strong words

courage, Faith, Trust, Uncategorized

Even so

Patience is intentional.

It is effort.

Not ever effortless.

Faith is a solid, yet sweet statement.

Not meek; Faith is quite courageous.

Intentional

Hope, a word offered up as buoy, as preservation.

A pleasant wish to ease the distressed

Devoid of much at all really to sustain, to hold up.

Until anchored in Sovereign strength of God,

Patience and hope are just poetry without faith in God.

Little pleasantries become confident stories.

Strong words

Not timid “hope so’s'”

Or, ” have faith’s”

Or little “well wishes”

But, well souls.

Confident and unshaken wellness

It is Well. It is Well

with my soul, Strong words.

Strong souls.

The Lord is my strength and my song; He has become my victory. Psalm 118:14

Believing the unseen, the untold

Children, family, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Pine cones and blue feathers

I’m journaling still, the prayer of Jabez.

Seated next to my little vignette of things I love.

Intricacies of nature…a pine cone from a mountain trip and two bluebird feathers found on a heavy day.

Reflecting on the detail of God’s handiwork.

Of God’s hand.

Quiet mornings are my spiritual discipline.

My soul craves this abiding.

I rest in this refreshing, this refining.

I am on Day 17 of my yearning to pray like Jabez.

I have been blessed by the simplicity of belief.

Jabez, the son whose mother declared he was born in pain, the meaning of his name. Yet, was found to be more honorable than his brothers. More honorable because he decided and declared to trust God to change the course of his life, asking God to bless him, put good people around him, stay near, and finally to make sure he caused no one pain.

I long to know when exactlyJabez came to God with his request.

A request of show me your glory, God.

Show them your glory.

I read further, hoping to hear the story of a little boy unwanted by family, yet cherished by God.

I hoped to open my Bible to I Chronicles and discover verses descriptive of a confident, glorious transformation.

Taking my Jabez prayer journey a little deeper, maybe more like my little girl story, who late in life has come to believe she is worthy.

But, just three sentences. A prayer is all.

And I’m left wondering about Jabez, the child who had to believe what he did not see…what he was not told.

That he was called by name, by God and that God was with him. Isaiah 43:1 That nothing about him was unknown to God.

There’s a little girl in me who longs to know the difference a name could make.

A little girl, I remember on her sixth birthday, wearing stiff, white collared dress and patent leather shoes, lace edged socks on gently swinging feet.

Little girl, surrounded in a circle of lounge chair seated cousins, under the lavender dripping wisteria vines.

Bobbed hair, smiling sweetly, shyly.

The little girl whose mama wanted to name her Libby.

But, daddy said ” No, that’s a can of peaches.”

The only birthday I remember

That day, I felt like Libby.

That sweet child was Libby.

Little girl Lisa Anne, a different child.

Staying hidden, quiet and hyper observant,

The one to cause no pain, no problems.

Quiet, non-existent. Wanting to be noticed. But, not be noticed.

A long, long, doubtful journey to now.

Lisa, now prayerfully thanking God for good and seeking good.

No more days of a God and a love I could never measure up to.

A Lisa who walks with an understanding of what wasn’t seen, wasn’t spoken…an understanding of a God with me, strong hand upon me all of my life….guiding me, reminding me, leading me to Lisa here.

Fearing not.

Doubting not.

Shaming myself not.

Because, I have and have had everything I need, fearing no evil, no unknowns…Surely goodness and love will follow me for all the days of my life. Psalm 23

Blessings all along, I’ve finally opened hands to receive.

With me and for me all the while

Before I forget what I realized

Children, Faith, Motherhood, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized

My heart

I realized a parenting truth last week.

Time has not been kind to my writing joy.

I must record this truth. I must remind myself of its clarity.

The only writing this past week has been penciled in thoughts about prayer, faith, rewriting and remembering.

Busy times, baseball season, lingering, annoying cold and cough.

So, my writing has been non-existent.

Last week, I scripted a prayer that came to me with ease.

My prayer, Lord, help me to know what to say and when to say it.

Give Heather and Austin the clarity they need and make yourself known to them daily, because I know you are there…in their hearts.

