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Give Not Get

Abuse Survivor, bravery, contentment, courage, daughters, eating disorder, fear, grace, memoir, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting

Today I give you a story you might never know.

Were it not for me reading three books at a time, one called The God Dare by Kate Battistelli, a second called Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist and the third, the book called Ephesians written by Paul.

I’ve just finished a just right omelette, fluffy pillow of egg with the soft insides of spinach and melty oozing cheese. On the side a good tomato as if straight from the vine, peppered generously. Enjoyed every bit, a mellowed out mug of coffee with cream to complement.

I gaze over at the empty plate and think to finish Ephesians but remind myself of the three words that came in light of getting on with my life, vocation of some sort, art, writing and family.

Give not Get.

I thought again.

I’m brave now, hearing God daring me to pay attention and say things He has for me to say.

There was a time I ate everything I could get and then ritualistically and yet uncontrollably used my unwell techniques to get rid of it all quickly.

I was not well then.

I’m close to weighing the same as my husband. I felt lighter yesterday, paused to see the flatness of my belly in the bathroom mirror and took a chance…decided to step on the scale.

Wrong!

You weigh the same, the same as last week and more than last month but not as much as that one time before.

I remembered the book about the bread and wine and not a mention three chapters in of calories or gluten or exercise.

Only stories of times around tables and splendid descriptions of food eaten with abandon, life and love.

Food freely given, not grasped for or grabbed to be hidden, hoarded in a get it now or never again kind of way.

Stories like my story this morning, a quiet acknowledgment of noticing my finished breakfast.

Oh, this is good…this life I get to live, have been given, it is good.

Given not taken.

We get new chances every day, to pick up where we left off, to make choices not to go back to old ways.

“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God,”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭2:8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

To live as grace givers, savoring, trusting the flow of good things and graces.

We have known the gift so that others might know.

We give what we’ve been shown.

My “God Dare” today?

Writing about not eating, about not keeping what I ate because that was all I felt I could control.

A sum total of about 10 years of my life given to anorexia and bulimia.

Close to 25 years now, not thin but healthy.

What’s in front of you that feels insurmountable, that lessens your existence, that self-imposed struggle that sickens your body and soul?

We are created as God’s workmanship, we inhabit His spirit.

He gives life, life meant to be unfathomable in measure, the width, breadth and depth of it all.

I picked up Bread and Wine from the back stack of bargain books and already it has given me more than any book on diet or grace or shame has ever given.

Like its author, pregnancy (thank you, HB!) changed me, pregnancy saved me from my disordered eating.

I wish the change had come sooner, my hard fought recovery not at all sudden or easy, but cushioned by God’s grace.

It took becoming pregnant to finally say to the world, I’m hungry. My first pregnancy shifted so many aspects of my understanding of my body and with it, shifted my view of hunger…I could claim hunger on behalf of my baby, and that small step might as well have been a mile for all it unlocked inside me. Shauna Niequist, Bread and Wine, a love letter to life around the table with recipes

In the book, is the question, What’s your last supper?

Mine?

Spaghetti thick with basil sauced tomatoes galore sprinkled with freshly shaved parmesan and bordered by thick buttered bread.

My cousin Vickie’s salad I can’t replicate on the side.

A glass of red wine as we recline and later gelato, the real kind that tastes like a coffee with just enough chocolate, a dollop of whipped cream to crown it!

Now, what’s for lunch? What’s for supper? Are the good watermelons ready?

Will we be fancy today, my daughter and I or will it be Chick Fil A?

Continuously Believe

birds, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, freedom, grace, heaven, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, surrender, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I’m in between assignments, never had this much time on my hands.

I have, perhaps never been so quiet, so quiet I can almost hear God’s plans.

At least more than even before, though not fully I am sure.

The spaces in my mind occupied by busy and angst are uncomfortably new.

I must fill them with something, I thought, then waited and in tiny incremental steps, did one thing knowing God will do the next.

