Book Review : A Place to Land, A Story of Longing and Belonging

book review, bravery, Children, courage, grace, grief, heaven, Peace, praise, rest, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability

I believe empathy should have another name, a word that’s descriptive without the clinical tone. I believe empathy, the word, should sound softer, a whispered acknowledging tone.

Empathy, whether you’re the giver or the receiver, an exchange really, is human hearts trading places.

I’ve finished Kate Motaung’s book and considered the technique of allowing the pages to fall open, deciding this is the place I should write of my connection with this story.

Still, each time I sought redirection, I wound up in the same place, the place we had in common, the place and time when grace filled the room.

Years ago, it was the most pitifully powerful memory I’d ever known.

Still is the most powerful, not pitiful or pity filled any longer.

The day was Christmas and the drive was three hours one way. My husband, the children, there was no discussion, we were going to see mama.

We arrived at the hospital and the nurse said, “She’s waiting.”

Her body was weak, her organs were weaker; but, she was expecting us. Her hair had been styled and she had on the most delicate of nightgowns I’d ever seen, more beautiful than any I’d ever known her to own.

She smiled. She “made over” my daughter and my son. She encouraged them, she reminded, she laughed a little, she gave them direction.

We gave her the gifts we’d brought and I remember that she thought my siblings might come later and my aunt had come and she had an expression of pure love and acceptance of whatever gift or not might be given.

She grew tired and it seemed we grew awkward, like clumsy adolescents not being sure what to do with our hands, none of us knew what to with our hearts.

A hospital room on Christmas Day and an hour or so with my mama and then three hours back home with little talk only uncertain sadness.

This was my mama’s last Christmas. I have never seen her more glowing, never seen her so resigned and simply open to come what may or may not.

I read Kate Motaung’s account of her mother’s cancer diagnosis and of her longing to be with her but, committed to stay on God’s course, a missionary in another country.

I was overjoyed by her telling of her mother’s travels to visit. I envisioned her love for Kate and her family and her maybe stubbornness to be with her daughter, to welcome babies, to leave them with good words and wisdom.

I smiled as I read of the trips for ice cream and the times her mama, weak and unable to be strong on her own, had a zest for life and humor, I could see them together making memories.

The mother giving all she had until she could give no more all for the sake of her children. I understood.

I struggled to imagine being so very far away and then realized prayer has no limits. God doesn’t set parameters as if to say oh, no the prayer you said well it’s way too far for the one you want it to help.

No, God is Sovereign. A mama three days away is no different from one three hours away when our living Father hears the supplication of a loving daughter, asking for mercy for her mama, and grace for the times together.

Towards the end of the book, Chapter 20 is titled “Grace”.

“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us,”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭3:20‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There’s a surprise trip to visit her, to return from Cape Town, Africa to Michigan.

Her mama’s condo smelled of cookies. The machinery all around, sustaining her breathing and yet, there were fresh cookies.

I wandered then if her mama baked cakes and made pot roast and potatoes and I decided for myself, I believe she did.

The chapter ends with celebration; she, her mama and her sister, memories, more laughter, hysterical laughter.

And a realization.

And it was grace. Kate Motaung

“A Place to Land” is a comfort, it’s consolation and it’s a telling and retelling of a daughter’s unwavering confidence in God.

Mostly, for me it’s a beautiful gift of grace, grace her mother gave, and grace that surrounded her and guided her home.

Guided her daughter through grief to be able to share.

To have other “motherless daughters” understand, be understood.

This book to me, it was grace.

Empathy’s new explanation, I’ve decided.

It’s grace, grace from one who understands shared with another.

Thanks for understanding, Kate.

Purchase your copy here:

The Sound of Sigh

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, Peace, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

It was audible. The whole house, empty and I’d heard it once already. A peaceful type awakening of thought wrapped up securely, held safely down deep.

The bottom of the soul’s well, causing a welling up.

That’s what a sigh sounds like, I believe. A bringing up to our surfaces, the soul’s regrets, letting them see the light and to leave us better, leave us in peace.

John was born for that, to show others Jesus as peace, Jesus as redemption, not regret.

Someone saying they had so much more to say and I remembered my regret.

My “ohh” came out all gravelly like the sides of my heart somehow roughed up the edges of my words and my voice was a sad sigh tarnished by memory.

