Understanding All the Things

Faith, grace, grief, hope, mercy, Peace, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom

Hope is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all – Emily Dickinson

I misplaced my mustard seed, the tiny glass enclosed actual seed that jingled on my wrist, a charm on my bracelet.

I’ve resigned myself not to find it again and decided, someone else may find it and it will be the thing they needed that day and days to come.

They would need the thing called faith.

They would need hope that demands little and remains like the song of a morning bird.

“I love the Lord because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭116:1‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I prayed for mercy yesterday, at least five times. I lost another thing, much more valuable and important, a necessity.

My morning was a panic, I searched in the most outrageous places, the last one was the refrigerator.

I cancelled one morning thing and then decided to carry on, to stop searching for my “dental appliance”, the most embarrassing thing, and do the other.

The other being get dressed, let it go, stop searching, do the important thing.

Take the coral colored roses on the kitchen counter to your friend who has lost her husband, choose what’s more important than your crazy searching.

I prayed again. I told the Lord, I don’t deserve to find this, I don’t deserve your mercy yet again.

Walked away to get myself together and you most likely know, I found my partial in the place I’d left it, on the bathroom counter, safe under a hand towel.

I left the roses on my friend’s front porch, not knowing if they’d be found before the rain.

Just knowing in whatever state or whenever they were discovered, they’d be what God intended,

A thing God told me to do.

Later, I thanked God for finding it and I thought two things.

One, why was I so convinced I’d never find an object in my very own home and more important, why was I so convinced that God would not, yet again, be merciful?

Things I understand more each day.

God is loving, the giver of hope not harm. God is the open arms of grace to the guilty and bent by shame.

God hears every prayer I pray.

God is good.

I’ll never be good enough based on my weaknesses, forgetfulness, haphazard or hurried behaviors.

I have a helper who hears when I call.

To say we’re not deserving is true.

To know that God made a way called mercy is the quiet answer to all our crazy prayers.

Continue and believe.

Let mercy in.

Linking up with others on the prompt “Deserve”.

Deserve

Morning Paused

confidence, courage, curiousity, Faith, fear, grief, marriage, memoir, Peace, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

“Here he stands! The Commander! The mighty Lord of Angel Armies is on our side! The God of Jacob fights for us!

Pause in his presence”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭46:11‬ ‭TPT

I woke to a pleasant voice on my phone and then a message that alarmed me and led to surprise then chills followed by a pause. ‬‬

It’s almost noon and I’m numbed and lazy by the absorption of the truth of someone’s passing.

Sadly surprised.

I hear the hum of yard work in the back and front yard of the neighbor. Curious, I step outside.

Last night I looked from the window and thought how happy it made me, the limelight hydrangeas my husband decided to plant in a new place.

Twenty years married tomorrow and we have our first legitimate garden. Our granddaughter helped plant the tomatoes. The growth of zucchini has been outrageous.

I check it every day, a rectangular space near the fence.

Full of growth

And still growing.

I haven’t told my husband of the friend’s passing. They were close in a way I don’t know, seems he saw strength in him and I believe it was mutual, most likely unspoken.

Strength, yes.

Strength.

We’re not able on our own. The tiny plants become tiny tomatoes. The transplanted hydrangea dug up from my husband’s mama’s home is flourishing. The butterflies on the porch that enthrall us don’t last long.

Leave reminders though, reminders of the joy of their presence and the flutter of their wings.

A beautiful song.

“The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭118:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

God is with you.

Sing along.

God With Us

Abuse Survivor, Art, confidence, contentment, doubt, Faith, hope, Peace, Prayer, rest, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”
‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭3:18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Before the eggplant, there are tiny purple flowers and day by day you can watch to see the transformation. Sometimes I say to myself simply. “Something good is coming.” It’s not that I’m just that confident, it’s that I can look back on my life and see this pattern. I worry about not seeing and knowing the evidence of good and then I decide to let whatever it is alone and unexpectedness of good surprises me. (again)

I made a list of ten questions this morning. I’m made this way, need to know if, when, how, why. I got to number 10, got choked up over the honesty of “How can I know God really knows me?” Sat with my own vulnerability for a minute and then looked over my list. I let God give me the answers. They came naturally.

