My talents as a cook are hit or miss. I’m not a follower of recipes and so, sometimes what I think might be a good combination is actually not.
My husband will comment, “That was good, can you remember how you made it?”
I smile to myself, knowing only a few dishes are close to guaranteed goodness.
Spaghetti is one, quiche another.
Spinach and Sausage Quiche
Warm and cheesy.
Delicious before I begin today’s list of promised art things, some a tiny bit anxiety causing.
You can do hard things, Lisa.
It’s gonna be alright. You just enjoyed breakfast with extra cheesy creamy goodness and allowed yourself the nutrition, the comfort. You’re not consumed by your consumption.
You’re gonna be alright.
In quietness and confidence is your strength. Isaiah 30:15 NLT
(Today is processing calendar orders day. You can visit my website and click on the “Smaller Things” page to order one or a few and their on sale through October.)
Most of my life I’ve been nurtured by the pencil in hand, a piece of paper, a margin that invites.
Art sustains me.
A wise Dr. and author, Curt Thompson reminds often of attachment that we as children needed to be “seen, safe, soothed and secure” and that need is innate. We will always be in pursuit.
Embraced By Grace
Interestingly, adding color to paper and hinting at an emotion are when I feel these needs are known most and met.
How about you?
Is it art?
Music?
Prayer?
or something else.
I hope you know this “withness with God” often.
You are loved.
Even if the child in you lacked one of the “s”’s.
She’s still there, self-aware, surrendered and seeking solace in the sweet places she’s found herself
Sweet boy startled for some reason around 8 and began to cry.
Really cry.
Upset.
Grandma tried to let him have the infant resolve to resolve his fear or big emotion.
I caved.
We sat together after the sweetness of a sway that became a firm embrace and he was awake and it seemed thinking until I laid his little body back down.
Sleep continued until 6:13.
He woke happy, ready for the day.
Still dark outside, we walked about the house, down the hall, to the kitchen and with one hand clutching coffee and the other balancing baby, we decided to say good morning to the day.
I walked into the twilight, looked up and said, “Look, Henry, a morning moon just for us.”
Soft peaks of clouds broken and scattered and in the center filtered through the shifting, a very bright little moon.
And I was awed in a sort of tiny way when I thought about the serendipity type occurrence.
Sovereign God knows me so very well.
Knew the baby and I would walk into the dark of a Saturday morning and I would glance up and stand still until my glancing became a soul tending gaze.
Henry mirroring my face towards heaven.
This 31 days of good is I’m afraid not keeping its promise for light and “less, Lisa”.
Still, today very, very early, there was this moon and because I believe in a God who is very near, not at all far away.
My good thing today is the miraculously unable to comprehend, only celebrate.
Sovereignty,
the God who designed the riddle of me, being sovereign over me.
Singing like a whisper.
I painted today, covered over another abstract and just let it be and not be until it told the story I was holding.
She walked poised and steady in the center of the corridor. She must’ve been done with the testing.
I sat in the in between solo waiting space with just one chair. I heard her steps, anticipated my name being called.
Instead, her eyes met mine.
“Good Morning”, she told me and and I answered her in the same greeting.
She smiled.
Smiled and kept walking.
Carried on.
And I remembered a word that came in reply on a quiet walking prayer.
“It’s gonna be alright.”
The promise, very same promise as this morning in the confident smile of a woman in a corridor, a place for tests.
It’s gonna be alright.
😊
“Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.” Proverbs 31:25-26 ESV
“…Be careful, be quiet, do not fear, and do not let your heart be faint… Isaiah 7:4 ESV
Of all the seasons, Fall feels most like either a resistance to or a gentle walk with open hearts and hands into new.
Fresh wind, fresh chances to let things die (finally) and wait for new after the coming Winter, uncertainty of hard and cold.
Waiting requires hope and hope never disappoints. An open heart, hands opened to let God handle what you’ve been clenching way too long.
The leaves are loosened from the trees, their dance is light and free, letting go with glee. There’s a metaphor here, a message for me maybe you, indeed.
Open hands, open heart, thriving souls.
I plant tiny and tender violas, the most fragile of petals and yet they survive the change, the wind, the cooler and brittle air.
Precious flowers, every year planted to sort of honor my grandmother and to tangibly decide to believe,
Hope won’t put me to shame.
Hope never disappoints.
Hope is soft, a demeanor of belief, whereas as dread, fear, speculation or defeat offer nothing at all,
only take and tie up our precious souls, leave us to decide we’re worthless, discarded, without hope.
Choose to hope.
“Surely there is a future, and your hope will not be cut off.” Proverbs 23:18 ESV
I wondered as I refreshed my memory on the prophet Jeremiah, why he’d been marked with the identity of the “weeping prophet”.
“You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:13 ESV
His call was to restore the people he loved to a relationship with God the creator rather than pursuit of other gods and things.
He wasn’t very successful. His success was committed obedience regardless.
Strange Waking Words
Jeremiah asks, “Is there no physician there? Is there no balm in Gilead…why then has the health of my people not been restored?” (Jeremiah 8:18-22)
On Tuesday morning, God woke me with a promise, “there is a balm in Gilead”.
A lingering cough and congestion with no other symptoms caused me to decide I’m getting older and I just don’t bounce back as quickly. Still, it was strange to wake with that very first thought.
Clearly, my heart was in need as well as my body.
Still, strange if it’s difficult to believe what you can’t see…that Jesus lives within us, the Holy Spirit…the comforter.
So, to be told, “Lisa, there is a balm in Gilead.” (just that clearly) was to remind me of the Healer of all my wounds, those already well and those in the process of true wellness.
I had no idea. I understand balm as sort of a salve like Neosporin but no clue about Gilead.
I discovered there’s no verse with this promise, only one that questioned why wasn’t there, why was there no balm?
And old hymn came from this same wondering of someone long ago…
“There Is A Balm In Gilead”
Traditional Spiritual
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole, there is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul. Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain, but then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again. There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole, there is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul. If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul, you can tell the love of Jesus and say, “He died for all.”
So, I sketched a wounded and contemplative woman in the margin, the words alongside her…There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.
Lord, I was near enough to your heart to hear this the other morning. Draw me nearer, I pray. Help me to be a seeker.
Jeremiah penned the verses adorning well wishing cards at graduation, the ones that proclaim we all have a purpose and I wonder; actually, I believe he questioned his purpose when it didn’t pan out, when it seemed it nor he made a difference in his calling.
“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11 ESV
There’s not always a straight path, life circumvents what we hoped would be our future or at least would give us hope.
Jeremiah wondered why there was no healing, no physician, no balm in Gilead and centuries later, someone penned the words to a hymn that promised healing, one that said, there wasn’t a balm then; but, then came Jesus.
And Jesus woke with me the words to that very song.
we run away from our discomfort... but it doesn't leave us. to heal we need to turn around and face it, experience it and once we truly do we are out of it. We heal and we grow.
2 Timothy 1:7-8 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. This blog is about my Christian walk. Join me for the adventure.
Lisa Anne Tindal 