Happy Way of Life

birds, contentment, grace, happy, kindness, Peace, rest, Stillness, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

#…Oh, I’ve lost count.

I’m sittin’ on the shaded end of the pool and content with not a hint of celebration of the independence kind going on.

Me, poolside.

The bass from the neighbor’s get together serenade is thumpin’ sorta subtle, Rolling Stones “No Satisfaction”.

Stevie Nicks and before that a little Steve Miller followed by the long longing “Faithfully” of Journey.

Distant sounds of dove coos with intermittent breeze causing my inhale and I’ve changed from jeans to stretchy gym stuff.

Because, I worked a little while.

At our shelter.

Now, I’m home.

I pull my legs up, settle in for a bit and swing ’em over the chair and decide I’m good here…

Yeah, the music continues beyond the fences…”Here Comes my Girl…”

Reminiscent, Bittersweet, like before but better.

Yes, “Turn the Page”.

30 Days of Favor | Lisa Tindal

Uncategorized

Opportunities to string together my thoughts into words , I consider each of them from God, Dawn’s 30 Days of Favor, is one of those.

My piece is about finding grace and remembering how impossible it is to lose it for long.

Dawn Leopard's avatarDawn Leopard

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Lisa Anne Tindal is the mother of two children, Heather, a first-grade teacher who is married to her high school sweetheart, Benji, and Austin, a senior at The Citadel. Lisa works as the Director of a non-profit providing support to those struggling with mental illness, a shelter for single mothers and children who are homeless and support and awareness in regards to suicide. Lisa is fortunate to be married to a man who understands her need to for quiet time devoted to creativity, writing and painting. Lisa’s writing and artwork can be seen at: https://quietconfidence-artandword.blog/ Lisa considers her career her mission field and is prayerful in her efforts to help others. she believes in the truth of “But, for the grace of God, there go I.”  Lisa is involved in children’s ministry and WMU in her home church, Bethcar Baptist Church in Wagener, SC

Lost Shoes and Songs about Grace

This morning, I woke the same as most mornings…

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Knowing our Names

Art, bravery, courage, Homeless, mercy, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

My husband just handed me the morning paper and I glanced over to see new coaches “named”, young people serving in summer projects and a line stretched across the middle about a “gunman” and five lost lives. No mention of the names, the story not yet complete.

As a child, my cousins and I all hurried into town because my granddaddy, “Dan Dan” might have seen a famous man. My granddaddy, was named Austin, my grandma was Doris followed by Evelyn,their last name, it was Peacock.

It was a big deal when they heard he was coming through and since everybody flocked to see him, I reckon we went too.

Or, I don’t know, maybe we just happened to be with our grandma and we waited on the sidewalk with the others in a town with just a caution light, one grocery store and eventually, my mama’s little cafe’.

My family might tell a different story than the one my memory cradles. I’m learning this happens to some of us, some of us with clarity buffered by old wounds.

But, I remember the excitement of him, the “Goat Man”

I first thought he’d be scary, a creature like man and goat, my little girl imagination found it not at all nonsensical to decide.

Instead, he was old and bearded and he sat up high on a seat with an even loftier pile of his belongings, a handwritten sign telling the onlookers they should prepare to meet God.

All of his stuff and him, pulled slowly forward by a bunch of goats tethered and it seemed to me the little animals were confused and without other options.

Is it goats or sheep they say are not so intelligent? I believe it’s sheep, maybe goats too.

Random, I know, I thought about the Goat Man the other day, thought about his choice to live in such a way. I wanted to know more, were there photos, was there more to explore about his way of wandering?

My initial fascination was over the load he carried, his burdensome travel and I’d planned to correlate it to thoughts on our burdens and worrisome load. Instead, I began to be fascinated by his life, his name, his chosen way.

I googled “The Goat Man” and was happy that I’d remembered him correctly, found photos in counties surrounding my county of childhood, peered closely at his load and tried to see exactly what all he carried.

I looked closely for signs of vocation, curious over how he made his way.

I saw his name, the name his mama gave him and the one that came from the father.

It was Charles.

What a solid name I thought, Charles.

I bet not many of us knew it. I read of his life as an itinerant preacher and how he’d been mugged a couple of times; but, was trying to make it to California. There was a certain actress his heart was set on meeting.

Eventually, he gave up and his mind and heart must’ve acknowledged there was no more preaching for him to do and no more ground to cover.

I thought of a man named John, actually two that have crossed my path more than once.

One, refusing help because of his need for inebriation. He continues sleeping in an old abandoned place. The other walks the streets and the back roads or I’ve seen him resting on the tables the Publix employees use for breaks.

