Trust

Growing Pains

Abuse Survivor, aging, Art, bravery, contentment, Faith, grandchildren, grief, memoir, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, walking, wisdom, wonder

“The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Changing Days

In the night, I’m awakened by deep pain in the upper right arm. I turn to the other side, feed my arm though the pillow, let my hand rest against the headboard.

For a few moments, who knows how long since sleeping either feels like a long long time or only just a minute.

The ache returns. I shift. I reposition.

I sleep.

My trainer says it’s likely the tendon that has some tearing. So I choose a lighter weight.

I don’t stop lifting.

She adds it’s likely the baby carrying and pauses and with no regard for my emotions, concludes…

Also, the painting, the steady and repetitive motion of the brushing of paint on a canvas.

And I’m startled in a serious way.

“Ohhhh…” I say.

Meaning, “Oh no!” but keeping that tinge of grief to myself.

Then the advisors advise.

“Rotator cuff”, “tough surgery”

“You don’t want to mess with that.”

“A supplement is what you need, CoQ10 is wonderful.”

So, yes. I’m now a supplement(s) consumer.

Talking About Leaves

Because I’m painting still and I’m still holding the baby.

I’m growing. I’m aging. My arms are past sixty years of good and meaningful use.

Moving towards 70.

Contemplatively beginning to number my days.

“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m walking with my grandson in the same morning way I walked with my four year old granddaughter. She loved and loves talking.

He likes music.

Soon, he’ll be running.

I’ll be teaching him about the “stay in the middle, middle, middle, middle.”

To keep his eyes on the road, to distinguish between a root and a snake.

Soon, he’ll be sprinting.

My legs will need to be able to keep up.

So, I keep moving.

I keep using what I got.

Around The Bend

And I’ll keep growing.

I’ll make sure the soil of my soul is fertile.

My arms connected like branches to the nourishment of the vine, my Savior.

Because like the worn out tendons, the much used bones, the hands and fingers used to hold and to create and to cherish the objects I’ve been gifted to make.

I must care for them.

I must nurture my growth.

Wisdom comes in knowing.

In knowing, God’s not finished with me yet.

I’m still growing.

The majestic oak that cushions the curve is shedding its bark. Brownish grey paper size pieces of bark are scattered in the weeds. The thick and arm like branches from the hefty trunk are now a pristine color.

“Favorite” Tree

I told myself last week

“Your branches are brittle, your reaching has distanced you from the vine.”

I’m less than seven years from seventy.

My mama was buried the day before her 70th.

Hers and my health are not close to the same but our stories are marked by similar trauma, a similar tenacity and I believe, a comparable hope and a love for living.

I thought of her in the fog of today’s morning. I have things I want to say.

“It’s unfair”, I said to no one within hearing.

“Yes, it is.” I answered and continued into my day.

Knowing she’d say “Choose life today, Lisa. Choose life. Keep turning the page.”

Keep growing.

Continue being brave.

Walking

The pains you’re noticing are proof.

Proof of your choosing life despite pain, despite unfairness and in the midst of necessary change.

Keep returning.

Returning to rest in me.

“This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: “Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved.

In quietness and confidence is your strength.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

When my children were babies, we walked to the creek, the clay road with deep ditches, one holding my hand or running fast ahead, the other held tightly in my arms…one hand under the booty and the other around the chest.

Holding tightly.

Holding on.

Without limits or conditions.

Love keeps us strong, letting go while embracing new.

Hiding Myself In Him

Angels, courage, Faith, fear, heaven, Holy Spirit, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

“And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
‭‭Revelation‬ ‭21‬:‭5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Morning Window

A dream kept me trapped for a time last night. Scientists say (I’ve heard) dreams are really just seconds, maybe minutes and yet they feel so very lasting, so lengthy, so binding.

You want to disengage your body from the story your deep sleep mind is telling.

Dreams are intriguing, often troubling.

I find myself mentally inventorying my meals, my television input, the words read before sleep. I search for the reasons for dreams that are scary, always deep.

Last night I dreamt of being in a tiny town where all were being required to be taken away. The ones who returned told stories of fear, told of being entrapped, of being forced to harm others, of being unable to see because of a poison emitted from some unavoidable place.

