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Jesus Made 13

bravery, confidence, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I saw the suggested “thinking point”, the prompt and I thought of the chosen twelve along with the one different, Jesus, 13 an odd number, odd man out you might say.

The shaker up of things, the confronter of issues needing confronting, the consistent comforter, healer, setting himself to the side rather than on a mighty place of notice.

12, he chose to be “fishers of men”, observers of sorrow, to travel by foot, by boat, by His side.

Peter, Andrew, Matthew (Levi), John (brother of James) Phillip, Bartholomew, Thomas, Judas, James, Thaddeus, James (the younger), Simon

12 who were the imperfect yet willing.

12 who had no idea what they were in for.

12 who were not untainted by personal flaws and failures.

12 who simply said yes.

12 maybe initially intrigued by the phenomenon of this healer, this man on a mission, this bold and powerful presence.

12 who agreed to follow and followed Him to the cross where everything changed for the 13th.

12 who saw His sacrifice for them, for us and if not changed by being with him before, knew they could surely be changed for good then.

12, occasional misfits, uncertain followers and a doubter along with a dissenter who chose death because of his disbelief.

Like us, like me.

Jesus said, come alongside me.

I will show you what God has planned.

Just follow, keep following me.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. – John 3:16-17

I’m linking up with others on the prompt of “13” for Five Minute Friday. Better than most times, I wrote freely for about 5 minutes.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/07/26/fmf-link-up-thirteen/

Learned Yesterday

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, grace, kindness, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Redemption, rest, Serving, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability, waiting

Before I forget, I must make a list of yesterday’s people.

A Board President gave the blessing before the meal at a gathering of grantees. He prayed for us, our work of love and for those who had yet to pass through our doors.

Before his “Amen” he paused as if the Spirit lingered long with Him and he longed to stay in that moment. Just as after his “Amen” his sense of God was so real he audibly acknowledged it, he kind of shook from the presence with an “Oh”.

Laughter with my friend/employee/spiritually wise one all the way to and from the gathering on the crazy construction mess of interstate.

We were safe.

A fellow grantee, selected as the spokesperson for her table and her response to the chosen question over our biggest obstacles in providing help to others. She, one by one listed needs that had been met for her Free Clinic simply by asking straight out and three times maybe four in beautiful oration, she paused and added:

Ask, that your joy may be complete!

Five women, separately but simultaneously because of the day, encouraged my writing after reading “Black Crow Mercies”.

One took the time to send an email, I only skimmed at first and read again before bed seeing the gift more clearly from God for me.

Thank you for who you are. This is not the first time God has used you to soften my heart. I am praying for your book. Just know it will bless.

Love from the camping ground,

Anna

 She has spoken hope for me, and dare I say, made reality, my writing of a book.

Later, two women I have written guest posts for sent me sweet words, one sharing my words, the other sharing my hopes and her hopes with me. She shared them in a podcast I’d never bothered to listen to.

I messaged her and wrote how her voice calmed me as she talked about peace, how happy I was to finally listen, to hear her sweet tone.

Even later, I went for a run and was exhilarated over how much this challenge of going a little farther has gotten hold of my heart.

Music in my ears, impressing me to continue.

Farther, farther along…

Farther Along

Running from the devil of depression, I allowed my acceptance of my truth.

I ran with new vigorous confidence and commitment towards my growing stronger, towards understanding.

Home, I announce to my son that I went farther. I ran farther this time. I head to the kitchen to finish dinner and it’s healthy, I’m healthy.

I think of a writer named Lisa, remembering I told her I’d guest post again and letting the ball drop on my end.

Then I see her comment from 12 hours before and my name in her post, my words, “Black Crow Mercies” shared for her friends.

I commented how unbelievably timely her sharing, for I felt she’d long forgotten me because of my forgetting her.

Two writers, males, commented as well. One in agreement with my realizations on being different, one affirming I’m “good, okay, different”.

People on my path.

Lord, you never delay too long. Thank you for showing that what I decided to believe once again will in fact be true.

In a little while, I knew I would see.

In a little while, I knew I’d again believe.

Because of mercy, Amen.

linking this post up with others at Tell His Story hosted by Mary Geisen.

http://marygeisen.com/foreigner-in-a-foreign-land/

Happy Way of Life – #13

contentment, courage, Faith, grace, happy, kindness, love, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Humbled, but unashamed.

What is wonderful

Priceless

Invaluable in this life I live

Boundaried and buffeted by grace

Is that correction, His is gentle.

Spiritual redirection that’s simply an invitation and recognition of harsh thinking or word,

It is gradual and a gift without expectation of my equal exchange.