Both of them have beautiful names, John.

I’m remembering Amanda…the one I’ve heard is so thin I’d not recognize now. If I saw her, I’d try to welcome her back in. Can’t help but think of the beauty of her name and the sweet lilting melody of Waylon Jennings…”Amanda…light of my life…”

Now I’m wondering if she’s ever heard the song, I’m trying to figure out how I might be sure she listens, how I’d rush to greet her, hold her in a hug and say her name, “Amanda” she’d be sure to know I was so glad to find her.

Yesterday, we were talking, our shelter staff and I, a former volunteer is coming to work. An answer to a prayer that God send staff who want more than just a job, people who understand why we help, someone with compassion.

And He has. He sent two by surprise.

She mentioned some names and we lingered long over the ones who were in good places, were wordless over the ones who’d again lost their way.

We can’t fully understand what we don’t know.

We can only respond with the kindness, kindness like calling them by name not by circumstance.

Not homeless, not drunk or druggie, not lazy or entitled, not “Goat Man” and not crazy, gunman or victim.

Charles chose to travel with God and goats and all of his belongings, it seems he was oblivious to the gawking eyes and spectacle of himself. He left his legacy, a big sign pointing out God.

Preparing to speak about suicide on Monday, I updated my bio and I added some things I’d not mentioned before, a description of an artist, a writer. Not elaborate or showy in their mention, simply acknowledged in a new way.

Unafraid to believe in the possibility of both and that mine and other stories can be rewritten.

“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?

Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You have given him dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under his feet,

the birds of the heavens, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the seas.

O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” Psalms 8:3-6, 8-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

God is mindful of us, of us all.

He knows our names.

In tragedy and triumph, He knows.

Happy Way of Life #11

bravery, contentment, courage, grace, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I ran farther than before and with a rhythm in my ear, I taught myself to breathe.

I felt it was enough and then the song I thought was new, I’ve learned is old, told me it was true.

The enough I knew was true.

Flood Waters

Still, I listened and loved it again. This song about being up to my neck in stuff gone wrong, settled stagnantly defeated and conversations leaving me longing to say more.

Love more.

Ran a little extra, into my grassy front yard, circling back towards the bird bath, plucking a purple bloom from the bottom of the shrub and remembering the feather

I’d forgotten, tucked safely against my breast.

“Somewhere in between forever and this passing day

There’s a place moth and rust cannot lay waste

This is grace, the face of love…” Flood Waters, Josh Garrells

Able to Run

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, eating disorder, Faith, grace, memoir, mercy, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Almost 100 degrees and not expected to drop until around 8:00, so I lace up my shoes and I set out.

Thought of the earbuds but chose silence thinking is there any good thing extra I might hear and benefit from?

Striving for every kernel of truth, every recommendation for continuation or confirmation that the things I’m doing I’m doing right.

Instead my arms are free, the pavement too hot for the Labrador, I’m energized by the thought of just the one thing, the decision to walk swiftly until I reach the spot at the top of the long stretch of hill to the place that is level, obscured and a straightaway.

It is hot. My breathing rebellious against my plan and pattern and my legs, large and weighty as I try to be rhythmic in their lifting. “I just can’t run.” I’m known to say and today I was told “It’s a mental game.”

So, I remembered the days of before, the steep hills on the North Georgia campus, early morning my roommate and I starving ourselves in the cafeteria and running three times around the campus.

That was a different determination.

One contentious and filled with a fervent need to control at least one thing I could, my weight, my body, my fear in a strange and new environment.

“But forget all that— it is nothing compared to what I am going to do. For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭43:18-19‬ ‭

I make it past five fences and houses and give in, I walk and then turn the corner towards the road shaded and step it up again.

Different now, I notice my feet lightly falling and my forwardness more at ease.

Cars pass and I’m unconcerned by the shape of my shorts riding up, crooked and cornered. I continue.

Different, my pace, softer.

Quiet thoughts become prayer.

Lord, thank you that I’m able.

Help me to be more willing.

me

I considered the things I’ve decided of late, bravely trying and being unconcerned with how far I might go or if I might not be invited to participate at all, knowing I’d not go anywhere at all

Unless I stepped out.

Stepped forward. Changed some things, cared less about who is watching, waiting for my fall, surrendering back to the sameness of me.

I told my cousin that I’d decided to put my art out in a new places, broader landscapes, it seems it’s not as popular here, or maybe it’s run its course.