God is always working behind the scenes.

3:45 in the afternoon yesterday and I’m found with time to fill.

I sat poolside with a book and my husband until I’d had enough and three hours still until I’d need to get ready.

I’m goin’ for a walk, I told him and struck out like I do.

Happened upon a feather and I kept it although it was grey, not white or blue, oddly it was habitual, my picking it up, not my typical “totem discovered” enthused.

My music skipped annoyingly so I walked without a beat, a solitary robin above me, lifting in a rollercoaster rhythm through the trees.

I found the camera icon and flipped my phone around only to break the cycle, the fat robin never came back into view.

As if it say, that was just for you, no documenting our time together for others required.

Okay. I see.

This morning I remembered last night’s silent prayer.

Driving home later than usual, I’m in the passenger seat and we’ve been with people and chatter and both agreed upon what my husband calls a “conversational hiatus”.

Big semi-trucks are parked in their resting places in both directions of the interstate.

Their big red lights are dim like a soft sleepy glow. He comments, they’re required to pull over, somehow their stopping to rest is kept track of.

Oh.

I lean back, close my eyes and pause.

I pray remembering the bold request earlier today and then later a subtle satisfaction that the outcome will be okay either way and what I want and asked to come sooner than later might never come at all.

I settled it with God and myself then, okay.

Another person came to mind, someone I’ve no real attachment to, only aware of the seemingly futile reply to her prayers.

Someone I love hurts for someone she loves.

I prayed in a “Why not?” way for them, asking God to intervene, intervene in a way they’ve yet to see, a way that will seal the deal for an end to their anxiety.

For real I prayed, long and it seemed ridiculously up front, for real evidence of stability.

Prayer is a response to a nudge from God, so much more than seeking results or answers.

Prayer, the kind where it seems you’re sleeping, pausing, resting, prayer that comes because you notice God with you.

With you, a peaceful presence.

Pray more I tell myself now. More often, more spontaneously, more aware of God’s nearness and when someone comes to mind.

That’s a prompt, an invitation to conversate with our loving Sovereign God.

Pause to mention the person God brought to mind, ask God to see others more than He sees you.

The bluebirds don’t linger although they come close.

The tiny sparrows perch on the rusty barbed fence. I approach and they dart on their way.

The place that grows the flowers from a newly rain soaked ground is littered with egg of baby blue.

A new bird is learning to fly, leaving behind evidence for me.

For you.

To pray sans ceremony or setting, to pray and be changed and to pray for change to come true and be seen.

To pray continuously.

Continue and believe.

“pray continually,”

‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭5:17‬ ‭NIV

Thoughts on Heaven and Mamas

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, birds, Children, courage, daughters, family, Forgiveness, grace, grief, memoir, Mother’s Day, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, sons, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, writing

This morning I cleaned out my “Saves” on Facebook, stuff I thought I may read later, there were over 50 various things I considered useful at the time.

Same old same, healing from trauma, posts about family, even more expert recommendations to grow my blog, have my voice heard, write the book, don’t give up…

I deleted almost all. I have to be honest, I am on writerly advice overload.

At the bottom was a note, the Facebook kind, I suppose my idea of blogging before I blogged and it was called 30 Randoms…things I’ve learned since mama died.

It is a list compiled 10 years ago come November.

Much of it is the same.

I suppose the ache began when someone said change your profile pic to your mom’s, one of those FB things that make you either go along or rebel.

I rebelled in a kind of pitiful, mulling over pondering way, my way.

I don’t have a photo I haven’t shared before and the one I have is dated and it doesn’t portray the mama I want to portray.

Grief changes its hold on you over time.

I miss my mama, see the cardinals all the time that say she is near.

I’m afraid though it’s simply not enough. Well meaning people will say oh she sees you, she’s looking down and you stand silent like a big dumb block not replying to their little kind words or something to say remedy.

