, unquestionably committed to our sons and daughters.
We have been and are good mothers. We know this.
Never occurred to me until just now, I thought to myself. “I’ve parented well, absolutely wholeheartedly. Let God lead them now. ”
She got quiet, thinking, I assumed then excitedly announced “There are bluebirds in my yard. The most beautiful bluebirds are just outside on my porch!”
“God is telling us to have hope”, I said. ” He’s telling us to let go now, we’ve done our part, he’s ready to take it from here.”
They’ve left our nests; well-loved and knowing they are loved.
There are new, bright places for them to grow, us too.
Loved well and loving well.
New places to grow
There will be no planning ahead in this 31 day challenge. My words, if I remember them all, will be thoughts that show up and make sense in an all of sudden way.
For me, for now.
This morning, I added in the final page of my latest journal its dates, 6/19-10/30.
A thick journal filled with quite alot, heavy and pretty ecru colored pages marked with dailies. I have loved this book and its time.
I woke this morning, surprised I’d not heard the rain.
Made sense though, I slept through the normal noises of morning.
Coffee, lamplight, stack of books and me
My morning spot.
New journal in hand, the one quaintly adorned with a feather to remind, I begin my day.
Resigned and surrendered to what may come as I read the words of Matthew, their beckoning tone of rest. A new place for me, accepting and trusting, come what may or what will.
Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30
I moved about lazily as I am prone to do, moving closer towards leaving my spot in the lamplight, my little morning corner.
Quiet house, slow and easy, my favorite way now.
Thinking of answered prayers, of prayers offered and of prayer meeting last night,
Ten or so of us, standing in hand holding circle to pray.
Each pray-er a different tone, a different grateful heart, a different sound of supplicate
I stopped then to remember more clearly as I glanced again, pausing at the prayer filled journal
A compilation of yearning, of growth, of challenge and surrender.
My mind, quiet then and more clearly causing me to wait, to let my thoughts making sense rest for a bit there.
To say:
“This morning, Lisa, here is where you are.”
” I have learned so much of myself, many things more clearly
all because
I have finally allowed God to teach me.”
It’s a gray morning and only Tuesday.
I felt the foggy hue before I turned from the twisted covers to decide, “Get up, now.”
Made my way down the hall to discover Colt’s overnight task of removing the stuffing from his bed.
White fluffy puffs scattered in the mud room illuminated by laundry room light left on, piles of unsorted clothes, jeans, T-shirts, belts, shoes, towels all mingled together, my appointment for tonight.
I flipped the light off, closed the door and walked towards coffee.
Sat with my journal, a defiant posture, huffy and discontent.
Barely said goodbye to my daughter as she turned to leave.
Caught myself, not soon enough though, glanced towards the fog outside and said “Be careful.”
Yesterday was a good day, Lord. Why this discontent today?
Why this cluttered and anxious mind?
Jotted a bullet list called “What am I stressing over? Why this mood?”
Why do we long for more, for different when what we have is not just enough, it’s more than enough?
Why these empty and cluttered places I’m pondering today, places of a dissatisfied, wandering heart?
Places waiting to be filled to abundance, waiting to be the resting place of God. Places of uncluttered contentment, of abiding peace. Places we know mean rest.
Instead, I woke feeling like a 40 year desert wanderer, enmeshed with a throng of disgruntled and dissatisfied seekers of more. Looking everywhere for better, all the while surrounded by goodness, manna raining down from God.
Oh, Lord, forgive my discontented selfish heart that tends to wander. Fix my eyes, heart and thoughts on you, I prayed.
O’ Lord, You have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my every thought when far away. You chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every moment You know where I am. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord. You both precede and follow me. You place Your hand of blessing on my head. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to know! Psalm 139:1-6
I move along in routine, grab the tennis ball delivered by Colt. Walk barefoot to accept the day, feet moist and covered in specks of green and straw brown pieces of nature. Trees, darkened by two days rain, leaves mottled and moist with season and damp. The plantings of summer allowed to wither, cold is coming anyway. Trees laced with thick complex webs with leaves caught within, layered, entrapped.
