Not so Far Ago

Children, Faith, family, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I looked at a photo from the beach today.

Austin grinning a big, carefree little boy smile and Heather, beautifully classic and on the cusp of womanhood.

God really blessed me, when he chose me for them.

Their smiles so close, I ‘m there now, right now…not at all so far ago.

Felt so close, not long ago at all.

As if I could turn my head to look back, allowing my feet to follow.

And be right there again on the beach, chasing birds.

This evening the clouds were heavy with grey white borders.

Like the remnants of an overnight fire.

Beautiful, soft and white against widespread blue.

I remembered mama when I turned to see the moon.

The moon, almost full. I felt her near.

I wondered then if the rain to come on Tuesday would obscure its fullness. Would the sad, grey dark of rain clouds obscure its shine?

I walked on towards home prolonging my return.

Stopped to look towards a yellow leafy tree and felt it then, the change in air, brushing my cheek as I paused.

A lightly cooler wind, as if God had suddenly, quietly moved up next to and beside me.

And I continued to think of my mama; sensing her now, again.

And turned to notice the changing clouds and continued towards home.

I noticed the red geraniums, a tradition for mama.

They’ve lasted through summer and into fall, and so I stopped to prune the brown and brittle leaves.

Looked up and saw the moon again, had followed me home.

and I think of mama.

Not so far, not far at all.

Long ago; but, not so far ago.

I could turn my head, or glance just slightly upward, so still and quiet in just a moment’s time, five years feeling like five minutes.

I know she’s not so far away.

The moon, the clouds, the sky…and the Lord.

Stilled and quieted myself like a small child is quiet with its mother,

like a small child is my soul within me.

Psalm 131:2

Humility, a New Path

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

It occurred to me today that moving through change towards your heart’s desire is simply just to keep moving.

I wouldn’t have expected both desires to begin to grow stronger at the same time.

Saturday, I wrote for two hours and then I painted for three.

My writing was good for me, it was representative of my heart.

My art, tedious and detailed causing me to almost quit

Instead I sat it aside, went back and then

Leaning it against the wall for a long look, I was satisfied in its message.

This morning, I woke thinking of humility vs. insecurity and I determined the difference.

Humility is strength enough to move towards accomplishment with no concern for acclaim. Humility is simply patience on the path while listening to God’s quiet direction forward.

Growing up along the fence, I would have missed this if I had not decided to take just a few extra steps to a place in my own backyard.

What does God have for us that’s just a few extra steps off our habitual or unbelieving path?

Beauty and wisdom are found in the places we avoid, are afraid of and for me, maybe you…the impossible places.

A friend said to me on Saturday, “You should be published.” And I smiled and instead of saying, “Oh, it’s hard or maybe or I doubt it” I said,

“God is moving me to the place of His purpose.”

You can make many plans, but the Lord’s purpose will prevail. Proverbs 19:21

Persisting

courage, Faith, praise, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

There are a few, maybe more than a few things I am persistent in.

I always make my bed, taut linens, perfectly smoothed quilt.

I pray every morning in the shower, like singing it’s a place to be secret, a sanctuary.

I journal, sometimes half-heartedly, gratitude and anxiety.

I walk in the evenings, if daylight allows. My walking, sometimes good and refreshing, sometimes nothing more than prescribed discipline.

Yet, I persist.

I walked yesterday evening. The sky was clear, the roads quiet and empty. I looked for pink skies and found only icy blue.

Earlier than usual, a warm afternoon and the sparrows were gathered, moving tree to tree in rapid little sweeping flight.

Landing for just a second or two before gathering again to rest in brief refrain. I caught sight of one resting up high on skinny branch.

Reminding me of rest, of waiting, of listening and trusting.

Persisting.

Scribbling, quickly this morning

Again my thoughts on persistence.

It may take years and years and many types of trouble, calamity, crisis and question to truly understand the value of prayer.

Because the answer holds little value, is really no more than change in circumstances. God loves us so, so much that He will bless us with reprieve, with clarity, with relief.

Still, this is not the significance of God’s longing for us to discover through prayer. God’s desire and constant beckoning of our hearts is for us to lay our hearts bare and broken before him…to persist there in that place…aligned with Him. To be fully content in simply abiding.

To return to rest in the safe place of God.

To persist in pursuit of the peace of God.

To be hid in the shadow of His wings and that be all we need to keep us confident and courageous as He bends to listen, protect and strengthen. This is design and desire of God.

I am praying to You, because I know You will answer O God. Bend down, listen as I pray. Your unfailing love is wonderful and You save with Your strength those who seek you as a refuge. Guard me as the apple of Your eye. Hide me in the shadow of your wings.

