Encounters, Grief and Joy

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I was more than a little excited to see her. She and I, I realized when we met almost four years ago now, had the same long, slow southern accent.

I was sure she must be from Georgia and even more sure, I decided, we had to be distant relatives. Her dialect, her slow and lilting sentences ending with just a slight upturn. Well, she sounded like me I decided and so, I was happy to know her.

So, when I saw her on an early morning estate sale venture, I couldn’t wait to say, “Hey” and “Oh my Lord it’s been a really long time.”

I was joyous to see her there.

I wasn’t prepared for her response, she leaned back, was hesitant. I figured “Oh well, she doesn’t remember me” or does but, can’t remember how. Still, I was just so happily surprised over seeing her again.

I should have read her cues, should have seen it for what it was.

Instead, I added, “Remember, from the group?” She said, “I remember.” nothing more. It was clear she wished I hadn’t reminded her, refreshed the memory.

It was humid; awkward and cramped, standing amongst the trinkets, treasures,and big patterned armchairs.

She’d moved away, opened an antique shop in a pretty little town. She’d come back, was in charge of the sale that day.

Someone offered a fan, she replied “I’m fine.” and turned to look towards the drive so I wandered to the back porch and into the little house.

I continued to explore, found a pretty little bud vase and a bird for me and a rooster for the sake of memory of mama. I held my little things close to my chest and went to pay. Her eyes met mine and I said, “I hope you’re doing well and I apologize if I overwhelmed you when I saw you.” She said, “That’s okay.” Nothing more. I added, always the one trying to fix the messes I make, to undo the damage, “We were in the mountains and I was so close to your antique shop; but, couldn’t find time to come.” Again, no reaction really, just another nod.

Finally, I said what I should have said in the beginning and maybe again as I left with a simple goodbye.

“It’s so good to see you again. I hope you are doing well.”

My happiness over seeing her came from a place of recalling our connection, of remembering her sincerity and kind, kind heart, although grieving.

Her seeing me changed the course of her day, turned back the clock, flipped the page to the time and the memory of loss.

And mine as well, to the night she talked and I listened.

To her story of a sorrow I dont know, haven’t felt, only have heard.

Each heart knows its own bitterness,
and no one else can share its joy.

Proverbs 14:10

It was so good to see her, I hope she is doing well.

Maybe

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

Maybe, I thought, out walking in the late afternoon thickness of day…

Maybe, just consider it Lisa, there’s a change coming, a shift you’ve been seeking.

Maybe, you’ve been so offended by being overlooked, over corrected and over reacted to

that you’ve not thought to notice the possibility, the maybe of this time.

Maybe, I thought, out walking in the dull empty summer air, there’s a shift occurring,

one you’ve worked for

one you need.

Maybe.

Count it joy, not maybe; but surely…these various trials of my faith are producing something that can’t be shaken.

James 1:2

Commas, Periods and Joy

courage, Faith, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

I write grants. I deplore asking for money. That’s tough, but an honest admission.

What I enjoy so, so much is sharing stories of our work, compelling others to come alongside in giving.

Two big grants were denied within days of each other…one large in amount, one large in significance. Two things in my “pending” file that have now been decided upon, denial…not a comma, a period.

So, I decided to Let it go, Lisa. Turn the page. Close the book.

God is in control. Walk by faith. Period.

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The monthly Faith column contributed for April:

Grammar and God

I must admit there are times I could use an editor. In life and in writing I have a tendency to overuse the comma. Quite often and unnecessarily, I pause in the middle, hanging on to an idea, taking it down some path rather than closing with a firm ending, a period. If you’ve had more than a few conversations with me, you’ll know I can talk about a variety of things all at once. I have been told it can be hard to know whether I’ve finished with one thing before jumping to the next. I jump around and then pause, circling back to the beginning. I don’t think a comma would even help there. My life sometimes feels like a series of long run-on sentences.

A friend who is a wise conversationalist shared a bit of wisdom last week. Surprisingly, this insight came from a very young woman, a patient of hers. My friend, advising the young woman through trauma and life change, had been listening as her patient recalled her hardships. She paused, looked at my friend and said, “Maybe I should start using periods instead of commas.” She had essentially realized the time had come to rest, to accept certain truths.

