traumatriggers

He Knows

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, fear, memoir, painting, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, testimony, traumatriggers, Trust, Truth, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder, writing

I was hoping for yes and the answer came as no.

I told God I was disappointed and He answered, “I know.”

Not like a sound, not a breath of breeze across my cheek or the gift of a better tangible thing.

No, He answered with a shift in emotions, a soft invitation to acceptance and acknowledgement of my worth according to him and according to newfound and not new at all friends.

I really wanted to be among the thirty or so selected. It was my third year and I’d been hoping the “third time’s a charm” would prove wrong the “bad things in 3’s” old saying.

So, I talked to God and He reminded that hours before I’d thought about the possible what if’s if I was selected.

Things like what if I go and learn my work doesn’t really belong?

What if the evidence of me striving to be seen ends up making me want to hide?

These thoughts later said, “I was helping your heart get ready for rejection. I was hoping to ease you toward acceptance”.

I woke today thinking “return to small things”, become small like a child growing through no effort of their own, become small like the tiny seed that you are that needs nourishment not neglect.

Return to small by not doing so many things, just doing the ones that are just right for you, very well.

I’m smiling because out of the blue, “The Three Bears” makes perfect sense. Goldilocks entered a place she didn’t live. Curiosity led her to open the door. She roamed around exploring every inch and forced herself to fit in spaces too limiting, then places too big and then she found the “just right” spots and she rested.

I’m just as surprised as you may be that I’d be sharing a fairytale about a girl in a home owned by bears.

But, here’s where God is nudging me. To abandon some places and return and reside in others.

What this means is I may be less visible on Instagram.

I’m returning here and leaving Substack for my writing. Yes, I could “live” in both places but again, I feel God saying simplify.

I know this choice is not popular or trendy. Still, my words and those who’ve read them have been here in this space for quite a long time.

I think this is the “just right” fit.

I won’t use AI. It may be just me but I really can see the difference in the words of others and I don’t want mine to not “be me”.

I’m returning to my email sent through my Quiet Confidence Art site and I don’t know if anyone will notice or wish I’d make up my mind. I hope so and I hope not.

I hope to blog more there, specifics about my artwork, what inspires me redemptively.

This morning’s “first thoughts”…

So, if you’ve read this far, you’ve been invited in to the way God woke me this morning. 

To grow, I must return to being small. 

To cooperate with God in the ministry of art, it must be about tending the soil he’s assigned to me and not scattering myself in every place I can be, every open field I see.

To be an observer and a participant in God’s purpose to prosper me I must understand the gift of humility, rather than confuse it with so many other self-defeating mindsets. 

To see Quiet Confidence Art be what God sees, I must cherish the tiny seed of it, I must love it freely and unconditionally. 

I must let my art define and express redemption, hope and peace rather than define the worth of me. 

You most likely will notice the small changes I’m going to make with going back to a more simple email and deciding what edits are needed everywhere else. 

Just know I heard and am listening to “to grow you must become more small”. 

You must do what you do best.

You must stay still, stay quiet, be confident in this as you grow strong in your artistry, not in comparison to everyone else. 

If you follow my art, my ministry therein, you’ll see simplification there too.

If you’d like to follow along, just add your email on my About Page. (Link below).

Quiet Confidence Art

Thanks for being here.

New things are coming, some of them I’ve been neglecting far too long.

In returning and rest is your salvation. In quiet confidence is your strength. Isaiah 30:15

Considering Trauma

Abuse Survivor, aging, anxiety, confidence, courage, eating disorder, grace, grandchildren, love, memoir, Peace, Redemption, Stillness, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

May your head and heart speak with one voice. (Last night’s teabag)

Yesterday, I heard someone say that trauma is not what happened to us as much as it is our response to it.

I wondered if avoiding what reminds us of a harmful event or period in our life is doing more damage than we ever thought.

I thought about this, sipping my tea in bed in the dark after reading “How to Babysit a Grandma” and planning matching outfits with a spirited five year old.

Thursday Night Sleepy Tea

I took my little girl self by the hand and we remembered what happened on Monday in the dental chair.

I decided to consider my trauma response, look at it closely, learn from the recognition of my reaction.

The hygienist told me there was a new approach to cleaning. It would involve an instrument blowing air with a little bit of force in my mouth. Because of that, a thin paper shield with an opening would simply cover my face.