I believe my mama is in heaven; but, I do not fully understand what it’s like for her there.

Possibly her spirit still lingers near me, possibly it’s my memory and longing for her involvement that manufactures this comfort and assurance for me.

Here we are over 10 years and there’s so much she should know.

Updated here are 30 randoms I’m offering up as prayers to heaven in hopes that someone else up there runs out to find you and you sit together and you laugh and cry happy heavenly tears over what is going on, how we’re doing without you and daddy down here:

1. The grandchildren are something else altogether and individually, they are just enough you to be stubborn and outspoken and often irreverently rebellious in being themselves!

2. We are all still married to the ones you saw us with before you passed away.

3. Baby Brown is due any moment of a very soon day. This will mean three great grands. Our home has a baby room.

4. Your grandsons are strong, just enough cockiness of your daddy cushioned by the gentle handsome ways of our daddy.

5. I left my job that was destroying my health. I am an artist. I get “pissy” and I’m sure have a certain look when someone says a painting is “cute”.

6. I am a writer. I will be going by “grandma” just like you and I will be helping my daughter with her baby, just like you.

7. I am less afraid but still prefer to stay hidden.

8. I left the church that made me feel I’d never be enough.

9. I sit every morning with my Bible, a pencil and a memorandum book.

10. When I’m sad or angry or anxious, I clean the whole house, rearrange stuff.

11. People call me an open book. I reply with only certain stories.

12. I reunited with Melanie and revisited the times I fell apart and she helped you and daddy hold me together.

13. I regret going home the night you passed away.

14. I understand you probably wanted it this way.

15. I love Jesus the way you lived it, love everyone the best you can, not more than you should to those who love themselves so much they don’t need yours.

16. Be kind to your husband, as he ages you become everything to him.

17. Love a dog, this love will sustain you.

18. Love food, not its control over you.

19. Delicious things are only delicious if savored not embellished or used to satiate empty bottomless places.

20. Accept God’s grace.

21. Being pitiful is not pretty or permitted.

22. Wear more red. Paint your toenails red, learn to wear a hat.

23. Don’t stress.

24. Stress will kill you. (I’ve told you before, Lisa Anne).

25. I’m going by Lisa Anne now mama, occasionally “LT”.

26. I sold three paintings last week and I gave one expensive one away.

27. One painting found a new home, it was inspired by your high school photo and I called it “Heaven Meets Earth”.

28. Today, I will believe there are better days ahead, I’ll not long as much to have you here to have your hand touch mine, to see your face when you see ours.

29. Today, I’ve decided I’ll ask again and if you’re listening, maybe you can soften the way. For Mother’s Day, I want a dog.

Yes, how fitting, how perfect, how precious it will be. A puppy or a rescue, a new home with me to represent and honor you. Yes, I’ve decided, I’ll ask again.

Don’t you think it’s time, Greg? Time for us to get a dog? If not now he might say soon and I’ll let it go, trust it’s just not a good time.

30. Better now, I’m better. Grief is a mystery and an unexplainable thing. Words from others who don’t truly know are better left unsaid.

There’s really no right response other than remembering.

When Mother’s Day is without a mom, a mother, an outspoken and gone too soon mama!

The greatest gift is to allow all of the remembering you can stand!

P.S. I joined the Artist Guild and there’s an exhibit tonight I don’t think I’ll be attending. One, possibly two of my pieces will be displayed. Some artists will have ribbons on their works. I’m not going because I still don’t care for spotlights or attention.

Remember the time you and daddy drove four hours because a piece I created was chosen for a blue ribbon?

I remember it well and the years that followed dulled my shine and the gift of your being there.

So, if I didn’t say so then, thank you for telling me back then that it was possible,

I could become an artist according to you!

I finally believe you.

Happy Mother’s Day. I feel you near, do not fully understand it, I do believe you have become an angel.

