Stillness

Believing

Abuse Survivor, Advent, Christmas, contentment, courage, freedom, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

I smiled when I saw the few seconds of the scene, the little boy who didn’t believe and then

Believed again.

The child who was intrigued enough to board the big train and then challenged with whether he’d stay on board. “The Polar Express”, I love its many lessons story!

Satan has been using some things to silence my story. I can barely conjure up the magnificence of my hopeful plan of before. Circumstances and choices make disbelief make more sense than believing.

Blinders have been placed on my eyes and my heart seems a little muffled to the miraculous now.

I’ve noticed I’m no longer noticing like before.

Restore my ability to see you, Lord.

I wrote it down, I believe God loves it when I pray this way,

He knows it’s really me.

Restore the woman filled with wonder, filled with hope, filled with ideas and the idea that possibly it could be.

Set my feet back to following and my footfall a happy little bounce with intention.

This Lord, is my request.

Like the little boy who believed, help my unbelief. The child almost yanked from the top of the perilously traveling train, show me the same.

The same joy that comes from believing, the same confirmation that the seemingly crazy trip’s worth traveling.

To arrive back at the place of wonder and to find a treasure like the bell he thought he’d lost in his pocket.

Yes, show me that believing makes all the difference!

Be my conductor, Heavenly Father.

Get me back to the safest destination, the place of believing!

“And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭1:45‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Yes, I believe!

Christmas, Still Seeking

Christmas, courage, Faith, grace, Peace, praise, Stillness, Uncategorized, wonder

May we never lose our wonder.

“And he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship him.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭2:8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

If you try, you can imagine yourself a wise man or perhaps, the wife of one of them or maybe a child, hearing the whispers of your mother, where has father gone…something about a miracle, a baby who would be a Savior?

They heard of a baby about to be born. A young man, a pregnant young woman traveling across the vast and empty country side.

No place to lie, no place to rest. They settled on a barn knowing they couldn’t go on for very much more.

I’m not much of a historian, the scene and situation not really relatable.

But the feeling of heaviness round the bottom of my belly and the pressure of being unable to go on, of my walk being a waddle and my fatigue being a sort of settled endurance, a requirement, go on.

Only getting through as long as I continued to go on.

I think of the wise men, intrigued in a way as a challenge, they learned to believe when logic made no difference at all.

The wise men who sought him, I kinda relate to their need to continue on.

Just now I read a little saying…

Wise men still seek him.

And I paused to think how true, how so very true like a familiar old song.

I added magnolia leaves to my tree, reminiscent of nature next to glory.

Glorious blue, natural coppers and twine. Reminds me of heaven meeting earth. Earth changed by its brilliance.

It is so.

Christmas, a time to think of a baby born to give us heaven and of our soiled souls, earthly tainted lives.

Yet, we seek Him.

We long for Him.

We glance towards the winter black sky dotted randomly bright white and maybe think of the traveling couple, the shepherds, the wise men.

We’re seeking.

We seek Him.

May we never ever lose the wonder of seeking, of seeking to know Him more.

The gloriously miraculous wonder of Jesus.

Level Places of One

bravery, courage, Faith, grief, mercy, Prayer, rest, Stillness, suicide loss, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Few chances come anymore to feel as if others are one.

Last week we had to bring in more chairs. People I had not seen in a good while and some who I had spoken to by phone but never met all arrived around the same time.

One person I had never encountered walked in bravely.

Alone, she entered a room full of strangers and found a seat cornered between two others at the corner of the table.

One other arrived a little late and I was happy he made it, told one of the regulars he’ll most likely “saunter” in.

This one elderly man, a father grieving his daughter, seated close to me smiled as if he and I shared an inside joke and whispered that was a good description of him.

I consider us friends.

The sauntering and kind gentleman called later to comment on the meeting, concerned over some of the new people, wondering if he can be available to them.

I told him I appreciate the way he helps guide the discussion and the way he’s both truthful even if hard to hear, his words as well as compassion and concern.

He thanked me.

I told him that the diversity in the stories that night, the circumstances that led to suicides and the contributing factors as well as starkly contrasting personal struggles and family make ups were evident.

But, not evidenced in any of the faces of the listeners, the words offered in comfort, comparison or even explanations possible.

It’s level ground, it’s like a mercy table, one meeting I am a part of that sees past differences and looks at the one thing.

The one thing of suicide.

One of many things I do not fully understand.