Moments like this are personal. Like a hydrangea turning from white to lavender to purple or an eggplant blossom falling from the stem once the vegetable is full grown.

Transformation is a quiet process. It’s inner work of our God who knows our inner workings.

Make your list of questions, things you’ve been waiting and wondering over along with your raw questions of God.

Sit with them. The veil between you and God will be gently pulled back and you’ll see His perspective on your longings and you’ll have peace even if you don’t yet have answers.

Maybe, like me, you’ll realize you already knew the answer, you just needed to be reminded. I can be pitiful. I can be stubborn and envious. That’s my nature, God gently reminds me I am seen, fully known and loved regardless.

Faithfulness to each moment keeps me whole and humble.

God is everywhere.

Don’t forget to notice.

Beach Going

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, painting, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

Seems everyone I know has plans to be a beach-goer this summer or has already gone.

This morning, Facebook invited me to revisit a beach inspired post from four years ago. It was interesting to see how my voice is the same me, just a little more grown.

This afternoon, I procrastinated a commission that’s scaring me and I let the colors blue, white, pink and navy calm me, transport me to the shore.

Here’s the June 13, 2017 post:

The Tide

All Things Together

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, hope, mercy, Peace, rest, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I woke with a worry that made no sense really, quickly setting the tone for what was fighting to be a heavy day.

I have been referring to these type things as “the enemy”, thoughts that fight to sway my faith the other way.

I’m becoming accustomed to the strange looks or pauses that seem to say, “Did she say enemy?

Is she really talking about Satan? Is she buying into the talk of the tactics of the evil one, the liar, the conniving thief of peace?”

Yes.

I am.

It’s no different though than the responses of some when you begin to say “Jesus”, begin to call him your friend, begin to believe the truth of his gruesome sacrifice and live and breathe with the purpose of knowing this Savior intimately, personally,

realistically.

The Son of God, the God who created me, created you.

“You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:16‬ ‭NLT‬‬

God sees you growing in wisdom and bravery. The enemy does too.

Yesterday evening, I walked the neighborhood trail, talk in my ear about a book, “Gentle and Lowly” by Dane Ortlund

I rounded the curve, alone on the trail, a distant dog barking and a teenager puttering with a putter in a backyard. I waved and continued.

The stretch of smooth bordering the wildflowers caused me to turn and look.

On the edge of the woods, standing in the overgrowth, I saw it staring.

I stood still.

A fox was fixated on me, staring me down. Its old eyes considering me, I looked back.

It never moved and I was captivated.

Not threatened, simply moved.

Its body seemed old and exhausted, the copper color of its coat mostly overtaken by grey.

It seemed intent on making a statement although its presence felt met by a resistance it didn’t quite understand.

As if it had no strength to harm me, only make me know it was still there.

Dane Ortlund describes a loving Jesus who longs for us to remember He is with us, for us, we can stop striving to be good enough.

We can stop condemning ourselves, anticipating punishment for our behaviors. We can rest.

We can calm down.

The worry that woke me went away as quickly as I raised my weary body from beside my bed.

I prayed and my prayers were heard by my advocate, the one who came and lifted my head to say today is another new day.

You will see.

I searched for the symbolism of the fox. Found words like sly and conniving and some that reframed those words to skilled and thoughtful, able to get itself out of dangerous places.

Jesus used the word when he referred to Herod who was trying to halt his mission.

“Jesus replied, “Go tell that fox that I will keep on casting out demons and healing people today and tomorrow; and the third day I will accomplish my purpose.”
‭‭Luke‬ ‭13:32‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Words in red in my Bible, relevant still today.

Jesus saying to us.

Tell that fox you still have a purpose.

The strange waking worry found relief. I saw a photo of a painting, the one above. As it happens on occasion, I saw shapes that weren’t intentional. Today, I stare at the painting in peace. Brushstrokes and blending it seems led to angels hovering near, protection and peace.

All things come together, the fox, the special painting that came with angst in completing.