Psalm 17: 6-8

Linking up to Tell His Story with other writers, persistently praying.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/for-those-times-when-you-dont-see-a-happy-ending-to-your-story-tellhisstory/

Art and Soul

courage, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

My friend told me, “Your art is very calming.”

I paint with all my heart, usually start a painting and finish it in a day.

I’m frantic in my process; yet, oblivious, content.

I paint as I write. Honest, brave and from my heart.

Otherwise, it’s contrived and it’s letters, words and colors.

Not art.

Not soul.

I sold a painting today. It’s one that I loved.

I have only recently been brave enough to share my art, my soul.

Continue reading →

Day 7 of 31 days of UNimpressive writing: words of prayer

Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I woke up feeling blah and my mind went back to a certain word.

Words are light

I hear a word, find a word it’s descriptive nature so truthful, so perfect… that I go back and ponder its meaning.

Thinking, “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant, so clearly what I felt”.

I’m hesitant to say this.

Not everyone has a love for words like me.

Not all people are “noticers” as my friend who understands me says we are.

“We notice things.” he says.

We linger in thoughtful remembrance of meaning.

My children, when they were younger, rolled their eyes, groaned and said “Why do you always have to use such big words? Just use normal words!”

I refused to be swayed. “Why would we have words, if not to use them? If you have words, you should use them.”

This morning, I woke with a sense of apathy.

I used that word last week when describing my concern over tone in voice that had me worried, an impenetrable attitude, a denial of doubting; yett, their tone spoke a resigned disbelief in most everything.

I told my friend, “There was just such apathy in their voice.”

And then, another friend, I saw this forlorn resignation her face.

A face that’s been saying for so long, “All is well.” had changed just slightly, head tilted, eyes more downward.

Perhaps that day they woke with apathy…woke with indifference.

Apathy

I heard apathy in the story of a child’s unthinkable choice.

Heard it in a story unexpected, tragic loss that made absolutely no sense. Heard it in the voice of a friend grieving.

Yesterday evening, the heavy stories piled up and I decided I must go for a walk!

I walked and was briefly a little better, guided by sunset horizon of rose-colored clouds.

It had been a while since sunlight.

My daughter, camera in hand, crouched in grassy roadside field taking photos

Seeing her, seeking beauty of light

like me.

Laughter, between us before bed as I disciplined my thoughts to continue towards hope.

Praying, believing.

Woke this morning and there it was to welcome me, apathy.

I woke with sense of “No need, doesn’t matter anyway”.

Woke with the notion that I’ve worn out my welcome at the feet of the father. That I’ve talked it to death, that I’ve become quite the nuisance.

The outcome’s been determined already anyway, why must you belabor the matter?

But then, my thoughts went to what I know, surrender and abiding.

I wondered how is apathy any different from surrender?

If I surrender, I trust.

If I surrender, I am remembering that God is Sovereign…yielding.

Surrender to light

A surrendered heart is a heart with light, a heart that is resting, not doubting.

Apathy feels like God has done more than he should. More than He will, that woeful mindset of bad things already to come.

Apathy is darkness, doubt and disconnect. Surrender is abiding in light.

The light makes all the difference.

“And we thank Thee that the darkness reminds us of light.” T.S. Eliot

Day 5 of 31 Days of UNimpressive Writing: Geese, Bluebirds and New Chances to Love

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

The geese were back this morning.

First time in days.

I turned to make my way back inside, stopping to gather fallen leaves and heard their approach.Their sound a celebration of the day, exuberant and joyous it seemed.

I held fragile leaves in my hand, turned towards the sounds of geese and joined in their flight, my mind there with them, moving forward, renewed and committed to the day.

The ground is soaked here, covered in pine needles today. We were spared the damage of wind and flood, our yard simply evidence of rain, constant torrential showers. I was thankful today for leafy, wind tousled and soaking wet ground. Wet, muddy yard scattered with pretty color; my feet were planted in a level spot and I glanced towards the damp, steely sky.

My cousin called this morning and we talked of life, of children, of God. We were getting carried away, consistent in our anguish, of things we can’t let go, things that frustrate us. We talked about the flood of our weekend and she shared her experience of Hurricane Katrina. This flood, Joaquin prompted storm, had both she and her husband reliving the trauma. I told her I’m very afraid of water and wonder if people will be found dead in their homes. She said “Most likely” and shared of homes ravaged by Katrina that were marked with an “X” to indicate a dead person inside.