And I got separated from my group, they never came back and kindness met me in the place in between going or staying and

I woke up.

Shaken by yet another dream I couldn’t see the reason for.

I had chocolate milk before sleep. I watched the Braves lose and hated it because it was my cousin’s husband’s birthday and Atlanta should’ve won for him.

I read Psalms and Proverbs before sleep. The bed was comfy, the room was cool.

And I laid still as the dream slipped from heavy to safe and I said to myself the lyrics of “Rock of Ages”…cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee.

Knowing the dream wasn’t so much a nightmare as a vision (please know I’m not assigning any special qualifications to myself…if you know me, you know I’d never do that!).

But, I do know the dream wasn’t about present day, it was about the end days that are coming.

Yes, “end times”.

I will stop here because I don’t talk about things I’m not fully equipped to explain.

I’m a learner. I am learning through the Holy Spirit’s voice spoken uniquely to me.

As to you if you believe.

In the dream, I was kept safe from suffering. I lingered in showing up to the “required sign in”. I didn’t surrender my soul to what these captors required.

And I was left unharmed, a man with a smile comforted me and I woke up.

I can’t begin to explain the supernatural and sovereign ways of God.

I just know what used to scare the s**t out of me, yelled from an angry and judgmental pulpit, now feels like a treasure,

the sweet scent of the nearness of God, the unveiling slowly and steadily revealing the goodness, no greatness of a God who loves me.

God loves me.

God loves you.

Years ago, I wrote about birds and the message continues, in more tangible ways.

I am cared for.

This morning, the mama returned then flitted away once she saw me in the window.

There’s only one tiny bird in this nest I assumed the mama had abandoned.

Now, I hear a tiny sound.

I hear a life beginning.

I pray you see God today, feel him, sense him, know there’s so much more than earth for us.

I pray he surprises you with goodness, with His glory.

Last month, I longed to ask a friend who’s ambivalent about God, even more so about Jesus and certainly skeptical about a spirit longing to be inside her, Holy.

A simple question.

Have you ever considered what your life might look like if you decided to believe in Jesus?

I know it seems a given, but it’s one worth asking every day.

“Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6‬:‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

What We Know

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, fear, hope, memoir, patience, Redemption, Trust, waiting, wisdom, writing

Happenstance, sort of (I love that word, by the way) I’ll have a chance to share my writing hopes with a publisher next month. My very good and wise friend, Ray will smile at the hopefulness and bravery of this.

He might be one of the very few who wouldn’t be annoyed or puzzled over my reluctance.

Today, I picked blueberries. We have lots!

The breeze was warm with sunshine again!

And the thoughts came as I filled the jug with berries for my granddaughter.

Fear is easy. Reluctance is relaxing.

Avoidance is an exhale.

A sigh of relief.

We choose what we know.

We choose fear because we know it as safety.

And once we know the cause of our choices we can give ourselves freedom to

“Unknow” them,

I pick berries barefoot in the weeds and never think of ants, spiders, bugs or snakes.

It’s not that they don’t scare me, it’s just barefoot berry picking is what I know, what childhood told me was okay.

When other things were scary.

The more you know, right?

I said “Yes.” to discussing my idea for memoir.

Yes to next scary steps, certainly not barefooted.

I promise.

Continue and believe,

How We Answer

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, family, hope, love, memoir, mercy, Peace, Redemption, Salvation, testimony, Trust, Truth, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

“Jesus said to her, “I who speak to you am he.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭26‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I sketched a thin woman in a scarlet gown in the margin of John, chapter 5, page 893. I found her flipping through to reread the account of the Samaritan woman who was avoiding the crowds to draw water at the well.

She met Jesus.

Living Water

These pages don’t tell her story, only have the recorded words of Jesus talking about living water, a life without thirst, a limitless provision.

“On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’”
‭‭John‬ ‭7‬:‭37‬-‭38‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Yesterday, I had a moment that led to chills up my legs and over my entire body. I sensed the truth of my physical reaction. I paused to accept it and allowed a tiny bit of wetness on my cheeks.

My college roommate for just a year, now a successful business woman who I’ve not seen nor spoken to in over forty years, commented on a Facebook photo of my granddaughter.

The thought that came was sudden.

“She needs to know how I came to be okay.”

She needs for me to keep sharing my story.