She replied,

Even Jesus wasn’t popular in his own hometown, he had to leave, go other places. VC

So quick was her retort, a few words in a lovely and long conversation, wise kernels sprinkled in through her from God.

I arrived home, red faced and t-shirt clinging to my chest, my face sweaty and making little trails on my cheeks, I go for cold water.

Saying to my son, “I ran more than before.”

His reply, “Keep adding to it. Every day add more, that’s what it takes.”

I thought again about the thought becoming a prayer, thankful at my age and with all the trauma of my past, its potential toll on my body and my mind, my soul, that I am able and I’m more willing than ever.

So, my prayer will be that God sustains my able state while I catch up on my willingness, while I continue at a smooth and steady race towards the ideas He decided were for me a very long time ago.

Remembering it was art that landed me in that place of my youth and I faltered there, I was harmed in some horrible ways and yet, it remains the determination to create, the words, the colors, the love of expression.

I am still able.

Thank God, I’m able.

Able to move forward, sporadic spurts or long stretches strengthened by ability and a new decisive willingness.

Through Him.

He is able. He is willing.

LINKING THIS STORY UP WITH OTHERS WHO LOVE TO TELL OUR STORIES OF JESUS. LINK HERE:  http://marygeisen.com/laughter-is-the-best-medicine/

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A New Thing

Uncategorized

This evening, I created a separate blog site for my art work. I’ll still be blogging here; but, my art will be in a place of its own and as scary as it feels It’ll be a place to grow my presence as an artist.

Pretty soon I’ll have it displaying past sold or commissioned pieces as well as new pieces  available for purchase.

I’m taking some steps closer to believing

in myself and in

painting, finally.

Here’s the link in case you’d like to follow.

Lisa Anne Tindal

All Sinking

confidence, contentment, Faith, grace, kindness, love, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

“Write prompted by the word, ocean” the Thursday tweet announced and I thought, well, that’s different, broad and seems neither inspirational or instructional in a faith kind of way.

I gave my own interpretation of something yesterday on “selfie day” being celebrated and too late, I realize now it may have been a tad bit haughty, self-righteous,

My parading my words via the social sites on how God wants our focus on Him and not our own ways and wills, our “selves”.

I mentioned how Peter stepped over the ledge of the storm shaken boat and seeing Jesus in the distance began to walk that way, forgetting his humanity and his own feet incapable of standing on the surface of the ocean, much less walking.

He remembered though and he found himself human, he realized he was just a man and he began to tremble, his legs close to folding and sinking.

Jesus helped him up, said come on…let me lead you the rest of the way.

Lord, thank you for helping me walk your way, for rescuing me from the places I’m particularly close to falling back into.

Me

My sister posted a picture yesterday of my nephew strategically getting a good swift start and diving from a cliff into some beautiful ocean somewhere I’ve never seen.

I “loved” it; but, I was jealous. I’ve seen oceans only a half a day by car and less than two States away.

Another person posted a photo of their husband, his arms wide open and she doesn’t say it; but, because the sea is a sea near the places Jesus lived, walked and prayed,

I pondered the beauty of this woman’s husband in that place.

I imagined him praying, quietly, privately praising

The ocean wide and vast and immeasurable.

My afflictions, self-pity and the like…thank God…they’re eclipsed by His glory!

How He Loves

If His grace is an ocean

We’re all sinking.

Crowder

Someone else posted a need for prayer, and I momentarily questioned it, their need or their “neediness”.

Today, I’m close again to quietly breaking up with Facebook because of all the negativity and all the unnecessary.

All of the fodder for hopelessness and questionable happiness, I’m toying with the idea of stepping away.

Social media, the place where comparison lives, tells me either my life sucks or someone else’s does and at least I’m not that crazy or that less than enough.

A seesaw of needing more and being depressed over our lack or celebrating decidedly haughtily at least I’m not as needy for notice as they are!

We judge others, we judge ourselves using glimpses, only teeny tiny glimpses of lives on screens.

In today’s, devotional from Oswald Chambers I read a stern message.

I read that Jesus tells us not to judge others, not because it’s wrong or because it doesn’t fulfill the one thing He said, we must do;

But, because we need to know this:

Our conclusions drawn of others and our methods that measure them are precisely the measures that will be used on us.

The greatest characteristic of a saint is humility, as evidenced by being able to say honestly and humbly,

“Yes, all those, as well as other evils, would have been exhibited in me if it were not for the grace of God. Therefore, I have no right to judge.

Oswald Chambers

I suppose like most things, we don’t truly get it until “it’s about us”.

Someone suggested, several times a day, we say it.

