Trust

Only Jesus

Art, bravery, doubt, Faith, freedom, grace, hope, memoir, Peace, Redemption, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I’ve been trying to remember what prompted me to seek a passage yesterday morning. Monday is a “grandma day” and I rarely open my Bible, only read a few lines of a devotional or sit still in the dim, sipping warm coffee.

I found the favorite passage, the one about the water’s healing properties. I read again the words of Jesus recorded by John and I realized quickly, I’ve read this all wrong for so very long.

The scene is a place called Bethesda. I envision a cool place near water, those who are unwell languishing in shaded areas established like safe but sad waiting rooms.

Throngs of people, maybe some accompanied by friends or family, men and women, I suppose even children who have been enslaved to some sort of malady and have come to immerse themselves in the water of a powerful pool.

One man, paralyzed and lying on what must have been a soiled and worn out mat, had been there for thirty-eight years.

Jesus laid his eyes on him and walked over.

He asked him “Do you want to be healed?” (John 5:6 ESV)

Jesus knew he’d been there a very long time. If I were the disabled man, I wonder what my reaction would have been.

I began to wonder many things about this man yesterday.

Had no one tried to help him into the healing pool?

Was there no friend or family to stop by and check on him, offer to ask the others, “Please let him cut in line, he’s very desperate and he’s losing hope.”?

Or had this man, incapable for almost four decades accepted his fate, decided this is just my lot in life?

Most of Monday, my mind kept going back to this passage. I was certain I’d read it correctly (at last) for a good reason.

My grandchildren were happy yesterday. They’re loving and laid back and my grandson and I eased through the day.

We walked a long way, we found “treasures” and we talked about walking the safe way unless mommy or daddy are here.

We turned toward home instead of the long clay road because I told him, we may be too tired to conquer that hill.

He answered, “This way…okay, G’Ma?”

Almost home, just three curves and a downhill twist, he asked,

“G’ma carry me?” and I anchored him against my chest as he silently laid his cheek near the curve of my shoulder.

I thought of the passage, the one I’d misquoted and misread until that morning.

I’d always thought the disabled man had stepped into the water, that Jesus assisted him.

But, he didn’t.

He rose and walked with no need to be immersed in the crowded pool.

He did as Jesus told him. He stood and walked forward.

Speculation from others came, lots of accusations about the wrong choices on the Sabbath.

The man had no idea who Jesus was, he only knew he tried to walk as instructed and he was walking.

That’s when the two words came standing in my daughter’s kitchen…

“Only Jesus”

I pondered less why the man had to wait so long, why all the others pushed past him selfishly, why no one in his family tried to help him.

(Maybe they did, it’s just not recorded)

I considered this man’s healing unexpectedly and miraculously by Jesus. I read on and noticed what seems to be a serious tone in the voice of Jesus…

“See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.” (John 5:14 ESV)

I thought again, “only Jesus”.

Smiled to myself how I’d read this passage without this powerful reminder for so very long.

A reminder that Jesus sees us in ways no one else is capable of,

And he appears.

That what is needed for our healing might be unique and meaningful in a way no human can offer.

Only Jesus.

And so, we can let go the longing for others to see us in the crowd and be attentive, even considerate, aware of our languishing in hurts that linger and threaten to destroy.

To be the ones who help us walk again in our healing.

We can understand that’s not their responsibility.

We can allow ourselves to understand peacefully and with vulnerability see that our only true healer is Jesus…

Only Jesus.

Healing comes when we answer “Yes.” to the question

“Do you want to healed?” (John 5:6b ESV)

Maybe we are aware of all the ways we secretly decide we’re not able, worthy or even reluctant to live a life that’s marked by healing.

We answer God in our prayers just as soon as we rise from our knees with reasons “why not” through our thoughts and our choices.

The man on the mat is so relatable.

“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.”
‭‭John‬ ‭5‬:‭7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Jesus listens and tells him to “Get up.”

I suppose no one had ever suggested such an impossible step,

only Jesus.

We are so intimately known by Jesus. It took such an extraordinary request to cause this man to try what he was certain he could not do. He’d been lying there watching the others get well and had believed…

Healing is for others not me.

Then, he bravely agreed to try.

He tried and he walked away from the mat on the ground. He stood and he walked.