She needs to know how I moved from hopelessness to hope.

The Woman at the Well went into the town nearby and told everybody that she’d met the man who knew everything about her, told her all he knew and gave her hope, living water.

I find myself wanting to read more of her story.

I long for the next chapters in her life to be in my Bible, her walk forward with Jesus.

I want to know if it was shaky, her faith. I long to hear from her through John, Luke or Mark, her battles, her returning to life with the reputation she’d created.

I wonder if we don’t read about the other “chapters” in her life and others’ because God feels they wouldn’t serve us well, wouldn’t offer others that same water of hope.

I wonder if others wonder such things.

When the Samaritan woman returned to her day to day, possibly less enthused about her encounter with Jesus, was she met with disbelief, with sarcasm, with scorn?

I’d like to know what all the ex-husbands and ex-lovers as well as those who thought they might get the chance to be her lover had to say.

Was it hard for her to see herself differently than what she’d come to be known for?

Was her salvation just a fluke? Did she struggle with doubt?

Maybe.

After all, she was human as were all the humans healed by Jesus.

She had emotions.

I believe she held on tightly to the simplest of words.

“I met Jesus.”

We read that she changed the lives of many Samaritans that day.

But, we don’t read how she walked into her new future day to day.

Maybe there’s just not enough space to record all the ways Jesus continued to help her, how she continued to remind herself of the day at the well, how she hurried to tell everyone.

I have hope now. I am well.

I used to believe I’d always answer the question of why I believe in Jesus by telling of all the answered prayers I have experienced.

Now, it’s in the stories of others, in my story, in the unexpected and beautiful nudges that say I matter…

the woman you became despite the little girl and young woman, growing older woman, often imperfect that you’re becoming.

The entirety of you, your story matters.

“Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”
‭‭John‬ ‭21‬:‭25‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There’s still plenty of time and space to share it.

Continue.

Continue and believe.

And if you’ve not yet believed or your belief is fading or shaky.

I’d love to pose a question.

How might your life be different if you decided to believe and believe in Jesus.

He giveth more grace.

I am evidence of that.

Older Now

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, fear, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

When my granddaughter balanced on the highest beams and danced on the lofty walls up the playground equipment, I imagined her losing her footing. I was ready to drop all my stuff and catch her. Instead, she offered joy. She shared her confidence with me.

She demonstrated faith in herself and faith in me and reminded me of God that she sees, clearly more clearly than me.

“I’m older now. I can do this.” ELB

When I read about the man who was blind I can’t help but see a boy. I don’t know why.

“As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.”
‭‭John‬ ‭9‬:‭1‬-‭3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Jesus is saying exactly what he means.

As God’s Son, the “light of the world”, it was God’s plan that this man, blind from birth would have an encounter with Jesus and be healed. That he would follow the “doctor’s orders” and go to a pool called Siloam and put muddy water on his eyes.

This man, a beggar before this day, all on his own with no hope for better and no hope on the part of his parents.

He was healed and everybody thought it was impossible. So they refuted, doubted, questioned the simplicity of it.

And he told all the protesters of his sudden sight recovery that he didn’t fully understand either. He just knew he could see them.

In the margin of my Bible I have written,

Can it really be true? I am healed?

The next chapter over, John details the story of the death of Lazarus and of the way Jesus tarried in attending to his friend.

When Mary and Martha, who were friends of Jesus, worshippers of him, came to tell him about their brother, he didn’t immediately go to see about him…he waited two days.

What was he thinking? Isn’t Lazarus dead? What is the reason you’re not hurrying to heal this man, your friend…don’t you love this whole family, Jesus?

Valid questions.

Jesus told the disciples essentially, I know what I’m doing…you will see.

“Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.”
‭‭John‬ ‭11‬:‭14‬-‭15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When Jesus saw for himself, he wept.

“Jesus wept.”
‭‭John‬ ‭11‬:‭35‬ ‭ESV‬‬

As the Son of God, he was broken over the death and yet, He knew God’s intention. This death and resurrection will be recorded. It will make a difference in the lives of others.

It will help others make sense of their own unattended to and lingering sickness of heart, mind and body.

When Jesus says “this illness (trauma, circumstance, abuse, neglect, poverty, anxiety, fear, addiction or unmet longing) will not lead to death, he’s not saying it won’t be difficult, He is saying, if you will allow me to enlighten you, to heal you.