The procedure began. It wasn’t painful. I folded my hands together and sat still. Then I began to sort of dig one finger into my thumb, an anxiety reliever, I thought.

Then, I noticed my breathing change.

Then, I noticed fear.

The hygienist finished and I felt my body unclench, my neck unstiffen and my belly exhale as she freed me from being trapped.

She didn’t know.

It was too strange.

Here I am on Friday considering the gift of small and unthreatening, albeit unavoidable reminders of trauma.

Here I am deciding that just maybe these not so scary things are meant to be noticed and acknowledged so that we over time may still have a trauma response.

But, we can make sense of it and making sense of it will only lead to even more healing than we would know if we’d silenced our thoughts.

Being held down with a hand over my mouth, my face, my eyes was decades ago.

Decades ago.

Has something deeply hurt you? Were you a child? Were you on the cusp of grown-up?

Are there reminders from time to time?

Don’t silence them. Notice how they show up unexpectedly and so very often in safe (but scary) ways.

When we consider our trauma, we’re not coddling the helpless baby of us, we’re simply honoring our story and giving ourselves and God credit for all the rewriting.

How can we rewrite such stories?

Maybe like this:

My cleaning appointment was better because I put my very own music in my ears. The hygienist was kind. She’d changed her hair and I told her two times that it was beautiful. The instrument used to remove the plaque was not enjoyable but necessary. The new technique with the air pressure in my mouth took the place of the polishing. The tissue paper circle covering my face was not pleasant but kept me dry. No changes, keep flossing, maybe go without your partial on top to ease the inflammation.

There’s trauma all over my issues with my teeth.

Last night Elizabeth, my granddaughter watched in fascination as I cleaned my dental “appliances”.

When she asked,

“How many teeth have you lost, Grandma?”

I answered “two” because the true story, the number being slightly more would’ve been too hard on her little ears.

Instead, I smiled and said “Two!”

And her little blue eyed face lit up as she grinned and said.

“Me too!”

Considering trauma, let it talk and pay very close attention when it speaks gently.

Simply longing to be heard and learned from.

You are loved.

Continue and believe.

Restoration is a process and a promise.

“I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent among you.”
‭‭Joel‬ ‭2‬:‭25‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Prayer As Color

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, Art, bravery, confidence, courage, creativity, curiousity, freedom, grace, grandchildren, grief, Holy Spirit, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, traumatriggers, Trust, Vulnerability, walking, wisdom, wonder

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;
‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭4‬:‭8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I reached down to be sure what his little hand clutched. A tiny pebble under close inspection before he stood and let it go, flinging it with strong conviction into the wide grey sky.

We began our walk hoping to miss the rain.

We did.

The trail is new. The path is hilly but smooth, a firebreak for the wide field of brush and trees.

I had a sense I’d been trying to shake all morning, a feeling that even though all was okay, I better be ready for the day to change, for something to go the other way.

I’m writing less about my trauma, a blend of keeping quiet and of looking more closely at wounds than ever before.

Like a little boy inspecting a pebble or stick, I’ve been quietly inspecting the hurts I’ve known in a much more intentional way.

With brave curiosity and braver acceptance…stages of grief.

So, that ache of readying to be ready for something bad is familiar and not at all friendly.

We walked and held hands and watched from a distance

Until the gift of freedom and hope ignited the sweet “setting out” on his own steps of my grandson.

And the weight of worry began to lift.

And I breathed deeply.

Looked around.

Looked up.

Prayed silently.

Added music to our walk.

Reached down with curiosity to touch a mottled leaf to discover the other side, rich in the color of fresh blood, of wine, vibrant.

I slipped it in my pocket, little “H” reached for me, both arms up and I responded as we turned for home.

Sensing the comfort of God, the assurance my fears and protective patterns are not hidden, are well known

And nurtured by God in a way that no longer leads to shame.

My vulnerabilities with God are no longer perceived fodder for Him to refute my faith.

Instead, an invitation to grace and bravery

mercy extended to me by myself.

“Grandma day” mornings begin early. My quiet time is brief and blurry.

I opened my journal to jot February 28, 2024 to discover one sentence from yesterday.

“Jesus, help me to see you today.”

Knowing, suddenly He had.

He did.

The color red, the deep crimson colored leaf like aged wine had been poured for me, left in the dirt, on a long ago fallen leaf, a cup with just a sip waiting for me to drink.

I’d been asking to see color.

Yesterday, the request was different and the answer was love.

”Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance.“
‭‭Jude‬ ‭1‬:‭2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Seen and Seeing, Compassionately

Abuse Survivor, aging, bravery, confidence, courage, depression, doubt, eating disorder, Faith, grace, grandchildren, hope, marriage, memoir, Peace, Redemption, self-portrait, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing
Sort of a Self-Portrait

I had a dream that felt sort of silly. The blip of remembering was simple, I looked in the mirror and saw myself having a day of “good hair”.

My hair is super thin and greying. My hair and I have always had an unhappy relationship.

What an odd dream, likely birthed from two conversations.

The first, a fun exchange, the second an honest answer.

I arrived early for my appointment with the doctor. I had my information and privacy forms completed in advance. The receptionist sort of celebrated that and smiled.

“I need an insurance card and her I.D.” she added. I provided both and she said…

“Tell her to have a seat and we’ll call in a few minutes.” One last question,

“Does she have an emergency contact, is it you?”

I answered yes and sat back down.

In a minute or two, I went back to the counter and in a sort of hushed tone I said…

“I’m Lisa.” And she was clearly puzzled.

I added quietly still, “You said “she” and “her” and I’m just curious why…is this a new protocol?”

And then to my surprise, she raised her eyebrows and mouthed an “Oh”.

She didn’t think I was the patient, she did not think I was 63 years old.

We both smiled and continued to chat about age and wrinkles and I told her so excitedly, she had “made my day”.

To know that I had been seen in a different way was the sweetest thing.

The kindest conversation.

Not like one that questions your age in a flattering way; no, one with sincere surprise that I was the patient, not the companion to an elderly parent.

“Lisa” they called and I was escorted to the scales. I slipped my shoes off, had to step off and on twice, the nurse said the scales were “being difficult”.

Mismatch Socks

I acknowledged the seemingly unchangeable number was the same at home and casually said, “Good to know.”

And I had my check-up, scheduled another and went on with my day.

I bought a new bathing suit, one size smaller but seemed it may fit, lined in lavender and covered with painterly abstract flowers.

It was a bargain, really pretty.

Bought groceries, caught up with a friend and her husband who are grandparents to their second, a two-week old.

Then home to cook supper.

Decided to ask my husband a question, a sort of curiously brave wondering.

Not sure why, he’s super late to the game and needed a little education, but he decided to create a Facebook profile.

Now, he’s all in.

I warned him, it’ll draw you in. It seems he’s reviewed as far back as a few years ago, all of my posts, all of my content.

No worries, he’s often read this blog and he knows I can be a little deep, sometimes pitiful and I hope, always honest.

He mentioned a particular post of him recording a little song for one of our granddaughters on her little karaoke toy.

It was sweet. It was a few years ago.

Knowing he was familiar with my Facebook presence, I asked

“I post a lot about my faith, my struggles, my hopes, my learning to trust…The things I post are mostly about faith.

When you read those things, do you say to yourself, they don’t know the real Lisa, or she’s not really that way?”

Brave, right?

He answered, “No, not at all. It’s good that you’re that way. It’s good.”

Grace, right?

Just last night, I complained about something trivial and apologized for being “hateful” right away.

And last week, I came clean about my in general self-centeredness. The me that had become miserable and often, mean.

I’m learning to catch it quickly, see it for what it is, the enemy trying to taint the essence of me so that my light is too dim for others to see,

my story fading back to grim rather than walking towards the brilliance of light and living water worth sharing.

Healing from old mindsets is not a snap of the finger,

(I hope you know that)

It is a choice to choose the work of being a participant in healing, not a parader of our trauma as a reason to be hopeless or an excuse to be hateful, the darker side of you enveloping you.

A meal, a sort of gesture

When I bought groceries on the day my age was mistaken, I had in mind a gesture.

I cooked a meal for my daughter’s family, the meal (one of them) my mama was famous for.

My grandson and I sampled it.

It was lovely.

It was a small thing.

It came from that reservoir of grace God placed in my soul, the bubbling brook of mercy I don’t deserve, and the meandering path of my beautiful inheritance through salvation that I sometimes veer from because I get caught up in the before of me rather than the moment, the day.

And I find myself by the slightest ugly little pull, questioning the details of my life and I focus on what I don’t want to accept, the dark days of me and I’m prone to plop down in that dark dank place of not remembering good, only horrific

until I pray and count the gifts of today.