Miracles to me, tiny things God causes us to see.

Because of Jesus, we have peace.

He holds all things together.

Listen here.

https://youtu.be/EIe0jOhopyI

Still There, Promises and Songs

Angels, Art, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, grief, hope, memoir, Peace, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder, writing

I’m ushered forward by the sunrise a few days a week. The road is often mine alone, I’m on schedule for my arrival and with low songs surrounding me, I notice the changing borders, green growth, fields becoming food and trees dotted with coral peaches.

I’ve been tracking an object since I first glimpsed it on Monday. Celebratory balloons, a star and two others, silvery white and deflating, drifted to rest in the high grassy border.

I wondered where it had been, how it ended up here, how long it may be before it’s flat in the ditch or whether the wind might miraculously lift it to cross the road and be found in a better place.

It stayed in the same place and by now it’s likely flat, deflated and hidden.

The happy gesture of someone for someone on their birthday drifted away and deflated.

Maybe there was laughter when the ribbon escaped the grip of a little hand. Maybe the one who tied them to a porch rail tied them too loosely and, oh no they got away.

I wondered about the faces turned towards heaven that smiled as the balloons met the sky and then left them.

Left to wonder what happens now.

I thought of what waiting feels like, waiting for God to take our prayers and hold them for a bit as we long for permission to go safely in another direction or we linger in that place we’ve been kept with no answer, no escape, no clear resolution.

Waiting, I thought feels like hope slowing deflating.

Or it feels like rest.

The choice is ours.

Each day I write “trust” in the spot above the date in my journal.

I hope it sets my tone, positions my soul to be satisfied although waiting. Waiting to see if my words sent to another might be shared, waiting to see if the works of my hands, brushed on paper and canvas might move someone to purchase and move to their home.

I move a new painting into my living room, I want to get a sense of the colors, whether they welcome or comfort. Are there places I missed? Does it tell me the story I hope it tells others.

Will someone see “The Promise” of an unclouded day in the same way the hymn came clearly as I decided the sky should be brilliant and cloudless?

Every picture tells a story.

Oh, they tell me of a home far beyond the skies
Oh, they tell me of a home far away
Oh, they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise
Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day…(a hymn Willie Nelson sings, my mama’s favorite.)

Everything comes together, God brings all things together.

A verse comes to mind.

The soul at rest is peace.

Like an estate set aside for someone later, a trust to secure a child’s future, God must have things securely waiting for the right time in His sovereignty for me to hold them in my heart, see the reason for the waiting.

Trust is rest.

Like the birthday balloons trapped in the overgrowth and slowly deflating, I can choose the place I’m in as a place of settled trust.

I can wait for the next place God takes me.

I can see waiting as God knowing me.

I’ll take the country road again. I’ll glance with expectation towards the field to my right, the place with the resting balloons.

I’ll be expectant that I won’t see them, that they’ve been caught by the warm breeze of weekend and they’ve caught the attention of another.

Someone like me, feeling deflated by waiting and realizing there’s purpose in pausing and rest never means stopping.

To rest is to trust.

“Let the dawning day bring me revelation of your tender, unfailing love. Give me light for my path and teach me, for I trust in you.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭143:8‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Continue and believe.

God of the Clouds

bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, family, fear, grace, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, Vulnerability, wisdom

You can be sure I prayed on my first flight. There were many things I found odd and being a “noticer” of people, longing to exchange stories, clearly I was out of my element.

The woman next to me seemed flustered. I let her have the armrest the entire three plus hours. She, dressed in a tie dye hoodie with Colorado across her chest, made a low mumbling sound upon takeoff.

I closed my eyes, opened my palm and I said a prayer for us both.

She “played possum” or was sleeping.

The expectation of turbulence was announced and again an audible groan followed by a few more from the woman beside me.

I can’t tell you how close I came to offering my hand.

It was very difficult not to. Me, an empath deciding she was in need of kindness.

Instead, I read. “The Dutch House” is a captivating read about siblings, dysfunctional families and children who continued moving towards reconciliation and making sense of that dysfunction.