In my desk, there’s a folder marked “pending”. About once a week I take it out, remind myself of its contents. I may remove a paper or finish a task left undone, but I don’t hassle over the items waiting. I leave them there in the place of pending. Life is full of waiting, wondering and pausing.

It can be torment to keep looking at what we don’t know, what’s not yet complete. We have commas and long pauses of doubt all over the places of our lives. What if we made prayer our pending file? Waiting would be less overwhelming. What if our lives modeled good grammar, God’s grammar? I decided to become more disciplined in my commas by adding more periods. I made a list of truths and marked them with strong, black dots of assurance, periods at the end of each. Have faith in God. Pray, and let God work. Trust God’s plan. God is good. God is in control. Let it go, Lisa.

The Book of James guides us in times of trouble. We are to expect trouble. We’re told there will be times we feel our “sentences” will never be complete, our circumstances unresolved, and our delays will lack an understanding. We will meet trials of various kinds. Do not doubt. Ask God. Believe. Don’t be tossed about. Ask in faith for wisdom, Amen, add a period.

Count it all joy when you meet trials. The testing of your faith produces steadfastness. James 1:2

Turn the page.

Close the book.

Re-read your Faith column.

Live what you believe.

Count it as joy.

Tomorrow’s another day.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee as she reminds us all of the miralce we are, the miracles within and around us…http://jenniferdukeslee.com/miracle/

Stumbling Into Morning

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

Yesterday, I drank from my son’s cup. Paisley flowers, curlicues, creamy colored. A cup, bought by a still chubby, middle schooler on a church trip with his friends. He came home, announced, “Here, I got you something.”

So, I drank my coffee, turned my back from the window, the morning so heavy with fog, no desire to gaze towards sunrise.

I read of a man in the Book of John, unable to move towards the water, to be healed.

Scripture defining him as “an invalid’.

Him and many others, others who’d decided to go down into the water, to believe they might see change; to be an invalid no more.

To be valid.

But, he couldn’t figure out how to move towards healing; he didn’t believe he could move what must have been just steps away.

He couldn’t step. He expected he’d fall, an invalid, after all.

⁶When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?”⁷The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” ⁸Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” ⁹And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked.

John 5: 5-9

I thought of all times I’m paralyzed, unable, unwilling to try, until I stumble back towards the water.

I thought of the invalid; vowing to never to use the description again, recognizing how low a feeling it is to doubt one’s validity.

Walking outside with dogs as morning requires, I noticed in the lingering fog, the pear tree beginning to bloom.

IMG_1667_kindlephoto-1055205

The blossoms barely there against the full of a bland sky, insignificant on this less than optimistic day.

This morning I’m drinking from a different cup. It’s lined in the color of bluebird. It’s a funky little cup, my daughter’s. A big, healthy hog etched in the center of its round edges.

My daughter loves pigs, goats, cats, dogs, cows, livestock, in general. Her bridal portrait on Sunday will have a backdrop of peach blossoms and trees spread so far and wide, for miles it seems.

This morning, I sat with her cup.

The sky spoke, saying…”You can’t imagine the day I have for you, Lisa!”

So, I moved towards our big backyard, looked up and knew it was true.

Not just today, but so many more to come.

Stumbling, prancing, walking slowly or simply standing still in the early morning

If I could, I’d count these birds of this morning, their voices all a flutter.

I’d touch each blossom of the white flowers of pear tree and I’d know undoubtedly the significance, the validity of my every day.

I’d write on my heart, in my palm with a sharpie or somehow remember more strongly…the beautiful mercy of believing and stumbling into morning to be healed.

Winter now, Spring soon…work, life, faith…

Children, courage, Faith, family, Prayer, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

The breeze moved crisply this morning.

Damp feeling from the night before.

A hard rain giving

Gentle, wispy newness, stirring taller trees in a sway-like dance.

The sky was divided.

Grey thickness separated by an underlay of clear white.

Then, gradual interspersing of illumined white, clear and soft.

Intersecting, blending…a collaborative, much like my work, home, faith, prayer and passion.

I’ve heard stories this week and last of children, teens, young adults who are struggling.