Lisa Anne

Stubborn Minded Me

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, family, freedom, grace, love, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, pride, Redemption, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

“He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.

Then they were glad that the waters were quiet,

He brought them to their desired haven.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭107:29-30‬ ‭ESV‬‬

My daddy used to say I would argue with a stump, I was as stubborn as they came. I wanted to have the last word.

Quiet child who watched and only spoke up when I saw something wrong or someone about to be wronged…maybe, me.

That quiet stubbornness got silenced and I lost my voice for a long time, lost my defense mechanism, my stubborn belief that it mattered, pointing out right over wrong.

Now that I’ve found it again, my challenge is to appropriately use it, pull it back, keep it reeled in, learn to control it.

Not allow it to control me.

Stubborn me doesn’t wait well, I want to jump up and tackle wrong to the ground, demand an answer for whatever anxiety it has caused.

Even if the anxiety is oh so small. At least I’m self aware.

I’m losing it slowly, the need to anticipate wrong, letting go the power of my manipulative mind set on preparation and safety of my mind and soul.

I ask why of others less often. I wait to be shown not told.

To be shown there was no threat after all, there was never a plot to harm you being calculated while you looked away.

It was just your imagination running away with you.

I’m an Enneagram 4 (Romantic) with a 5 (Observer) wing. I’m no expert on this popular assessment that so many are embracing.

I assure you though, the test got this right with me!

I write vivid stories. I romanticize right or wrong depending upon my careful and constant observation.

My personality traits can work for or against me.

Today, I’m leaning towards the “for”.

Because I almost picked it back up yesterday and then again this morning. I wanted to confront, stomp my feet and ask why someone responded to me in such a way I didn’t deserve.

They most likely have forgotten by now and there’s really no need to know.

It is over. Let it go.

I sat in the quiet with wisdom all around me, the Psalms of David, the integrity of Job, the quiet worship of Mary.

I told myself if there is asking of why,

Ask God.

The answer will come when it does or it may never come at all, just the need to know taken gently away, eased from the shelf I’ve set it down on waiting to be picked back up again.

I won’t miss it. God will replace it with new things.

Things like a settled mind, a sense of Him.

Ask God and wait for His peaceful reply.

It will not likely come until you’ve shut down the chatter in your analytically bitter and questioning mind.

The answer more sufficiently simple than all the “romantical” conjuring and contriving of explanations your mind could ever tell.

God will be thrilled by our return to Him, He waits for the forfeiting of our frustrated rationalizations for the freedom of His will and His way.

He welcomes our questions.

Ask God.

Settle your stubborn mind.

Find rest for your soul.

He is jealous for me. Love’s like a hurricane, I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy. When all of a sudden I am unaware of this affliction eclipsed by glory…David Crowder, How He Loves

Oh, how he loves us!

I’m linking up with others who are telling stories that God gives them to share. Join in here: Tell His Story

By Grace Consecrated

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, freedom, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, surrender, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

I cannot explain the way or the why of how this happens; but, it happens with regularity and it happens suddenly with slow unraveling upon my waking to begin a day.

I woke up and found myself curious over the word “consecrate”.

“God understands the way to it, and he knows its place.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭28:23‬ ‭ESV

Yesterday evening I adjusted my route. The breeze was without a thick heat and the trees were swaying only slightly as if escorting the predicted storm away.

Gently. Not today.

I’ve been walking this way for most of my grown up life. My saying, “unraveling the day” is an explanation that is for me, succinct.

A great day was Saturday, no other way to describe the time. A college graduation, a daughter and son and family together. It was truly celebratory, memorable like no other before.

I am in between things.

Now waiting for the any moment call, it’s time for baby, we are on our way to the hospital.

We will be grandparents.

I’ve told people when speaking of my resignation after ten years that I’ve got lots of “balls in the air” and that I’m hoping to establish a rhythm, get into a “mojo” of work from home.

