Pretty Words like Hope

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

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What if we saw it as more than a word on a pin, this word, “Hope”?

More than a trendy phrase about an anchor, more than the middle word in the group of three?

What if we knew this emotion called hope as more than a

word in passing, a vague and wavering optimism?

“Well, I hope so.” we say, as if hope is nothing more than a rare and pitiful possibility.

This morning, I rose to begin the day from the space on the carpet next to my bed.

Groggy and thankful for the ease of waking like clockwork without a clock.

My folded up, sleepy legs found their way to bending knees to rest in a downward pose to pray.

This morning, simply, “Jesus, help me today.”

I read from the Book of Hebrews, chapters 4 -6 and found the familiar phrase there.

Hope, an anchor for my soul, a catchy quote, trendy phrase.

I colored in my margin, drew an anchor, a sky, an ocean and a moon. Mornings like this, and my Bible are gifts.

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Fingers blending dusty colored pastel, a delicate touch on the border of a fragile page, I thought of hope.

The middle child in the faith, hope, love family. Hope.

Reading the verses just before the one I knew by heart, understanding a little differently, more clearly and stronger today. This sweet little pretty word, what a mighty thing is hope.

I read the whole chapter, the whole book and saw hope, the way God longs for us to see…to see Him, our hope.

Saw it as certainty, read about histories and lineages of people who understood hope.

That hope is unchangeable.

Hope is God’s promise and we know he keeps his word.

I read that hope is earnest assurance and that we might sway, but hope cannot be moved once established.

Hope, I read, is a better thing for those God calls beloved.

So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise, the unchangeable character of His purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie,we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement

to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf.

Hope, the place of pausing to rest my seeking knees, my open heart every morning, to be anchored in certainty.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/bit-light-youre-dark-day-tellhisstory/

Maybe

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

Maybe, I thought, out walking in the late afternoon thickness of day…

Maybe, just consider it Lisa, there’s a change coming, a shift you’ve been seeking.

Maybe, you’ve been so offended by being overlooked, over corrected and over reacted to

that you’ve not thought to notice the possibility, the maybe of this time.

Maybe, I thought, out walking in the dull empty summer air, there’s a shift occurring,

one you’ve worked for

one you need.

Maybe.

Count it joy, not maybe; but surely…these various trials of my faith are producing something that can’t be shaken.

James 1:2

Deciding Quietly

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

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The sun made the narrow spaces between the blinds a warm golden hue this morning.

Allowing time for an easy morning, I looked towards the window and considered getting up, raising the blinds and taking a picture.

Decided against it because I knew it wasn’t the sunlight in its beginning of day that my mind embraced.

It was the light edged in shadow that kept me there under cool sheets and swift, swirl of fan, for moments longer than usual.

Looking towards the day in a way that spoke softly for my submission, as if knowing I’d grown weary of demands.

Barely lit bedroom, a haven and my morning less of dread…the light beginning to filter through, quietly without forcing response from me.

Slowly and with calm intention, I move on towards the morning.

I begin with note to self, calling it a commitment.

Certain of its timing, I write clearly, my penmanship better than it’s been, under today’s date and encircle it in a bold bracket.

Stop looking at what others are doing. Do what your heart tells you is right, is true, is good.

Then, moved to study God’s word, today’s passages in read through my Bible plan.

And because God is God, a few words were planted there to be discovered, to be certain of the quiet wisdom of today.

Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness.

I Timothy 2:11

Linking up my five minutes of Friday here:

Needing Rain

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

IMG_0086_kindlephoto-6706827 If you were raised the way I was raised, you’d notice the building of dark clouds.

You’d not be surprised by the dark, shifting clouds or the storms through the night with just short breaks in between.

You’d remember the stillness, the way someone would walk towards the porch to check the sky.

Then, turn to say, “We need the rain.”

And maybe after sitting and waiting, someone else would say,

“We need the rain.”

There’d be no dispute, not a word from us cousins. The corn, the butterbeans, the low, wide tobacco leaves needed the rain.

Last week I felt the air become heavy and unexpectedly dark.

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There was a complaint, a correction, a criticism. I was caught in surprise of storm. Suspicious of its source.

There was a feeling of being thrown into the storm with no one noticing my abandonment, my inability to swim.

It was work stuff; yet, it was hard.

It wasn’t family storm, not my heart; but it was hard.

Darkness of word, of reactions and of lack of reaction.

I suppose it was needed. Like rain on an early summer evening.

The kind of storm that causes me to get quiet, it’s storming.

I needed the storms.

I needed to be courageous in a way that caught uncaring people by surprise.

I needed to be humble when my pride and hurt feelings hindered my moving forward.

I needed to take a chance, to take the next step and to be uncertain of reaction, but decide to accept it as truth, as needed.

To hush the insecurities and doubts.