Of parents blindsided by words, thoughts, and acts.

Frightening, shocking and saddening. The parents, lost for words and for solutions.

One shared their plans for a conversation.

Told me they’d say with bold and outspoken love, “I would be the saddest person on the planet if you killed yourself…would you do that to me?”

I waited, feeling the courage, the truth, the authority behind their words.

Then said… “Your sadness is not on their mind.”

Paused, allowing my words to settle, adding

“If someone is depressed, is so far down in sadness of their own, the only thing they can think of is how to get out of the deep, deep hole that has encompassed them, the dirt of their pain or circumstances surrounding them like a wall caving in.”

“Oh.” they said, eyes dropping down, their understanding palpable.

Work intersects life sometimes for me. Approached in church by a concerned parent I tell them I’ll pray; then I tell them what I’ve learned through stories of survivors of suicide loss. I share with conviction and with intention what I know of depression, what I’ve become passionate in conveying to others, my efforts all based on hearing at least one less story of suicide.

Depression is medical. Depression is not a lapse in or deficiency of faith or belief.

Depression requires a brave and attentive response.

A readiness to hear what you are afraid may be spoken.

Sticking around to listen and then staying close in readiness to hear even more.

Praying too; prayer like David’s, a cry of desperate search for relief from turmoil.

A brokenhearted petition seeking relief, restoration, longing to have reason again to praise when none can be found. Yes, pray. Pray without boundaries while you seek help and stay close.

Acknowledge the mind as a physical part of the body. Sore throat? There’s a test for strep. Growing pains or something more? There are tests for that.

Bad mood, puberty, peer issues, teenage angst or depression, there’s a test for that.

The soul thirsts for God; but, is after all encapsulated vulnerably and imperfectly in physical body.

Why are you cast down, O’ my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God. Psalm 42:5

Be brave. Be attentive.

Be informed.

Respond while you pray. Winter is hard; but there’s Spring again, soon.

Here’s a valuable resource God blessed me to be a part of forming.

Visit this page and learn the signs of depression, of suicide.

And another resource designed just now, a new resource of MHA Aiken County as I prepare to speak to teens tomorrow. Work, life, faith, prevention.

1 in 10 Teens will Experience Depression. It is more than sadness.

To Be with Jesus

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

I wouldn’t say it was the very first thought today.

But, once I had sweet creamy coffee in hand, I sat and then thought.

Morning

Lord, what is it you will teach me today?

I’d read from the Book of Mark yesterday and would be picking back up there. Jesus with people, seeking, following or doubting…all hearers of His stories, parables and encounters. I’d have been captivated

I would hope so.

I wonder, if I’d been one of the chosen 12 or at least had time in His midst

Would I have been an attentive and engrossed student

Listening closely, comforted and content?

Or might I have been one to question, to be agitated by notions of what should have been a more prolific and royal presence?

Mark 6:6

Would I have been disappointed?

Wondering, who is this friend of sinners, teacher and one who beckoned everyone…come closer, listen?

Would I have hunkered down, found a quiet place in the boat, raging storm all around; nevertheless, secure because of His nearness?

Or would my fears have gotten the best of me, untrusting

And He marveled because of their unbelief. And He went about among the villages teaching. Mark 6:6

Unwilling to believe?

Would my terror have led to anger, so much that I questioned this man sleeping in stormy waters…this healer, this soon to be Savior?

I wonder if I would have known His peace or panicked.

I wonder if I’d been one following close behind Him on narrow paths of dirt

If I’d have been a happy disciple or a fatigued and weary traveler.

Would I have been bitter over Jesus stopping to notice a greedy little man in a tree, a filthy, lonely soul covered in sores, or a brazen woman aware of her sin, yet still hoping for redemption?

Or would I have known the purpose of the stories?

Would I have been impatient, expecting an elaborate and rehearsed lecture to prepare for the kingdom, culture, or citizenship to come.

Scholarly and pompous, would I have shown up only to be given wise instructions?

Or would I have listened like a child at His feet, hanging on words that told of a wayward son’s choosing wealth over work, pig troughs, the worth of sparrows, not hiding lights under bushels, and seeds sown the right way so as to grow big, big faith?