And I walk in the light, the place where my story, the lightness of it may give a little light to others on my way. And I notice and cherish unexpected light that came my way.

I felt old, a stranger blessed my day.

I felt hopelessly overweight, I was met by my own acceptance and a bathing suit that fit.

I felt ashamed of my self-centeredness. I apologized quickly and I cooked a meal with a nine-month old playing “drums” with a spoon at my feet.

All of my life, I have been loved.

I’ve often slipped and come close to falling.

I’ve been kept.

This is my story.

“The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭121‬:‭5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe.

The Lord is your keeper.

Choices We Make

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, doubt, Faith, fear, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, surrender, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, wisdom, writing
Gazing at Beautiful

One wilted rose remains. It’s wound its way among the limelight hydrangeas. I’ve been greeted by the beauty every morning this week. Soon, the petals will drop and not so long away, the green will be dried up by Autumn air and the tiny rose will just be a memory, but also a hope.

Could it be as simple as choosing forward looking more often than back?

Could this be the blessing over the curse?

“See, I am setting before you today a blessing and a curse—”
‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭11‬:‭26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

How we see things matters. Interactions, relationships and our part in the ugliness or beauty of them.

Exchanges linger in our hearts even if we’ve been long separated from the person or people.

We are marked by ugliness and yet, we can choose not to be forever marred.

We can choose to see the joy and lightness in looking forward.

I was frozen in the driver’s seat. I could hurry to catch up and engage in casual talk or I could sit and wait, not have the guts to simply be near her.

“How are you?” might be my question or maybe they’d go first.

Or there might be no words offered, no interaction for the sake of one another, just a layer of stifled breath between us.

And that’s quite okay.

Because hurt lingers long in the hearts of one betrayed, cast aside or used for another’s climbing the ladder advantage.

There was a time when my face was well known, known for the work I represented and recognized in the “right” circles.

Now, I’m just “someone people used to know” becoming the woman not needing to be “known”, just me being me.

I’m not sure what prompted the thought, the realization.

I’m sort of okay with this new “imageless” image. Maybe all the other roles, women I tried hard to be were actually in a way

Imaginary.

This morning, I read a review by Michele Morin of a book by Christine Caine, “Don’t Look Back”.

Caine writes of the ways we can get stuck in our tracks (turn to an immovable block of salt like Lot’s wife) when we continue to look back.

Maybe looking back is good if we use it as a choice to decide.

To look back and see the distance you’ve gotten in your healing from hurt, to look back and think for a minute before reacting, I’m better, stronger, wiser on this forward facing side of that person’s hurt.

To look back, not stuck and staring but to look back and confidently reposition our gaze, to view the harm of our pasts as a reflection of our empowered decisions…

What was meant to harm us will not destroy us.

What was bad is on its way to more very good.

Decide to believe in the good you’ve already seen. Choose a sort of self-assessing.

Quietly measure the sense in your soul that keeps saying to you

All is well and all will be well with me.

Quietly Forgive

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, memoir, Redemption, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

On the day everyone’s talking about love, I’m reminded of the “love passage” and a new thought I embraced over the past couple of years and am still embracing.

Let some things die.

It’s your choice not to keep a record of wrongs.

While it seems you may be giving cruelty or wrong a free pass…you’re actually opening wide the gates to you being joyful, free, arms spread wide to love completely.

You can forgive others without them knowing, that’s what safety is.

You can decide to forgive without it being a big face to face conversation.

It’s a decision of the soul, after all.

It’s a private quiet decision.

It’s therapeutic, self-helping.

You have grown now… you know what is safe. Respond lovingly to your own wounded heart known by no one on earth better than you.

You’re likely correct about your decision to forgive being met by more words that wound.

That’s on them.

They’re not where you are in deciding to live fully. They’ve perhaps not acknowledged their damaging role in your story.

So, just mull on the the decision to “let it be your life before” and not taint the life you’re making quite intentionally well now.

Try it. Decide to forgive.

See your capacity for genuine and healthy love expand.

Test my theory, see if you even feel less condemnation, less disdain of yourself.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13‬:‭4‬-‭7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Continue and believe.

Forgive someone today.

Gift yourself by the doing.

No one needs to know but you.

Brought to Light

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, courage, Faith, freedom, memoir, Redemption, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
Black Jacket Symphony, Newberry Opera House

Because we had credit for two concert tickets close to expiration, we chose Led Zeppelin, the Black Jacket Symphony tribute band.

