Teaching

Morning Glories

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, heaven, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I woke up in the country and threw back the curtain to this wide open sky.

Yesterday, we saw the workers pruning the branches, making ways for the bright growth soon bursting through. I’ll ride these roads to my girl’s a month from now or so and I’ll be barely able to close my eyes because of all the majestic beauty of peach season!

Isn’t that what God does?

He holds our hand through the enduring, makes us new and strong in our growth, promises us a glorious new season if we’ll let him cut us from the old.

To stop wearing our old tattered and faded garments, to dress in his newness.

Morning glories, realizations filled to the brim, awaiting my drinking in and feeling led to pouring out like cream in warm coffee.

I’m without my devotionals, three of my daily ones; but, I’ve a new one called “Joy and Strength”. The quotes and the verses are ancient wisdom. The numbers, numeral and Roman, causing a longer pause.

So far, two days in and aligning with my season.

Preparing me to be re-planted in God’s freshly broken up ground.

My cousin gifted me the new one, maybe knowing I needed my soul made new.

No, most assuredly I know, it was God knowing, prompting her to know.

“No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment. If he does, the patch tears away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭2:21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The wisdom of the new little book I’ll open to find daily words, words that focus on after here and about what will matter then.

The truth of not just earth; but, heaven too.

Heaven more.

“But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.”

‭‭2 Peter‬ ‭3:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Without my set routine, not in my morning spot, my books, pencil and my Bible.

I began to wonder how I might otherwise find what God would have me know.

I looked through the wide and uncurtained kitchen window and decided it will be good to look to the day to hear, to see and to know.

And because the kitchen, the pots and the bowls, none of them were familiar or like mine,

My daughter made us oatmeal, the old way, on top of the stove.

And I tasted and saw that it was good.

So good.

So new and morning gloriously good!

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and others who “Tell His Story”

You can join us here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/

Closer to Love

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I wonder if your first waking thoughts are placed there mid sleeping and waking by God as His way to say,

“Begin again, let’s go!

Follow my lead, follow your leader.

Follow your heart, your soul.”

I woke, thrilled to have slept past 7 and kept my eyes closed for a few minutes.

Did not reach for my phone.

I thought and thought again,

“Stop looking for likes.”

Then wrote it down, hoping it more deeply would sink in.

I’ve just spent almost an hour in between making breakfast and coffee and conversation about new cars with my husband, tracking down which blog post was most “liked”.

It was in 2014 and it was entitled “not knowing”. It was about my children and God and well, being okay with not knowing.

Stats show which day is best, which theme more enticing and I suppose which posts are so good that people click the little star that says “like”.

Actually, I don’t have a whole lot of “likes”. I do have a lots of views and viewers and some commenters who I always thank “for reading my words” and mean it, sincerely.

I was curious, then got weary of discerning my “likers” based on my stats.

What I saw was my life since 2014, I saw God’s guiding, his pulling me from the ditch of doubt, His rescuing me before I fall too far from the pit of pride and pedestal.

So, I’m more settled, less seeking and more set on seeing me as God sees me and

“likes” me.

Prayerful, this morning in my journal about writing for “Daughters of the Deep” and for Lisa Brittain’s “Saturday Shares” and other places my soul feels led and prompted by prayer and the Holy Spirit.

Places and people who I’d never encounter were it not for words and God, women like Nan Jones, women who write and women who don’t write; but, surely are praying. I am worried other making a list, it’s so vast, I’d surely forget one or two or three who make up my “community”.

This morning I read from My Utmost for His Highest and the thoughts are lingering and lined up, as did the other words and verses established for today.

I’m getting closer every day to the me God sees.

Not yet arrived, surely on my way though.

Noticing and embracing words like these, believing waking thoughts as God’s instruction and loving affirmation.

As you journey with God, the only thing He intends to be clear is the way He deals with your soul.

My Utmost for His Highest devotion

Closer to love.

Closer to God and speaking more bravely.

Two times last week, I believe my words came as a surprise to others (and me).

I’m so glad God brought you into my life.