One thing I do not know.

And so I’m one with them only in my presence, one only because I am there and I’m one because neither do I understand.

I’m one with this group I lead, this group of solemn yet, steady and supportive encouragers.

“Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.”

‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭5:11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The man who sauntered in closed in prayer after asking permission.

In the pause of his, I presume thinking, two ladies added their supplication. I considered being the third and all my heart could come up with was “Thank you, God for bringing these people to my life.”

I knew God would understand what I meant. I was afraid they would not.

I sat silent and I listened as the gentle man closed out his prayer for the others around the table.

Bringing the support group for those bereaved by suicide, “a club no one wants to be a member of” to a close.

Today, I’m linking up with others here, prompted by the word “One”.

One

If you or someone you know has experienced suicide loss, our group meets monthly. You can find other groups in your area by searching afsp.org.

Tomorrow is International Survivors Day. Across the country people will gather to talk, listen, be one with one another.

Info on this can be found here:

International Survivor Day

I am thankful God brought these people to me. They’ve grown me, taught me that silence is good, that I don’t always have to give my insight and that we are all one in God’s eyes, all of us humans down here.

November Like Grace

bravery, courage, eating disorder, Faith, fear, freedom, grace, grief, kindness, love, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Stillness, suicide loss, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

Yesterday, the tiniest of yellow leaves were dancing down around my friend and I. We were happy to be likeminded over loving the frenzied leaves falling down, likeminded in our acceptance of our imperfections and our wonderings. We didn’t say so, but now

I think we both were thinking likely, of grace.

November, I welcomed you! Hard to say clearly why. Surely it’s not the hustle and bustle of holiday coming that makes holiday so unholy, so hurried and so “un” divine.

October felt so lengthy, intense, its work , its worries and its waiting.

November, for some reason felt like corner turning, drawing nearer to the fruition of a more solid settling.

And then yesterday and later, I heard of death by suicide and I read a sister’s story of her brother’s too soon death due to addiction.

I couldn’t, can’t stop thinking of how haphazard life can be, how some of us get tripped up and fall and get back up and safely carry on.

Sadly, not all.

Some make it, find the resolve to continue, and the continuation of that resolve, in increments assures no more falls.

It’s a precarious world we’re slap dab in the middle of. My friend and I talked, yesterday because we’re aware, we’re not able to avoid or willing to turn blind eyes.

We’ve had people in our midst, their struggles are more than just speculation or someone else’s issue. We are with others and we have seen evidence.

Evidence of hopelessness. Evidence of fear. Evidence of doubt and evidence of destruction slowly through either addictive indulgence or addictive control or addictive forlorn failing feelings.

Either way, it seems hope is in high demand, kindness, persistence, refusal to avoid and if you can, when you can just demonstrate deliberately that you care.

Sometimes, though it’s not that simple. Your kindness is less than a drop in a deep ancient well.

You do what you can, keep dropping your love there.

I’m still happy it’s November despite learning of new deaths.

I’m still happy for November and Saturday and the way the cold caused my toes to curl when I let the dog out.

Happy that I spent time reading my Bible, not scanning, delving deeply in to what Paul told Timothy and what God told him to tell me.

And you.

Today.

We still have this hope. That Christ died for us so that we could live, not so that we could be perfect or withstand all our falls from grace and flat on our faces falls; but, so that we would see His face when we pick ourselves up to rise.

That we’d continue to do our best.

That we come closer to an understanding of our lives here, our lives are meant to be His, to be lived out based on our rescued from the fall, faith.

Maybe through us, others will see grace.

Maybe through others we see it too.

“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

I do not nullify the grace of God, for if righteousness were through the law, then Christ died for no purpose.”

‭‭Galatians‬ ‭2:20-21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There’s an old hymn we used to sing called “People Need the Lord”. When I was a member of the choir, I’d suggest we sing it more. There didn’t seem to be a Sunday someone might need to know and believe that in these days, we need the Lord.

We’re not able on our own.

We live in a world of simply not knowing what may come, whether someone we love might fall.

Remembering now the sister’s heartbreak over her brother and another’s trauma that has her trapped in a deadly self harm cycle, I wonder if my words are unwelcome, if my hope will be a hindrance, hokey.

I understand. Grief is not a quick thing, hope is not on grief’s horizon. If it’s anywhere it’s around the bend of some crazy and unthinkable scary roads.