Soon I’ll be helping with a baby and still working in some way, using what I’ve learned and hoping to combine it with my faith to help others while gaining just enough income.

Yes, this has been my response to interested individuals who are either thrilled for my new role or who question what on earth is she thinking…no income, no position, no dependable check every month?

I’ve been stuffing it down. People who are skeptics, people who have no faith in leaps of faith like this.

I walked yesterday and saw the sun making shadows on the open field now overgrown with high grass and weeds with fluffed up looking tops reminding me of lace, tiny yellow buds here and there.

I always pause. God is near.

Agree with God and be at peace. Job 22:21

I like the way God lays His light down in layers. Different all the time, different prompts and patterns.

I continued and thought to jog but didn’t.

Felt no need for further self-punishment.

I walked on and changed my path to circle back uphill through every single shady cul de sac.

There was no rush, I took the back way and reversed my pattern, uphill first then downhill the rest of the way on the trail.

The evening drawing nearer as I stepped over the roots forcing through the hard pavement trail, I paused in front of my favorite field and noticed a dandelion.

The sunlight landed on its little circle of soft peach fuzzy head. It stood alone in the high tangle of weeds.

I’m certain it was for me.

I stepped forward, walked with renewed conviction.

I’ll just get up the same way every morning and make each day my vocation.

I’ll go about my day with intentionality and pursuit of God’s ways.

My first journal entry, May 6th?

An intentional life, my prayer.

  • Clarity – where to go, what to do, to create, to initiate
  • Commitment – go there and see it through, finish what you begin.
  • Consecrated- do all of it for God.

I’m not a biblical scholar.

I happen upon wise words and want to understand them, want to have them make me more than what I see, what tiny bit I know of me, I seek to solve the mysteries of me.

To consecrate means to make or declare something holy, to a higher purpose, even a divine one.

Is it possible that all I do means more than a finish, the attainment of a goal, an outcome resulting from input, the result of my knowledge and hands?

It is possible if we believe we are loved by God, created for more than what we can see.

God understands the way to it, this consecrated daily life.

He knows how to make new wine of our old bitter tastes.

He desires to make us vessels of new.

Consecrated is a word mostly found in the Old Testament, difficult to understand, ritualistic often and sometimes about laws and food deemed unfit.

I considered what if I thought of all I do a return of my grace for God’s grace towards me.

What if I returned to God His investment in me through my investment of all I do for Him, a divine ROI?

Perhaps deciding to do everything from a place of love in light of grace bestowed me makes consecration easier to understand.

For it is grace that brought me thus far and grace that has and will lead me on.

Grace like a phone call just now to arrange a meeting, a program seeking my grantwriting knowledge to discuss my alignment with their mission becoming more understood and known.

A phone call I thought might come yet did not with certainty know.

An opportunity no longer hanging up in the air, a ball clutched in the palm of my hand now captive with the possibility to be divinely pursued, my work through God’s hands and my prayer.

A clear expression of God’s love for me in this place of uncertainty layered thickly with faith.

Be persuaded, timid soul, that He has loved you too much to cease loving you. Francois de la Mothe Fe’nelon

I asked God to help me understand what it means to live consecrated and he led me to the Book of Job, a chronicle of a good and godly man who was met by trouble and tragedy that made absolutely no sense at all.

Job never stopped believing in a God that knew all. Job lived a consecrated life, refused to trade his understanding of it all for the possibility of losing what He knew, God.

“For God speaks in one way, and in two, though man does not perceive it. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls on men, while they slumber on their beds,”

‭‭Job‬ ‭33:14-15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m paying more attention to my morning thoughts, less prone to reach for my phone or to jump up quickly from my bed.

There are important and enlightening ways for me to go, not rushing, more resting.

Waiting for His clarity to guide my committed pursuit and to follow His lead, with intentional steps towards what might help someone, less haphazard, though ever imperfect, my pursuit of Holy and divine.