You will be light for others.”

And that is the why, the worth, the reason for suffering.

So that we grow into who God knows we are, that we are resurrected from the lives of before.

That we live like a rescued adult, cushioned by grace.

No longer like that child with hurts, questions and or mistakes.

Joyously.

The intention of Jesus for you.

“These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.”
‭‭John‬ ‭15‬:‭11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Keep going, higher than ever and with joy and hope.

Continue and believe. You are fully known and loved, have been all along.

You will see.

About Fear

Art, Children, Children’s Books, courage, creativity, Faith, family, fear, hope, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, wisdom, wonder, writing
Illustrating Hope

A conversation about fear led to a thought. The thought led to paintings, vivid and strong in color. Some softer and cheerful and others heavy with darkness and harder emotion.

“The world is so scary…it makes lots of noises.”

Anxiety, uncertainty, anger and sadness are beginning to be noticed not as secretly kept struggles, instead as realities to consider more closely with kind and committed responses.

I’m hoping to traditionally publish this book for children to remind them that the earth and heavens were made by God just as they were and this truth can be an anchor in their storms that they are never alone.

“Yours is the day, yours also the night; you have established the heavenly lights and the sun.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭74‬:‭16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Seekers

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, hope, memoir, mercy, painting, Peace, Redemption, Trust, wisdom, wonder, writing

“But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭28‬:‭5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The rhododendron, magenta in soft color cups its petals upward from a thick branch, thick as a tiny tree.

The leaves that flare around and about it are dark green, thick and waxy. I believe it’s a rare flowering shrub. Three years ago, like a child finding a treasure, I found it. Now, I wait with a blissful anticipation to see the display again.

The spectacularly elegant flower, I believe a cousin to the azalea but so much bolder.

I had lunch with a friend not long ago. It was a first time sit together, want to know you better sort of thing.

She is an artist. She and I shared our stories, the alikeness and the differences.

I admire her strength, her intelligence and what I see as a determined grace to flourish.

After talk of art, childhood and what comes from the heart more…writing or art comparisons, we began to talk about what it means to be female.

How we’d like in our lifetimes to see women not seen as less capable, less worthy, “less than”.

I thought of this conversation for days.

I thought about what feels like futility in efforts and endeavors if one is a woman not man.

Today, I discovered why the conversation lingered, the one that wondered why we are valued.

Here we again, that whole seeking value conundrum I’ve been trying to quit.

Last week, I wrote myself a very honest note.

“The more you achieve, the more you receive, the more you are known for your art, your writing, your appearance, your family or some other surprise special thing…the more you are known for these things, the more it will never be enough. Because the “more” of you, the value others need is the true story of you …you seeing your value according to Jesus.”

Because, Jesus is more. Jesus is better.

In a flash of clarity, I almost heard my very thoughts.

Women need to know that their value is according to God and they need to know sooner than later.

I need to somehow tell them.

Then, I thought of the women Jesus empowered.

I thought of Mary Magdalene, the woman healed from evil debilitating spirits. I thought of how there were no requirements of her to be the one standing beside the empty tomb, to hear Jesus say

Mary, it’s me, go tell all the men.

And I’m thinking now of the woman at the well, the woman sick for years, the women who in those days were supposed to be little and be belittled never were seen that way by Jesus…so, why must we think we’re supposed to feel small?

Or worse even, find our value in any other effort or acclaim.

I’m a work in progress here. Today, I painted a piece with women scattered “At Rest” and I rested too.

Strong like a rhododendron, beautifully fragile in its display, held up by strong branch, deep, deep roots,

Seekers of strength, light and love us all.

May we settle and sit quietly and remember the peace that never leaves and the value decided by God of us all longer before than we can ever know.

Continue and believe.

I will too.

Power and Prayer

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, freedom, hope, memoir, Peace, Redemption, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I finished a short book, a memoir I was asked to endorse. I committed to read in its entirety at first because I’ve heard endorsers of books rarely read the book fully.

And then, because I couldn’t stop reading. I’ll share more about this book soon.

For now though, a little about this little prayer, the graphic I offer you here.