I remembered regretting coming back home that night. And I remembered what I said by her bed.

I sighed, my understanding audible.

My voice muffled by the knot in my throat as my daughter shared what her friend said her husband said, his father gone before he had the chance to say more.

I sighed; but, not for long, I listened instead, stopped my taking of another’s grieving thunder.

My sigh changed then, from oh I know to hopefully more, I understand.

Same morning, I’m thinking of what I missed finishing the day before, good intentions stolen by circumstance and once again, I regretted not painting, not writing, not following through.

I opened my little book called “Joy and Strength” to the place chosen for the 2nd of March.

And again, the sound of sigh, this time a sigh of affirmation and of hope.

This one, “Ohhh”, more like “oh, my goodness, oh, my soul,

Oh, how amazing, oh, the love of God”

I sighed, “oh” again, the sound softer then, a validation.

I believe that love reigns, and that love will prevail. I believe that He says to me every morning,

“Begin again thy journey and thy life; thy sins, which are many, are not only forgiven, but they shall be made, by the wisdom of God, the basis on which He will build blessings.”

Thomas Erskine

“Oh”, I sighed, a prayer, again today.

Heavenly Father today I begin again.

Steady my heart, give me opportunity to remember and sweetly sigh, “oh” as I walk along the path of peace that you have made so amazingly free and possible despite my past sins worthy of many regrets.

In Jesus’ name and because of mercy.

Amen

I’m afraid I never can finagle all my thoughts into words in five minutes. I’ll link this post with the others though. I’ve already read so many very good posts on regret from others, I’m joining the conversation.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/03/01/fmf-link-up-regret/

Familiar Things

Children, Faith, family, grace, grief, heaven, Prayer, Trust, Unity

The sun coming in and landing on the succulents.

The Labrador looking longingly out the tall windows.

A phone call before 4, my teacher daughter calling to tell of her day, even the ring or ding, somehow familiar.

My morning, familiar. The sound of stirring of his spoon in coffee cup, so very noisy, intentional and purposed, everything my husband does, he does to be sure it is done.

The habit I have. A little bullet dot by my prayers, to flip the page back the next day and hope to turn the dot to starlike asterisk.

These things, I cherish. They are my familiar.

Last night, we had food together and everyone was seated, we would bless our meal. My sister in law, Julia came and just my daughter, her husband.

My husband would pray and end with “keep us in your will”, instead I asked Julia to pray.

She took a second after saying okay and then prayed.

“You pray just like MeMa. I heard MeMa praying for a little bit.” my daughter said, and we all we’re quiet in agreement, had a little moment, I thought of her prayers, familiar, comforting, an unexpected joy.

I know I needed.

“…always pray with joy”

‭‭Philippians‬ ‭1:4‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Linking up with others today here:

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/11/23/fmf-link-up-familiar/

Blue, I Believe

bravery, Faith, family, grace, grief, heaven, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

If grace had a color,

Don’t you think it’d be blue?

Blue like the clear sky or the ocean seen from up high.

If grace has a color, I believe it to be blue.

Blue like the glimpse of bird wing resting for a tiny time or captured by my eye, in the periphery flying by.

If grace had a color, it’d be blue I believe.

Blue almost grey like a feather, a tint so faintly blue that might welcome our wrapping up cocoon like in its covers, the blue that says I see your sorrow, it will not last forever; lie down now.

Rest here in this grace.

Or blue like cobalt, strong and weighty in hue, secure

Or like sapphire, a richly wrapped paper covered box placed in front of you at the table.

A glorious presentation.

Grace,

A gift.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭2:8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Listen

Children, courage, Faith, family, grief, Motherhood, rest, suicide loss, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I looked up from my late day desk yesterday.

Caught off guard, I did not hear her walk in.

I rose to meet her, her neighbor couldn’t accompany her, she’d decided to come on her own.

“Good”, I said. “I’m glad you came.”

Almost a half hour before the others, I told her it’s fine. It’s good. It’s hard to walk into a room and know no one.

Now, you know me, and I, you.

I tried not to keep gazing there, the place where the light seemed so warm, so soft this evening, a day after I still think of their embrace.

I question what it is with me, the way I’m drawn to such sights.

The thin branches reaching out, reminded me of them, open and tenderly brave.

It reminded me of listening.

I sat between them, the three of us, mothers.

The one new to the gathering began to speak about her son’s suicide.