Me, through God

The first time, a crowded restaurant and as a goodbye to our unplanned encounter.

The second, a parking lot after “so happy to run into you” send off.

Both times, I was sure in my saying so and both times, the ones who were with me, their smiles spread wide as the sky and we parted, all of us thinking of God.

So, if you’re reading this,

I’m so glad brought you into my life. So happy He brought us both here. me

Art and Opportunity

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, grace, praise, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Uncategorized

    The post I’m sharing below was originally sent for consideration to be shared with a large platform of readers. It was my fifth attempt to respond to the opportunity to be chosen.

A week before I got the “no” though, I was selected by two others. The very same day, I thought the shop owner was gonna tell me she didn’t think my pieces were right for her shop anymore. Instead, she wrote a sweet note and said: “give me more”. I’ve set up my Etsy page “Angels and Other” and I rearranged my desk today, added a pretty paperweight and crossed off 5 of the 8 things on my “to do”.  I pray for opportunities, remembering to do only my part and let God do the rest.

Always believe something wonderful is about to happen.

Pretty paperweight wisdom

I know that God is for me. I know that I am known.

As are you.

I remembered sharing what I call a “lisaism” in a recent post, the one I felt so proud of, one that I decided would be a difference maker for my children. “You can be miserable or you can be motivated.”

When I got the “no” email telling me how many others had tried and yet, again my submission was not chosen, I was kinda pitiful. But, not for as long as before. I remembered all of the good that’s been coming my way and I decided to carry on.

I remembered another “lisaism”:

You can be pitiful or you can be powerful. Me

I left work late yesterday, went to a grant presentation and hurried to make boot camp because I know physical health is good for my mental health and I’ve made up my mind in general, to press on like a runner towards whatever prizes God has for me.

(Oh, and there were some edits needed, I understand more clearly why my email said no. Live and learn. 🙂)

We were in the same spot that morning. I, for the grits that remind of my mama and her for coffee. The little café that is known for its breakfast, pimento cheese, casseroles and cheesecake, she was new in town and was waiting for her order. The cashier wished me good morning, and I listened as the new person talked about her shop next door. She and her husband had retired from corporate, he a carpenter and she a lover of junk pieces and art, she had opened a new place and was excited to begin displaying local pieces of art.

The words came, and I surprised myself to announce, “I paint.”  She turned and smiled and said “Well, what types of painting do you do?”  To which I replied, “I’ll show you, I have pictures on my phone.”  This was over a year ago, and I still have my wall in her shop.

Shortly before my cafe’ encounter, I’d begun to pray the Jabez prayer again. I have a little in common with Jabez, always have. I find his story relatable in that not too many people; His mother included felt he’d amount to much or worse yet, he might have a life of pain. But, Jabez started young and prayed for the course of his life to be rerouted.

He prayed and asked God to bless him, to bless him indeed. He prayed his abilities and the places he’d be privy to would be expanded far wider than he could believe.

His request was granted.

“Oh, that you would bless me and expand my territory! Please be with me in all that I do, and keep me from all trouble and pain!” I Chronicles 4:10, NLT

Like Jabez, I’ve been surprised by life and opportunity. I’ve been one held back by family dynamics that caused me as a child to be sure I caused no distress, made no mention of being in need, having needs unmet.

Oh, for the foresight to have prayed the prayer of a child born in pain named Jabez rather than become a young adult who sought conciliation in unhealthy ways and paths that bordered self-destruction.

Still, my road has led me to places scary but protected, my stumbles have met cushions upon my falling, and my failures have not been final. I have now what many call an “Angel Ministry” thanks to my friend Connie from the café. She, one of the many who has provided me opportunities that I might never have been shown had I not decided to ask God to enlarge my borders. I might have longed to simply paint in private.

I may have kept my pieces layered with hymns and expressionless angels to myself, maybe give a few away, leaned others against shelves in my home. Were it not for Connie and my prayers for opportunity; I’d have never used the word “commission” nor discussed prices for pieces of art. I would have never had the confidence to create a page on my blog called “The Art of Quiet Confidence”.

