I will pray

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

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On a blue, blue summer day I drove to see a friend, one of the women who’d colored my life.

I knew all would be okay, would be good actually, when I turned off the highway from the usual road. I’d traveled before, this road towards home, countless times.

The vicinity of my destination for today was close by, just a different direction.

Others might not understand the nervous place in the hollow spot adjacent to my heart or the need to go back to a place of then to acknowledge now.

So, I’d been praying as I drew closer to now.

I’m taking this journey in increments, circling back to be reacquainted. It’s a challenge of my faith in me and an act of gratitude for them.

The road just a few minutes from my friend was a thin grey thread towards a needle, narrow because of wide sky and corn field borders.

Its curves were easy, not sharp, its little hills and softly, forwardly coaxing me, like God’s hand resting on the small of my back, saying

“Getting closer, keep on.”

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There were big houses along the way set back behind fences and oaks and there were small little white ones, tiny porches and trailers up on cinder blocks, cool under shade of fully grown and lush July green.

A small brick home, a couple of old cars and a bed of roses at its entry made me wonder.

Off to the side, a simple sign like garage sale or politician’s was positioned just so, leaning only slightly despite storm I’d been warned of.

Bold, simple, intentionally brief; but with exclamation at the end.

“I will pray!”

Yesterday I prayed, most days I pray at set times and randomly.

My heart sought assurance and in return I noticed the sweetness of answer.

I welcomed answer and prayed in reply with a slight smile no one might notice, “Thank you for that, God. Thank you, Lord.”

Some would say, if I shared my prayer and the evidence of its hearing…that’s silly, you just worry or that’s no big miraculous reply.

It is and it was and it’s why I believe.

In God who is just as majestically sovereign as He is miraculously small, attentively swift.

Yesterday morning and again last night, I prayed. “God, help our country.”

And I wondered about the past, my parents, my grandparents and those recalled in history, when times looked as bleak and scary and incomprehensible as they do now.

I wondered why or if there are people like me who pray about children, friends, husbands, or a heart’s desire…but are now, just now we are praying… God, help our country and maybe, like me, are torn between

“Come, Lord Jesus” and “Trust and Obey”

And our prayerful mama hearts want much for our children and theirs…want time and hope and good things. We long for happy futures, faith-filled lives filled with smiling babies and beauty.

I wonder if there were times like these before.

Times when all felt lost and uncertain. Times of Job, of Isaiah and of Moses, of David, of Martha, Mary and Paul.

I listen for their cries for help in the words of my Bible and I search for God’s replies, finding them in thousands of places, replies of good and everlasting joy and of protection and favor in midst of struggle.

I hear God saying to them, to me.

“Choose me. Choose joy.”

But let all who take refuge in you rejoice;
let them ever sing for joy,
and spread your protection over them,
that those who love your name may exult in you.

For you bless the righteous, O’ Lord; you cover them with favor as with a shield. Psalm 5:11-12

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I embraced my friend, told her I expected I’d cry and we cried and talked and shared onion rings and fries.

I prayed and she told me she’d been praying and we reminded each other of ourselves and our unanswered prayers for our good and we prayed, we pray. We will pray, we agreed.

It was easy and good and love. I left her sweet house with emotions that beg for holding onto, the description of our time and our talk resting safely for awhile in a place so closely real and beautifully raw.

So, I drove back towards Carolina, indescribably, thankfully good, especially glad.

The pretty road just as pretty and the view different only because of direction and another house…white, small but with big trees, tiny porch and front yard sign proclaiming,

I will pray!

Let us pray.

I will pray.

Linking up to Tell God’s story with Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/what-we-all-have-in-common-tellhisstory/

Believe it So

Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

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This beautiful creature sashay’d up just steps behind me. I’m not sure if sashay is a word; but, I love it and that’s what this spectacularly smooth bird did.

Just softly lingered close behind and cared not one tiny bit that I stopped, thinking hurry up, be quick before it lifts widening wing and takes to the pearly blue sky.

I shuffled my feet, thinking I’d startle, then walked a little more. I stopped, he stopped, his stick-like black bent legs, a rhythm we fell into, this beautiful creature and I.

I thought, there is meaning in this.

I know that there is.

I thought of heaven, thought of them. It seemed it was meant for me to…seemed it was him, my daddy.