The room fell silent.

Reverent.

She looked past me towards the other and asked, “When did you stop blaming yourself?”

Seconds only passed, the imploring of her words, and I noticed the mother three years into grief over her son’s suicide, move slowly from her seat to stand.

Only for just a small breath of a moment did I think to respond. I should comfort.

Instead, I stood and with my hand on the shoulder of the mother to my left, I helped her over to the mother on my right.

I had missed it, that she was on the edge of sorrow, that there were tears about to overflow.

Somehow, she did, the mother to my left.

And, not a single word spoken. Their arms raised to meet the other, shoulders rhythmic with release of tears.

It seemed quite a while; but, the wait not the least bit unsettling.

The father of the son of the one gone three years, the husband of the one offering embrace.

He began to cry. I looked his way, looked slowly away and I joined with them in my own tears. My not nearly comparable mama tears.

Finally, after such a beautiful long time their arms unfolded.

She said, “Thank you.” to the mama who knew and sat slowly back down.

And the other mama waited, as if to be sure and I listened to the voices of grief I can never quite comprehend.

Praying I don’t.

Enthuse Me to Believe

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I started with the two chapters my guide led me to, then read to the end.

Because I knew the end would give me hope, I knew the ending would set things right or at least enthuse me to believe.

Can you list the things too wonderful for you to know?

I read this from the Book of Job and it never fails, I want to say,

“Could you possibly find a better word there, could you consider using “challenging” or “heart-breaking” or maybe even “shameful”?

Wouldn’t it make sense just to say “unfair” or things you carry on your back like a sack of bricks ’cause you’re confounded wondering “How could I have done better…obviously, it’s my fault that this has happened, please show me, God.” ?

But, “wonderful”?

Job chose to respond to God after losing everything, I mean e v e r y t h i n g,

with words that expressed his understanding of His power and well, that He is God.

I read of the astute men questioning Job, backing him into a corner like the tiny room interrogation of a mislead and mistaken kid caught up in a crime and not at fault.

Everyone looking for an admission of what Job might have done to bring this on himself.

Years ago, I wrote a piece about speculation following the suicide of a young person. Good mamas and daddies lost sons and I heard stories of what tales were being woven over the teen’s choice to die. People speculating the horrors hidden by a family as a way to be certain it might never show up on their doorstep.

Job just listened to those who accused, cornered and questioned him. There had to be some hidden sin, had to be a reason God would destroy the life of such a fine man.

Job’s friends found no answer, so they found him in the wrong, went their way.

Another “burned with anger” towards Job because he justified himself rather than God.

His family had long abandoned him, telling him to curse God and die.

Words like rebuke, contend, assert and condemn, the themes of the chapters describing the attempt of others to understand why God had chosen close to death hardship for Job.

Then, the Lord speaks to Job. He listens and everything is changed.

Forlorn, frustrated, filthy and weak, he listens to God reminding Him who He is.

“Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, that a flood of waters may cover you?

Can you send forth lightning strikes, that they may go and say to you, ‘Here we are?'”

Job 38:34-35

And I visualize Job listening like a child, quietly enthralled by His Father’s presence.

I like to think how it would have been to have God finally speak, the awe, the relief, the absolute welcome of his “coming through” just in time.

I see Job changing, almost a dead man coming back to life, his face more softened and longing to hear more.

Like a parent saying I love you, let’s talk, let me remind you of some things about my love for you.

We will begin again.

I’m still here for you.

Then God asked Job a question, “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty?” Job 40:2

And Job answered, with just a few words.

“Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth.” vs. 4

God continues to uplift and strengthen Job, comparing him to a most massive animal.

Job listens still and then responds with a confession and repentance, words so splendid, I long to never forget them.

“Then Job replied to the LORD: “I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’ Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭42:1-3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Confession? Repentance? But, I thought Job was blameless, thought he was one of God’s chosen and most righteous.

Yes, but he wondered why.

He sat in wonder and was abandoned by, surrounded by others who wondered.

He never succumbed to denying God, he only questioned.

He wondered.

Then, gently he was reminded of his speck of dust part in God’s great and wonderful world.

Yes, I’m enthused to believe.

There are hard things, changes, decisions that make no sense and come like a hard and unexpected kick of your feet from under you.

Rock bottom.

I love that Job questioned his plight.