Maybe, I thought, a more acceptable prayer, one more able to help tie the loose ends of unanswered questions, to heal wounds still festering, a prayer more conducive to strength and with less shame.

“God, turn it for good.”

The book I finished caught my breath with its honesty, made me pause overwhelmed by the author’s words of wisdom and mostly, empathy.

It’s a memoir about child sexual abuse, a woman detailing her faith and counseling journey as she bravely reveals her secret, confronts her abuser, her father.

Intertwined in her coming to terms with the abuse by her father, she comes to terms with her questions about why she wasn’t protected by God and how the ripple effect of her sexual abuse separated her even farther from the God she was raised in every Sunday morning church to know.

Because she wasn’t protected, she believed less that she was “wronged” and that all along it was her that was “wrong”.

As I read, many comments were added for my benefit. I became teary eyed when I read of her circling back and back again to the why of God, where and why and how was it allowed?

Her counselor gifted her with words I’ve learned to treasure.

God was there too. God was not pleased. Evil took over. But, God was there with you.

Just as He is today.

Still, it is close to impossible for this truth I choose to be less mystery than reality.

I am learning. God saved me for this.

I’m learning to hold in one hand my questions while balancing in the other the evidence of God in my life, the promises that have been fulfilled.

All of the trauma, the unfair treatment, the less than storybook childhood, the abuse, the grief, the slander of my name by others.

The lack of rescue until I was numb to having a hand clench my neck or throw me against a wall. Stunned, I was stunned into submission of things that should never have happened at all.

That I did not cause.

These hurts are long gone and the thoughts they’ve birthed that I share here are for your hope.

These redemptive thoughts.

So, I offer you this little prayer, a phrase you can say on repeat for whatever wrongs you’ve known.

God, turn it for good.

Once, a few years ago (I’ve thankfully come so far) my counselor asked me if I ever asked Jesus where he was.

So, I asked and He answered slowly, not audibly or enormously, instead so fittingly, an image like a painting.

A familiar place where hard things happened and beside me in a grassy place, Jesus kneeled.

Jesus was with me.

I offer you this prayer.

A precious one, really and not an attempt to right wrongs, a gift of retribution, or a magic eraser of pain.

No, a leaning really. Just a leaning as you learn, as you see God with you.

Continue and believe.

Your story is special.

(Mine is too.)

Befriended

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, contentment, courage, depression, doubt, Faith, fear, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder
“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.”
‭‭John‬ ‭15‬:‭13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I asked my friend to counsel me. She invited me to dinner instead and we counseled, consoled and decided some things.

Considered why there’s no 12 step type group for those who are questioners, often to the point of despondency, despairing and the other “D”, depression.

There was healing in our agreement, there was laughter over our recognition of that need.

There was the knowing of ourselves and of one another.

Befriending.

I had dinner with a friend I hadn’t seen in close to two years. I was scurrying to make it and almost cancelled. My hair was dirty, I didn’t feel too “spunky” and well, I’m older than the last time I saw her. I’m not sure why, but lately I’ve been thinking about aging.

But, I made it to the spot, dry shampoo and mascara plumped eyelashes with blush on my cheeks.

I beat her there. She arrived and we held each other long, long, long. “I love you” was the greeting as well as the goodbye.

We talked, we laughed, we counseled one another. We ate pizza over a glass of good wine.

When I woke the next morning, my first thought was “God’s not disappointed in you.” and as the day became sunny and pink with azaleas, I took to heart that I shouldn’t be either and I smiled as I remembered my friend’s hands in mine as we caught up with each other and decided.

“We’re gonna make it after all.”

Two days later, I’m recalling the likemindedness in our chatter. I’m remembering her inquisitive patience. I’m reminding myself of the gift of affirmation, the bravery of listening when listening is more important than adding to the conversation.

Early today, I rethought a familiar prayer, the one prayed by Jabez, (I Chronicles 4:10) the son who was labeled by a name that made his future seem grim.

Lord, help me to trust you to enlarge my boundaries, extend my reach and keep me from chasing after things that will lead to pain, things fueled by insecurity and fear.

I readied myself in the dark for my day, interrupted by the nudge to pray.

A prayer with a shift in perspective.

Jesus, help me to accept fully your befriending.

Because all sorts of songs and trendy Christian talk will proclaim friendship with Jesus.