It’s not about me. It’s not about me.

Those of us who prefer the written expression over the verbal, we open our Bibles and think “Oh, this is significant, I’m enlightened now! I must say a few words and thereby possibly enlighten another.”

More careful, considerate and even calculated maybe I should be, less me.

Not condescending,

Late last night, I scrolled through the sweetest selfies on my Instagram, bubbly faces with friends and single souls smiling widely!

I regretted my judgement of the day being unnecessary.

Who am I to say?

I’m glad there’s more than an ocean full, grace.

Enough to just rightly so, fear my sinking, only to look up, look inward and recalibrate my wondering thoughts, to focus on truths of Him.

Drawn to redemption, welcomed actually.

“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭7:1-2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Happy Way of Life #10

confidence, contentment, courage, happy, memoir, Peace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Thick, thick steamy not yet even summer day and

without much thought

at all

I decide against a meeting,

not necessarily required but expected.

And go straight home.

Peaceably, later I walk alone.

Intentional, the swing of my arms and the strength of my stride

The sun fades making shadows and settles warm like ocean tide

Shallow, against my legs treading back toward home

As I press on and on

On my own and better

For choosing home over expectation.

“Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after wind.”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭4:6‬ ‭ESV‬

A happy way of life.

Linking up with others at Tell His Story

Are We There Yet

Hope of Glory

bravery, confidence, courage, Faith, heaven, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, suicide loss, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

If you google “glory” there’s not a word, synonym, noun or verb that would be close to heaven.

Maybe it’s the mystery, the mystery of it all that we can’t quite grasp.

Even when we believe, heaven is our hope.

It is our glory. For me and I pray, you.

It’s our eternity.

A long time ago, I began a support group for people who lost loved ones to their choice of dying, suicide.

The initiation of the group coincided with a piece I was asked to write, a Community betterment series, my choice of a topic and I called it, “The Tragedy of Speculation”.

I had been changed, many times over now, by those who sat around my table recalling the death of someone close.

My piece essentially said “Let’s stop talking about the suicide in a way that’s not helpful. Let’s stop faking our sympathy when we simply want to point fingers and say who missed the signs, how far the person had swayed off course or how the family, the parents must not have been doing what they should have.”

My commentary was a little softer back then; but, the thing is, people want to dissect something they don’t understand in hopes they can be certain “never me”.

Thus, the tragedy of speculation

Suicide, a tragic mystery.

About the same time, I got a phone call.

An older man with gravel in his voice, assertive and impatient it seemed with this task he was tasked to do.

To call me and give his input.

I answered, confirmed I was the author of the article and he announced:

If you want to prevent suicide you need to start telling people if they do that they will go straight to Hell!

A tad but unsettled; but, prepared because of my childhood exposure to preachers spittin’ orders and threats all over the pews,

I replied, calmly, I would never tell someone that because I don’t believe it.

Silence on the other end, I sensed his surprise by my candor.

Several years later, the numbers in our county and our country keep growing.

Could such a declaration change that? Possibly, no, probably not.

Would you tell someone about a sure place called Hell over Heaven and compromise the character grace and mercy of Jesus to save a life?

I’m thinking this is not what God means by salvation.

No, not I.

I wonder what Bourdain thought of God. Kate Spade, as well.

If momentarily in the deep place of a resignation not to go on they simply could no longer sense the wonder.

Much conversation is occurring now about depression, about suicide.

I’m no licensed professional. I’m just a noticer.

And I suppose if my sometimes seemingly naive approach could add anything to the discussion.

I’d say, let’s think empirically.

Let’s come forth for that person from all perspectives, friend, family, faith, medicine, aspirations, accomplishments, addictions recovery and reminders of possibility.

Let’s do better at coming alongside in whatever our way and staying beside.

It’s a battle they most likely are waging war against and became weary with all the shots coming at them from every imaginable direction, internal and external.

Wounds not fully healed, maybe they’d grown tired of the reoccurring reminders.

And depression, a deep hole, maybe it becomes a safe bunker and maybe the choice to surrender, to finally, finally retreat.

Their decision.

This is why I continue.

I continue to try to understand it, suicide.

Why I say faith in God is not the cure for depression or the saver of those suicidal.

What it is is a certain and steadfast complement to healing, to have a reason to live.

“For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”

‭‭Colossians‬ ‭1:13-14‬ ‭NIV‬‬

To believing new things are possible.

A hopeful complement in this crazy, horrible and often hindered world.

Paul and Timothy told the Colossian believers, you’ve come so far, I know it seems mysterious; but, it is what God created you for, the riches of a glorious mystery.