Freely, listening to the suggestion of Jesus.

“Only Jesus”, I pray these two words linger with me in new ways, maybe a sticky note on the dash of my car, a canvas marked and inspired by the realization, new words in the margin of page 890 in my Bible.

You’re welcome to remember it too.

What are you waiting for to rise from your mat and go forward in ways only possible because of only Jesus?

Maybe, like me, you’ve been reading certain stories all wrong,

all along.

Here’s the passage that feels like an invitation to embrace healing (for the first time, again, or differently).

“After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed.

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. Now that day was the Sabbath. So the Jews said to the man who had been healed, “It is the Sabbath, and it is not lawful for you to take up your bed.”

But he answered them, “The man who healed me, that man said to me, ‘Take up your bed, and walk.’” They asked him, “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?”

Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had withdrawn, as there was a crowd in the place.

Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you.”
‭‭

John‬ ‭5‬:‭1‬-‭3‬, ‭5‬-‭14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Go in peace.

You are loved. Remember.

Advent and Art

Advent, Christmas, courage, Faith, hope, patience, Redemption, Trust, waiting

We wait with hope.

I sat and doodled an idea, divided my journal page into four squares then sketched a figure with subtle wings in each. I added the four words, four mindsets to grasp as Christmas Day gets closer: hope, peace, joy, love.

I decided not to create new artwork but to find photos of old paintings. I was reminded I’ve been painting female figures, sometimes angelic for quite some time.

Women in contemplation, often perceived as “sad”. It reminds me that I’m sometimes seen that way and I typically answer,

“No, I’m just thinking.”

Thinking more than speaking, thinking of so many inexpressible hopes, dreams and often, fears.

I remembered this morning that hope deferred breaks a heart. Hope decided not to put more hope in only leaves us looking to fill a void. But, a dream pursued, held onto like a jewel leads to a beautiful song.

Like faith, hope is a mystery, a beautiful and invisible thing that holds more value than anything we can know, achieve or experience.

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11‬:‭1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Held

Abuse Survivor, bravery, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, Forgiveness, hope, memoir, mercy, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, surrender, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

The empty lot on the street lined with homes is the home for the leaning tree.

The branches are thick and twisted, gnarly but producing papery leaves on wiry branches.

Long before the homes took up space here, the road was hard and dusty, clay.

My children were small and we walked like explorers down the road. Once or twice, the hills were covered in snow and they slid and fell and ran around in thick socks tucked down in tennis shoes, makeshift boots for children of the South.

I walked past this tree yesterday. The subdivision neighbors all know me I suppose, that woman who looks at the clouds, the one who walks very fast, the one not inclined to stop and chat.

I noticed the tree the day after I’d read about God’s response to Adam and his wife Eve.

I read of how God responded by making them clothing from animal skins to replace the covering they’d contrived in shame that was made of scratchy leaves.

I spent some time reminding myself of the interactions, of the course of Eve and Adam’s recognition of mistake and of their shame.

“And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate.”
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭3‬:‭2‬-‭6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In the garden, Eve succumbed to the need to know more than she needed to know, to know more than was necessary for thriving.

God had provided everything.

She wasn’t quite sure, I suppose. She wanted to know more and wanted more.

The tone of God’s voice in response is sternly disappointed. The course of life changed not just for them but for everyone.

I wonder if God just wondered, is everything I’ve provided not enough?

They knew quickly that they were changed and with that realization came shame.

“Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.”
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭3‬:‭7‬-‭8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

God responded.

This part of scripture is the one that brought me to tears, the provision of God in their time, although a rebellious time of need.

Sometimes I think we carry the most memorable parts of God’s story and use those passages as guidance while only occasionally remembering the mercy of God.

Maybe not you, sometimes me.

I imagine the remorse of Eve.

I can see her standing there trying to undo her mistake. I envision Adam hearing her out, she just wanted to help them be prepared…

If God gave us all of these things in this environment, surely it’s okay if we “ask for help” in the places we need, all of this is new, we need a way to go forward, the future, the present, the what on earth are we expected to do next?

Surely, it was okay to be as wise as God, she must’ve decided.

God asks “Why?”.

He then unveils the consequences of their questioning of knowing “just enough” and that knowing being enough, being His plan.

