Room for writing

courage, Faith, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Writing room

I shouldn’t be surprised.

I’ve been here before…everything in place, steps taken for forward movement and yet, no movement, no motivation, no fire, no fervor.

I painted the guest room. My husband gifted me with a new laptop.

“Writing”, I told him “feels like what God wants me to do”.

He listened. It was important to me. He understood, I believe.

He recognized the place of my soul, the yearning of my heart.

I made a Pinterest Board and named it…”Writing Room”.

I packed up toys, treasures, junk, memories, the contents of the “catch-all” room.

The guest room, a shrine to lost parents and childhoods…all clean now.

Sparse and pretty, calm and subdued.

Art, words, images of my heart, my love, my family…my story of the stories that made me. Just a room filled with stuff actually, it was.

So, here I sit, wrapped in mama’s quilt on the couch looking for words and for reasons to explain the stuck place I’m in.

Just, typing away on my tiny little Kindle.

As if I am unworthy of writing in a pretty room with appropriate technology. Because that would feel special and deserving…Two places that make me uneasy, pressured, tending to step back. Stay in the background…The place without fear. The place of no risk.

I’ve been here before….an Art scholarship and yet flunked sculpture.

A promotion yet hindered by the fear wearing wrong shoes

A chance to sell my art; but, refusing to take payment from friends

Two blog posts are waiting as drafts in my dashboard.

Good thoughts on resolution and lessons learned, yet, ramblings, phony words and disconnects that are “not me, not Quiet Confidence”.

What holds me back?

Tells me not to expect good?

Reminds of my disdain of attention, avoidance of being noticed?

It’s the voice of not good enough.

The perception of other’s looks when I struggle to confess my love of writing…The look that so loudly says…”oh, everybody wants to be a writer” that completely obscured the thoughts of “Why not me?”

Yet, there is always streaming love of words, of descriptors of the commonplace, of conveyance of struggle, of fear, of celebration of joyful beauty and important moments of God’s grace and mercy.

So, move forward tenderly, Lisa.

Move forward without pressured expectations, without perfection.

Stay quietly confident. This is your theme, your heart.

Stay true. Stay transparent. Touch lives.

Turn hearts towards Jesus.

Tonight, good and true words flow from a quilt wrapped sofa.

Maybe tomorrow a pretty writing room desk surrounded by a sparrow, my mama and daddy in picture frames and tiny little books…

Good doesn’t flow from pressure…Motivation doesn’t come from fear.

Just write, Lisa.

Just write, wherever, whenever.

Motivated, unafraid,

Don’t expect failure nor be afraid of success.

Be you, quietly confident.

” I am able to do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13

Peace – a quiet outpouring

Children, Faith, family, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

He is our peace.

I heard, last night about the tragic death of an eight year old boy.

This past week, I met the parents of a 26 year old who decided life and it’s struggles compounded by his own unique obstacles was too hard.

His mama, daddy and sister are grieving and profoundly sad at Christmas.

A grown man, for the most part a stranger has accepted my small gesture of being available to listen, and has retold his story through tears a few times now.

Listening, nodding. Being like-minded in the value of God’s peace are all I am capable of, even competent to provide as a support, a resource.

Because, the unfathomable has occurred.

The horrors that only leave a resounding “Why” and the aching pain in the chests, ribs and souls of those who grieve.

And now at home, the eve of Christmas Eve, discord at home rears it’s hateful head.

A whirlwind of exchange of anger, frustration, hurt and rivalry has been an occasional upheaval within our walls.

Siblings at different stages of life passages are simply incompatible.

Love and forgiveness, a bending of opinions, unique wills has to reign.

Mamas fight with all of their being to mediate.

To see both sides, to beg for bending, understanding, apologetic acts.

Yet, we’re torn when division grows broader, deeper.

When discord remains for more than a verbal match or a slammed door.

Moments passed, the house became quiet and I sat, positioned facing our tree, rain falling, shimmery lights and my homemade paper ornaments swaying slightly as reminders of my Christmas goals for this year:

Joy

Peace

Hope

Love

And I sat a little while, thinking I need to calm down. I need to pray.

Nevertheless, I just sat.

Absorbing, experiencing the dull ache of anxiety.

Half-heartedly allowing thoughts to fake their way from my mind, masquerading as prayers.

Lord, help this stop. Lord, this has to stop….

Finally, I walk determinedly towards my bedside and I kneel.

Resting, face on carpet, I pour out my heart to God.

The ritual becomes a peaceful ease, a flow without restraint, an outpouring.

I pray for the horrific loss of a little boy at Christmas. I pray for the profound loss of the mom and dad who will recall on Christmas Day the tragic suicide of a son just 3 weeks ago.

And I pray, surrendered to God through His Son Jesus, that I will follow Him through storms of change, aiming to create discord.