I love more that he understood his inability to understand and that He still believed in God.

Job was restored and the friends who turned their backs on him, they were forgiven and restored.

Job asked God to forgive them.

“And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job’s more than his beginning.”‘Job 42:12

He’s not finished with me yet.

I’m enthused to believe.

God is here for me.

For you.

I’m linking this post up at Tell His Story with others who write.

img_7319-1

A beautiful story with beautiful photos in a beautiful place that took a time to become beautiful! I love this post that causes me to think of the ways I visualize perfection and miss all the little imperfections that over time are made perfectly complete. Lord, help me to see you are the grand designer, not me.

Read here:

When Life Doesn’t Go According to Plan

And then, to discover the Featured Writer is Meghan Weyerbacher is well, just more than enough, especially when I read how she keeps facing that big ole mountain and it’s not moving, so she decides to take it down little chunks at a time and more than quite okay with her progress. Yes, I loved this piece. Meghan is an encourager. She reads my blog. Call me naive or not confidently “writerly”, but, that means the world to me!

This!

You see, I had always pictured the verse Mark 11:23 to be like an instantaneous happening. Every now and again I feel like if I pray and a mountain doesn’t move, that I don’t have enough faith or what it takes to do what I truly believe God led me to do. Meghan Weyerbacher

Where I’m Going

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, heaven, mercy, Prayer, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

“And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb.”

‭‭Revelation‬ ‭21:23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Out of the blue,

Sleepy from the weekend, falling into half slumber and

I couldn’t stop thinking of her,

my cousin who died too soon.

It’s not that her birthday’s this month.

Nor my lack of recall of where I was in my life when she left or why I on earth I couldn’t remember.

Well, yeah it was that for a bit. So much that I googled her pretty name and began to remember again, sort of.

Then right away turned to thoughts of her life lived wide open and how I might feel to see her there.

Waking this morning, thinkin’ about the way I’m walking now and where I’m going.

My “In Touch” devotion today tells me I’ll know I’m growing in the measure of my spiritual walk by 3 things:

A deeper hunger for Jesus,

a sharper discernment of my sin,

my sphere of loving others without reservation will enlarge.

These are true, not as inconsistent.

But, there’s a 4th.

I’ve become more captivated by the promise of heaven.

Before, I think sometimes I thought of heaven vaguely,

a distant place of maybe.

All the good and hopeful things to come here on earth sometimes blurring my vision of the unimaginable greatness there.

So, my prayer Lord, thank you for the grace here on earth that astounds me,

literally astounds me

over the ways you’ve poured your love over and around me through most everything I know.

Thank you God, for the certainty of heaven!

Profit and Loss

courage, Faith, grace, grief, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I’ve been told I should paint

something

other than

angels.

And so, I consider the landscape. I think

in terms of abstraction. Thick paints, maybe floral; perhaps, a rooster or crow.

Then, someone who sat with her daddy today

until the moment he became breathless.

She messaged me to say, “I look at your angels and feel at peace.”

And I want to say, me too.

But, that feels self-serving. I don’t.

Instead, I say “I am so very sorry for your loss.”

because

I remember

and I am.

More or Less

bravery, courage, Faith, family, Father's Day, grace, grief, mercy, Prayer, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized

Tiny House

Off to the side, a brilliant flash of blue and I’ve given up on capturing the shot with my phone.

I’ve learned the “momentary-ness” of the bluebird is in itself a message, there will be chances again, encounters with happy bird.

I think of my cousin; she sits on her porch and thinks of life and loss and love and our Lord.

I remember the bluebird resting on her lantern, she told me so.

It meant something to her in that very moment, did me too.

We’d waited to walk until after the rain, the labrador’s paws searching for shallow puddle and hoping for pond.

I remembered the nest I found and I wondered if this is where the sparrow came from, the one who rustled the bushes, startled by my search for tennis ball.

I thought of the sparrow all week, strangely contemplating the words of Jesus.

“Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” Matthew 10:31

‭Because, most days I’m in the middle, more or less assured.

I believe the middle must be me, must be that place of humility that doesn’t look like insecurity.

Days little things flit by like a bluebird. Little truths I must hold fast, must chronicle somehow.

My daughter, my guide, my wise gauge saying “too much, Lisa” or “Let, that go.” when I complained of lack of a thank you for a painting.