“To them God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.”

‭‭Colossians‬ ‭1:27‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The hope of glory.

Most everything about God’s word feels mysterious to me at times.

Like, how I pray and because I believe in Jesus, he intercedes for me.

It’s a mystery to me, a glorious mystery I’ve seen to be true in the simplest and grandest of ways.

A chubby freckle faced little girl grows up and begins to believe God is for her and she prays for opportunities every single day and they come and she continues boldly even when afraid.

Because she believes now, finally that her hope is Christ and He sees her settled, finally surrendered and new things, new things keep springin’ up!

“Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭43:18-19‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’ll not talk so much about glory with one considering suicide or one trying hard to prevent it.

But, hope, oh I’ll surely tell them of hope.

Lord, help me to never hinder, always to remind of hope!

To use all you’ve given me the opportunity to know and to complement my knowledge with your grace and mercy and my strength only through you, my hope.

Because of mercy, Amen

Our county has a Coalition to Prevent Suicide, yours may as well. We are all concerned about the increase in numbers and continuously increase our efforts.

Visit here: Coalition for Suicide Prevention of Aiken County

Or the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

Know the signs, intervene and if Hope is a thing for you, a sure and steady God thing, pray with those who are sad and suicidal.

Dog and Pencil and Promise

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, grace, Homeless, memoir, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Like yesterday, I open my pretty journal. It’s the exact color of soft tangerine, like the chair from my husband’s mama’s home.

A list, oh, how I love and live by lists.

A new one every morning, today with new names and needs, two of them unexpectedly hard and two more most especially and welcomingly hopeful.

I thought the other day, is prayer the most simple of things, another of many we make laboriously complicated?

Even if I hadn’t carefully jotted down using my rose colored mechanical tool and strategically added a dot beside each need and name…

Wouldn’t God know, isn’t it true it’s not at all necessary that He see, read?

Practice, though, it’s a practice for me.

Today, my list includes

  • WRITING
  • PAINTING

Opportunities and assignments await, one a farewell piece to a monthly column, two others submissions for possibility, actually three and one, an in the works more probable than possible featured artist in a publication.

This one, a wow, the kind comments from an editor. I shared it with my son, surprised by the reply, as if to convey,

You must do the thing you think you cannot do.

Eleanor Roosevelt

I sit with my today list for a moment then suddenly, opening paragraphs are completed with pencil notations of subject and submission.

I have begun.

“My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭131:1‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I turn the page for empty spaces and discover a funny face of a child I began. I must’ve then handed the pencil over hoping to entertain her while her troubled mama and I met.

Lines all over my page, I’ll not tear it out or trash it, simply fill in the blank space and remember for a moment.

A little baby named Shyla, came home from hospital to our shelter, now a vivacious toddler with a smile that cannot be ignored.

A toddler with a passion and her mama with a purpose and me, us, our work a chance to be a part.

She called me last night, the mama. Things are going well, so very well. She’s a believer and she’s a bulldog to not give up or give in. She’s passionate about her progress, gives all the glory to God!

She’ll stop by, she said, with her daughters, one we got to help her bring into the world and the one we helped only a little with her reunification.

Then before goodbye she said “I love you.” first and it followed my reply, “I love you.”

Amazes me every time, drives me, compels my compassion.

So, I’ll not tear the scribbled all over page from my journal. I’ll remember on those days when I resent my work, when I’m grandiose in my ideas of being a painter and a writer only.

Lord, help me remember your equipping me for opportunities and your timing and your purpose. Help me remember I can do all of these things through you.

Forgive my resentment of what I see as obligation, work, and remind me again of my little spurts of writing that come all the more authentically when I sit and your spirit is evident becoming thoughts, words that flow.

Stop me when I justify my mood by reminding myself, my family, my friends, “I’ve been a helping professional almost 25 years!”

Remind me of days that flow like grace and days that are hard and filled with opposition and strife that all of a sudden settle and I’m met by the face of one whose countenance is now content.

Remind me again to wait, to wait for it to come. Make me passionate yet again about my work.

Flow so much all the more genuine, authentic and true.

Art and word, painting and writing, passions that feed and fuel me.

Thank you, Lord.

For a child’s scribbles in my journal, for opportunities and for potential in places that remind me to endure.

To be confident.

“So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭10:35-36‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Thank you for passion, enthusiasm that compels me to continue.

For

  • WRITING
  • PAINTING and
  • HELPING

Amen.

Linking up with TellHisStory writers.

http://marygeisen.com/tellhisstory/

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