And then, today beginning with prayer, I record an honest offering of miserable need…Lord, why do I find it so hard to be optimistic? Why this quickness to take offense, feel attacked, belittled?

Left it there, better already for the honesty at least. I go on with my morning.

More silent songs streaming, more writing stories from thoughts and more chance to allow day to open on its own, in its own time.

So hot here, the sweet potato vine, a vibrant lime now droopy, I decide to walk towards pretty pot and grab water jug my husband has set aside.

I water the green, the violet and the yellow, small act that matters…flowers that greet me and that see me go.

Little things like purple heather and vine matter when all else feels awry.

Walking back towards garage and car ready for work, I glance towards the drive, look towards my feet and see it there.

A gift, a tiny, tiny gift. We called them “baby pine cones”…my Heather and me. She’d find them and bring them to me.

Her sweet hand to mine. “Look, mama, I found this for you.”

I held it in my palm, gave it a place on my desk.

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Made and makes me so, so happy still.

God reminding me that He knows so very well my need for little and for beautiful.

So, I bent to touch it, to keep it and I felt my prayers heard and this little pine cone came in reply,

“I have heard. I see…here, remember this and things like this…

Believe in birds and baby pine cones and in me.

My eye is on you.

You matter to me..believe it is so.

Believe it is so when all other feels like not so.”

The Lord your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

I’m linking up to Tell God’s story with Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/the-truth-about-the-power-you-hold-within-you-tellhisstory/

Welcome, Rain

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I welcome the grey sky and the swaying pines, looking towards kitchen window, I’m anticipating a good rain.

I chose today to rest. Said yesterday, if I can finish this, I’ll stay home tomorrow.

I worked with the goal of completing the task and tried my best to express differently, convey more clearly a need for support.

I’m anxious. I’m apathetic. I fear it may show.

I’d said it all before, usually mostly the same ways in copy paste fashion. Asking for support, articulating a need and lining it up with a result, an outcome.

I write grants, ask for money to help homeless families.

It’s impossible to share in full how important our interventions are. It’s even harder to ask for money, to sell your heart’s work as if it’s a product or commodity.

Hard to think business when your work thrives on heart.

So, I let it rest.

The incomplete application saved to resume on Monday.

Walk away from it. Let it sit. Let it rest.

Deciding to start fresh another day. For now, Friday feels like Saturday and I walk out into the yard, the view from kitchen window making me hopeful for rain.

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I rest a minute, the thunder’s way off. Hydrangea and hosta, richer, deeper blue and green, waiting in shade of intermission.

Then, the rain comes.

101 degrees just moments ago, I watch rain through the window, thin and straight sheets like arrows.

Just a few minutes and it’s done, so I go to see the flowers planted round the pool, bright again and refreshed.

The pool empty and shimmery blue, a single leaf floating in repose.

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Thunder again in the distance, inviting more rest and more rain.

I welcome you, rest and rain. I welcome your blessing, your end to my season of draught. Welcome, rain.

And I will make them and the places all around my hill a blessing, and I will send down the showers in their season; they shall be showers of blessing.

Ezekiel 34:26

Relentlessly Quiet

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

It’s a practice, maybe more like a ritual, this morning thing I do.

An intentional discipline, I suppose. Sometimes motivated by an open mind, others, if I’m honest, an idle mind longing for more time to be idle.

Seeking for something indicative of hope or something demonstrative of my commitment. I guess, maybe I’m sometimes looking for the fruits of my laborious devotion.

The discipline of devotion, I sit in my quiet spot with a noisy mind.

Realizing, intentional discipline and the pursuit of God turn out to be not much more than duty, sometimes.

Looking for holy becomes holier than thou.

Not always, but pretty often, if I’m honest.

I finished my reading and got ready for the day, stopping suddenly and clearly with interrupted thoughts of the day to come.

So, I just waited, holding on to what I knew to be a word from God, as if to say.

My waiting, actually quiet enough finally. must have been noticed by God.

I believe.

“I’m glad you’re listening. This is what I want you to know. This is what I have for you today.”

And there it was, my reply

“I want to do more for you, Jesus.”

Then, carrying this little few seconds around with me all day, I smiled, thinking maybe God smiled too at the simplicity of my words in the quiet of empty morning house.

Standing still, toothbrush in hand, frothy lips and thankful heart, the irony of my devotion time.