A gift not wrapped in bright red paper colored shame.

I heard once, the only verses or sermon we might need to perhaps live with one another in the whole world in His hands more mercifully would be these:

the Beautitudes

2 And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying:

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

4 “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

5 “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

6 “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.

7 “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.

8 “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.

9 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.

10 “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

11 “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.

12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you. – Matthew 5:2-12

Humbled, gently stirred towards correction but, unashamed.

My happy way of life.

Noticing the stirring in my soul, preparing my new season

gradually

gracefully.

Invocation Interrupted Realization, Different

bravery, Faith, memoir, mercy, Prayer, Uncategorized, Unity, wonder

It will not escape my notice and my notice will not let me let it go.

I’d love to say it didn’t matter. I’d like to be able to see differences and responses different than my own and be okay.

It bothers me that I am different.

Puzzles me.

Bothers me only because of the surprise of its realization.

That, when prior to “purposeful thought” and invocation, I had the courage to ask that we pray for the ones grieving, shocked and tousled by unforeseen tragic death of son.

And yet, we didn’t.

I’d love to not be bothered by this avoidance, this uncomfortable, unexpected and possibly, I suppose unnecessary sharing of my asking that we sort of go a little askew of agenda.

Not a word spoken, awkward sideways glances to see my face.

More surprise over my suggestion.

More surprise than consideration or sympathy or even pause to consider the sorrow, the struggle, the sadness of another.

I wish this could be uplifting, that I could offer observation on compassionate one towards another concern.

Instead, I reviewed the minutes from the meeting and the order was quite wrong.

“Lisa shared a sad story” after invocation,when actually, yes quite intentionally, it was before.

Pray, I say pray one for the other.

Pray without ceasing and without boundaries, pray without pause, without notes and without reservation and open to interruption.

I pray I continue.

I pray I continue to pray this way.

I cannot imagine any way other.

Other than different, different in a way that doesn’t bother me after all.

Only surprised me, confounded me, caught me a little off guard.

Pray about everything. No notes required.

Now Jesus was praying in a certain place, and when he finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” – Luke 11:1

I am different, I am realizing.

Different in an unwelcome bold and unafraid way, initially a surprise and now, after thinking, a sort of okay, yes, good, okay, acknowledgement of better way for me.

This world is not my home.

Black Crow Mercies

Art, birds, bravery, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting

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 told him, “Our troubles are minuscule” as we rode together bemoaning things that were trivial trials in our life.

We are well. Our children are well. We have what we need.

But last week, a crow flew just in front of my car as I turned in to the lot and as I’m prone to do, I took it to mean dismay.

I was early for work, not my norm.

Timely, I thought, just perfect for this pessimistic air all around me, my living and breathing blah apprehension.

Pity, full.

I open the door to step into the day and they all begin, a few of them now, to make the “caw” call of mockery seeking my notice.

I had a deadline, I resisted the idea, struggled to put together the right “ask” begrudgingly came to work to begin.

A minute into the task, an application for grant funds, I was interrupted and I huffed.

Corrected myself, listened and then explained my deadline.

The one who interrupted my day told me he would pray.

Later, I would be able to share with him the ease of completing the application.

More interruptions, people stopping by to help. I told them I couldn’t talk and they said rather curtly, knowing me…”okay don’t talk”.

Sometimes I’m so “unpeople”.

Left alone with my work, I completed the task, I asked the grantor for what we truly needed rather than something new and contrived, I was honest.

Then, I joined the ones who came to help me with another task they’d volunteered for, my husband, daughter, and grandson, giving up their Thursday to help lighten my load.

I walked in and they were working so very well together, hanging drapes, hanging pictures, it was unnecessary for me to be there.

I quickly chastised my husband as he hung the large painting off kilter. My daughter cut her eyes, cocked her head and said: “Mama, stop barking orders.”

Oh yes, I can be demanding.

I can forget to be grateful. Sitting on the beach, we heard of sudden serious illness and added this father to our dinner blessing.

My husband asked, “Do you think God does things to get our attention? Do you think God wants to humble people through tragic unexpected things?”

Immediately, I replied, “Well, I don’t know how I’ve dodged the bullet then.”

No further discussion.

Almost a week later, a young father has died in an accident and the one on life support has been healed.

Who are we to know? Who are we to comprehend?

God is able. Able to know all.

We are not.

On Saturday, I was grouchy again.

Stubborn and lazy. I was uncertain of putting myself out there again. My art and I would be on display, a new opportunity, a new place to hopefully make a profit. If my aunt and uncle hadn’t traveled two hours for the market, I had decided already to back out.