The sky is a dull, almost porcelain gray and the cows from a field up the road, moan low and long in agreement. I look for sunshine, tossing the tennis ball, intermittently praising its retrieval, a big happy dog content with “Good, boy, Colt.” then turn back towards the door, seeing more color, less gray.
And then I pray, Lord, forgive our discontent; remind us of your goodness and graciously embrace our wandering hearts.
I link up with Jennifer Dukes Lee every week. I have just read her latest post with a contented smile resting on my face. Her colorful story of our heavenly reunion she has dreamt of just excites me for today, for what’s to come, for living to radiate Jesus! I encourage you to read this. It’s another gray day here, humid on this last September day. Click here and smile, assured of heaven.
Accepting change like leaves positioned expectantly waiting for God’s rich unknown.
Close enough to changing climate
Late summer days felt long last week. I walked late in the evening, forcing myself to move, not sure I’d be better for it. Two days with music and Colt, the humidity still as ugly and thick as sludge. Returning home, up the curvy hill, feeling nothing more than well that’s done for today. Heavy, exhausted and thinking about way too much, my days ended that way early last week.
Then, on Thursday I walked alone. It was even later than before and I was embraced so sweetly, feeling change in the air, a wispy cooler breeze. My walk, more patterned, the sound of shoe firmly hitting pavement, tap the ground with toe, raise the heel, walk on Lisa, walk on.
I walked head up, glancing one side then the other encompassed by sky, cloud and treetop; I began to let go the piles of mental junk mail, recycling the good.
The sky is changing now with the season. The blue is more azure, the clouds more shadowy gray and foreboding and just at the right time of day, a tapestry of a sweetly, subtle pink in contrasting texture.
And so, that evening I had space enough to ponder faithfulness, of God.
How every morning last week, the geese flew over our back yard when Colt and I were out. I’d stop to listen as they approached and say to myself “Here they come. ” not in my voice, but my mama’s. I was taken back to the dock and the contentment of simple expectation fulfilled, of geese flying over a pond, a simple sameness, a faithfulness.
A gift every morning. God’s, the geese and mama’s gift to me.
I thought of how these last weeks, God kept me still and quiet and waiting.
Less adamant in my jumping ahead.
I sense God now, in this time of change, guiding me.
The things that troubled, somehow have become smaller, resolved or resolving.
I topped the hill on our curvy road and looked ahead, almost evening then. I stopped and waited, hoping to prolong the view. This view, a faithful sky, a sunset and the promise of a flock of geese in the morning.
Your unfailing love, O Lord, is as vast as the heavens;
your faithfulness reaches beyond the clouds. Psalm 36:5
Because, God is faithful.
Because God believes in us even when we don’t believe in ourselves.
Sovereign over us…all around us.
Thank you Jennifer!
We walked uphill that evening, Colt the big Brown dog and I. Like raising a toddler, it’s important to stick to routines like tennis ball toss before work and certain chew toy at bedtime. Walking, that day was a chore, pulling the leash and correction and command.
We rounded the curve and topped the hill then stopped suddenly.
At least twenty geese had gathered in the empty lot; pond on one side, subdivision the other. They lingered as if convened in strategic discussion as I waited, phone in hand anxious to capture the hysterics of geese taking flight and lab reacting to the chorus of winged flight and duck song. I untangled the leash, found camera on phone screen and steadied us both, dog and I for the flight show.
Then without chaos or startle, in orderly and quiet fashion, the pattern was complete and the geese ascended rhythmically upward and away. No crazy videos or shots of dog and bird, just one single image to keep. At first I missed it. Looking closely you can see it there between the pines, following pattern and plan. The one image of our walk interrupted by geese and God.
