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My Occasional Limp

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I rose to greet my friend the other day and she cocked her head to the side, she noticed my struggle.

My sort of favoring the weight landing on one leg not the other. “What’s going on with your leg?” she asked.

I answered, “I’m old!” and she smiled that wise smile that always says I know you so very well.

Thing is, something’s up with my knee and that nerve that we name as if it’s our nuisance of a relative who comes back around… “Oh, my sciatica is back.”

Yeah, I prefer to just roll with it, the changing of my body. The choice to not remember my mama’s knee surgery that began the decline and the piling on of medications and other compromises and complications that caused her to die.

I’m not my mother; but, I am beginning to pay attention more to the things I’d decided not to know, always making efforts to deny.

Can’t help but pay attention to my slight change in my walk, to the shifting of things weighty, one part compensating for the other, hoping to disguise.

I wondered yesterday, should we walk, should I break into a little intermittent run, sort of experiment with the knee pain, toy with its ability, test to see how much it could take?

Should I keep pushing my limit?

Yes, decidedly “movement is medicine”.

Colt, the big brown lab was beyond thrilled and listened as I told him sit, stayed in a brisk rhythm with me with the tug of the collar and we had an awesome walk together!

Nearing the end of the neighborhood, we were strolling and he was stopping for smells. On the phone with my sister in law, a white flash of object on the curve and corner.

A vehicle off the road, dug up and leveled the street sign flat then entered and exited the ditch and ended up on the road as if she’d just stopped to rest or re-navigate.

When she opened the door and freed herself from the airbag, I asked “Are you okay?” and she just stood for a minute then said she guessed she wasn’t paying attention.

She was okay, unharmed. Her car was not. Later, my sister in law and my neighbor called to make sure we were okay.

My neighbor says she’s stopped walking that way. My sister in law said maybe I shouldn’t be walking that way anymore.

I retorted, “I’m not gonna stop walking. It’s my thing, the closest to being in the country as I can get. I enjoy it and nobody’s gonna take it from me!”

Went on to say, people see me walking, they know our pattern. We get as close to the ditch as we can and we stop next to the big empty field and sometimes even sit there to rest.

Thing is, the brand new SUV which happens to be a newer version of my “new” car would have most likely thrown Colt and I into the air had we been only a minute or so farther in our walk.

I don’t know where we’d have ended up or what shape we’d be in, how far gone we might have been.

This morning, I’m reading from the Book of Hebrews and I’ve written a pretty firm “disciplinary note” to self.

A note about my walk, about the way I walk, about paying attention and knowing I’m being paid attention to.

About being very careful lest I lose my connection to God, lest I lose my ability to make disciples due to my lack of discipline.

Lest I lose that knowing what it is He knows is mine to do, lest I drift too far away.

My sister in law and I agreed, I need to pay more attention and I woke clearly hearing God say, “Pay attention to these things I am showing you.”

“Pay attention, Lisa.”

Take notice of what and who I’ve brought into your presence to teach you.

“You will see your teacher with your own eyes. Your own ears will hear him. Right behind you a voice will say, “This is the way you should go,” whether to the right or to the left.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30:20-21‬ ‭NLT‬‬

The woman who careened frighteningly into the ditch and back out, she was unharmed; but, also wobbly in speech and stature, I believed she should not drive and when she tried, I explained to her she couldn’t.

She, a teacher for me.

A flat tire, no windshield and air bags blocking the view, I worked hard to convince her she was unable to go any farther.

She had gone too far already.

She needed to stay put, not take any more chances, dangerously testing providence and grace.

My neighbor said her husband came, I’m not sure where it all went from there. I was worried about her and for her; but, I didn’t want to know the consequences, see them play out.

Today, I’m paying closer attention to what it is God has to say about some of my ways in my walk and how my limp might be beginning to be more noticeable, more a handicap, less moderated.

My walk less straight and focused, my vision blurred by occasional choices teetering on the edge of becoming regular rituals.

I’m not condemning myself, just taking note, standing straight and being a cautious student and a noticer of my surroundings.

Making sure the occasional limp doesn’t cause me to fall, doesn’t level me flat on my face and unable to recognize my violent turns off the right road, onto the wrong path.

“Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12:12-13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

My knee is tender, but my walk is straight today and of my path, I’m more attentive.

My heart and soul not made lame and shamed by my understanding; but, healed and renewed anew.

We all stumble in many ways, over choices, chances taken, patterns established and left uncontrolled. But if we are to be disciples we must be attentive to our self-discipline.

We must be attentive to the One who is watching over us, longing for our consistent notice.

“He will not let you stumble; the one who watches over you will not slumber.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭121:3‬ ‭NLT‬‬

linking up with others who tell their stories of God in our days.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/let-tell-story-behind-photo/

What Privilege

Abuse Survivor, bravery, Children, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Motherhood, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability

Prompted to write for five minutes on the word “Privilege”, I remembered last night the privilege to understand other women, them to understand me. I was one of four who spoke of being a victim of abuse.

Then, I recalled a mama joining in our discussion on bullying at our suicide prevention meeting earlier in the day. I was moved by her memories. Her daughter, now a professional and an adult, was intelligent, beautiful, the top in her class; yet, she did not walk onto the football field in an extravagant dress to be given her crown.

She quickly changed into her cheerleader uniform to carry out her part on the team. She was, afterwards met by vulgar comments about how “special she thought she was.”

Her mama said to this day she never talks about her Senior year of high school. So, I asked and her reply made me understand more clearly how I might be privileged when, honestly I’d struggled before to understand.

I asked, “So, your daughter was bullied by girls because she was beautiful and smart and because of race?”

“Yes.” she replied.

I understand more clearly what I’ll never understand fully.

But, this morning I’m thinking about another the privilege.

The privilege to take it to the Lord in prayer, the verse in the old hymn that talks about what a friend Jesus is and what a privilege to “carry everything to the Lord in prayer.”

Jesus, my friend seated right next to the Father is advocating for me, interceding on my behalf, surely I felt His presence last night as I took the stage before the sharing of “my story”.

I felt His presence, what a privilege,

The reason I add a little extra before my “in Jesus name”, a little extra closing to keep me ever humbly grateful.

“Because of mercy….”

Linking this post up on this blessed Friday morning with others who are considering “privilege”. Join us here: http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/02/08/fmf-link-up-privilege/

Entrusted and Commended

bravery, Children, courage, family, grace, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I love when the words mean what I recalled them meaning, when they fit “just so” like an extra throw pillow placed to complement the look.

Stand back, content in everything coming together, settling into what is needing to be seen, understood.

I rearranged the guest room, the place I call my “writing room”. Simple before, yes. Colors that were meant to calm, I’ve changed to vibrant.

Inspiring maybe!

Photos all over the place, one of my daddy in Hawaii in a Hawaiian shirt standing next to a horse on widest looking ocean shore!

The thought of it always fascinates me. He in Hawaii with my mama.

Another of my Heather at the County Fair on the back of a pony, sweetest, biggest smile, her blonde hair wispy about her face and the denim of her overalls making her blue eyes pop!

Austin as a toddler bent over to drink from a garden hose, his hair combed and fresh from his bath, summer evening, I let them play ’til late during that season.

I had a parenting revelation last week. I made note of my need to “commend” them to God. I loved the word, how perfectly appropriate it seemed for parenting adult children.

Commending them to God, simply means recognizing my part’s been done, I now turn them over to God for the rest.

He gave them to me, entrusted me with their care, now requires I commend them to him, a requirement that means freedom, not a task; but, one of those things you see clearly God meant as a gift.

Then, another exchange, my child, my teacher again with words with others.

I’d been using a word that again I decided was just right! I’d been talking to other moms, one of them my sister, another my cousin. I’d come to understand I must let my children “individuate”, to be who they wanted to be.

Crazy how a psych major didn’t remember all the research, all the big deal damage discussed about parents who fail to allow it.

Strange, I know and I’ve known this all along; just hadn’t used the descriptor that research has recorded volumes of work on.

Parents who don’t allow their children to individuate are damaging their boys and girls, setting up patterns mostly negative and rebellious, even destructive emotionally.

“Webster” helped me here and I jotted my version, “allowing someone to become themselves”.