I considered his relentlessly gentle pursuit of me.

Jesus, the shepherd, waiting quietly for my attention.

Pursuing me, one of his sheep distracted by life, habit and duty.

My sheep hear my voice and I know them and they follow me.

John 10:27

Happy to be found and happy to hear, like morning interrupting my morning.

The birds incessant, the dogs insistent.

I ventured out, found and tossed tennis ball and paused to notice God in the pleasant chill of summer breeze.

Ball retrieved and dropped, “thump” at my feet, he waits as I stand barefoot in moist green grass, wisps of cool on my cheeks.

And then, more wisdom, subtle in its delivery, a “Lisaism” .

“God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.”

Pretty Words like Hope

courage, Faith, praise, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

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What if we saw it as more than a word on a pin, this word, “Hope”?

More than a trendy phrase about an anchor, more than the middle word in the group of three?

What if we knew this emotion called hope as more than a

word in passing, a vague and wavering optimism?

“Well, I hope so.” we say, as if hope is nothing more than a rare and pitiful possibility.

This morning, I rose to begin the day from the space on the carpet next to my bed.

Groggy and thankful for the ease of waking like clockwork without a clock.

My folded up, sleepy legs found their way to bending knees to rest in a downward pose to pray.

This morning, simply, “Jesus, help me today.”

I read from the Book of Hebrews, chapters 4 -6 and found the familiar phrase there.

Hope, an anchor for my soul, a catchy quote, trendy phrase.

I colored in my margin, drew an anchor, a sky, an ocean and a moon. Mornings like this, and my Bible are gifts.

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Fingers blending dusty colored pastel, a delicate touch on the border of a fragile page, I thought of hope.

The middle child in the faith, hope, love family. Hope.

Reading the verses just before the one I knew by heart, understanding a little differently, more clearly and stronger today. This sweet little pretty word, what a mighty thing is hope.

I read the whole chapter, the whole book and saw hope, the way God longs for us to see…to see Him, our hope.

Saw it as certainty, read about histories and lineages of people who understood hope.

That hope is unchangeable.

Hope is God’s promise and we know he keeps his word.

I read that hope is earnest assurance and that we might sway, but hope cannot be moved once established.

Hope, I read, is a better thing for those God calls beloved.

So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise, the unchangeable character of His purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie,we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement

to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf.

Hope, the place of pausing to rest my seeking knees, my open heart every morning, to be anchored in certainty.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/bit-light-youre-dark-day-tellhisstory/

Maybe

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

Maybe, I thought, out walking in the late afternoon thickness of day…

Maybe, just consider it Lisa, there’s a change coming, a shift you’ve been seeking.

Maybe, you’ve been so offended by being overlooked, over corrected and over reacted to

that you’ve not thought to notice the possibility, the maybe of this time.

Maybe, I thought, out walking in the dull empty summer air, there’s a shift occurring,

one you’ve worked for

one you need.

Maybe.

Count it joy, not maybe; but surely…these various trials of my faith are producing something that can’t be shaken.

James 1:2

Deciding Quietly

courage, Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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The sun made the narrow spaces between the blinds a warm golden hue this morning.

Allowing time for an easy morning, I looked towards the window and considered getting up, raising the blinds and taking a picture.

Decided against it because I knew it wasn’t the sunlight in its beginning of day that my mind embraced.

It was the light edged in shadow that kept me there under cool sheets and swift, swirl of fan, for moments longer than usual.

Looking towards the day in a way that spoke softly for my submission, as if knowing I’d grown weary of demands.

Barely lit bedroom, a haven and my morning less of dread…the light beginning to filter through, quietly without forcing response from me.

Slowly and with calm intention, I move on towards the morning.

I begin with note to self, calling it a commitment.

Certain of its timing, I write clearly, my penmanship better than it’s been, under today’s date and encircle it in a bold bracket.

Stop looking at what others are doing. Do what your heart tells you is right, is true, is good.

Then, moved to study God’s word, today’s passages in read through my Bible plan.

And because God is God, a few words were planted there to be discovered, to be certain of the quiet wisdom of today.

Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness.

I Timothy 2:11

Linking up my five minutes of Friday here:

Needing Rain

courage, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

IMG_0086_kindlephoto-6706827 If you were raised the way I was raised, you’d notice the building of dark clouds.