It occurred to me that being mama at this point is so much more about availability than ability.

So much more about staying back, yet being there when called upon.

More like waiting to be inquired of, being in tune with Quick to Listen, Slow to Speak way of love, of mothering.

Waiting to advise, to direct…so un–motherly.

Just to be there… waiting on sidelines, in background

And ready to answer with love.

Holding closely, loving wholeheartedly, pointing towards Jesus.

So, I must remember this parenting epiphany

I must record this knowledge to carry through the approaching moving away.

Be available as needed.

Only as needed.

They are able.

They have been trained.

Be there…love with availability, as needed, requested.

Train up a child in the way he should go…when they are old, they will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6

Half-heartedly saving daylight

Children, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized

A suggested response to Monday after time change

Where is the daylight?

Abbie and Colt have both nestled back in.

Moved from sleeping place to lounging place.

Both loud sighs intermittent with snores as I journal God’s word.

Day 8 of Jabez. A challenge today.

Not embracing my morning, more like a lazy, slack rebellion of morn.

Requesting of God to be blessed, to be kept safe, be kept from the evil of bad things, choices, even bad thoughts, this is my prayer now.

Lethargic and zombie-like, I ache as I move towards the coffee for cup number 2.

Feeling 54 this morning, sounding 74 as I grunt upon rising.

Back to bed would be reasonable, not an option.

Heather suggested, I agreed. Still, we navigate the morning.

Her gathering to leave, Austin still in bed. Quiet house, dark and tucked in.

She murmurs “Bye” as she leaves in pitch black to teach precious minds, anxious to know things.

Yesterday, I looked towards the sky, wondering what mama would say…longing to know somehow.

Day is opening up now and I am slowly, unraveling blips of my colorful disconnected dreams, 3 scenes.

I woke, half-heartedly, the anesthesia of dreamwork…of hidden away pieces of mental ramblings on life on family.

Dreams of what-ifs and what might not.

Mama was there, in a dream about a big house overlooking fields.

Giving advice, talking up a storm. Being Bette. Colorful, loud, laughing.

Now, I see!

Wholeheartedly, I see.

The thoughts unwound, I can move to morning.

The sky has turned to a light grey-blue and birds have awakened, chirping sharply, rhythmically.

Austin rises. I reach for pen and journal and wait for bright sunlight.

Sunlight, like glory, like beginning again!

His mercies are new every morning. Lamentations 3:23

humble believer – the one believed to fail

Faith, family, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized

Pretty soon, I’m taking a trip down country roads.

A neighboring county where the roads become pretty hills and valleys, oak trees and old barns, daffodils blooming freestyle.

I’ll be looking for an old country cemetery that might have one headstone marked with the name belonging to an ancestor on my daddy’s side.

An ancient military man named Jabez Hendrix.

My brother, connecting and seeking, a habit of his.

A longing, perhaps to understand more, to fill in missing pieces and endings to stories that might be clearer, happier and hopeful.

Just so happens Jabez Hendrix is buried close by.

In the meantime, I am fascinated by Jabez of the Bible.

Just a few sentences about one son in a family of several sons.

Likened to the runt of a large breed of pups.

The one that caused mama dog pain, scrawny and most likely not the pick of the litter. The son whose name meant “bore in pain”.

Yet, he believed and trusted God for more.

Was bold enough to grasp the possibility of a God who created all.

Was confident enough to request more than just enough

Was humble enough to ask for God to stay close by, to ask for God to keep his hand ever present.

Yet, he knew of frailty and falling asking God, “keep me from evil.”

Jabez, born to fail, believed in more.

Asked for more and received.

I’m praying like Jabez going on four days now.

Thinking of the blessings God has for me.

The blessings I never thought to ask for

The people he wants to place on my path

The broadening of my territory, my influence and influencers.

His hand, at my humble request kept securely close

Keeping me from evil.

Oh, that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory, that Your hand would be with me, and that You would keep me from evil…So God granted him what he requested. I Chronicles 4: 9-10

The one who was most shy, most awkward, most likely to hide away.

The one searching for identity and getting lost in life, disconnected, disowned, discarded

I am the one who believes, finally in God.