Our choices were limited. We love the vibe of the venue; but, knew we didn’t care to hear a faded country musician or a comedy show, certainly not a magician.

A couple of senior citizens who at one time loved Van Halen, Van Morrison, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin chose an overnight trip with a concert reminding us of “the days”.

The performance was spectacular. My husband asked earlier what I expected and I answered, “Well, at least I expect depth and you know how I like deep.”

But, I kept one thought to myself, no need to have him wonder the same.

I wondered if the soundtrack of some scary and hard years might be triggering, the room rocking bass, the woeful way the lead singer sang in a moan.

I kept quiet. Had a thought, an answer to my fear,

“I’m with Greg, this is now, not then.”

This sustained me, confirmed my wellness.

We can’t rewrite the lines in our stories.

We can only realize and remind ourselves that book that told your truth back then has been shelved, packed up or better yet, trashed in the bottom of a mountain of nothing by now.

Led Zeppelin? Lisa?

Music is a gift, even more so when you allow yourself to be open to the songs in another key, a better day, a different you.

Take what’s beneficial from your past.

Welcome experiences akin to what you thought you had to forget,

Let them touch you and leave new marks.

with Greg

I hadn’t expected a concert to create another path toward clarity and healing.

I’m writing it down to remember that it did.

The old bandages gotta be stripped away so that what needs healing can be brought into the light.

Be brave. Be expectant.

“For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, declares the Lord…Jeremiah 30:17

Here Now

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, contentment, courage, memoir, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
Keep Walking On

I pulled the brittle brown fronds from the weary looking ferns in the heavy heat of the day.

I’d watered the hydrangeas that bloomed rich cobalt blue last summer, but not so this season. I paused and looked out at the open field of green grass that was a sandy field last year. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but it seemed my granddaughter was instructing the dog “Eli” in some sort of life lesson.

And a thought came to me about me.

This season will soon be past, this Fall you’re gonna see its worth and it’s going to feel like an end to your grieving.

The thought seemed important, the timing of it unexpected, but welcomed.

I’m weary of myself. I think it’s time to acknowledge, I am here. This is now. I am not there or back then.

I am here.

Yesterday, God had me thinking about the man who couldn’t walk for 38 years and couldn’t get in the water to be healed. Today, I woke thinking of this healing after a night with a crazy/heavy dream…a dream that caused me to wonder (again) why “those things” happened to me.

“One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When 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?” The 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.” Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked.”
‭‭John‬ ‭5:5-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Just because I’m curious, I always want to know things like…well, once he walked after all that time did he think he might be a cripple again or like the woman bent over with a disability or the woman with the flow of blood for so many years…did they ask Jesus…why’d you allow this horrible thing in the first place and why’d you let it handicap me for so long?

These questions are nowhere (at least I haven’t found them) in my Bible.

Maybe the reason is simple, these questions are not beneficial to our strength and sanctification.

Maybe it’s that God knows we waste the purpose and value of our redemption when we gaze at our damaged places so much more than our deliverance.

When we think of our deliverance instead of God’s delay, we can live out our own healing and that healing offers hope to others…it never hinders their believing in that very same hope for themselves.

God is changing me here, sometimes it feels like I’m kicking and screaming in a gentle sulky rebellion; but, it’s a change that’s needed, a change that forgets the former and believes in the truth of promised new things.

One last thought, it’s not easy to stop focusing on your self in a time and culture that promotes self-obsession, self-promotion to be the best, and for me, self-absorption with the ever looming “why me?”

You are here. That was then. You’re not there.

Continue and believe.

Alone With My Faith

Abuse Survivor, beach, confidence, contentment, Faith, grace, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, testimony, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
Edisto Beach Shells

I woke without alarm and quietly found my clothes. Carefully, I remembered the sandals were on top. The contacts were turned right side up and the bathroom window gave enough light for a splash of cold water on my cheeks.

The old door creaked as I closed it. Bare feet on the steps, I saw the pink behind me as I thought nothing of walking alone on our last vacation morning.

The promise of grandeur was kept. I thought if I could touch the far away sun, I’d never let go.

Edisto Beach

Decided that’s why we’re not made to hold such things, we’d cling so fiercely we might never see from a distant perspective.

“How deep is your faith?”

I asked myself this morning, the question in the tune of the Bee Gee’s song.