Hope is rarely on the mind of grief. I imagine hope as a sweet child with little words, only telling grief, I’ll come out Sir or Ma’am, when it’s my turn to join the grown up table.

And then it sits down together with grief and it sweetly adds its beauty and peace to those dining habitually over their mundane plates, changing slowly the place, the setting.

Like a hopeful child it may not be my place to add comment or conclusion at times.

Last week, I realized clearly that my insights, my intelligence and my speaking incessantly about how much I care about heartbreak and tragedy are insignificant to the person in their grief, their trauma, their fear.

I sat with the truth of that for a long time. Depleted from the knowledge of nothing I can do and the acceptance of it, I courted thoughts of giving up, of being a more silent spokesperson, of staying in the background, kind of keeping to myself what help I may know.

There’s value in that, giving what you can when you run across a need, otherwise just waiting and knowing people know you’re there.

November, it’s only day 3 and you’re really schooling me!

You’re refining my understanding of brokenness and you’ve got a steady eye on the fire that’s creating me as valuable, a vessel for pouring out my knowledge my and hope.

You through me.

Made to know you, to worship you.

To reveal my hope.

Hope that is needed.

Hope incomprehensible, hope that others need.

Farther along, we’ll understand vividly, so clearly, the why of everything.

I love so very much, this folksy rendition, this truth and song.

Farther Along

November, I see your reason, my naming you my turning of season.

Grace, November, you are feeling like grace. I’m grateful you found me again

For catching my almost fall back in to what looks like sadness that is actually fear.

31 Days, Freely – Close

Abuse Survivor, Angels, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, freedom, grace, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Life and God are in constant intersection.

Places you find yourself standing other than you planned and in locations you’ve become accustomed to, you are close to God, when you take stock of forgetting and finding again, what is there.

You meet a little lady by mistake who is tiny like your grandma, neat as a pin like her and she smiles and forgives you for ringing her doorbell, going to the wrong address, she tells you she wishes you’d stop back by.

And you think, now if that’s not God, I have no idea what it is.

To see your grandma when you needed her kind of gentle assurance, yes, that was God!

Being close to God, being where He wants me to be and doing what He wants me to do.

With my being mama, wife, executive, writer, painter, friend and follower.

These are things I will know clearly and eventually, adjustments like shadows of color to accentuate an angel’s waist or taking away a showy word to be simple, succinct.

It is work. It’s okay, though. God is in it.

Never an anxious seeking, always a contented watching unexpectedly yet ever hopeful wait.

I heard the geese and thought “Here they come.”, the acknowledgment of my mama, her words when she heard them.

I slowed my steps as the V shape turned away and then smiled and watched as they turned back my way.

It was a small thing, to see geese fly over and remember my mama.

Remember God’s pattern.

I forget and I forge ahead making mental and pencil note of things to try, challenges I should continue and I take some off the list, cross through their name, thick leaded takeaway, giving myself permission to let that one go.

To keep taking small, deliberate steps and to know that when I jump in to pressuring myself to join in, to hurry up and finish or to feel afraid I might not catch up,

That’s anxiety talking, that’s fear and I feel it in the place that the counselor noticed my trauma liked to dwell.

Noticing now, let that go,

That will not serve you well.

Be still.

You are close now, close to what God wants you to know.

He is close.

We are His work.

“The works of his hands are faithful and just; all his precepts are trustworthy; they are established forever and ever, to be performed with faithfulness and uprightness.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭111:7-8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Closing out 31 Days with some sermon notes from myself:

Write bravely.

Write from small sweet experiences.

Try not to veer back to pitiful.

Recognize when you do.

Write what you’ve been avoiding.

Follow through.

Notice God’s answers in your day.

Pay attention, you’ll know clearly, what to say, what to paint, what to write and

Where to go.

God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.

31 Days, Freely – Together

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, memoir, mercy, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, writing

Despite the change in temperature and season, the roses my husband pruned way back are again deciding to grow.

One by one, little buds have burst into blooms. Before you know it and if the frost is late, we’ll have an abundance of magenta blocking the back door.

I’ve got an independent streak, resistant to joining in, being corralled together with people who are only a tiny bit like me, at least I believe so.

And I don’t like to join in if I think people will call me a follower or a fan girl, or for show.

I prefer to sit back, stay in my place and let Lisa be Lisa.

That’s not always what God desires. I mean, if you know me I know you’ll most likely not imagine me shouting, jumping for joy.