His hand upon me.

His placing and planning of my territory.

His keeping me from evil.

Loved by God, the one with less than hopeful beginning and rebellious crazy, scary middle.

Fascinated and acquainted with God’s Jabez

The humble believer.

A courageous soldier, ancient uncle, laid to rest in a country cemetery a country ride away.

Surprises, Too Wonderful to Know

Uncategorized

Makes me happy when skies are grey

I saw the burden of “not knowing” in a brighter, happier light this week.

It may not stick.

I may agonize over futures, decisions, delays again.

Most likely, sooner than I’d like, within the next few hours even, prayers and thoughts before sleep.

Mind wandering, scheming, planning, writing scripts and watching them play like a movie.

Vivid, detailed, believable happenings. Things I’m hoping for, hoping not.

Crazy, super lifelike scenes from our lives are the make-up of my mind.

A movie with a wedding, a grandbaby, I picture bouncy blonde and blue-eyed little tomboy.

Or me driving up to a stately campus and unloading boxes into a tiny room where the little boy who loved holding hands with me will be saying goodbye.

He will be pretending to be unphased. I will hold him in hug and get quiet as I leave.

It might be the sight of my beautiful daughter in her wedding dress, hair in sweet simple bun and her boyfriend’s tender face when he sees her at last.

I may let my thoughts form stories of illness, of loss, of hardship. Of fears that accompany age.

They may come. Happy times, hard times.

God has made the one as well as the other. I think about both.

Things too wonderful for me to know. Job 42: 3

This Christmas my daughter surprised me.

She knows what a challenge I can be. Don’t ask what I want.

I like to be surprised with gifts.

I imagine her shopping and seeing the sunshine mug and thinking of me…of our song. Maybe she let her heart and sweet smile go back to our tiny little place in the country…her little head on my shoulder as I swayed in a sing-song rhythm.

“You make me happy when skies are grey.” She might remember that when I had sung for so long and her sweet eyes still popped open once I got silent that I’d add a random little story to the song, making up our special “Sunshine Song”

So, on Christmas morning, I opened the mug, looked over and smiled at my daughter. “I found it a long time ago, saved it for you.” she said.

I held it close to my chest, the little yellow mug that says “You are my Sunshine” with a sunshine to meet me at the bottom when upturned, emptied.

How sweet is it to wait expectantly for a gift?

What if we thought of “waiting for God” as waiting for a gift, a surprise?

Not knowing what we’ll get, just knowing it will be good?

Like expecting a surprise, contentedly knowing something good will be happening soon.

Think of your heart’s desires, your heart’s longing aches of waiting.

He knows.

He says, shows us ” I saw this for you. I planned it this way. I have been saving this for you when I knew the time was right.”

I have been

Blessed and surprised by God.

Haven’t we all?

Take delight in the Lord and He will give you your heart’s desires. Psalm 37:4

Clearly, friends

courage, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

This morning was blurred by the misty fog of this unending winter. I have my morning place arranged so that I gaze towards the statue of my Savannah girl sweet and sullen today.The greenish hue of the face, dulled by the wintry wetness, causing an affect of disdain, a lonely look.

I struggled to write this week. I worried that my words might bring attention, concern, murmuring about my seriousness, sadness.

I’ve heard comments about the honesty of my writing.

Been told it’s clear I’ve gone through some difficult days.

I thought I should write a silly post.

I should maybe stop sharing.

Maybe just publish on the blog.

“Friends” wouldn’t wonder why I’m so serious, so openly thankful and so compelled to tell of doubt, fear, worry.

And yet, there are the handful who connect, who say Thank you for your posts.

They’re brave. They know the grace of the vulnerable share.

” Grace grows best in winter.” C. H. Spurgeon

So, if I write from a place of struggle, a spilling of my story, it’s because of the good that has come; the good that will come…Because God and because of God.

Perhaps, honest and transparent vulnerability is the call of only the few who know the worth of brave and open truth telling.

A friend once said, “Lisa, you write about the things we all fear, feel…but would never have the courage to share.”