Then we learn of Eve being named, a beautifully significant name. And we read of God’s response to the couple covered in fig leaves,

Lovingly responding with provision.

“He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” The man called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living. And the Lord God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them.”
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭3‬:‭11‬, ‭20‬-‭21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I had been dwelling on this passage for a few days when I paused in front of the ancient tree. I thought how odd it must seem that I find its barrenness so compelling.

This tree with nothing but age and no evidence of fruit still exists to remind me of purpose, of the beauty of acceptance of what lingers and what fades, what can be acknowledged as contributing to decline, what might cause shame in light of decisions made and how despite of and because of every bit, still I’m met with grace.

And I’m clothed with God’s love, a softly wrapped tapestry of all my troubles, my questions, his responses, my weaknesses made stronger in their being unhidden, being discovered although desperately hoping they’d go unexposed.

I am found and responded to.

I’m Eve recognizing “some things are not for me to know” and I’m dressed in a more splendid covering than a hurried and shamefully placed fix.

I’m clothed in a robe of redemption.

It’s layered with old scraps of mistakes and shame threaded together so that I remember, with velvety golden threads of rescue, of help, of redirection.

How has God responded to you?

Remember the times you’ve been found, covered and loved.

Held back up gently when you’ve fallen.

“My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭63‬:‭8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Wonderer

contentment, courage, curiousity, hope, memoir, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, worship, writing

“what are mere mortals that you should think about them, human beings that you should care for them?”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭8‬:‭4‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Just as clear as if I was there, my imagination created the communion of two friends in awe.

I might have been sipping creamy coffee beside her. She would have offered food. It might have been a cracker spread with butter. It may have been just a sliver of lemon blueberry cake. Maybe nothing to eat, only coffee on her back porch.

My friend and I restfully watching her friend’s love offering, a surprise stop by to clean her backyard.

My friend is journaling after a bout of illness that wanted to linger, wanted desperately to break her heart and her spirit.

She told me that writing was helping.

“Yes, yes, I know.” I thought.

The wonder of a white rooster, a strange and sacred visitor has nudged me assuringly,

It’s time to write simply for writing’s sake, time to let sightings lead to thought again and to simply let thoughts become words.

Twice on the way to the country, a cup balanced on the steel railing under the overpass has caught my eye. A cup marked “Big Gulp” and almost full of some sort of dark cola.

I wondered how long it might remain a fixture to curious commuters like me. Would the wind or the over time passing of cars knock it over? Perhaps a big rig would cause the bridge to slightly shake and the motion might vibrate the railing.

Who left the cup there?

Were they walking and someone came along and opened the passenger door? Were they holding a sign and what was their story?

These are the directions my thoughts take me.

Strange?

I choose to call them sacred.

Wonder, I believe, is worship’s closest kin.

Pauses to think about the wonder of being open to wondering.

Back to rooster, a white one. I didn’t know white roosters existed.

My friend and her friend were reminiscing about a man who passed away too soon.

The white rooster appeared. They were surprised but, then not at all.

I walked outside one morning last week. I had noticed the unveiling of day, the distant ribbons of pink.

I nudged the dog and we stepped onto the cool damp grass. I pointed my phone in all sorts of angles then just let it rest in my palm as I watched the pink sky shift and fade.

Trying to capture the full measure of this sky, of beauty, of God’s greatness is too impossible for me, I decided.

Me, in pajamas, disheveled and maybe a hint apathetic, a seeker of grandeur, of sovereignty in my vicinity.

Called closer by the pink I’d never fully capture.

Beauty is never an accident.

Wonder never a waste.

God is everywhere. Allow yourself to notice and keep noticing.

Note to self,

Return to wonder influenced writing rather than writing for notice. It may take a minute. Take your time.

Seeing and Being Seen

Abuse Survivor, Art, artist calendar, bravery, calendar, Children, courage, creativity, curiousity, Faith, grandchildren, hope, obedience, Redemption, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, walking, wisdom, writing

Jesus Saw

My grandson wanted his mommy to stay home. It took a bit to help him get to a place of accepting it would be the two of us for just a bit. I held him close, hand on his back and my cheek against his head.

“I know. I know.” I said.

Homemade pizza for breakfast softened his little longing and then within minutes he said , “G’Ma let’s paint!” 