Shoot! I very rarely even laugh out loud. I should correct that, I guess.

I’m so quiet at home, my husband approaches me to say, “you’re really into that, let me ask you something and then I’ll go away…”

I should probably do something about this too.

Yesterday, we went to church together, to a new church on the day they were doing something new, moving to their new space.

We’re not sure where we’re gonna land. We love church, know church is something we need; but, we (I, really and his sweet agreement with me) don’t know yet where we should be.

I’m afraid this is a growing trend,

I’m praying. We are praying, we will end up in the church we should be. Sooner than later, I believe.

Yesterday, the pastor gave a teaching message, how to tell your story with gentleness and respect, explaining why you have hope in God.

Then he suggested share using the hashtag #gotestify

It was late in the day that I decided I would. I’m anti-FaceTime. I just don’t think I’m quite that fancy or special and my selfies are very few.

But, I found a photo I took of my self sitting on the Isle of Palms shore. I hadn’t planned on beach sitting, the day and day before had just about pushed the limit on stress. But, all had been good. All was good. I saw it in my face.

So, I used this little selfie for my message, my message of me before the mercy of Jesus, how I found it, and how it is changing and changed me.

Together, with others, I testified and shared:

The reason for my hope: I was raised to be afraid of all my wrong and potential of wrong and the hell that my life would surely bring. I was forced to “evangelize” with gospel tracts while walking ever perfect and straight lines…then because I knew I’d never keep it all between the lines, I ventured off without boundaries to places way too hard to tell. Then, I had my babies and we later found a little church and an elderly preacher who showed up on his own…to help me in my distress. He was answering His calling, God had already been stirring my soul and he told me about mercy and helped me pray. The road has had its moments, my walk of faith sometimes faltering. But, God has never failed, never failed me yet. So, now I know and believe it more everyday, the opposite of the harmful contradiction that I was taught as a little girl. Mercy triumphs over judgment. And it is this mercy that is the reason for my hope. #gotestify #oldselfie #idontfacetime #writebravely #healedandhopeful #rewritingmybook

Some people liked it, one appreciated my transparency.

Many it may have stirred curiosity and some might now avoid me or think I was too much of me.

I believe I should be brave; but so much more than being brave, I believe I should be grateful and I believe more than ever God is making me able, able to tell my story that will point to Him.

Lord , help me be consistent. Unsure of all the places this matters, so many, my attitude, my prayer life, my humility and my perseverance.

My hope is in His mercy, knowing more surely than ever it is forever there.

31 Days, Freely – Whole

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, family, freedom, Good Friday, grace, Homeless, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I kept working because I wanted to finish what I’d begun, I suppose.

Only partially complete, it would have maybe worried me all day as to what the ending might be, I needed to finish.

I needed to treasure the whole thing, the pleasant dream that blessed me with blissful sleep past seven.

Oh, joy, I’ve slept til almost nine!

I dreamt I was living in my grandma’s house and it was all mine, the whole place.

It was standing tall and mine for the taking, for the living.

The room across the tiny hall from my grandma’s room, it was exactly the same as before.

The hall, like a bridge we were warned not to cross, just a little hollow place between, its occupants, the phone on the wall and the gas heater caused crowded passing through to the little bathroom congregating.

I was there again and I could hear the long clangy echo of a ring and my grandma answering to talk to maybe my mama, my aunt or one of her sisters.

She’d pull the long curly cord around the corner so she could see. She’d talk a long time sometimes.

But, it was mine in my dream, the whole place, last night. The place not standing now was there for me.

So, I set my mind on fixing up my granddaddy’s room, the one that seemed such a secret, his “Chester” drawers all piled with loose coins, papers and cigars, I started and I cleared and cleaned and made it fresh, different than before, a place to lie down and rest, inviting and bright.

A place I’d been afraid to pass through, it was mine to make new.

To make whole.

31 Days, Freely – Moment

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, freedom, grace, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

Prompted, on this day 26 of 31 to write briefly (I’ll do my best.) on the word “Moment”.

Sometimes I’ll take a moment to be sure I’m correct in my understanding of the meaning of a word, or look for the definition to broaden my perspective.

I took time just now to understand “abide” because I always lean towards it meaning something like living some place or staying put and settled somewhere.

It may be that I think it’s a relative to the word abode.

No idea.

a·bide
/əˈbīd/
verb

accordance with, uphold, heed, accept, go along with, acknowledge, respect, defer to

Yesterday, I met someone who began a conversation with questions of me from the other side of a table. The room was filled with women and the bustle of many conversations.