Flight
Today, I get to see my son. My daughter will see her little brother. We will acquaint and adjust knowing his pattern has been changed. We’ll talk of life and love without using the deep words or any words at all, knowing this time is a celebration of significant strength, grace and prayers heard.
We’ll meet up, convene for a while with my special beyond words cousin and then we’ll return home more convinced and thankful than before of God’s great and Sovereign navigation.
And we’ll thank for him for the better plan.
The one not seen until surrender, not known until pausing to look again.
O Lord , you have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away. You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord . You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!
Psalms 139:1-6 NLT
http://bible.com/116/psa.139.1-6.NLT
Waiting
Linking up with http://jenniferdukeslee.com/come-and-see-tellhisstory-with-a-book-dvd-giveaway/
Thank you Jennifer!
The crepe myrtles were slow to bloom this summer.
Every morning, I’ve been slower to begin my day, to get to work. I pause in parked car, linger a few minutes, praying something like. “Okay, Lord this is where you’ve placed, help me to give it my all.”
And then, I’d wait a few seconds more as I gazed towards the wiry branches of crepe myrtle tree, scattered with verdant green leaves, the morning sunbeams creating pattern and contrast.
The quiet beauty of sunlight on leaf, causing me to rest, to trust.
The sameness of my days, the waiting for bloom or the turning of leaf
My prayers becoming more of listening than speaking
Of understanding more than fulfillment of desire
Of acceptance of the one thing left hanging or waiting to see, the thorn remaining, yet not harming.
Reminding me of need to seek, to befriend the giver of grace sufficient and abundant.
My prayers have become more of listening with patience and a calmer anticipation. Waiting prayerfully, not for fulfillment of request, but for the relationship of God’s gentle embrace.
Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I am trusting you. Psalm 143:3
The crepe myrtle that canopies my spot bloomed on Thursday. I stopped to look towards the sky, grabbed hold of a branch, bending it down to pick one for my desk. The beauty of waiting adorned my desk, little tissue paper type petals bunched together, a delicate reminder of God’s Sovereign and graceful hand.
Later, I walked, the habitual end to my day. Closer to sundown than usual because of a hard and unexpected phone call.
I walked and I prayed, at peace.
Then, I noticed God. A crescent moon and a pink sky.
God is in the details and the waiting. Don’t forget to notice.
I linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee.
http://jenniferdukeslee.com/keeping-the-faith-when-life-is-hard-tellhisstory/
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.
Where we meet in the middle.
Awake, My Heart
Original Art and Photography Matt. 5:16
May my words preserve this land, the South, its people, and way of life.
Stacey C. Johnson
Living Bold and Beautiful for Jesus
Sharing God's love with the world, one heart at a time.
faith to follow will provide you with helpful tips, ideas, and words of encouragement for your journey to fulfilling your dreams God's way
I help parents and educators teach children how to make friends with poetry.
Illustrations to make you smile, laugh, and sometimes make you see things from a different perspective 😉
Bread from Heaven, Fresh from God's oven!
Sean Dietrich's column on life in the American South.
Daily Prayers to start the day
Visit my website: Cheryl Bostrom.com
A Journey of real life experiences & Observations
to Extraordinary Life in Christ
Connecting with God through a messy life
Photography
I'm just another dreamer...
Raves, Reviews, Rants and Ramblings
Be Encourage
"I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh" - Ezekiel 36:26
For the female voice exploring faith and life in full.
Mental Health-Christian Living--Devotional
Thoughts from an Older, hopefully, wiser woman
Author and speaker
The Creative Zone for Making Art
Highlighting Connections
Mostly poetry and feelings...in harmony.
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.
An extra page for Rowley Church's Magazine
Finding the extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary
a journey to discover grace in everyday life
Daily drama with my canine companions
"..learn the unforced rhythms of grace" matt 11:28
Random stuff, reflections on the meaning of life and death, humour, self-deprecation, a bit of bad poetry.
Lisa Anne Tindal 