I sold three paintings, minimal profit.

I answered three people when they asked about Isaiah 30:15 and I told them why this verse is the one I call my life, how I’m better when I’m quietly confident in God.

What I didn’t say was how around 7:00 a.m I had to get myself in check and let my knees find the floor beside my bed to ask God to help me radiate this verse, this “quiet confidence”.

He did.

Conversations about comfort occurred, comparisons of struggles and needs were brought to my attention and I listened, I really listened.

A photographer I admire commissioned a piece and she told me that I should, yes …” You should write the book.”

Kind words were offered about my paintings. I accepted them.

The sweetest thing ever, my aunt, an ever observant one said: “I feel so good about you living here, I see how many people need and care about you..”

I said sincerely, thank you to onlookers without a tone of pity or pleading for purchase.

I asked God for the day I needed and He answered by showing me the beauty of contentment and of His being with me.

Now it’s Monday and the birds have begun to show up slowly after an overnight rain. Gradually, they are moving limb to limb, testing the branches and cavorting about.

My prayers are for the hurting, the very sick, both sickness of the heart and the body. For the hard hardness of unforeseen grief and tragic too early death. For those whose role assigned by You is one of bringing comfort and wisdom to all, I pray you equip and embrace them.

My prayers are of gratitude for what I was taught by God this weekend, what I was taught to recognize, consider and not forget,

Your presence, here.

My “art room” is back in order now, my writing space awaits. I’ll get back to it soon, not be hampered by the pressures of my pride, pitifully pitting me against myself.

Such an exhausting battle, unnecessary.

I will wait and I will ask again, how can I write in a way that is quietly confident, that emanates your grace, your mercy, my faith?

How can I see the birds overhead and remember my worth, not be woeful?

How can I glorify you as I continue in intentional surrender?

I can’t wait to see, to sense and to follow in this way, the way of grace and peace.

Show us your glory.

We know you are able.

Help us to recall our hardship only in terms of remembering your healing.

My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. – Lamentations 3:20-23

Looking for my red birds and robins today.

I know they are near.

Crows maybe too, the noisy crows sent to remind me of deliverance, of mercy.

God, we know you are with us. We know you are able, we are listening for you.

Comfort us as comforters and ease the hurt of grieving hearts.

Because of mercy,

Amen, me

Coffee and Morning

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, family, love, memoir, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

On our final beach day, I wake to the sound of lawnmower instead of sweet birds, the closest to sleeping in all vacation and the landscapers are I guess, trying to beat the heat.

Timely, typical.

I groan.

A dog, I decide small, someplace chimes in and it’s crazy because both our dogs left early, yesterday with the children.

Isn’t it ironic? …it figures.

Alanis Morissette

Redirecting the day, I start the coffee and go for the pretty cup, not a morning I’ve had quiet.

Today, I return to bed and inventory my prayer list.

Haphazard or just right I had wondered when I couldn’t squeeze it in, my typical time alone.

So, one word was all. “Insight” was my petition.

I’m looking over my list now and what I just experienced, thinking about what felt like literal stirring in my soul, an uncomfortable unrest.

We watched the waves last night under the crescent moon.

High over the ocean from the pier, the sound of the churning up from underneath, the bringing in of new and the taking out of old, the tide a gentle yet powerful change.

My word, again.

Insight.

Hoping for change; but, maybe scared that quite very possibly it is possible.

Scary, the reality that God is readying me for something different and I know it.

Say to wisdom, “You are my sister,” and call insight your intimate friend, – Proverbs 7:4

I know it because my chest is filled with stirring over the potential and it makes me just a little bit afraid.

Returning to my words and His word, I read about the way He carries me, helps me carry my load and I’m remembering His eye on the sparrow and I’m remembering He is the potter, I’m just clay.

And I’m glad for the storing up of these promises because I’m believing based on this stirring that He is preparing me and He is preparing new and new ways.

I’ll be strong, stronger with Him helping to carry me and my load.

Faces like Flint

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, marriage, mercy, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Walking in step with the other, he paused when she paused. Each holding a skinny canned beverage boasting caffeine.

I’m standing in the kitchen of our vacation place, cleaning up from the breakfast spread, I look down to stare.

I’m drawn to their partnership, she takes his drink as he looks down towards the little boy with his face towards his lap and his arms angled perfectly at his sides, his legs positioned the same, the child seated in a small wheelchair.

It’s early and not so crowded, already hot, I decide they’re set on letting him see the ocean, planning to beat the Saturday crowd.