She asked me about my choice of the phrase “quiet confidence”, eventually moving to sit beside me. We talked. We laughed and we connected.

We were interested in each others’ stories from the moment we connected.

This morning, I’m remembering how I told her it can awkward for me to have an intimate and complimentary conversation, to receive positive and powerful feedback from another.

It’s as if it’s a challenge for me to agree with another’s words that are good if they’re about me.

She said something I loved when I told her I don’t like to introduce myself as an Executive Director, it sounds so lofty, so unappealing to me, doesn’t sound like who I ever wanted to be.

She smiled and told me to accept it, to be in agreement with God’s decision to place me in a place to lead.

This morning I’ll think of it as abiding with God in his decisions to bring me to a place of leading. I’ll abide in my executive role and demonstrate my confidence because of God’s confidence in me.

Moment by moment, I’ll abide, be in agreement with God as I carry out my role in His world.

“Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.”

‭‭John‬ ‭15:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I met someone yesterday who gave me an unexpected gift. I’ve decided to accept it, acknowledge her assessment of me.

Linking with others here:

FMF – Moment

31 Days, Freely – Capture

daughters, Faith, grace, memoir, Peace, Stillness, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I’ve never seen such a pretty place as the porch that welcomed me this evening to my daughter’s home.

Now, I thought of taking a picture; but, it would be lost on most everyone.

A vignette of pumpkins resting on a bench, large lively fern and cushion sitting softly in big and sturdy rocking chair.

The way she can take a little something space and make it big something spectacular.

So pretty, my words fail and my description, to capture her ways, her simply splendid style.

I got the dogs all excited and situated and since I skipped boot camp I set out to make some laps around the big open farming field.

The dogs were confused, corralled and cavorting. I made another lap and rounded the corner to be met by the sky.

I’d decided beforehand it wouldn’t be so amazing, cloud cover and cold.

But, the sun found a low place and it decided I’ll settle down here.

“And God saw that it was good.”

‭‭Genesis‬ ‭1:18‬ ‭ESV‬‬

So, I forfeited the made up workout of cardio for the perch on the porch and I did my best to capture what’s too spectacular to know, to keep.

The sky, the sun, the stuff of me showing up in my child’s decorative ways.

More amazing than words, more beautiful than we can ever know.

31 Days, Freely – Common

confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, happy, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Redemption, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Unity, Vulnerability, wonder, writing

4:30, 4:30, 4:30!!!!

The blaring bong of bell, he stops it and I want to say you could have gone without.

Your wife could have just told you so, quietly and matter of factly, it’s 4:30.

Last night, I prayed the ABC’s 3 times, 78 letters lined up, mostly spontaneously and my prayers had a bend towards gratitude.

Not the same old worry, the correspondence God knows so well of me.

My brain must have been overloaded in a good way because it had stories it refused to leave hanging and they continued all through the night.

Then, I woke up remembering what I wrote hurriedly and just let it be.

This 31 day thing feeling like obligation and nothing more. I could have trashed it, the one that was without flow and didn’t circle back around to make sense.

No matter really, I’m learning to grow.

Ironically, I wrote about not being “good” and the first thing that came to mind when my knees hit the floor in the darkness was.

I’m good, God. I’m good.

The reality of a sleepless night and a day that has the likelihood of stressful situations, wasn’t about to phase me, I felt sure.

Because I woke refreshed, unbelievably so and assured.

All is well.

I’m good.

God is so that way.

Oh, how I love His subtle ways.

All will be good.

All is well.

At the close of a meeting of minds trying to be correctly succinct and with draft three or four of some set of bylaws, there was a lull in the banter.

I looked down towards the gentleman who is in charge of the weekly soup kitchen.

Asked Jim, “How’s your friend?” He smiled and told me he saw him on Saturday, they all celebrated his 70th over soup.

“I still have the ring he made me.” I added, happily.

Remembering the day we were charged with counting the homeless and a pleasant man on a bike met us in the park to talk. He magically, meticulously folded a dollar bill and presented it to me, a ring!

Give me times like that Lord, more of these moments that set me back on track.

That remind me trials are common to us all, that we’re not different ever in your sight.

That your goodness is common to us all.

“The poor and the oppressor have this in common: The Lord gives sight to the eyes of both.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭29:13‬ ‭NIV‬‬