I read until I couldn’t stop my fear.

The plane seemed to be slowing. I raised the shade on the window to see we were on top of the clouds.

This didn’t calm me. Nor was I captivated by the beautiful reality.

I was surprised.

Me, the lover of noticing God in the splendor of His creation, not at all taken by the view.

I expected to be in awe. Instead, I clearly thought, “This is not natural. You don’t belong up here.”

That thought fed my fear and so I opened my tattered devotional, “Joy and Strength”.

I did a thing I sometimes do, see how dates or numbers might line up to send a good message from God to me.

I turned to page 327. The passages and commentary were about life and about death, about the reality of both.

“It may mean sickness as well as health; death as well as life; loss as well as gain; peril as well as safety; shipwreck by sea and accident on land…” Anthony W. Thorold

Okay.

I paused.

I thought, okay, okay and then thought maybe there are things I should have said to my family that I didn’t.

I sat calmly.

My eyes returned to the sweat crumpled boarding pass, Flight 372, Gate A53, Seat 12A (close to the emergency exit, close to the engine, next to someone who kept silent).

Not Flight 327, no it was 372 and this number had no relevance other than being the index page in the back of my book!

I settled, it was settled.

God is in the clouds.

With me.

All is well.

“Through you I’m saved—rescued from every trouble…Psalm 54:7

I’ll most likely fly again.

I’ll understand better that it’s a means to a destination,

settle in,

be still,

say your prayers,

clinch your fist upon landing,

be quietly cordial as you exit.

You got this, God is with you, the God of earth and sky.

Continue and believe

Helping Ourselves

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, memoir, Redemption, rest, Truth, Vulnerability, wisdom

A few weeks ago, a dear friend and counselor was honest with me.

I had been chasing my trauma rabbits again. They are fast and very persistent in telling me I should catch up, latch on, hold one I might catch and cling ahold of and carry it around, allow it to rest on my chest, a familiar companion.

The trail had gotten treacherous. The call to explore new healing methods. To abandon the promises of my faith.

Everything and everyone an unknowing trigger in some stance or posture.

Attack.

My friend told me I had begun to make my trauma an altar. I cried without reservation. I welcomed her declaration.

If you’ve read this far, you’re thinking, why doesn’t she stop sharing this stuff?!

Or, you understand.

And maybe say thanks.

If the latter is the case, I want to bring you comfort, a little self-talk, prayers and assertions that are keeping me from kneeling at the ill-intentioned altar of my significant, but, no longer present trauma.

“You were running the race so well. Who has held you back from following the truth?

It certainly isn’t God, for he is the one who called you to freedom.”
‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:7-8‬ ‭NLT‬‬

You are safe. God is making sure.

The people who prompt reminders of your horror are not harming you.

This is not that.

Lord, I thank you for seeing the potential in me and my story. It’s why I get to write and paint and love others. Thank you redirecting me, thank you for placing people in my life who catch me when I’m falling, when I’m bending on scarred knees to lie funeral flowers on the grave of my past, the memories of my abuse, the altar of my trauma. Thank you for not allowing fear to cut in.

Because of your great love,

Amen.

Beauty and Complexity

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

The space was filled with exquisite ideas for design, paintings covered every wall. Artisan made coffee tables and rich leather chairs draped in soft throws over the arms. I arrived with art as a prospective newly represented artist and departed with my paintings and a tiny bit of hope.

Big hopes were thwarted.

A happy voice greeted me and then asked to hear “my artist” story and then I heard hers. She loves working with graphite, she told me, and practices in portraiture. Her iPad with the shattered screen was her gallery that day.

With every sketch or painting, she asked. “Do you see where this went wrong, do you see the error?”

Then she told me. One watercolor she’d entered into an exhibit was of elephants, a mother and baby.

I was drawn to the painting and she explained she’d given it to her mother. As she explained her technique, again telling me where she botched the color and had to fix it and then decided to let the mistake of the pale blue remain, I was captivated by the wrinkles.

I told her so, the detail in the trunks, the layering of pencil and color, the beautiful wrinkles were perfect, touchable.