The man waits while the woman lights her cigarette, he takes a sip from his can and then passes it back to her. She manages all three, her Red Bull, his Monster and her Marlboro.

With both hands, he grips firm the wheelchair and as they pass by underneath, I step back, hoping to go unnoticed, my gaze and my sad sympathy.

Because they were determined in their partnership, their faces without expression, their eyes hollowed slightly.

Their day unfolding and being met by their best effort to continue, I felt.

I looked away. It’d be a shame I decided to have them see the pity in my eyes or worse, really, the acknowledgment of gratitude in my gaze that my life is mine.

But the Lord GOD helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame. – Isaiah 50:7

Their faces set like flint and continuing forward, Lord help them I pray, lighten their loads and bless them in their endeavors with their child, help them to know you see them, that you see them unafraid and unashamed. Help me to see others, see others more than I see me.

Never Walk Alone

Abuse Survivor, Angels, bravery, confidence, courage, grace, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

I’m led to Matthew 11 and happen upon the words of Jesus I have over time found hard to relate to, difficult to apply and for me, a struggle to see as I am meant to see.

Over time though, my overthinking has thankfully become lessened,

over time.

Struggling still, to understand the “yoke”, I try to be visual of what it might look like for Jesus to have a yoke attached to his back.

Thinking naturally of animals: oxen, donkeys, maybe cows or a poor old countryman, thin and worn, breaking up the land for seed and pushing forward

Bent by what’s behind him, intent on going forward.

A posture I do understand.

Struggling, but determined, working hard, a hard working tired soul.

This morning, I opened my Bible to see a girl reminiscent of me in the border.

On a morning some time before I must have begun to understand the yoke thing momentarily

even more so, thankfully, now.

If I had my way, I might prefer to open my Bible and read the tiny words as if a guide or simple self-help.

I know now that it’s the drawing in that is God’s desire and I’m drawn to consider meaning, there is cause for me to get quiet.

It is God’s intent.

That I get again and again, quietly confident.

To read, reread, can’t quite relate and after a while, begin to understand.

The passage about the yoke, I’ve long been unable “to get”.

But, this morning, I see.

I see.

Jesus is saying, let me come alongside you, let’s walk together. Here, I’ll put one side of the yoke on my back and you take the other.

Leave your old yoke behind Lisa Anne, trade it for mine.

Mine is for you, not working against you and it is like me, gentle, not proud and not boisterous and burdened or stumbling along defeated by the arduous trek.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Jesus -Matthew 11:28-30

Abide, stay near and in rhythm with me, your steps are now syncing with mine and mine with yours.

Today, and tomorrow and on and on, a promise here for your believing,

You never have to walk alone

There is rest here beside me

Rest for your soul.

Bearer of Sorrows and Healer of Horrors

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, memoir, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting

Matthew, Chapter 8 describes Jesus as a healer.

A healer of a leper, a servant fortunate to have a compassionate owner, a woman lying sick with unrelenting fever, and men tortured by mental demons.

The first was healed by an outreached hand, the slave healed from a distance at the request of his humble and heartbroken owner.

The touch of a fevered and weak hand and finally the exit of horrendous mental illness via a herd of pigs.

I’ve never experienced an unrelenting fever or been incapacitated by pain, physical nor evil, mental torment.

I have carried burdens for too long though and been bent by their load.

The words of the prophet Isaiah remind me I’m best when I’m quietly confident and now more than ever that I no longer should dwell on the past, that I should see all the good that is springing up before me.

And I have, yes, I have surely seen the springing up and I’m getting better at forgetting.

Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. – Isaiah 43:18

Everyday I drive by a tiny church. The sign out front remaining the same for weeks.

Do not return to the place God delivered you from.

church sign truth

I pass by, look either straight towards the truth or give a sideways glance.

Okay, okay yes, I know.

Matthew Chapter 8, is all about healing with reminders of rescue thrown in, a boat tossed by sudden storm and the disciples who’d just witnessed miraculous healing by the one accompanying them.

Jesus was sleeping like a baby.

They wake him and he calms the storm, a reminder to them and us of who He is, will always be.

25 And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.”

26 And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. – Matthew 8:25-26

Isaiah prophesied that Jesus would bring healing and that he would bear our burdens, that our heavy loads and sorrows would be His if we would allow it to be, that the cross would be the place of understanding, finally.

These horrors, this pain, these burdens, this trauma, we can leave them with Him, we can if we will, lay down our heavy loads.