We meandered back to the subject of our children then.

We understand why we’ve mothered the way we have; just don’t know why we keep going back there,

Trying to be the mother they’ve outgrown.

The mother that meets our need, not theirs.

We’re making progress though, beginning to think as God thinks of us, agreeing that the greatest desire of our lives has been to parent well, differently, unquestionably committed to our sons and daughters.

We have been and are good mothers. We know this.

Never occurred to me until just now, I thought to myself. “I’ve parented well, absolutely wholeheartedly. Let God lead them now. ”

She got quiet, thinking, I assumed then excitedly announced “There are bluebirds in my yard. The most beautiful bluebirds are just outside on my porch!”

“God is telling us to have hope”, I said. ” He’s telling us to let go now, we’ve done our part, he’s ready to take it from here.”

They’ve left our nests; well-loved and knowing they are loved.

There are new, bright places for them to grow, us too.

Loved well and loving well.

New places to grow

Day 4 of 31Days of UNimpressive writing: Good Stories

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust

Every month, I get the chance to share my thoughts, my heart, my place with God and through God in a monthly Faith column.

It’s an honest place for my thoughts to land and is always a reflection of life,work, family, helping, trusting, questioning and living a life that reminds of grace. Persistent prayer, the truthful and loving lesson of God, the conversation starters of God’s glorious mercy revealed.

I get to write stories of God every month

October’s Faith Column, Good Stories

Yesterday, I had the chance to sit amongst several elderly women as they gathered for their Women’s Mission group. Their first meeting after a summer off, they were given the opportunity to share a happy memory of their summer. One shared about becoming a great-grandparent, another about a surprise 50th wedding anniversary gift and finally a third, a widow, shared about moving to a new home. She greeted me upon entering the room, vibrant and with a welcomingly genuine smile. Her face, I noticed was smooth and beautiful with the glow of happiness, a foundation that can’t be purchased at any cosmetics counter. Her new home, she shared, is an apartment in an assisted living facility. She smiled when I told her she lives just across the street from my office and that I could come by for a visit, that I bet she has some very good stories. She said “Oh, please do stop by.” I thought of the stories she may have, her countenance one of peace, I found myself longing to hear her stories of grace, of faith, of persistence.

I was their guest speaker. They wanted to hear about a program that’s often described as a mission: Nurture Home, a transitional shelter for women and children who are homeless. They listened as I detailed facts and figures, the structure of the program and the overall condition of homelessness in South Carolina. I stopped when we focused on the effect of homelessness on children and integrated a favorite story of a precious little boy telling me, “ I love my new house, thank you for my bed”. I shared my favorite stories of lives we’ve touched, opportunities to come alongside women and walk with them as they navigate the detours of their lives. I couldn’t help but notice that the faces of the listeners changed as I sat aside my materials and told the stories of hardship and hope restored. They agreed with me; stories make all the difference.

Stories like Jesus told, parables of people like you and I travelling the road of life, relying on hope and faith. The parables of Jesus are of people who believed after meeting Jesus and of people who were steadfast despite setbacks. The stories are of Jesus as he engaged with his listeners and his disciples, his followers and his doubters; Jesus was the ultimate story teller. His parables are timeless, making our circumstances and our concerns relatable.

In the book of Luke, Chapter 18, we have a chance to understand the value of persistence. Having recently experienced a big answered prayer in my life followed closely by another set of questions and doubt, it has become clear to me that the prayer God longs for is the prayer of persistence. The prayer that doesn’t say, “Oh, thank you, God that was awesome, I’ll talk to you later.”, rather a prayer that demonstrates a commitment to a relationship of patient supplication and trust. In verses 1 through 8, we hear the story of a widow who refused to give up on her plea for justice. An ungodly judge refused to grant her request for justice against her adversary, (vs.3) He eventually honored her persistent plea even though he thought he had no fear of her God, saying “I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually wear me out with her coming!” (vs.5) He saw she wasn’t giving up. Jesus shared this parable with his disciples to demonstrate that surely if an unkind judge would grant a persistent widow’s wish; wouldn’t it make sense that God will hear the cries of his chosen ones when we cry out to him day and night?

I’ve been thinking about persistence in terms of the longings of my heart; thinking of setbacks, of issues I felt had been resolved through answered prayer that had proven otherwise, or not quite yet. I thought of friends who are waiting for answers in health issues, serious diagnoses and uncertainty of their days. I thought of the widow who lives across the street and how I’d love to hear her stories of confident determination and persistence in prayer. I’m convinced her stories include prayers, and that they are persistent prayers and I just may go over for a visit. Everyone has a story, a story made better with God, a good story.