I needed the dark clouds, were it not for storm, I’d not understand, truly understand my need.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28

Sometimes God brings storms and we’re thinking okay, I’ll understand the purpose of this heavy rain, this earth shaking thunder or this frighteningly unexpected bolt of fearful lightening…eventually, we think.

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We need the rain. We’re better for the storm.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/

Dog Walks and Dappled Pauses

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I had no choice really, but to take the longer trail, to circle the neighborhood.

The trail, bordered by tall fences on one side and trees the other. I’d have turned back sooner, the halfway mark; but, I heard it from behind and turned to notice. IMG_0046-2_kindlephoto-2759334

A big dog, head down and a deep rumbling sound echoing from his gut, I looked quickly, then continued forward to feel safe again. Years ago, a dog bolted out, barking loudly and chased until showing its teeth by my side. I was bitten by a German Shepherd.

So, I’m cautious. Calm, but cautious.

Turned back, walking steady, the huge dog smaller because of my distance, the bottoms of my feet barely grazing asphalt as we topped the steep, shaded hill.

Reached the trail and we’re good now.I would have been less brave before; but, I’m moving forward more often now.

Not towards a safe place, simply safer feeling in my places.

On the straightaway now, I notice the sunshine making dappling shapes on the ground as I go. IMG_0050_kindlephoto-2605493

I decide to slow a little, loosen up the hold and Colt weaves in and out of the low hanging limbs. He stops to seek out noise, a squirrel, a bird or a rabbit rustling ’round.

He’s calm. He’s intent and watchful, so I watch as well.

I wait. He watches. We rest.

Then, walk again with new ease.

To reach the shaded spot next to the back porch where the hydrangeas are so full this year they’ve begun to drag the ground.

Home, we’re back and the sun is shining now, the hydrangeas illumined and resting in beds of brilliant green pillow.

Persisting Upside Down

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

Persistently writing

The last page of the soft white journal.

Moleskin supple, barely visible lines, a simple book.

Typically covering three months or so, I have stacks of these now.

The last page this morning, waiting for my grey swirly lead lines.

There are quiet rumblings trying to fade of a hard week with hard words, harder choices. It’s work though, and work complained about does nothing more than frustrate you in the explanation. So, I let it be, let Saturday come, let Friday meetings and confrontations go.

And journal thankful things and read the Psalms, prepare for yoga instead of parade.

I turn the page, preparing to close the book.

To see it’s been upside down all this time, the empty space for my name is blank; the little space next to the question of its worth, blank too.

I smile. It’s worth a bunch to me, I think.

Another journal filled with my early morning heart’s pondering.

I rise before the dawn and cry for help; I wait for your words.

Psalm 119: 147

Thoughts purposeful sometimes, other times shallow or habitual murmuring.

Revelations, realizations and regrets.

Progress, backwards steps, teeters and totters.

Yet, I persist. Turn the page, begin again, right side up.

Or upside down, funny the relevance of this tiny oops.

I light a pretty candle and choose music, then not.

Preferring the sound of beagle snores and nothing else.

I write 200 or so more words, remembering my promise to myself to begin and…

Write for as long as you feel the words come clearly and when you don’t feel them, can’t find them, stop.

Persist, though.

There are true and brave stories to be told in the colors of my Bible, in the words of my Psalms.

Seeing, Being Seen

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Several times a day I might notice a bird

or the sky or like yesterday,

the most amazing magnolia bloom I could barely see just above the fence top.

I’ll pause and just get quiet, my eyes and my soul resting.

Sometimes though, I just rush about frustrated or pitiful, one extreme or the other, angst and longing.

Then I notice the sky. The vastness of empty space, yet fullness of God and I’m better then, more myself with God.

I’m always better in the moment of pausing to look towards sky.

I think maybe it’s my age the way I intentionally, perhaps accidentally notice God.

Maybe I am “the crazy bird lady” my daughter loves to call me.

Or maybe not, because she notices too now, and tells me about her red bird appearing outside the tall, curtain drawn farmhouse windows

following her as she moves from room to room to front porch.

Or maybe, just maybe I’m in the presence of God more clearly, not because He hasn’t been there all along, but

Because I’m okay with Him seeing me.

I’m not as often compelled to hide from the God who sees me.

Waiting to be seen, asking where are you?

Lisa, why try to hide?

You’re seen, you’re known, you’re loved despite your attempts to hide. You’re not hidden in the overgrowth, no need for that, listen, look…I’m here.

And they heard the sound of the Lord God, walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees in the garden. But, the Lord called…where are you?

Genesis 3:8

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to tell His story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/needed-begin-loving-actual-life/

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/

love this so much

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I read this morning, these few sentences about life and time. It was beautiful, called me to rest.

Far from the metallic fever of clocks

I rested my eyes on the image of birds above ripples of water wide.