I painted. He continued his fascination with paper and Elmer’s glue. 

Earlier,  my not yet daylight drive brought thoughts that became a string of connectedness and a new way to see a longing I’ve always known. 

The longing to be seen.

Late afternoon now and I’m thinking of how the hurts we experience or the lack we may have known are parts of stories we do very well to come to terms with even if we’re never able to make them make sense. 

I walked without sound other than the leaves rustled up by the wind. I realized I should never go back to noise in my ears on my walks again. 

I’m beginning to think more clearly, to love making sense of things and then putting words to them. To love writing again. (Doing my best to have intentionality in writing here)

A memory came as I walked. One so clear it could’ve been that very October day so many years ago.

There are countless memories I can’t grasp and I’m afraid even more I wish my mind would loosen its grip on. 

I told a friend yesterday that I often think of quitting when it comes to creative expression. I told her I knew I could not. I knew I never would. I knew it might always be a painful thorn for me, the reality of the way it pains me emotionally to feel unseen, worse yet ignored or rejected. 

I know the reasons why and that knowing helps me take very good care of this tender ache. All the same, I wish it did not pain me so after so very long. 

I remembered that memory too hard to share, better kept to myself and I told myself gently it’s a gracious miracle that you are here and that you’re an artist. 

And that little chat with myself as I walked is a beautiful truth.

I certainly know it’s only my “being seen and known” by God all along the way that has both equipped me and generously given so very much. 

I heard two women on a podcast today talking about mountains and valleys. I heard one talk about Moses not making it to the promised land after all he’d struggled to do in obedience and all the years of wilderness wandering with people he was called to lead who were not always grateful followers. 

The podcast hosts talked of how that seemed to them so very wrong, so unfair to Moses. But who are they, who are we to get to decide how far God will let someone’s dream/calling come to fruition? 

After all, God is God and we are not. 

I listened as the woman continued. She had a catch in her voice as she began to share the realization that gave her immeasurable hope. 

She read about another time Moses is mentioned. This time he is right beside Elijah and alongside Jesus as our Father God proclaimed, “This is my Son”. 

And so, the realization came that after forty earthly years, Moses did not enter the promised land but we get to be sure he made it. The promise was fulfilled. 

I remembered this podcast while walking and I remember driving back home on the same “grandma day” road as I felt my eyes become wet with tears. 

A thought came. 

I will be painting in heaven, in heaven I will paint. 

I remembered the early morning thought alongside this confidence. I thought of my longing to be seen, how I’m trying to understand the need in ways that I can grow from. 

Three people came to mind. The man paralyzed on a mat, Zacchaeus, and the woman with the blood stained clothes. 

I thought of the man lying flat on his back while others bathed in a pool that led to healing. Because he’d been an invalid for so many years I wondered if there were days others tried to either convince him to try or actually helped him into the water and then, after a while he’d developed a reputation. Maybe onlookers concluded he’d accepted his debilitating condition, no need to try, just look away.

But, Jesus came one day and told him, “Get up”. Sort of I know you’ve been here a long time and it makes no sense now to try, but I see you. I want you to try. 

“Jesus saw him laying there…” John 5:6-7

I think of a tax collector, a man with a reputation who maybe wanted to undo all of his greed motivated wrongs. A man climbed a tree just to see Jesus. Jesus looked up. Jesus saw him and changed his life. 

“And when Jesus came to the place, he looked up…”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭19‬:‭5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I think about the woman in blood covered garments in the midst of a curious throng. She didn’t want to be noticed by anyone, just get close to Jesus. No one paused to see her, a woman desperate and dirty. But, Jesus felt her reaching for him and then he turned and saw her. 

“Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, “Take heart, daughter…”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭9‬:‭22‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’ve just finished up three collages layered deeply with torn paper and another painting has been sealed. My idea for abstracts telling the story of God’s enclosure of us in His fold is in the initial brushstroke phase. 

I’ve just proofed the 2026 Calendar and I’m a bit joyous over its beauty. Even more over the hope that the artwork inspired by “Whatever is lovely…” (Philippians 4:6-9) will be a hopeful mainstay for others. 

You can purchase a calendar here:

2026 Calendar

“Artist and writer”, a tagline on a letter I just sent as an introduction to my writing hopes. 