This morning, I happened upon another favorite scripture. It caused me to consider whether David, too may have been changed by the story of Jabez, whether all the opportunities and challenges he approached with the assurance of God were perhaps with a recollection of a boy named Jabez.

For I have surely been blessed indeed. The boundaries and borders have bent my way, led me to consider all the good I never expected to know.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. Psalm 16:6 ESV

Prayerfully waiting and willing to walk in places God decides are mine.

 

 

Linking up with others at Tell His Story.  Jennifer writes about the difference a day can make:  http://jenniferdukeslee.com/whatever-youre-facing-now-give-24-hours-first/

Called “Precious”

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Y’all, I often minimize things or maybe it’s my pattern of not getting too excited about the way my life plays out. It’s not humility, the good kind of staying meek and quiet; it’s truly being joy-filled to the point of oh, my goodness can’t believe I’m seeing this stuff happening in my life.

It’s quiet confidence making itself embraceable, tangible.

And to think,  I’ve only just barely begun to surrender!

 

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“Do not fear, only believe.”  Jesus  

 

You might find it small. I consider it God showing me more clarity every day and that I am loved. Nan Jones found my blog through another blogger. She asked me to write. She first asked me about what is happening in my life now, what are my prayers, what is on my heart. I answered by telling of my prayers for my daughter’s healing and she asked me to write about it.

At first, it was all fluff then I decided to be truthful about fear and believing, the lessons I’ve been learning in my listening.

She’s sharing my words and my art here.  I am so very grateful for yet another person God in his infinite wisdom “enlarged my borders” with, people who I never knew might be my teachers, my guides, my spiritual pointers of the way to walk, to write, to be unafraid.

We’ve never met, yet she says she sees me as “precious” and all I can do is smile and cry just a little to know that I am called precious. Finding God in Quiet Confidence

 

Thank you, Nan! Thank you so!

Lost, Found and Reunited

Children, courage, Faith, Motherhood, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

I couldn’t help but think of our reunion when I read the account of Jesus, being found by his parents, thought of our coming reunion after three months in other countries.

I was nervous and excited and relieved; ironically though I’d finally settled into the separation, accepted that my children will be in places that I am not.

Isn’t it just that simple? Oceans apart or fifteen minutes away, a mother’s heart is softened, settled and satisfied the moment she sees her child, is reunited, is simply up close, next to them, their bodies in the same room.

I write monthly for our paper’s supplement in a small rural community. This month, thinking post-Christmas, I thought of Jesus as a boy, getting separated from his parents and then being found again, reunited and relieved.

My heart is lighter, my breathing easier when I turn to see them, my son or my daughter on the threshold of my front door.

Christmas night I was reminded, given gifts unexpected, a beaded cross to hold in my hands, keep ever close and a gift she found and noticed I wanted. She wrapped it splendidly with a ribbon clinched at its knot with a sweet ornament…her little face in the center, I must’ve misplaced it she said. “I found it, thought you’d want it back.”

And our faith’s the same. We welcome its return, we fling wide the door to have it come back in and then stay longer this time. So, I wrote about Jesus being found in the temple, absorbing all he could of His Father and how it made sense he’d wandered away, made perfect sense he was where he needed to be, where we need to be more often.

Here’s my fancy head shot that makes me look all appropriate and so not me; but, I’m grateful to be asked to write.

Going on three years now, the “Faith Column”.

Wisdom, Stature, and Favor

Just within the past month, I have had the opportunity to see the joy on the faces of parents of newborns. A young woman who grew up with my daughter and a neighbor of my daughter, both parents of newborn boys. I said to my daughter something similar each time I saw the infants; “Isn’t God amazing?” Amazing is an understatement, not quite the best description maybe when we think of life being formed in a mother’s womb and fashioned only through the biological makeup and intricacies created by our sovereign God. A child born into a family, evidence of God’s favor.

You may have spent some time in the Book of Luke last month. I believe God intends that we uniquely experience his word each time we read. This year, I read the Christmas story and pondered the time in between the birth of Jesus being foretold to the holy night of his birth.