The words were so beautiful, I commented

“I love this so much.”

On Sunday, I flipped to Ecclesiastes on my way to the Psalms.

I read the lamenting truth of useless searching, striving for life apart from heaven, yet under heaven.

Read of filling our times and our minds with this, that, and the other in a competition of enough hopefully, finally.

I have seen everything that has been done under the sun, and behold all is vanity and chasing after the wind.

Ecclesiastes 1:14

On Saturday, I woke up too early to be with my daughter. She greeted me on the yellow farmhouse porch, not quite ready, damp hair and happy blue eyes.

Told me she’d hurry.

“Okay.” I said, noticing the little pieces of her new life then opened the back door to look towards the sky.

Cloudy still, a cool wind blowing in, soft, easy and clean.

I noticed the blackberries, the sunflowers,the bluejays and the wide, wide sky above the narrow dirt paths through peach orchards.

But, mostly the sky, I kept looking towards heaven from my daughter’s front yard in the wide open space of country, thinking…

I love this so much.

” What you doing?” she asked.

“Just waiting, I’m fine.” I answered.

Mistin’ Rain

Faith, grace, praise, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

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I intended to walk briskly, music in my ears, arms pumping and muscles striving. I couldn’t say no and gave in to the stroll, Colt sniffing up ants and stopping, startled by sparrows.

I walked on, following his lumbering gait, an easy slack in his leash. We took the turn and my cheeks noticed then…

“It’s mistin’ rain.” I remembered, my mama used to say that and I moved more slowly up the hill, oddly content in the soft, misty rain.

Lingering in its wonder.

Took our time then, choosing to cross the grassy field, tall stalks, tiny daisy like flowers and mossy green cushion.

We step lightly, a little jump over the ditch makes me feel little girlish and my feet land on smooth pavement turning towards home.

My toes feeling the chill of wet, I’d not bothered with socks, oh well.

Misty, moistened hair and dampness on my cheeks, yet I longed to stay there, to stand in the rain, in the clarity of the nothingness of evening rain and

of wide open sky over grassy field in the mist.

At the end of a week cluttered, crowded, and disenchanted, mostly…

I found wide sky and open field filtered by the mist of rain.

O’ my soul….O’ my soul.

When clouds veil the sun and disaster comes
Oh my soul, oh my soul
When waters rise and hope takes flight
Oh my soul, oh my soul, oh my soul

Ever faithful, ever true
You, I know, You never let go

You never let go, You never let go
You never let go
You never let go, You never let go
You never let go.

David Crowder Band

Permission to Pray

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I prayed for her. The mama on the phone named Coretta, the one who called twice.

Crying in a way unable to stop, hopeless over her situation, her tears were heavy, her voice muffled in the strain.

Job loss, homeless, four children, the shelter is full, ours and the others.

I suggested one thing, then another, said “Let me call here. Let me try this.” She’d call me tomorrow she said, “We’ll figure out one more night.”

And I was tired.

It was late; but, I wanted her to hold on.

I told her, ” I’m going to pray for you tonight, is that okay?”

Then I sat, unable to forget her sad and defeated cry and I wondered when it happened…when did I find it necessary to ask permission to pray?

And why I never thought to grab the agency card, pay for one night somewhere…a bed for her children.

Then, help her with finding a shelter tomorrow.

It’s perplexing to me, what God would have me do and the hesitant person I’ve become. Why I question my interactions so much lately.

Why I feel so unlike myself, a woman who believes, is assured?

Longing to ask, God. How would you have me speak? Why do I silence my faith in rooms filled with those who don’t believe your Word?

How is it that, I’m surprised by the contrast of my convictions with those I’d thought read and carried your same book, used it as guide?

If I could, I’d ask you, face to face, God. I’d look up towards you, Lord, as you’re looking down towards my suddenly tentative, timid and tender heart…What is it, Lord that you’d have me to say? Because my heart says speak loudly, but lovingly. Speak unapologetically, for the times are causing much fear, much alarm, much need for a God who is longing for our return to him…longing for our belief.

When did skepticism and cautionary hesitancy overshadow my longing to be known as a believer, a woman of faith?

When did my faith get so muffled, so obscure, so unwelcome, and so much contrasted that I’m shocked by my subtle denial and longing more than anything to be known as set apart.

Longing to be standing up straight and tall, content and confident, not afraid to set my face like flint?

Tonight, I’ll pray for Coretta and again tomorrow. I’ll hope to meet her, hope to give beds and a roof to her family. I’ll pray for her each time I remember her tears.There will be no question in my voice, the voice God will hear, the one He knows, no permission necessary.

I will pray. God will hear. Regardless of the others in the room.

Because I fear you Lord, I pray. Because I believe you, revere you, trust you, and thank you,

I pray.

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

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