Then she countered it with “your angel ministry has impacted so many people…”

She’d never called my art my “ministry”.

Oh.

I’d thought she thought that too much me.

Like blue or red bird unprepared to see, those are words I cherish.

My son encouraging me to “give it time”, this first real commitment to my health, the healthy way. He sees me sweaty.

He sees me trying, won’t let me be weak.

Like mental bullet lists, this momentary really only “secondary” stuff is making me brave.

Making me believe I’m worth more than I believe.

So, we ventured down towards the pond, Colt’s leash taut with the pull of high grass and cool water.

The frogs were singing, the thickness of humidity making their song deep down and hollow.

The lab tilts his head, meanders towards the sound, two, three times, comes from the water then goes again, a lazy dip.

I don’t worry with sticks or retrieving, just let him dip down, then walk my way then go back to cool again, again.

The hill back up feels steeper. Did we choose a different angle back home?

Slowly, we reach the pavement and again, a thought.

So significant, I wondered if others have such thoughts.

Thoughts so true and clear and with no one around, just you and the wide open whatever and wherever that all of sudden,

You utter, “Ohhh.” as your thought becomes voice and makes a sound.

A sound that starts up high like an excited revelation but, then drops to a sauntered fade of realization that says but, what if, not possible or “Oh, well.”

These are the moments, I believe, that

God says, “I know, child. I know.”

I’d seen a tiny truck on the interstate, driving too slow, I passed and glanced over longing to see a handsome frame like my daddy’s; but, not so.

This, I remembered walking Colt back home.

The thought of my father became a sound and it validated my longing.

I touched it, not for long and I could let it go, acceptance again.

It was beautiful in its comfort.

Oh.

Confirmation like feather then, grace resting in His understanding of me.

“I know it’s hard, hard for you to know,

To believe you’re worth more than the sparrow.

Let me show you.

You are. Fear not the voices inside that shout out to turn back from where I’m leading you.

Utter “Oh” but, never “Oh, well.”

Look at the sparrow, Lisa Anne; consider the lily.

Remember the writer, her message last week. “You were MADE for this.”

Remember these truths more,

Your fears, less.

Happy Father’s Day in heaven daddy.

Linking up with The Mom Gene to share my Sunday Thoughts, a new group for me. Happy to find it.

Driving the Train

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, grief, marriage, mercy, Motherhood, praise, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

My “Jesus Calling” devotional just lit a fire down in my soul, a warmth bubbled up and found its way to the bottom of my lashes.

Little cups slowly filling with the hot need to pause and realign my heart, my thoughts, my confidence.

So, I let it happen as I saw her there, my mama in the conference room. My big brother trying to figure out the “unfigurable”. This doctor and that one, then another.

My mama found the right time in awkward and helpless pause of them all and said.

“Not a one of us is driving this train. God’s driving this train.”

My mama always spoke the truth. I believe she’s been watching me feel less than capable, wavering unsteady on the cusp of hard but good things. I believe she sees me about ready to retreat; and she’s proud of me that I haven’t.

I believe she knows I won’t.

My world’s not falling apart, some of the details are just tediously unpleasant and tough. Requiring a steadfast stance, a throwing off of the burdens of second guessing and scared.

I have a life I never fathomed possible.

So many thankful things.

The way my husband has endured so much. The way my son-in-law looks after my girl. The way my son is focused and committed but not in a way that’s crazy obsessive to his future, the way my daughter demonstrates loving her husband. It’s a pretty love they have, I’m thankful to sit back and see.

The way today is the first morning in a week I did not wake to a pile of labrador poop. So, I’m thankful for rice and Pepto this morning. I am.

But, I tell you something! I dreamt an awful outrageous dream just hours ago filled with trauma and memories and somehow they all mingled with today stuff and yesterday junk.

But, wake up oh, sleeper Lisa!

Acknowledge you took some bad things to bed with you. Don’t lie there all day!

Now, let them go and let God!

He’s got the whole world in His hands. It is absolutely not up to me to hold it all, hold it all together or figure it out.

Not my place now.

Knees down, hands open, face to heaven.

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you,”

‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭5:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Enjoy the ride, the driver knows the way.

Who is in charge of your life? If it is you, then you have good cause to worry.

But, if it is I, then worry is both unnecessary and counterproductive…

back off a bit, redirecting your focus to Me.

Jesus Calling