Every morning, grace comes my way and I am learning to listen.

“And I will give him the morning star.”

‭‭Revelation‬ ‭2:28‬ ‭ESV‬‬

To believe and continue.

Consecrated by grace.

Abandoning Thoughts and Things

Abuse Survivor, bravery, contentment, courage, doubt, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, love, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, surrender, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

A petal drops from the day lily onto the table. The sound so subtly quiet it barely shifts my attention.

But, it does.

I turn to notice and then wonder how long before the others let go.

The dirty mason jar, because I’ve no idea what happened to all of my vases, has been the vessel for yellow, a soft maroon, ivory and a golden rust colored arrangement. The stems strong and the leaves a lively green will be the last to go.

I have loved them in my morning spot.

Yesterday I told someone I was struggling to comprehend a life of abandonment to God’s will.

Told her I’m prone to expect a revelation, a change that says you’re done or a turning down one road never venturing wrongly or lazily short cutting again.

This morning I know better.

I know abandonment of some of my analytical longings will lead to a life maybe not all romantic like a theatrical opera or song.

It’ll be more incremental.

It will be stop and start, stay longer next time until you realize oh, okay it’s been a while. Maybe saying to myself,

I didn’t realize how long it’s been. I’ve settled in this place of acceptance without fear.

Abandoning yourself to God’s plan, what a calling, an aspiring and admirable decision!

Yes.

But, I am human and I live amongst other imperfect humans. I know some things they do not know of me and I must remember that it is the same for them.

All of our behaviors are formed by our individual damaged or undamaged perceptions on life with other humans.

I digress.

Here’s what I came to on the issue of abandon, of abandoning my ideas, hopes, plans, goals to God’s plan.

I am learning as I go.

I am abandoning self-condemnation when it seems I don’t live the abandoned life as fully or continuously as I should. I will abandon being so hard on myself.

I consider this a good beginning.

I’m abandoning my need to know, abandoning my need to correct others, abandoning my need to forget harm done to me by others.

I can abandon strife for peace.

I can abandon anger for acceptance.

I can abandon envy, jealousy and resentment for love.

I can, incrementally.

I am certain that abandon and living this way is more like joy than work.

It is more a breathless expectation of what is coming good or not so great. It is the committed mindset that every tiny thing, life event or circumstance has been filtered.

Has been held by God and let go or not let in.

Unexpectedness.

Maybe living the abandoned way really means living unexpectedly!

Like your grandpa used to say,

Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.

Living that way.

Not knowing what your next moment will bring, your next hour or next day.

Yes.

I think I can live this way.

It may be momentarily, this new way.

But, moment by moment I will be accepting what is next for me and for those my life gets to be intermingled with, influenced by and loved…my influence a hopeful one for them.

That will be the greatest of things. Abandoning what I don’t know and keeping what I do!

Perhaps adding a new daily prayer, the prayer that Jesus prayed, inviting heaven into my earth, into my day.

“Pray then like this: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:9, 11-13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Either way, simply believe.

Believe and continue.

Continue and believe.

Truth Is

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Truth, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

Imagine always knowing everything, all the angst driven questions about you and all around you, people, stuff, nagging questions.

We wait for understanding and get all frustrated in the waiting.

As if we’re in an audience before the big emotion driven announcement.

As if a large presence of a person intent on projecting themselves as an authority on the subject

Is up high on a mountaintop and is speaking into a megaphone of sorts, this presence echoing down into our valley

That we happen to be stoic and standing in.

We are waiting.

Looking up longingly with our faces intent and our ears straining to retain every word.

Anticipating a great and mighty answer.

For me, the answer to this prayer.

What is the truth?

My prayer yesterday evening, one of very few words as I knelt in the bathtub after my shower.

God, I want to know the truth.

And He answered me this morning.

I woke with no coffee and so I made a Chick Fil A run.

Rather than music, I listened to a podcast on curiosity. The voice of Elizabeth Gilbert was strong buffered by gentle interludes.