But, oh to be honest, it’s not up to us at all.

No effort will sustain the relationship.

It’s really much more simple.

Acceptance. Belief.

Be befriended by Jesus.

I’m not sure where I’d be if there were an expiration date on my understanding of such things.

I’m old and I yet young in this friendship actually.

You’ll likely hear this song soon or hear about it. Lauren Daigle’s tender voice and truth admitting she’d be a mess without the friendship of Jesus.

Thank God I Do

I encourage you to listen. I just did with tear soaked cheeks while feeding a baby.

I hope you’ll allow the befriending of Jesus.

It’s a beautiful education of the soul.

Already Known

anxiety, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

It’s both awesome and awful to realize just how completely we are known by God

From our first breath to here.

I stood at the kitchen window and noticed the lime green glow of Spring on the grass.

The trees.

I remembered the sycamore tree, the hand sized leaves and the broken branches.

Thirty-plus years ago, I cut down branches heavy with green leaves and decorated a tiny cinder block room.

There was a grand plan. I’d be teaching children about the man who climbed the tree to get a chance to see Jesus, Zacchaeus.

It would be my first time as a Vacation Bible School teacher and I was intent on winning best decorated classroom.

The first night, a line of children trailing me down the hall, I giddily swung open the door to discover a disaster.

Leaves wilted and woeful covered the floor and the stench was unbearable in the poorly ventilated room.

I don’t remember teaching the children about a greedy man who got to see Jesus and then fed him supper.

I remember who I was then and am grateful to be not quite the same today.

Just as Jesus knew Zacchaeus was hated by many, was sneaky, corrupt and greedy, He knew I was just learning back then.

Just learning what matters to Him.

Not fully grown, but fully known.

We are already known. The secrets, the shame, the actions we take wrongly motivated,

Jesus is not surprised and doesn’t keep a record. It’s we who do.

My mama used to say, Lisa, stress’ll kill you. I’m here to say I believe its not so distant cousin, shame is more fatal.

The Woman at the Well in the heat of the day encounters a man who shouldn’t be there. She calculated her replenishing of her water to go to the well when she could go unnoticed.

She is surprised by a man who tells her he can help. He has a certain kind of water that won’t run out, she’d never have to be sneaky again in coming to the well.

“Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭13‬-‭14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

She’d never have to be thirsty again. She decides to accept the stranger’s offer.

“Please, sir,” the woman said, “give me this water! Then I’ll never be thirsty again, and I won’t have to come here to get water.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

And we know Jesus wasn’t talking about a cool drink of ice water on a humid day. He was talking about the refreshing peace of an abundant life.

Jesus tells the woman to go and get her husband and come back. She tells him she’s not married and he answers with “I know.”

Then he tells her what he does know. That she has a reputation and is well known for being with husbands of others and is now with a married man.

Whoa! or “How dare you?” she could’ve said.

She was brazen after all.

But he continued to enlighten her and she listened, connecting his gentle wisdom with the possibility he might be the Messiah.

So, he told her that indeed he was.

“The woman said, “I know the Messiah is coming—the one who is called Christ. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.” Then Jesus told her, “I Am the Messiah!”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭25‬-‭26‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Then she is overjoyed and goes to tell all the townspeople what they already knew about her she’d tried to avoid.

The reputation she tried to cover was now a proclamation…you’ve got to meet Jesus!

“Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me all that I ever did.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭39‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There was no shame anymore, only her story.

Only a tax collector’s, a disciple’s who denied and regretted, a woman’s wearing shame and a lascivious reputation.

A woman like me who didn’t know anything about the value of the story of Zacchaeus, only wanted to be noticed because of trees in a room.

God is patient. He already knew and knows our journeys.

Yesterday, I stood in the parking lot with a woman. As women our age do, we caught up on the lives of our children. We compared wisdom and we exchanged worries.

She asked me to keep writing.

Said she needed my storytelling.

My story of rescue and of tripping and getting back up gradually as I learn.

Today, when you recall your own mistakes, missteps and wrong motivations, will you pause with the truth of being known?

Will you accept the grace that has never said give up, go your own way or isolate in secret shame?

And he gives grace generously. James 4:6

Will you decide to know that being known is love?

You’re already known.

Continue and believe.