Follow His design for me as a mother to my children, a wife as a Child of God, the one whose goal is a family that loves God.

Mostly, that I will know and believe more strongly that

Discord is not of God.

That God is not responsible for the stealing of my Joy, of my Peace. Of my Hope. Of my family.

That I am strongest on my knees in prayerful surrender; not in a place of “Why me” random requests spilling from anxious, angry or dissatisfied frustration.

Because, when I pray with open heart, mind and hands, He himself is my Peace.

Jesus was born into a world of discord, of plans for evil, not good.

He was, after all turned away to be born in a stable. He was finally, despised, rejected and crucified for us, to be our salvation and our solace through the powerful Holy Spirit our gift of Grace connection to God.

And so He himself is our peace…The only peace in a world where Sin has entered in and has torn our hearts and souls for a longing, an imploring to abide in Him…in solemn and sincere opening of heart for Peace on Earth.

Peace I leave with you; my Peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27

His peace, written in red for us, we are His disciples.

Peace, joy, love, hope are ours when we abide in Him through prayer this Christmas.

Adore

Children, Faith, family, Motherhood, Uncategorized, wonder

I love pretty words.

The last time I used the word “adore” was to describe a photo of my daughter.

I cannot recall the occasion, maybe birthday.

She sat on the couch, looked over and smiled

Beauty, grace and love captured in a snap.

Her beautiful blue eyes.

Her confident, determined ease.

I refreshed my memory on the definition of “adore” and so understand the writer’s exhortation now as we are prompted

” Oh, come let us adore Him.”

Asking, the onlookers, ancient and amazed…to adore Christ the Lord!

And so, let us adore Him, let us overflow with joy, excitement and love as we humbly and blessedly imagine the beauty of the newborn king, our glorious Savior.

Talking about God

Children, courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized

In His presence

I sometimes wonder if the way I talk about God sounds cliche.

Do I post a status, tweet a truth or say goodbye to a friend with a quick dose of wisdom, thinking “yes, that’s what I believe” ?

Or, recall scripture and toss it into conversation at just the right time?

Do I feel a sense of accomplishment because the wisdom of words stored up, came to me at just the right time?

If I’m honest, that’s boastful, showy even.

Do I place myself on the pedestal of reciting scripture when friends are engrossed and content in simple, attentive conversation?

Can I be too casual with the truths I’ve stored up?

Do I share sacred truths that have saved my soul (and my life) in a commonplace tone or one that assumes everyone knows His mercy?

I think I do.

And then, a moment of His Presence occurs and makes real all of the “going through the motions, walking the walk” routine.

A friend calls. A call about my work.

The conversation meanders towards family, life, of course our children.

We catch up. We commit to pray for each other, our unique angst over stages of childhood to adulthood worries, different daughters and sons but the same sense of needing to secure their days, their nights, their futures.

So, she says she will pray and I thank her.

A day later she calls and we compare notes on motherhood, prayers prayed, progress, peace, movement towards resolutions.

For us both, a sense of God’s weaving of good, in us and through us

She said, “God is working.” I paused.

And I felt it.

I felt God working. I froze, lifted my face upward and allowed the washing over feeling of mercy, of Grace to linger.

To describe this moment further would lessen its truth. To elaborate, searching for descriptors of this sense of God-nearness would tarnish its beauty.

God hears our prayers. Mine, yours. He hears.

God is working on our behalf.

Tell His story.

Waiting Expectantly

courage, Faith, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Expecting Jesus

I have a friend who reminds me constantly of the promises of God. She is firm in her belief and doesn’t tire of my being doubtful or anxious whining in the “waiting to see” period. Even the tone in her voice is laid back, no worries as she says, “Trust the process.”

“Well, Lisa” she says, “you know it’s God’s plan, not ours.”

She always calls back and even calls to say “Something told me you needed to talk.”

Her advice and encouragement, consistent and unwavering.

Has she seen something, peeked through a crack in God’s door, discovering what I can’t see?

In the Book of Luke, Mary is young, afraid and dismayed over being the chosen one of God to give birth to our Lord and Savior.

Mary, perplexed inquires of the angel, “How will this be since I am a virgin?”

The angel reminds Mary of the power of the Holy Spirit and tells her of the miracle of the long-barren Elizabeth being with child.

Surely, this revelation would confirm for Mary that nothing is impossible with God. Mary then answers, “I am the Lord’s servant, May it be as you have said.”

Humble and obedient, yet still, I believe, a little uncertain.

She leaves and hurries to Elizabeth’s home.
For reassurance, a listening ear, an embrace of acceptance. A place of love, of one who does not tire of questions, doubts, despair, insecurities and beliefs of not being able

At the sound of Mary’s voice, the unborn child, John the Baptist “leaps in Elizabeth’s womb”.