Day 3 of 31 days of UNimpressive writing: only heart words… Turning Season

Children, Faith, Trust, Uncategorized

We take the winding roads on our Saturdays together, my daughter and I.

Stopping to notice leaf change.

Greens reaching up, folding inward, holding on, procrastinating the brittle change.

Golds, surrendered to season. Changing with changes.

Settled in scattered places under shelter of black, mangled ugly limbs strained from summer harvest.

Accepting change.

Surprised by the gift of surrendering our seasons.

Loving what has come, moving towards what we know is soon.

My daughter, a wife soon.

New seasons under God’s heaven

Everything

Turn, turn

There is a season.

Day 2 of 31 Days of UNimpressive writing: only from the heart: Our Given Names

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability

There’s a story about my mama’s name, mine too. She, Bette Jean, was supposed to have been called Elizabeth.

Mama wanted to call me Libby. Daddy said “No, that’s a can of peaches.” My grandma, “Bama” agreed to my name being Lisa; but, insisted on the Anne that follows.

Who’s to say whether we, over time, become our names or they were just right for us all along. My mama surely was not Elizabeth-like.

Couldn’t see her as a Liz or a Beth; Bette, for sure.

And me? Libby is cute, perky, and pretty. Not me. Lisa Anne is who I am, who I have become.

Heather could have been Olivia and Austin was almost Zachary.

Heather Analise, a child of God

Heather, open to life and at peace near open fields and cows. Her name fits. Analise added as a middle, pretty and classic.

Austin, James Austin, again just right. James a solid and reputable name, Austin, a nod to the dry humor and surprisingly big heart of his great-grandfather.

James Austin.a child of God

My children’s names, the names they have become.

I am thinking of the unthinkable today. One in college, the other a teacher leading a classroom of the youngest students.

I am trying, but struggling to place myself in the minds of the parents of students killed in Oregon.

I am wondering how, in the aftermath of terror and shock, I would feel to know that when asked, my children said they were Christians, told to stand and then shot.

I visualize not so clearly and can sort of imagine the scene.

Young adults, students, surprised by the intrusive presence of a peer with a gun, afraid; but, deciding to go with his demands, to not cause anger, to remain quiet, not draw attention to self.

To cower. To be compliant. I imagine this might have been their thinking in effort to survive.

Until, the question

“Are you a Christian?”

My children are Christians.

I witnessed the salvation of both and I’ve seen them acknowledge in ways big, small, private and outspoken, their faith.

They know Jesus. Jesus knows them.

People know that they know Jesus.

Children of God. A name that can’t be denied.

I am praying for the Oregon mamas and daddies, parents of children of God.

Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become Children of God. John 1:12

Thank you, Lord, for my name and for the names of my children.

Day 1 of 31: Slow Mornings and Clarity

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

There will be no planning ahead in this 31 day challenge. My words, if I remember them all, will be thoughts that show up and make sense in an all of sudden way.

For me, for now.

This morning, I added in the final page of my latest journal its dates, 6/19-10/30.

A thick journal filled with quite alot, heavy and pretty ecru colored pages marked with dailies. I have loved this book and its time.

I woke this morning, surprised I’d not heard the rain.

Made sense though, I slept through the normal noises of morning.

Coffee, lamplight, stack of books and me

My morning spot.

New journal in hand, the one quaintly adorned with a feather to remind, I begin my day.

Resigned and surrendered to what may come as I read the words of Matthew, their beckoning tone of rest. A new place for me, accepting and trusting, come what may or what will.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.²⁹Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

I moved about lazily as I am prone to do, moving closer towards leaving my spot in the lamplight, my little morning corner.

Quiet house, slow and easy, my favorite way now.

Thinking of answered prayers, of prayers offered and of prayer meeting last night,

Ten or so of us, standing in hand holding circle to pray.

Each pray-er a different tone, a different grateful heart, a different sound of supplicate

I stopped then to remember more clearly as I glanced again, pausing at the prayer filled journal

A compilation of yearning, of growth, of challenge and surrender.

My mind, quiet then and more clearly causing me to wait, to let my thoughts making sense rest for a bit there.

To say:

“This morning, Lisa, here is where you are.”

” I have learned so much of myself, many things more clearly

all because

I have finally allowed God to teach me.”

	Lisa Brittain on Women of Faith
	Lisa Anne Tindal on Women of Faith
	smoker4mom on Women of Faith
	juliedibblewrites on Embracing
	Lisa Anne Tindal on Shine On