My interest was piqued over the time in between; I longed to know more of Mary, more of Joseph. Wished it possible to understand how they endured the wait with hope and trust.

The second chapter in the book of Luke moves from the birth of Jesus to his preteen years. We read that Jesus grew in stature and wisdom in verse 40, And the child grew and became strong; he was full of wisdom, and the grace of God was on him. Isn’t that true of each of our children, each of us, the grace of God, a promise has been and is upon them?

Through Luke’s recording of the young Jesus, we don’t get the chance to know of his toddler years, whether he slept through the night, of the days he began to play, how his speech developed or how he matured from boy to young man. Again, these details are left for us to consider.

In verse 41, we read of the traditional trip to Jerusalem taken by Joseph and Mary. The account of Jesus getting separated from them always reminds me of times my children “hid” from me in the racks of garments in a shop or the times one of them did wander away, I’d turned, and they’d “disappeared.”

A parent’s worse fear combined with most graphically imagined outcome followed by finding them and their sweet face smiling upwards, they were just fine.

Joseph and Mary were worried, panicked, astonished over where they found Jesus after a whole three days.

Can you imagine their horror and then their joy?

Like any parent, they questioned why he would put them through such distress. But, Jesus, the twelve-year-old explains to them they should not have been surprised at all, for they of all people should know His calling to be where His Father would have him be.

When his parents saw him, they were astonished. His mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.”

49 “Why were you searching for me?” he asked. “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?”[a] 50 But they did not understand what he was saying to them.

Their frustration must have turned to understanding.

I’m thinking of the two babies I’ve only just seen, the infant expected in the Spring, my niece’s first, and the hope for grandchildren one day.

I’m thinking of my children as well. Of the times uncertain of their welfare, their whereabouts; but, being assured once I saw them, they had been with God, God with them.

There was no reason for me to fear.

As we move into the new year, may we meditate more on the word of God. Delve in more profoundly and consider the relevance of this Holy book.

May we all increase in wisdom and stature and favor with God and man, just as Luke described the growing up of Jesus us the final verse of Chapter Two. Even Jesus knew the importance of learning more about His Father.

Undoubtedly, we should as well.

Get lost, then found and be reunited with the Father.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee who has had a trying Christmas interrupted by illness, but continues to keep us all focused and faithful.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/christmas-didnt-turn-like-expected-dispatch-hospital-waiting-room/

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Believing in the Beautiful Divine

bravery, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

The 9th Chapter in the Book of John is filled with dispute, with arguments, with debate, denial, doubt and disbelief.

Even the mama of her boy who’d been blind all her life who believed she was the one to blame refused to take joy in her son’s finally seeing.

She must have known it was Jesus, only a Messiah could accomplish what they’d all decided would never come true.

But, it was the Sabbath, what a rebellion!

He told the disciples, this is not a punishment of God displayed in this man, blind since his birth.

This is an opportunity, a time that will be seen as the display of God’s glory through me.

“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.”

Jesus

‭‭John‬ ‭9:3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And so, Jesus made a healing paste of dirt from the ground mingled with his spit. He covered the man’s eyes with the muddy medicine and told him, go wash it off now.

He came back seeing.

Others saw him and were all abuzz about the beggar that used to sit begging and was blind.

Jesus didn’t hang around to be questioned, noticed, gawked over or even credited.

He went away and the man who could see told them all about Jesus.

It mattered not that the Pharisees were disgruntled over the day of his healing.

It mattered not that his own mother couldn’t quite say for sure that she believed.

He was blind and now believed.

In all the beauty he’d not seen and now could see.

He believed in the Son of Man.

He saw what is possible, if only we’d believe.

Believe in God’s Son

Believe in the times he has shown us His glory.

Believe in the times He will when all around us there are no reasons to believe what we long to see.

“When Jesus heard what had happened, he found the man and asked, “Do you believe in the Son of Man? ” The man answered, “Who is he, sir? I want to believe in him.” “You have seen him,” Jesus said, “and he is speaking to you!”

“Yes, Lord, I believe!” the man said. And he worshiped Jesus.”