This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah: “He took our illnesses and bore our diseases.” – Matthew 8:17

The yoke that is not ours to be bent by we can let go.

Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.

But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. – Isaiah 53:4-5

Someone skilled in understanding trauma posed the question to a group of us affected by such, her question about finally moving past…

How will you know? TT

And the answer, I believe quite possibly will be,

When you choose to truly believe in your healing. me

Lord, help those of us confounded by our pasts to believe and help not to be sidelined by the ever present reminders of our own making but, the constant conversations intent on igniting our fears, our memories, our fight or flight and mostly our tendency to carry our loads of sorrow again. Be our healer, Jesus, the healer of all, still.

May my healing journey bring hope to others. Because of your mercy, I am able to say,

Amen

Catching up on reading the words of others, I love the way Mary describes her inner scars and the suggestion that the ones that show now are the ones resulting from the places Jesus healed us. I’m late to the link-up but thought my thoughts here are somewhat similar.

Tell His Story

Beautiful in Time

Angels, Art, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting

I prayed and then I answered the questions of me, the ones that would be an introduction of me.

I’d been chosen as a featured artist.

But, on Wednesday, I’d decided it wasn’t to be and eventually settled into accepting that “It wasn’t time”.

And my stretch of running was longer, the trail bordered by new and unoccupied houses. The roots trying to burst through concrete making it necessary that I lift my feet in little jumps.

Down the last hill and I kept my pace, choosing the cul-de-sac lane farthest from eyes and running past the sprinklers misting my calves.

Frustration mixed with apathy, my fuel to press on.

Eventually, shifted to walking and the song in my ears said creation sings God’s praises and so should I.

The sky fat with puffs of gray and black shapes of birds darting across my path.

I said to myself what I felt in the sky.

“It’s not time.” I accepted this as truth. Simply, “It’s not time.”

Later, I recalled the conversation,  her reply to my inquiry over my art not selling “It comes in spells.”

The clamor over my creations had faded.

I considered it becoming just a hobby, cover the walls with bright or subtle, simple or not. Or just stack ’em in the corners, have people say “Oh” when they stop by and I could say, “Here, take it, it’s yours.”

Joyless bartering for validation, the way I’d become.

I looked closely at the newest piece, still oily and moist, her expression was mine and yet, she was patient, more serene.

Aspirations and need for notice had begun to taint my treasure.

It was good to finally hear God and know there are still plans for my future.

“It’s not time.” I heard it again.

Then came Thursday and still waiting to hear from something still.

I walked around all day with a heavy sense of lost hope.

I was honest and told God first thing, I don’t know how to do the thing I thought I was made to do, how to do everything for your glory, not mine.

I was clear, I mean who really knows how to do these things, to surrender to His plan, to wait and not grow weary all the while feeling useless and filled with doubt?

It’s hard for me, I realized and I owned up to my not knowing how or if.

Then, I left that there with Him and I carried on still carrying my load a little.

Then I named it later, my apathy.

It was my “sense of possibility” I had lost.

Lying on the gym floor, staring at ceiling tiles and I figured it out, the loss of “possibility” thinking.

Round two, same thing, same tiles and this time a but…”you can do everything through Christ” and “everything is possible if you believe”.

How had I forgotten that promise and the one about all things through Him?

And Jesus said to him,

“‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.” – Mark 9:23

Worn and sweaty, we stretch and we’re done.

I settle in to my car and checking my phone for messages, none.

I go to my mail and my thumb moves quickly to swipe and delete junk and same old same ol’ and there it is…the reply,

the next step.

“…got your artwork and we’re excited to have you featured in the next edition. Just need you to answer these questions.”

It is time.

I said Thank you, Lord, no more, no less.

Prayed about my replies and replied.

Now it’s Friday and like every other evening, I unclasp my bracelet and remove my ring, take my earrings out and let them rest safely.

I reach for my watch and loosen the leather from the loop.

I lay them all down and I discover something new I’ve never seen, the underside of my watch’s face, in the center engraved.

A gift for my birthday from my daughter and son in law almost a year ago now and the words I’m so surprised to see, I call her and she says, “Yes, I had it engraved.”

Everything is beautiful

In its time.

Soon, I’ll share the pages of the publication that will be sharing my art and I’ll share my reply to the question of why and when and

how to continue in this craft, this treasure, this thing God made yours,

the words that came at just the right time.

Maybe others might need to know again.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. – Ecclesiastes 3:11

I’ll thank God for not ever letting me go, and for lessons and grace and more, on time.

I’ll cherish this happening of something I never thought likely and I will pray.

I will pray, I get better at waiting.