I won’t lose heart. I will always hope and hope I see others in ways that they need.

I pray my words and my art offer hope.

Come What May

aging, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, doubt, Faith, hope, love, memoir, painting, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder, writing
The Second Blooms

I’ve been looking over at the second trio of orchid blooms. I never expected it, I expected the failure that often comes with my orchids.

I shift the pot the plant is in, turning it away from the window. I wonder if the cold air from the vent is the reason the branch becomes more bent like it’s struggling no matter the pot’s position.

One evening I walked in the heavy humidity. Told myself give thirty minutes to intentional movement and maybe add some motivational listening.

I tried two podcasts. One was way too chipper, the other too chatty.

I decided to walk quietly.

I remembered words I heard earlier, a suggestion for focused prayer with a question.

So, I asked it.

“God, what is this season that I am currently in?”

I’ll tell you, I was barely three steps farther along and the answer came with no haggling or hindrance.

“Acceptance…This season is a season of acceptance for you.”

Waiting For Me

I walked on and remembered several days ago as I walked around the house, doing nothing and yet thinking about doing everything. “Malaise” comes to mind to describe it labeling myself lazy but what if

I’m just takin’ it easy, letting things rest?

Thoughts of my latest artwork, thoughts of the completed pieces leaning like sacred treasures against the wall in my tiny little “art room”.

I felt the affirmation rise up in my soul, the conviction to continue anyway.

“Come what may.” I told myself and then very quietly carried on with my “grandma day”.

Just a couple of hours later, an email was noticed. The word “beautiful” caused me slow.

“Your work is beautiful.” the sender said, “we’d like to feature you.”

Only a week or so prior, I’d sent a submission to be a featured artist in “What Women Create” a quarterly publication for artists, a stunning magazine with rich colors and pages weighted heavily.

I told only a couple of people and I never expressed my joy, only my surprise.

Coming Soon

“Come what may.” I’d told myself earlier, an expression of settledness in what might happen one way or the other.

I walked on that recent evening and thought about acceptance and began to see why God may have spoken this quality as the one I must understand more clearly in this, my season.

I wondered if I accept the disappointments in my life as sort of “Oh sure, it’s always this way” acceptance and I continue on in that way of expectancy.

More comfortable accepting defeat or delay and treating good things that come my way as

A surprise or a fluke?

When I look back over my life, specifically as a writer and an artist and one who shares both, I have to be honest with myself.

I’m joyous over a ribbon that’s labeled “Best in Show”, over words that describe my artwork as “beautiful” and over kind and loving expressions to me about me and my art.

Still, I often don’t truly believe those blessings were chosen for me. I somehow convince myself it was some sort of accident.

Awareness is the first step towards new thinking, acknowledgement is the key to open those doors widely waiting and questioning why I’ve yet to enter in.

This may not make sense to you.

You may be one who is thrilled by the things you worked hard to complete or compete for actually coming true.

Or maybe you do understand and if so, I share these rambling thoughts and this realization for you.

Do you expect struggle?

Do you anticipate things not coming together?

Do you only half-heartedly commit because not “getting in” feels better than being excluded.

Every success begins with a decision and that decision is more than just trying, it is the decision to believe God has good things for you.

Not only are there good things for us; but, God actually planned them in advance (and is patiently waiting for our acceptance?).

It all comes together

“For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.”
‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭2‬:‭10‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Why do we “accept the bad with the good” more than we believe that in reverse? Or let my mama’s expression, “It’s all in it, Lisa.” be a bandaid over a hurt instead of a healing balm?

My recent collection of paintings, “Not Yet Seen” have resonated for many, but I almost didn’t paint them. I told myself “I love them but they’re different for me, no one has seen this type work from me, so many other artists already do this, etc.”

(Available here: https://thescoutedstudio.com/collections/art )

The woeful voice in my head, “If I release these and none of them sell, I’ll be disappointed again, I’ll need to acknowledge they weren’t as special as I thought.”

But, I painted twelve, not eleven as first planned and now there are just six remaining.

“I’m so happy I followed my heart.” I told the gallery owner. She answered, “Me too.”