‭‭John‬ ‭9:35-38‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And he will leave us with our stories of our healing to the ones all around who may argue, doubt, refuse to believe…and we’ll not be silenced, we’ll maybe find it hard to believe, all the things we have seen because we believe in His beauty, divine.

Does it ever catch your eye

Beauty divine

In an old man’s tears

A little girl’s smile

If it feels like a song

One that belongs

To you

Stop making sense

Your weakest defense

Just quiet your mind

Let the world unwind

See we’re not alone

He makes Himself known

In time

His own time

So breathe

Life will surprise you

Just Be

It’s what the world denies you

You see

The truth is all around you

Believe

We’re not alone

He makes Himself known

In time, His own time

Does it ever catch your eye?

Brandon Heath

More Silent an Ambition

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Prayer, Redemption, Serving, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

The whole house quiet with the embrace of a frosty fog, I was awakened by the ding of a message from another place I couldn’t begin to know what it’s like there.

I open the back door and the sun is working its way through the pines to the place where they all played.

He sends me photos and a video of the place where Jesus sat in the middle of the men he’d had walking with him, had been giving them glimpses of His glory, His grace, grooming them to carry on without Him. They had supper together before He was crucified for them, for us.

The little bulleted prayer list now has an asterisk “guide Austin’s steps” denoting God’s answer.

Changing my path too,

I’m slowly seeing more surely.

I’m sitting in the silence and reading, confounded over this place here that holds my words. Seems my audience has gone silent. I’ve decided, this is a sovereign sign.

I have been a bit ambitious for acceptance, might have gotten a little lost in the “ahh”

Of approval.

Just now, I read it’s not up to me to pick my purpose. It’s only up to me to let God have what he’s given me to see it come to be.

To sit quietly as He develops the story or stories to tell.

To live quietly, my words from His words, the creations of my hands, they’re formed by His hand.

Lord, set me free from depending on the notice of others, I pray.

“Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands, just as we instructed you before.”

“Then people who are not believers will respect the way you live, and you will not need to depend on others.”

‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭4:11-12‬ ‭

Thankful for the Five Minute Friday prompt, lining up my thoughts and words and believing in the gift of getting silent.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/11/09/fmf-link-up-silence/

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Turning Corners

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I saw them first. Up ahead, maybe the distance of two cars or three.

We’d need to go left. They’d be going right.

I stepped it up. My face down, eyes up, are they closer, do they see us?

No idea if they were female or male, four of them gaining on us, I knew we had to get there first. I pulled left. He pulled right.

We can do it. I’m fast. You’re strong.

We got this!

They zeroed in towards us. He saw, “No sir.” I said.

Eyes met.

“No sir,” I said and he made a sound like oh I want to bark so bad or scream but, I’ll hold back.

Then they let loose, yipping yapping, yipping yapping, four white fur balls perfectly coiffed bouncing along the asphalt out of control, black lines twisting here and there leashes turning round and round.

He stepped in step with me, his body by my side, but turned all awkward and his head tilted back with a half-hearted plea of a bark fading away into silence.

Good boy, good boy.

We were free, had made it to the track making for a long way around.

It was getting dark. But, we were good and

Free.

Free and clear now, free.

We made it to the straightaway and since the sky was turning dark blue and the air felt so very clean, we ran.

We ran a rhythmic run. No strain, no push, no expectation.

We ran. Then, we walked and then because it occurred to me I could, we ran again.

Downhill, feet clapping happy claps on the pavement. We ran with abandon.

Then turning towards home, oh my goodness.

It’s dark.

We stopped at the place where we stop and he sat under the crescent moon and I waited.

We crossed to the other side of the road and ran a solid and determined run about a block back home.

Progress unintentional for me, to run.

Progress for me today.

A blog post waits in draft status, been there three whole days, all about tender hearts and hope and falling apart to be put back together by the one who made me.

Three attempts to move it from draft to published.

Probably, maybe trashed. Yes, I think so. I’d gotten all tangled up conveying how my heart became tender, how it felt like a consequence for oversharing here. I had an idea of something big and breakthrough I wanted others to know. It was my heart that wasn’t so much hard-hearted; but, that needed to be okay with being soft, open to a gentle handing, willing to rest in my Father’s hands.