Hand in hand, commending them to God, entrusting them to God come what may and come what will based on their minds, their hearts, their abilities and even their wills that I pray come to a place of lining up with His.

I wasn’t always the best at this. I understand why. Call it culture or background or dogged determination to parent differently than we were, I was prone to being ever aware of everything and my children’s successes and their very living and breathing was an absolute thrill to watch.

A thrill-seeking thing!

My son came home to get his guitar, wanted to have it at school. I imagined him playing, was so very excited he’d be picking it back up!

I softened my response though, decided this was not about me. This is his deciding to play around with the guitar because he wants to, not because I thought it was cool, or because my daddy played guitar or because I’d arranged lessons before or even because he knew how much I loved hearing the sounds down the hall.

No, I buffered my excitement. I decided to let this be his, not mine.

My daughter is so very talented in lettering. We could be “creatives” together. I had our signature down pat and our little logo “HB-LT”. She, the words, I the art.

But, she said not now, mama and I’ve surprised myself by not begging, insisting, making it about me and my idea of her.

Of us.

Because, I see they are quite okay on their own and I am learning to wait for my lovingly sought after intrusion, for invitation to give insight and even tougher, to know when to insert my knowledge, my advice.

Parenting adult children, I decided is tough because you don’t get to see their faces every day, you don’t have the absolute comfort of “eyeballing” them as a way to tap into intuitiveness to allow your mind to rest from all the stories it writes in their living elsewhere.

They are to be entrusted to God and the good things of their choosing, chosen by God, not me, for them.

“…they commended them to the Lord, on whom they believed.”

‭‭Acts‬ ‭14:23‬ ‭KJVA‬‬

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story. visit here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/which-voice-do-you-hear/

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Live Lightly

Faith, grace, mercy, rest, Stillness, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I can’t decide whether it’s the quote which inspires these posts, the images so divine and perfectly selected to portray the thought, or the emotion of “oh, wow.” that settles over me each time I’m happy to be satisfied by “Lightly Child, Lightly”.

“It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.” Aldous Huxley

 

Visit David Kanigan below and maybe be compelled to take it a little easier on yourself, let God be God and let it be.

 

At least that’s what these posts do for me.

Lightly Child, Lightly.

http://davidkanigan.com/2018/02/01/lightly-child-lightly-154/

Songbirds Singing

Faith, grace, Peace, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Two weeks since we walked. Cold some days and gone the others.

I kicked off my boots, switched to the Nikes and left the sweater, the pants, just added big hoodie.

We began with a light stepping run.

I realized the ease.

Realized the difference.

Walking then, I noticed the birds, tiny, tiny and gray little things the size of my palm.

Others in the barren branches waiting the tiny sparrow’s fairly novice flight.

Sounds all around, impossible to see, to know where from, birds singing like Spring.

Soft, I decided. If I touched them, they’d be soft. I wondered how it could be so strong, so small, seemed so very new, newborn.

Brought to mind the song from before, the days I sat with college girls and we yearned over the long, longings…so far away and so long ago before…

For you, there’ll be no more crying…And the songbirds are singing, like they know the score.

Fleetwood Mac, Rumours

From then, we walked easy even though daylight was dimming.

I stopped because of skinny branches I thought were pretty and I let the Labrador pause to smell the earth underneath.

I waited for the sky to go coral and then we turned towards home.

Remembering why we walk, finding what waits to be noticed.

Privilege and Memory

Children, courage, Faith, family, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Last week, I woke to the smell of warm and delicious.

Bacon, I wondered?

I’d forgotten to buy it and we had talked of grilled cheese sandwiches thick with pork for my sweet son-in-law.

Homemade tomato basil soup was the plan, the sharp cheddar mingled with bacon.

But, I’d forgotten, or was there bacon after all?

I woke up slowly, had words in my mind and some in my hand, added those that were for me using thin leaded pencil on my page in my book called “What God can Do”.

The little room with the window welcoming the day once the curtain had been pushed aside.

Two days here, three nights and sleep wrapped ’round me deeply.

I rested well.

I’m lazy today, the one caring for the one in the kitchen.

My daughter, recovering from surgery and I’ve settled in, grown accustomed to being down the hall, being with her.

Soft footsteps shuffle my way and I look towards the slightly open door.