Maybe the seesaw of good and bad and the acceptance of both with equal energy amounts to just how well we “follow our hearts”

And that our hearts most importantly of all, be guarded by love, the love of God and acceptance of that love for us above all else.

my morning corner

“So above all, guard the affections of your heart, for they affect all that you are. Pay attention to the welfare of your innermost being, for from there flows the wellspring of life.”
‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭4‬:‭23‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Every morning I sit in the soft chair in the corner embraced by artwork on the wall behind me.

Often, I rise to begin my day, turn and pause and although there is an array of canvas and paper and color, my eyes land on love and I carry that all day.

Accepting more as truth every moment just how immensely God loves me.

Most importantly, accepting that more than any other thing, any doubt, any denial, any thing at all that will likely come my way today and tomorrow to detour me.

I’ll accept the better.

“Come what may.” I shall say

and when good comes I’ll believe it as truth, I will claim and accept the better.

Always hope,

Lisa (Anne)

Words and Art

aging, Art, bravery, courage, creativity, curiousity, hope, memoir, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, writing

Happenstance and Heroes

Before I lean more into words than art, I have a couple of important reminders more art. 

The Summer Sales, one through The Scouted Studio ends on Sunday (20% off sitewide) 

https://thescoutedstudio.com/

and the Summer Sale on my website (30 % off sitewide) ends on June 30th. (Code JUNE30)

https://www.lisaannetindal.me/

I’m transitioning website platforms gradually and will be deleting some smaller artwork. Also, if my website looks a little “wonky” just know changes are in progress.

Now, to the “words part”. I’m working diligently on two writing projects. A prayer for both “Lisa’s writing” things would be great if I cross your mind.

Before I return to finishing an important part in one, I wanna tell you about some words that found me first thing.

Not always, but most mornings I open a small and well work paperback book. It was given to me by my cousin. She has one and remembers her mama having one too.

“Joy & Strength” by Mary Wilder Tileston is a compilation of scripture accompanied with thoughts of ancient women and men. The thoughts are often poetic. They are often hard to follow because of the way writers and writing have changed over time. Brevity wasn’t required back then, I suppose and some of the sentences are more like paragraphs. (Just an observation, not at all relevant to this sharing)

I turned to June 26 and read a verse from the Psalms. The thin pages of the index, separated from the book and tucked inside the fold of today, caught my attention.

One name, Anna R. B. Lindsay. Unlike other names in the index, the only date included is the publication year, 1893.

“Anna”, I thought. “I want to see what a woman named Anna had to say.” I turned the solitary quote, page 47, meant to be read on February 16.

“Let us examine our capacities and gifts, and then put them to the best use we may. As our own view of life is of necessity partial, I do not find that we can do better than to put them absolutely in God’s hand, and look to Him for direction of our life-energy.

God can do great things with our lives, if we but give them to Him in sincerity.

He can make them useful, uplifting, heroic.

God never wastes anything.

God never forgets anything.

God never loses anything.

As long as we live we have work to do. We shall never be too old for it, nor too feeble.

Illness, weakness, fatigue, sorrow …none of these things can excuse us from this work of ours.

That we are alive today is proof positive that God has something for us to do today.”

Anna Robertson Brown Lindsay

Just Anna I’ll call her because, Mannnn!, she feels like a wise and sweet sit down with friend.

You think so too?

If Anna from the 1800’s knew there were things for only her to do, how could we disagree with her that for each of us, the same is true.

What will you believe you can actually do and take the tiniest step that leads you there and strengthens your believing.

You’re not too old. (got that, Lisa?)

You’re not too weak.

You’re not bound by your before.

You’re actually “heroic” simply for doing and believing.

Thanks for being here. I hope you can see, writing and art, art and writing. Both are vital, complementary and comforting.

God says so. Who am I to disagree?

Now go and be heroic today!

In quiet confidence,

Lisa (Anne)

P.S. if you’re one of a few in just a couple of weeks who’ve sent me strong and supportive notes, I sure do love you!

P.P.S. I’m inconsistent here and some of you still read. I’m grateful for you.

Curiosity

Abuse Survivor, aging, courage, curiousity, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
Old House and Fallen Oak

A beautiful oak ushered me on, a canopy over the country road. I wanted to slow.  I wondered why I hadn’t noticed it before or why it comforted me so.

Curiosity is a cousin to wonder. A call to examine whatever captivates or corners you, an invitation, a leaning in with inquisition. 

Even fascination.