Last week, I prepared for an interview. I arranged myself and my laptop in a corner and having curled my hair and found a blouse with bright color, I turned my phone to selfie mode to get a glimpse of how I’d be appearing on screen.

I’m horrible at selfies. Do you smile? Do you pretend you don’t know you’re taking your own photo? Do you look at the ceiling? What’s that angle that’s said to be becoming?

I stared at the several shots. I hurried to the closet to change from one blouse to others.

The neckline of the first one accentuated the crepes in the stretchy place on my neck. It was unavoidable and too late to be concerned, too evident to be remedied.

The wrinkles could not be erased.

I sat and prayed and there was peace in my expression, peace with the production manager, the interview and in my responses to kind and unexpected questions.

God was with me.

“You formed my innermost being, shaping my delicate inside and my intricate outside, and wove them all together in my mother’s womb. I thank you, God, for making me so mysteriously complex! Everything you do is marvelously breathtaking. It simply amazes me to think about it! How thoroughly you know me, Lord!”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:13-14‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I thought of the elephant artist, the way she discounted the work her hands created.

I wondered if God felt that way. If God sees and saw me despising my appearance, expressing self-hatred over my weight, my sparse eyelashes, the intricate texture on the place where my necklace rests.

The necklace that has a small gold cross, the one a tiny girl reaches for to say, “I love your necklace, Grandma,

I love your cross.”

The magnolia leaves my daughter uses for decor will soon be replaced.

The verdant green is drying to a darker tone. The underside is curling and the veins are more evident, magnolia leave wrinkles now.

But, still a regal sort of beauty, a strength as a table display.

I’ve returned to the practice of the “Pause” app after growing bored with it.

I was required to start over because of a new phone. The old phone charted my listening and I had listened over 700 minutes.

As of yesterday, I’m at 11.

I listened again and the words of the prayer are now resonating new and different.

“I was created for union with you.” The Pause app prayer

God, my creator longs to be united with me, with us.

United in thought, in decision, in praying and in listening, God waits so close he could reach out His hand to mine, possibly soothe the wrinkles that now cover my hands, the hands of an artist, a creative who gets carried away by color and ideas.

The complexity of me, He knows completely.

Says keep learning, keep learning and discovering you according to Me.

The beauty and value of wrinkles, a display of me in you and you with me.

Heavenly Father, thank you for mornings and quiet rediscovering of you. You are with me. You spare me from harm. You give me courage. You calm me when I notice and you strengthen me when I feel belittled or unable. You’re the lifter of my head and the lover of my soul. You give me songs to celebrate my growing. When I feel cornered, you join me in that dimly lit place, you tell me “I am here.”

The interview went well. There was talk of art and there was talk of God.

A song stayed with me that afternoon.

Oh! Christ be magnified
Let His praise arise
Christ be magnified in me
Oh! Christ be magnified
From the altar of my life
Christ be magnified in me

Not Small At All

Abuse Survivor, birds, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, freedom, hope, love, memoir, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder

This tiny bird is a keepsake from my daughter’s pre-wedding weekend. A small shop in the mountains filled with cute trendy things and I chose a bird as small as the cup of my palm.

A sparrow danced on the porch yesterday. Instead of hurrying my granddaughter outside, I watched through the window as it watched me. It rested on the ledge, turned to face me, and then flew away.

As if to say, remember.

You are seen and known.

You are cared for fully.

“The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.”
‭‭Zephaniah‬ ‭3:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Today, my devotional included this verse. It’s a verse you might see on a greeting card, a coffee mug or framed words written in pretty black flowing letters.

It occurred to me, not sure why not before.

God is not small at all.

His voice is mighty.

It calms me and calls me.

It protects me with warnings.

It soothes me with song.

God’s rejoicing over me may cause me to think of beautiful birds.

But, God is not that small at all.

Nor is His presence, love and power.

I pray you remember with me.

God is singing over us and His voice overpowers all other songs, all other voices that threaten or sing worrisome songs.

Look up. Notice God.

He is with you.

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”
‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭3:17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

His song is a freedom song.

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