For whatever reason, I couldn’t string the words together and then the draft wasn’t the draft I’d saved. Okay, I told myself, not touching that again and tried to forget about how significant it was, the realization of my need to let go my defenses, my strong facade.

Maybe too fixed up, too contrived, too well-groomed; but, yet held tight by the leash that holds back called comparison, approval, like or compliment in a comment.

Maybe I’d given it the wrong attention, or too much.

I’m the grandma for my son’s dog who was abandoned on the side of the road. Adopted from a shelter.

Not wanted, not trained.

Yet, well-mannered. Attentive, understanding and amenable.

Not at all concerned with being a good dog, just “good boy”.

My cousin told me I shouldn’t throw my pearls to swine.

I understand now, I should save my most truly me thoughts turned words for those who might be open to their meaning and message.

Much like taking off with the untrained but, well-mannered Labrador to avoid the approach and possible attack of the fancy and trained yet, unable to behave pedigrees.

I worry over my words amongst the words of others and then I waver.

I wander.

I’ll keep walking. I’ll keep noticing. I’ll keep writing about noticing and walking and running and skies and sunsets and yes, yes, yes…

about God who reminded me to cry, who brought me a place where I slightly fell apart in a late night hard cry, only to say.

I’m taking that heart of stone you’ve decided is what kept you confident, brave and strong and I’m making you tender again,

making you open, making you, you.

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭36:26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Helping you run with feet softer, more sure of being safe, more knowing you’re free.

More okay with the decision to run.

 

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee who shares some very good advice on who to keep near. 

Visit here:http://jenniferdukeslee.com/four-kinds-friends-need/

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Weep No More

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, grace, marriage, mercy, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I tweeted “me too”, not even close to the allowable character limit, my sentence vague and just a hint of reference to my past.

Others have declared loudly and clearly their memories of being ravaged, manipulated, tried and terrorized.

I tweeted how it’s with me still, how I’ll never not be bothered by the battering.

It’s the fabric of me, woven and sewn into my story, I use it to try and strengthen others on days I’m strong.#MeToo

I saw her yesterday, her jeans too big, I wanted to ask why. Her walk the same, determined and continuing forward, still just her. It has been lately.

She walks alone now.

I saw her the first time this year in early Spring. She walked looking down mostly, her face towards the sidewalk. There was the empty space of two or three people blank between her and a man.

The air was cool still, requiring a jacket or sweater and hers hung over her shoulders. Her body reminding me of a wire hanger and she’d not lined up the garment’s seams.

Her jeans were off kilter, they hung askew and I thought she must be bothered by being unable to keep them up; but, decided she’d learned to make the best of hard things, pants not fitting, the least of concerns. Her shoes barely showing from the drag of hem, their flat soles like a piece of old cardboard. I imagined the sound of denim touching concrete, seemed similar too a lull.

Yet, she walked on. I wondered where she goes. I saw her face only slightly in my mirror glance as I passed by on my way towards my day.

Her long hair, unattempted uncontrolled, I longed to approach her, to know her well enough to gently tuck the long strands of dark hair behind her ears. I longed to know her in a way that she’d welcome my gesture. I created a story in which I could tell her my story, one that would include “me too” as I’ve seen her now unaccompanied by the man.

But, I’d be wrong to assume, wrong to demand conversation, wrong to open a wound she may have begun to heal.

Because, I’ve been drawn in to the stories of others who said “Me too”. I was pulled in, applauded braveries and became both captivated and courageously angry over others like me.

I thought of Hagar, the maid forced to give a barren woman a child. Hagar, manipulated and groomed for something someone else felt was their right. She was used for sex then shamed for giving in, for complying with the demands of those who hoarded over.

She did what they wanted and was quickly discarded.

But, God saw her. He met her and told her good will come from this, good towards you and from these abusive and harmful actions by one who used their control.

Good will come. Hagar believed God and it changed her course. Changed the course of mankind.