Elizabeth Gilbert on Curiosity over Passion

I arrived back home, poured my coffee from the cup into a pretty mug, opened my memorandum, April 26th entered and then wrote boldly.

You will know the truth and the truth will set you free.

I wanted to assure myself, you will know the what and how and why and who of this troubling situation. You will know truth.

Then I considered, well Lisa Anne, What is truth?

Then rather than ruminate or dictionary search, I sat quietly and I listened to input from it would seem nowhere.

What is truth?

Truth is knowing that you are not all-knowing, never will be. Truth is knowing that you do have and are loved by a God who knows all. That knowledge is your truth. This truth is always enough.

“Jesus said to the people who believed in him, “You are truly my disciples if you remain faithful to my teachings. And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

‭‭John‬ ‭8:31-32‬ ‭NLT‬‬

It occurs to me now, which would I choose given one or the other?

Would I choose to know everything, every behind the scenes calculation and misconstrued conversation?

Would I choose the precision of each coming occurrence, its timing and its success or failure?

Would I choose to know the truth about all things, all human and prompted by sinful predisposition to veer interactions with others?

Or would I choose truth, would I choose knowing Jesus and abiding there?

May I turn myself around smack dab in the middle of life’s road when I venture the opposite way, seeking to know it all over trusting the One who does.

“Jesus told him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me.”

‭‭John‬ ‭14:6‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I’d rather know Jesus than be a know it all.

Thank you, Father for answering my Friday night prayer on this quiet Saturday morning. I am yours. You are truth. Because of mercy, Amen

May I cling to this knowledge, I know God. God knows me.

Truth is.

This truth is all we need.

What is it that you are dying to know? Is there an issue, an affront, an unkind occurrence or maybe a hope you need to believe might come true?

May you, like me find peace if only at first in tiny little bits, in the truth of abiding in Him.

And may our tiny little epiphany moments lead to hours and eventual days and whole lives hemmed in safely by mercy, grace guiding us onward.

Onward in a way that absolutely no momentary circumstantial truth matters, only the truth Himself and the truth of Him.

Happy Saturday y’all! Today is a very good day!

Question of the Day

Abuse Survivor, bravery, contentment, courage, Easter, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

“Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?”

Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.””

‭‭John‬ ‭20:15‬ ‭ESV

“The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. He will not always chide, nor will he keep his anger forever.

He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;

as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭103:8-12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Bless the Lord, O’ my soul. Psalm 103:1

All Promises Forgotten

Abuse Survivor, bravery, contentment, courage, doubt, Easter, Faith, fear, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, hope, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

There’s a wide empty field there. An expanse of open where the sunbeams fall in different ways through the trees.

A sound sometimes catches me, a squirrel, a bird or so soft it could be just the movement of the weeds.

Yellow pops of joy on top of tall green.

I consider this midpoint on the trail, the level place before I shift to jog and then struggle up the sudden steep place of a curving hill.

Then round the corner, oh it feels so free!

I am effortless, I swoosh past the houses. I careen.

There is no easy stride without the one that requires an inward decision to keep going.

There is no bliss over arriving finally without the questionable continuing your journey.

Today is the day between the dark death of Jesus Christ and the glorious morning a mourner discovered the empty tomb.

Today is the middle day, the day marked by all promises forgotten.

Jesus told them it would be so.

A little while, and you will see me no longer; and again a little while, and you will see me. Jesus, to the disciples. John 16:16

‭‭

Yet, it was so very hard to believe.

The miracle of it all.

I believe.

Much of life gets hard when we are in between. This morning I read that God keeps all of His promises.

I’m prone to worry over whether or not that could be true for me, that’s the human in me as was the human in Jesus.

In the garden he prayed, if it is possible for me to achieve what is your will for every human, the creative works of your hand, if it is possible,

Father, God maybe you have another plan.