My daughter brings me breakfast, a burst of energy this morning she says and I say “oh, sausage!” and she says pancakes, good for you, honey not syrup and blueberries on the side.

I stretched my legs long towards the foot of the old bed and indulged as if privileged to be here and knowing surely, I’ll remember.

This morning before I drive her to her places.

We spent the day together, me driving like before. The day, a schedule this, then that and I felt like a mama with the itinerary in place. Still getting better; but, told not to drive.

We treated ourselves to a lunch that made us both feel like we’d never dined. Fancy coffee, fancy little corner we perched and we made a memory.

We made lunch an occasion.

Privileged I am and fortunate for sure.

For I’ve enough little memories of pancakes and times together and sweet little spaces that I’d never have gone,

Were it not for the privilege of being mama and being asked to be with

To be with the one who causes my faith not to waver, who believes, always believes.

Surrender

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Unity

Sometimes I joke about my culinary skills. I’ll say it “skipped a generation” and add that I’m quite okay with not being a great cook, proclaiming “There are other things I’m good at.”

It takes a whole lot of years to learn to be you, I’ve learned, “to do me”.

Letting go the idea of being someone who takes pleasure in meal prep and satisfied tummies and guests who are impressed.

I’m okay to continue with other things God made me to love, to love doing.

Self-acceptance, much like surrender. Quite okay with come what may, my way.

Surrender and acceptance, a balance, an ending to the sentence, the story.

Learning too, that patience is courageous like surrender is acceptance.

“my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭130:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Waiting is not timid, not tentative and not at all for the tender hearted.

No, surrender is strong and to be patient is to be courageous, quietly and assuredly courageous.

Prompted by Five Minute Friday, “Surrender”.

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/25/fmf-link-up-surrender/

Morning Glories

bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, heaven, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I woke up in the country and threw back the curtain to this wide open sky.

Yesterday, we saw the workers pruning the branches, making ways for the bright growth soon bursting through. I’ll ride these roads to my girl’s a month from now or so and I’ll be barely able to close my eyes because of all the majestic beauty of peach season!

Isn’t that what God does?

He holds our hand through the enduring, makes us new and strong in our growth, promises us a glorious new season if we’ll let him cut us from the old.

To stop wearing our old tattered and faded garments, to dress in his newness.

Morning glories, realizations filled to the brim, awaiting my drinking in and feeling led to pouring out like cream in warm coffee.

I’m without my devotionals, three of my daily ones; but, I’ve a new one called “Joy and Strength”. The quotes and the verses are ancient wisdom. The numbers, numeral and Roman, causing a longer pause.

So far, two days in and aligning with my season.

Preparing me to be re-planted in God’s freshly broken up ground.

My cousin gifted me the new one, maybe knowing I needed my soul made new.

No, most assuredly I know, it was God knowing, prompting her to know.

“No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment. If he does, the patch tears away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭2:21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The wisdom of the new little book I’ll open to find daily words, words that focus on after here and about what will matter then.

The truth of not just earth; but, heaven too.

Heaven more.

“But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.”

‭‭2 Peter‬ ‭3:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Without my set routine, not in my morning spot, my books, pencil and my Bible.

I began to wonder how I might otherwise find what God would have me know.

I looked through the wide and uncurtained kitchen window and decided it will be good to look to the day to hear, to see and to know.

And because the kitchen, the pots and the bowls, none of them were familiar or like mine,

My daughter made us oatmeal, the old way, on top of the stove.

And I tasted and saw that it was good.

So good.

So new and morning gloriously good!

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and others who “Tell His Story”

You can join us here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/

Intentional

Angels, Art, bravery, courage, grace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Serving, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I love the word. It feels good, hopeful, concrete and optimistic.

I like the part of it that feels like a plan.

Feels like faith not force.

“To the faithful you show yourself faithful; to those with integrity you show integrity.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭18:25‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I especially love that it’s Friday and all of my plans have not yet come to fruition; but, there is still time.

I woke with vigor, deciding there’s still the grace of “try” again and thanked God for that waking thought, prayed He’d equip me for writing, art, work and simply, the day.

I painted last night before “boot camp”, I started a piece and instead of hovering over it for hours to finish, I rose from my seat and went to exercise hard and with intention.