You’d not be surprised by the dark, shifting clouds or the storms through the night with just short breaks in between.

You’d remember the stillness, the way someone would walk towards the porch to check the sky.

Then, turn to say, “We need the rain.”

And maybe after sitting and waiting, someone else would say,

“We need the rain.”

There’d be no dispute, not a word from us cousins. The corn, the butterbeans, the low, wide tobacco leaves needed the rain.

Last week I felt the air become heavy and unexpectedly dark.

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There was a complaint, a correction, a criticism. I was caught in surprise of storm. Suspicious of its source.

There was a feeling of being thrown into the storm with no one noticing my abandonment, my inability to swim.

It was work stuff; yet, it was hard.

It wasn’t family storm, not my heart; but it was hard.

Darkness of word, of reactions and of lack of reaction.

I suppose it was needed. Like rain on an early summer evening.

The kind of storm that causes me to get quiet, it’s storming.

I needed the storms.

I needed to be courageous in a way that caught uncaring people by surprise.

I needed to be humble when my pride and hurt feelings hindered my moving forward.

I needed to take a chance, to take the next step and to be uncertain of reaction, but decide to accept it as truth, as needed.

To hush the insecurities and doubts.

I needed the dark clouds, were it not for storm, I’d not understand, truly understand my need.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28

Sometimes God brings storms and we’re thinking okay, I’ll understand the purpose of this heavy rain, this earth shaking thunder or this frighteningly unexpected bolt of fearful lightening…eventually, we think.

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We need the rain. We’re better for the storm.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/

Persisting Upside Down

courage, Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Persistently writing

The last page of the soft white journal.

Moleskin supple, barely visible lines, a simple book.

Typically covering three months or so, I have stacks of these now.

The last page this morning, waiting for my grey swirly lead lines.

There are quiet rumblings trying to fade of a hard week with hard words, harder choices. It’s work though, and work complained about does nothing more than frustrate you in the explanation. So, I let it be, let Saturday come, let Friday meetings and confrontations go.

And journal thankful things and read the Psalms, prepare for yoga instead of parade.

I turn the page, preparing to close the book.

To see it’s been upside down all this time, the empty space for my name is blank; the little space next to the question of its worth, blank too.

I smile. It’s worth a bunch to me, I think.

Another journal filled with my early morning heart’s pondering.

I rise before the dawn and cry for help; I wait for your words.

Psalm 119: 147

Thoughts purposeful sometimes, other times shallow or habitual murmuring.

Revelations, realizations and regrets.

Progress, backwards steps, teeters and totters.

Yet, I persist. Turn the page, begin again, right side up.

Or upside down, funny the relevance of this tiny oops.

I light a pretty candle and choose music, then not.

Preferring the sound of beagle snores and nothing else.

I write 200 or so more words, remembering my promise to myself to begin and…

Write for as long as you feel the words come clearly and when you don’t feel them, can’t find them, stop.

Persist, though.

There are true and brave stories to be told in the colors of my Bible, in the words of my Psalms.

Seeing, Being Seen

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Several times a day I might notice a bird

or the sky or like yesterday,

the most amazing magnolia bloom I could barely see just above the fence top.

I’ll pause and just get quiet, my eyes and my soul resting.

Sometimes though, I just rush about frustrated or pitiful, one extreme or the other, angst and longing.

Then I notice the sky. The vastness of empty space, yet fullness of God and I’m better then, more myself with God.

I’m always better in the moment of pausing to look towards sky.

I think maybe it’s my age the way I intentionally, perhaps accidentally notice God.

Maybe I am “the crazy bird lady” my daughter loves to call me.

Or maybe not, because she notices too now, and tells me about her red bird appearing outside the tall, curtain drawn farmhouse windows

following her as she moves from room to room to front porch.

Or maybe, just maybe I’m in the presence of God more clearly, not because He hasn’t been there all along, but

Because I’m okay with Him seeing me.

I’m not as often compelled to hide from the God who sees me.

Waiting to be seen, asking where are you?

Lisa, why try to hide?

You’re seen, you’re known, you’re loved despite your attempts to hide. You’re not hidden in the overgrowth, no need for that, listen, look…I’m here.

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 in the garden. But, the Lord called…where are you?

Genesis 3:8

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to tell His story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/needed-begin-loving-actual-life/

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/

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