What if we could be curious not over only beautiful things, but the bitter things too? 

Curious over pain, over unpreparedness for hurt, over horrible things that shouldn’t have happened to us? 

What if we accept that understanding may or may not ever come fully? 

If we’d consider the possibility that curiosity is the entry into a continuum that initiates and begins a relationship with healing. 

We may be the catalysts for our very own, deeply personal healing. 

And if we will invite curiosity, we’ll begin a new search, one with maturity.

We may be able to see every perspective, not just our own. 

We may be able to see through the eyes of the others involved, how pain of their own unintentionally resulted in ours. 

We may, most importantly, stop berating ourselves why and decide,

Okay, now I see sort of why and I believe I’ll move on to “what now?”

And for the unexplainable horrible things? 

Perhaps, we could consider embracing them rather than stubbornly and with great force, doing our best to erase them, the unerasable wounds. 

Because as we embrace our hurt, we at last find we are worthy of being embraced by ourselves.

Every hard and wonderful thing can become embraceable rather than erased.

I drove on down the pretty morning road to approach the old white weathered house on the curve, the one I love to imagine made new.

The one flanked by a massive tree trunk and all its dying limbs now gray and fading away. 

Why one oak thrives and the other got uprooted and thrown to the ground,

No way to know. No way at all. 

Only to be curiously aware and to live with deep longing, a longing that is always known even if it lingers long. 

“You know what I long for, Lord; you hear my every sigh.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭38‬:‭9‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Embrace all your longings to know. Be curious and thrive.

Care and Hope

aging, Art, confidence, contentment, creativity, curiousity, Faith, grace, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

Who wakes up wondering if the orchid will bloom, if the method used to “prop it up” was helpful or a mistake?

These are the things I think.

These are to me, metaphors of a life of faith. Ridiculous, even to me, I watched the orchid and giddily followed its change.

The blooms protected in the plump pod, every afternoon becoming more robust.

Then the color changed where the stem met the pod. It changed from pristine to a color that looked like an old healing bruise, purple and brown all puddled together.

Ugly.

That’s when I intervened.

I found a thin velvet ribbon used to hold my worn out book together.

I carefully wrapped the ribbon around the wooden stake and I eased it gently, the stem that was leaning. I wrapped the ribbon loosely and fastened it all together.

Then I wondered, was the pressure gonna choke the nutrients that would help it grow?

Had I done too much?

Was my attempt to control too much pressure on the branch?

Were my intentions to help it thrive instead stunting its growth, choking its ability to freely grow?

“My orchid’s blooming!” I announced to my daughter.

“Okay.”, she responded.

And that’s okay. The growth seems only meant for me.

And maybe all the propping up and hoping for blooming after very long hoping to come true, to not analyze all the failed attempts, to half-hearted efforts and the decisions that “growing” is not meant for you, is best met by tender care and waiting.

Acceptance.

Watering carefully so as not to drown the leaves, shifting the pot to share equally the sun and most importantly as my aunt would say

“Tell it good morning and just leave it alone. It will live best this way.” Aunt Boo

Funny how we grow best with just a very little help, we grow best on our own with support we know we can count on and know it won’t come like criticism, won’t stunt our growth, kill our hopes or

spread our secret fears of withering in a way that leads to the death of them.

Because it comes from the deep wells of us, not outsiders.

How do we grow?

We grow like the orchid moved from the corner six months ago to live beside me, roots untangled like fragile treasures and given a new home, a pot with ample place to spread and grow.

And the awareness that there are watchers, quietly excited to see us bloom, not wither.

To see us not give up on what’s been gently propped up yet again by grace and by the invisible nutrient, most important of all,

Hope.

There are six unopened pods reaching toward the light. I may have an even more extravagant orchid, its second birth of blooms, than I ever expected.

I’ll be looking forward, seeing clearly all my past efforts of reviving it were not wasted after all.

Nor have been I.

I’ll be open to being cared for, a little by others but mostly by God and his calling me “treasured” as I understand that me more every moment.

Hope waits for the invitation to grow and I’m the sender of the “come to the party”.

It never gives up.

Gladly accepts the nourishment of my patient embrace and regular care.

Hope leads to love and well,

love never fails.

Always hopes.

“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”
‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13‬:‭7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

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