Edisto Beach

Riding home from a week away, I enjoyed what my husband calls a “conversation hiatus”, a thing he will never fully understand. I’m just glad he allows it. I thrive on quiet. I require a flushing of the mental overload, a reset of sorts, a not always pleasant assessment of events, conversations, interactions and pushed to the side for later thoughts.

Processing, becoming prayers. Seeing from a distance, not holding tight or looking too close.

Heal what is hurting. Mend what is broken. Speak what needs to be heard. Continue with me, Lord, these lessons I might begin to live, to teach.

Edisto Beach

Find me, Lord, where I left you.

Keep changing my perspective, Father. Keep redeeming what is not mine to remake.

Psalm 23 became a plea in a hospital bed for me back in 2019. Maybe I made it more than it was, the scary episode of vertigo that refused to quit. Likely, I did make it bigger than it was.

Because it wasn’t the episode, it was the fear. It was the trigger of being forced to quit or being grabbed and shaken, being unable to escape a violent grip.

Over and over for months, I said to myself.

“The Lord is my shepherd. I have everything I need.”, taking the opening line of a well known Psalm and making it mine.

Now, I prefer a different translation.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭23:1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

One that reminds me no matter what, how, or when…I shall not be in want.

My faith will and has sustained me.

In the morning when I rise, I’ll keep considering my perspective. In all that affects me, I will pause and examine the ways I have changed.

I’ll give myself a minute and I’ll ask, “How deep is your faith.”

Knowing that’s all that matters and knowing that’s all and only what makes me, me.

And I shall not want.

“…that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭2:3‬ ‭ESV

Edisto Birds

I shall continue.

Continue and believe.

Hope you do too.

One or The Other

Abuse Survivor, Art, artist calendar, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

When I think of David, I think he seems to have lived a life marked by thinking one way or the other. He was either desperate or joyous, defeated by his own sins or bravely standing on God’s character and promises for him, for us too.

Honest, David was honest.

“In you, O Lord, do I take refuge; let me never be put to shame; in your righteousness deliver me! Incline your ear to me; rescue me speedily! Be a rock of refuge for me, a strong fortress to save me!”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭31:1-2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

What are the thoughts you think about yourself, your value, your image, your light meant to be shared with others?

Are the things people say of you consistent with the things you think and say of yourself?

“You will look to Him for gladness and refreshment when depressed, for moderation and recollection when in good spirits, and you will find that He will never leave you to want.” Francois De La Fenelon (1651-1715), Joy and Strength

Last night, I dreamt of drowning.

I heard myself catching my breath as I came up from the deep, a frantic exhale. I found my soft heavy blanket. I let it rest over my torso and I processed the possibility that I’ve been pulled downward again by the unanswered questions of my past, the agony of being unable to piece it all together peacefully.

I’m not able on my own I’m reminded.

“I’m not sleeping lately.” I told my husband. “Did I wake you?” “No.”, he answered.

“Good.” I added, thinking there’s no need to trouble him with the dream of drowning.

Instead, carry on with the new day.

As I fed the cat my eyes went to the calendar and the verse I found fitting for January.

The theme is courage.

I sat with coffee, lit my candle although it was morning and secretly asked God to come and find me again.

Turned to January 21st in my devotional. There again, the verse about courage.

“Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭31:24‬ ‭KJV‬‬

I recorded three thoughts and let them lead me to process my worry, my concern over who I am, who I was, who I’m becoming.

I’m not who people think I am. I’m fragile. I’m faltering. I doubt the promises of God quite often and I exhaust myself with worrying.

Then, God brought reply.

Same type replies he gave the ancient souls like David and Francois when they found themselves despairing.

You’re not who you were and perhaps rarely who people say you are, but you are fully known and loved.

I am who Jesus says I am.

Three self-reflective questions led to honest self-assessment and the possibility of a different perspective according to Jesus.

Could it be the deepest place of questions can answer the longings you feel are best kept to yourself?

“In mercy you have seen my troubles, and you have cared for me; even during this crisis in my soul I will be radiant with joy, filled with praise for your love and mercy. You have kept me from being conquered by my enemy; you broke open the way to bring me to freedom, into a beautiful, broad place.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭31:7-8‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Possibly, we’re all one or the other quite often. We sense ourselves falling into questions and despair. We stay there longer than we’d hope. We acknowledge our position.

We’re brave like David.

We ask for help.

Continue and believe.

Take courage, the ceaseless gracious hand of God, take courage.