My Bible has its pages marked with places that reassure the value of my story, of yours. Tiny notations of “memoir” or “truth”.

Truths, too important to not speak of

Truths like this:

You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy, that I might sing praises to You and not be silent. O’ Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever! Psalm 30:11-12

Honestly and bravely

Because, my steps are directed by the Lord. He delights in every detail of my life. I may stumble, but I won’t fall, for the Lord holds me by the hand. Psalm 37:23-24

Quietly, confidently…my strength, my assurance.

Grace, still

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

Is it true that a man was caged, standing tall and strong as he waited for the trail of fire to ignite his body?

Are children being ravaged and beheaded?

Are quiet men who profess Jesus lined up along the shore, told to kneel and then decapitated?

Kneeling, accepting the firm hand pushing their frames into the pristine sand anticipating the horrific force of death?

Did their blood make bright red the vast expanse of ocean, tinting pink the foamy tide until the high and low of nature settled its remnants along the ocean floor?

I wish I knew more, or maybe I am glad I do not. I am not a political person. I’m overwhelmed by world news and our country’s news. Coverage so divisive and frustrating, filled with uncertainties. If I’m honest, I am dangerously close to apathy. I am not all informed, but I can’t stop thinking about the 21.

I wish I knew that the horrors were exaggerated.

I read that reverent, firmly spoken prayers were uttered.

The mouthing of silent reassurances offered up in Jesus’ name.

The martyred 21 offering final and steadfast faith in God through prayers soft praises on a shore

Hollywood-esque portrayal of riveting and graphic violence

Perhaps, they knew we would not look away.

A cinematic broadcast of martyrdom simply to illicit our fear.

Brutal and belligerent terror, tyranny has gotten our attention.

But, we know of grace.

And we know of heaven and the glory to come.

That same shoreline ravaged by death met the morn of today.

The heavens opened and the warmth of a tangerine sky greeted our world.

The waves built up from the stirrings within and from below.

They crashed upon the shore again

Again, and again.

Making beautiful and resoundingly peaceful the place in the sand of lost lives

Fresh and new, grace still there. That same place of deaths.

Grace is there.

A cloud covered billowy sky with glimpses of God’s grace remains.

His grace endures, makes new. The heavens declare it so.

Let no one tell you otherwise.

Stand firm and be still in God’s grace, still.

The heavens tell of the glory of God. The skies display His marvelous craftsmanship. Day after day they continue to speak; night after night they make Him known. Psalm 19: 1-3

growing love

courage, Faith, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

The soil of faith

To love someone in reality is easy.

I wonder if there’s more to be said for Faith that stands, that lingers.

That withstands and makes stands.

In love and for love.

Faith is the staying the course, an intentional choice of aligning.

Faith is decision tied to action, doing, not just being.

To have faith in someone is to cultivate love.

Tend to them. To grow them like seedlings.

Nourishing love’s roots planted deep.

Faith is the soil.

Hope is the water.

Love, like the changing of tiny branches from brittle to verdant green to lush and flowering, stronger in the growing because of its roots and it’s soil.

Seasonless and for every season.

Faith-filled soil, Moist, pillows of soil, cushioned by hope.

Love grows best there.

We plant. We water. God grows.

happy slumber

Children, family, Motherhood, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Slumbering

Last year this time, I headed home down ice abused streets.

Glancing towards windows as I drove.

Hoping for homes illuminated by the magic of electricity.

Ice ravaged our trees, our streets, tested our Southern spirits.

Walking into my den, I’m greeted by a den floor covered in mattresses.

Every blanket, quilt, afghan, cover or spread.

Beautifully, tidy and pretty.

My daughter has made our beds…and I am greeted with love and happy colors.

Everyone’s recalling the storm of 2014.

And I, this morning, in the quiet of early am cherishing this…

The time we slumbered together next to the fire.

When Heather made the beds.

Remembering now, my eyes moisten from the sweetness.

The happy place in the storm.

The happy slumber.

	Lisa Brittain on Women of Faith
	Lisa Anne Tindal on Women of Faith
	smoker4mom on Women of Faith
	juliedibblewrites on Embracing
	Lisa Anne Tindal on Shine On