I hope I’d have been the one who rose early to be with Jesus

To ask

Morning glorious

“Jesus, what is it I need to hear today?”

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story

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

Bibles and Pantsuits

courage, Faith, family, praise, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

My new Bible, a Christmas gift from Benji and Heather

Every Sunday, she’d ask. “How many daily Bible readers did we have today?” The person who kept the Sunday School record would respond. I waited, scanning the encircled group of class members for expressions as she responded.

“This is the one we thing you all should do…how else will you know how to live?”

For a very long time I rejected her advice, her exhortation felt too much like demand.

Puffed up and independent minded, I reminded myself that I would not concede to pressure. I would not be made to feel inadequate or a sinner by not following one person’s ideas or rules.

My grandma, “Bama” had varicose veins. Big, thick purple bulges held down by thick rubber-like pantyhose that went up above her knees.

She wanted to go to church; but, felt unwelcome. She had to wear slacks, sharp little pantsuits.

She stopped attending church after a bit.

Stopped after judgemental glances from other women dressed in pastel colored dresses with hummingbird pins on their scarves, matching purse in one hand, tightly clenched smiles and fingers wrapped around their Bibles.

Bama, dressed in crisp pantsuit, sharp and fashionable, yet scorned.

I wear pants to church most Sundays, it’s okay, feels right to me.

Not for Bama though, back then.

The preacher, continued on admonishing errant ways of ladies in pants and other behaviors that most likely would lead to burning in hell.

I never understood why wearing pants was wrong back then. My grandmother must have been hurt. She never let it show.

I was.

I don’t recall her ever complaining. She just stayed home.

A preacher’s daughter unwelcome in the church

Yet, she always had her Bible, her little Gideon New Testament in her purse and King James version beside her bed.

I remember her nightly ritual.

I’ve seen my name in the margins of her Bible.

I cherish the image of dimly lit bedroom, me sometimes there beside her, pretending to sleep, under thick quilts.

Sleeping with Bama on Friday nights, careful not to brush against her legs.

Quiet, sweet, calm nights with Bama.

Lying next to her, before sleep Bible reading.

Obedience to God, not people.

I’m a daily Bible reader now. It’s not an obedient-like requirement or a response to curtail retribution or chastisement.

It’s not an avoidance of punishment or hardship; rather, for me an act of expectant submission.

Anticipation of revelation and comfort.

God, revealing new things, His words exhorting me to continue or comforting me in my missteps, misfortune.

I know that to know God is to read His word.

Know that choosing to live with God’s word in my heart and mind is the most certain way to see clearly my life as God designed.

So, I cherish my Bible. I cherish my mornings, marking in the margins of my Bible, like Bama.

Morning by morning he awakens; He awakens my ear to hear.

Isaiah 50: 4

Following your Star, Unwrapping your Gift

Children, courage, family, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, wonder

Advent Thoughts

On today, the day before the eve of Christmas Eve, I started with a note from my daughter, reminding me of Christmas coming…”feel better” it said and so I committed to feel better.

And I did. Some little things happened to help in the betterment of day. Gifts were wrapped, special notes written and gifts received.

Beautifully gifted day

I prayed twice and then read about the star that was followed by the wise men.

Thought of them differently, not of bearded ancient figures with long flowing robes walking through the desert gazing upward.

I thought of them as wise people, intelligent, wise men.

It occurred to me then that the star must have been so spectacularly compelling they couldn’t imagine not seeking to know more.

Couldn’t imagine turning back, abandoning their souls’ fulfillment.

Wise men, yet still seeking to know more, to experience fullness as their feet followed, guided by brilliant star.

So, I jotted quickly, so as not to forget the thought.

Hesitant to record my thoughts because they felt strong like epiphany.

To write in my journal might lessen the power of my thoughts.

But, I wrote a note to self:

“What’s your star? Where is the place God has for you? What gifts in store? What is the work God would have you achieve, knows you’re both capable of and long for?

If my feet followed my heart led by Jesus, knowing spectacular like a bright star awaits, I wonder where I’d be.

What gifts are waiting for my unwrapping?

Is it writing?

Painting?

Maybe the joy of leading by example, so that others move towards their calling, their joyous star.

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