“And he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.”

And when he rose from prayer, he came to the disciples and found them sleeping for sorrow, and he said to them, “Why are you sleeping? Rise and pray that you may not enter into temptation.””

‭‭Luke‬ ‭22:41-42, 45-46‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In what ways have you suffered?

What memories have you that represent redemption, foster continued hope?

What years of depression and dismay have you survived?

Here’s an example from my Instagram on yesterday:

Why I believe in redemption. I open the mail thinking it’ll be just a copy of my diploma, instead it’s an emotional chronicle of about 10 or so years. I lost my art scholarship, came home to try Georgia Southern. Some things happened because of me and to me. In 1982, it ended, Academic Suspension. 10 years later, I began again and graduated “In Good Standing”. #thecolorsofmybible #redemptionstory #nevertoolate #beginagain

Everything is restorable.

Struggle yields hope.

What is meant to destroy, through Christ, seeking His will, pairing it with human discipline and determination, is a redeemable starting point for a story.

I’m not who I was.

Happy Easter weekend.

Continue and believe.

Known and Seen

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Forgiveness, grace, hope, love, mercy, praise, Prayer, pride, Redemption, rest, surrender, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

“Garden Girl”

It sounds very clinical and not necessarily positive at all,

To think God views us in an “under the microscope kind of way”.

But, He kinda does ya’ll, if you consider He knows everything.

“But even the hairs of your head are all numbered.” Jesus

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭10:30‬ ‭esv

That’s a miracle in and of itself.

Confirmation that He knows.

He knows which leave will fall first to the ground. Which morning bird will be the very first to sing, initiating a harmonious chorus.

Miracle it is, we are known and seen!

Miracles are everywhere. You might remember a few, decide to see it this way if you believe every second of every day plays out like an orchestrated performance,

God as the maestro, your life the powerful selection of calming peaceful repose in string, or crescendo arrival of horns fading into acceptance on delicate keys.

Yesterday met me with sincere congratulatory conversations.

One led to the question of what now or next?

I was bold, said I’m hoping to combine my nonprofit skills acquired in some way with my faith.

Perfect timing it was, a fellow faith based professional needs a grant-writer. We will meet next week, come up with a contract.

I said something along the lines of wow and then rambled on. She allowed me and calmly, steadily informed me.

This is God’s confirmation. You are taking the right steps. J.

I smiled, chills making their way down my calves to my feet.

I woke this morning after a sleep that was preceded by a conviction.

I’ve let some of my attitudes and behavior steer off course, turn corners fueled by pride, trying to keep my hands in and on things that are not mine.

Dangerously close to misrepresenting who I say I am because of Jesus.

“Fools’ words get them into constant quarrels; they are asking for a beating.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭18:6‬ ‭nlt

It’s a miracle!

Why so? It’s a miracle because I’m heeding what I heard God say over the voices in my world all in agreement with my bitterness, my resentment, my pride.

It’s a miracle that we get to hear God. There’s no other way to say it, God knowing me and saying so…

It’s a miracle.

I heard Him over the rallying behind me voices that say my attitude and pride are justified.

He knows the number of the hairs on my head.

He knows my ways. He knows and told me gradually yesterday and into now,

“Lisa Anne, get back to the place you are known. The place and temperament that I gave you and called you to use to show me to others.

Get quiet. Let your confidence stay quiet.

Ask forgiveness where it is needs to be offered.

Listen.

Because if you don’t you will miss out on the miracles I’m making in advance for you.

Move on, let go, accept that you are not in control.

I am.

Only control what you can, your attitude, your countenance that comes by staying closer to me and your willingness to retreat otherwise you will surely stumble, busting your butt on your pride.

You will fall flat on your face.” God, this morning.

What’s a miracle? Being known so well by my God, more than anyone will ever know.

Even more so, every single one of us is fully known the same.

God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice. me

(And now my blog has a category called “pride”)