“So she called the name of the Lord who spoke to her, “You are a God of seeing,” for she said, “Truly here I have seen him who looks after me.”

‭‭Genesis‬ ‭16:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I hope to see her again, the woman who walks every morning. But, I’ll not invite conversation or long to know I’m wrong or right about my assumptions.

I’d welcome the chance to know; but, I’d no longer force my way in, beg her to tell.

Last night, I woke my husband. I screamed out “No…..!” in my sleep. I was dreaming. I was in a room. I saw the shadow of ominous shoulders, so large and overpowering outside my window. I waited. I knew he’d be coming inside. I cowered into the corner. He raised both arms and pushed me hard into a corner.

I moaned, “No…..”

It scared him, my husband said, has said before.

He woke me, gently pulling me free,

Lisa, Lisa, Lisa.

I shifted under the covers.

Placed my hand on my chest and said no more me too, no more, and slept soundly and languished long, woke deciding I’ll not go back there, to the place of being damaged by men who made me a “Me Too”.

I’ll trust the God who has brought me through and my story will be as strong as God has promised, has made good on His promise.

But, it won’t be sorrowful and it will scare me no more.

I pray if my story is to be told it won’t cause remembrances that bring forth fear, fear from those places healed; that I’ll not cause the opening of old wounds.

I’ll keep walking forward in the way that brought healing.

I’ll walk like the woman I long to know, determined in her way, her shoulders more level, her face steadily more uplifted each morning I pass.

I’ll keep looking ahead and remember the wisdom of someone more than half my age, it doesn’t help to hold onto the bad things that happened before. They happened, move on.

Walking forward, never backward, lest I allow myself to be tripped again by fear.

“…you shall weep no more. He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry. As soon as he hears it, he answers you. And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:19-21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m linking up with other writers to Tell His Story here:

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/control-think-free-printables/

Bending With the Road

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

We took the old way today.

I decided, first thing in the morning, the open window air felt so very, very fresh.

Went to church, came back home and had decided…we’re gonna walk the hill.

We took the old way, the one before the subdivision came and brought with it, walking trail.

The way he’d never gotten to go, “Colton Dixon” the big brown Lab and I.

I held tight his leash, pulled him quick and sharp to the grassy edge when a car sped by.

It’s different now.

Before, I always knew, could anticipate what was coming. I considered it skill, my control and my anticipating good or bad.

The way I walked before, holding tight their sweet hands up the hill.

Sometimes my daughter, others my son

And sometimes both, we’ve gone on walks since way back when.

They thought it so high, the hill in the distance, the curvy approach, excited…I remember them being so excited for our nothingness type of adventure.

Our long walk, they always listened when I said we

gotta listen out, be careful.

One little stretch, a few feet you can’t see looking back towards home or up ahead towards hill, still there.

We were careful there. I held them close.

Then there were some days, just me, walking off the whatever on my mind.

Praying.

Not quite as careful by myself for the sound of car’s engine or the turn of rowdy boy truck from back road.

But, with them, well…

It was our adventure; but, I watched and I listened until.

We’d say, “We made it!”

Made it to the top of the hill, “Whew!”

The air today, it was heavenly.

The sky, blue and translucent.

No trail to follow, only edge of the road and a quite

vacant Sunday afternoon road.

We took the old way, new to him.

Our senses overloaded, his nose and my heart…all the little new things.

Reminded.

Reminded me, enough now, to be reminded and to pray.

The walks we walked back then.

The hill not nearly so steep, nor the road as much a challenge at all now.

The bend remains and the spot where you can’t see very far ahead, still there.

In between the sharp curve and high hill.

And it’s one way or the other now, I realized. A choice, an acceptance, sometimes reluctant surrender.

Bending away or towards what is not yet seen, a less tightly held hand on what doesn’t seem old at all…not old, just before now.

I turn with the change, turning, stepping, leaning into the curves. I’m not at all tired, stronger thoughts, stronger stride.

I lift my eyes toward heaven and the faith I walk with cares less about the hill and the sharp unknown of the bends and so much more about the adventures, their lives once and still mine.