A piece I’m calling “Made New”

That’s progress for me, leaving it there, a work in progress to return to.

Not feverishly intent on the finish, instead certain in the decision to be intentional in my choice to continue.

I woke early and will be early for work. I had an idea last night. I’ll be intentional to begin to see it through.

Today, I’ll be intentional.

I’ll see the gift of the chance to continue.

I’ll forgive myself the incompletion in the days before.

Moving forward with intention.

linking up and guess, what?! I stuck to the time limit today, yay!

http://fiveminutefriday.com/2018/01/18/fmf-link-up-intentional/amp/

Apples of His Eye

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I fell asleep trying to remember what I’m supposed to do if my car starts to slide on the slick road touched by just a smattering of snow.

I believe I decided not to slam down on the brakes, not to jerk the wheel, to sort of allow the slide into a safe place to rest.

It’s a phenomenal occurrence, snow in southern South Carolina.

patiently waiting for snow

I made a plan, I’d just follow the pull and trust the direction.

My first thought in the dark of early morning deciding to rise or linger, “I’m not who I was.”

I asked my son last week, “Why do you think so many planes are skidding off the runways?”

And his analysis was different than mine, starkly different and obviously more expert in comparison since the only plane I’ve ever boarded was a crop duster with a farm boy hoping to impress me.

He said the runways are slick, it’s winter and the pilots in some foreign countries are simply not as well trained and perhaps, not as attentive or exact.

Oh, okay.

Slightly veering off course might be to be expected.

I met someone yesterday who wore the evidence of faith on her face.

Someone who’s appointment was timely, my faith faltering, getting off course and on the cusp of falling over fear’s cliff.

I’d not seen her in two years and our meeting had a serious purpose, still just as before we began to talk about our faith.

She’d had a medical emergency, simple procedure led to sepsis and she, according to the more skilled physician who she feels saved her life, had only a day between living and dying.

I told her I saw it, I saw how her eyes expressed the stillness of hope, the assurance of God, the unwavering trust in Him that caused her cheeks to be lifted happily, her jaw relaxed into a calm perseverance.

Her countenance had changed, a serenity from strength.

We smiled.

She thanked me, thanked me for noticing.

I wondered if she needed to be reminded or if she saw my need of reminding.

I sometimes do. I’m easily taken back to a place of unworthy, unable, incapable.

Powerful words have been spoken over me, for me, through me and yet, I feel less capable than ever before.

Trauma lingers, woven early on or fallen into as we go, sometimes our own fault, other times harsh circumstances from heavy, hate filled arms and loud voices.

She knew. We both know, hurts and harms linger and become the gauge for our worth and ability.

I teeter on the edge, close to going from not sure I can to despondent…oh, well I just won’t.

We walked together towards the door and embraced. I’m going to be praying for you, she said and I told her I’d be doing the same.

We both agreed that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, that God knows full well that He has good for us.

We agreed that Satan knows as well, just as well.

We carry doubts, fears, anxieties and insecurities that rush over us like a hard knock me down wave in the wide,wide ocean.

Facing the shore, considering all of the good things awaiting me, I stand solitary and stoic, convinced I will finally be the me God sees, then I feel the ocean underneath changing, pulling, pulling, pulling from behind.

From before.

Before, when I wasn’t who I am.

Do I surrender to the strong and angry sea hoping to level my soul, even drown me or do I turn towards the wave, confront its instigating and gracefully allow it to carry me forward, hold me in its strong embrace?

And realize I’m not so small, I’m strong.

I’ll be strong, I’ll be stronger than I’ve ever known.

“My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped. I call upon you, for you will answer me, O God; incline your ear to me; hear my words. Wondrously show your steadfast love, O Savior of those who seek refuge from their adversaries at your right hand. Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings, from the wicked who do me violence, my deadly enemies who surround me.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭17:5-9‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“I’m not who I was.” my waking thought and now that day is done and

I’m safely home, not skidded off track or pulled back by the hand of doubt, my destination still, with God, my faithful pursuit.

Today, a good day, with just a smattering of snow.

Today, even more distant from who I was and closer to who God has me to be.

The apple of His eye.