I picture Elizabeth, overcome with joyous emotion, excited and happy to tell Mary how blessed she is among women, speaking clearly her confident assurance to Mary.

“Blessed is she who has believed what the Lord has said will be accomplished!” Luke 1:45

Mary, then believing God’s plan, sings her song of glorious rejoicing in God, her Savior and then, uplifted and confident, leaves Elizabeth’s house, convinced of the goodness of God.

She is expecting Jesus.

Do you have an Elizabeth in your life? A friend who reminds steadfastly of the goodness of God, of his timing, his process?

A friend who is certain of God’s plan?

A friend like Elizabeth who removed all doubt from Mary as she wondered if God chose her by mistake, saying as my friend often reminds, “God doesn’t make mistakes.” ?

Wait expectantly for Jesus. For His revealing, His time, His good.

joy, peace, hope, love

Children, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

One morning last week, I prayed before leaving the house. Not your typical “Keep us in your will and help us to be a witness” generic pill form prayer

Maybe, you know the prayer I prayed.

Imploring words, unashamed lifted up, open hands of surrender and honesty

Raw requests for the power of God to change hearts, minds, actions.

Intercessory prayer for the people I love, daughter, son, husband that their hearts begin to humble.

There has been a sense of hovering uncertainty and frustration and a whole lot of eggshell walking avoidance and unwillingness to bend in our family.

Nothing life-threatening just moody, stubborn, head strong battles over not so important things

Each of us, simultaneously on the brink of meltdowns over each one’s unique discontent

So, I prayed for them; but, lingered mostly on me.

Lord, let your love, you joy, your patience and your grace infuse my being.

Influence my words, my thoughts, my reactions.

Lord, help not pitch a fit, throw my hands up, begin a pity party or have the posture of a martyr.

Disorder is not of you, or from you Lord.

How could I not remember that this strain and stress are not what you would have for my family?

What you, Lord have for my family are Joy, Peace, Love, and Hope.

I am confident of this, for you are our Savior

Savior of my daughter, my son, my husband.

Our peace, not selfish ugliness

Our love, not angry, refusing to bend disapproval

Our joy, not disappointment

Our hope, not our “washing our hands” of a challenge or of one another

And so, last night rather than ornaments I used words to adorn our tree. Visuals of God’s reminders of the things he brings to our hearts and our homes…Joy, Peace, Love and Hope.

Jesus, help me

courage, Faith, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

Matthew 11:28

Half-hearted and maybe just obligatory or lazily easing into morning, I read three devotions every morning.

It’s a discipline for me.

Yet, sometimes a nod back to my anxious church days of finger pointing preacher chastising, scaring me into faith.

Most days now, morning devotion is good and genuine.

It’s Clarity.

Marker for my faith walk.

Like today, when a simple phrase, “Jesus, help me.” became a prayer, written in my journal and dwelt upon

Meditated, settled in with relevance for my day

A bullet list of things I can’t handle, things I can’t let go, things I once again open-minded give to God

Things God knew already; but waiting for my letting go, the surrender of my heavy load, of my striving to control

Coming back, again…to Him first thing in the morning, to rest before beginning with a lighter load.

moving mountains

courage, Faith, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Waiting to see

There’s an image in my mind.

I’m standing, alone and facing a mountain.

Nothing but trees, overgrowth, and wildly growing bits and pieces of brush. Limbs, broken and resting in varying degrees of decay.

I stand, perplexed by the mountain.

My feet find level ground and planted still and resolute, I focus on the mountain. I am waiting to see.

Concerns and unanswered prayers linger.

Days interrupt with distractions but are filled with ritual; yet, sometimes spontaneity.

But, then a thought, a nudge reminds…there’s still this looming concern, this heart-tugging issue, this still mysterious waiting to be “done and stronger for it” nagging unknown.

Diversions are good, like standing in an open field and turning to notice a bird, happy to witness its flight.

Or deciding to rest, so lying down and mesmerized, getting lost in the bright blue and feathery white fluff of the wide expanse of sky.

Or deciding to walk down a path leveled by another’s feet

To feel compelled, excited to venture…to digress for a bit

To allow a break from the discipline of waiting.

Then suddenly reminded, like the turn of the head or the glance over the shoulder… the mountain, you remember the waiting, the unknown.

Still there, still overwhelming

Obscuring your view, reminding you of the enormity of it and the uselessness of your abilities.

Nothing good comes by force, you remember.

Nothing to do but wait

So, I wait. Heels dug in, feet level, balanced, eyes focused. Heart surrendered.

I wait, because I know the immovable can only be moved by God.

I pray. I do not lose hope.

Mountains can be moved.

Surrendered and expectant to see the clearing, good, the better, the best.

The mountain before you will become a plain. Grace, grace. It is God’s grace. Zechariah 4:7

begin again

courage, Faith, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Pennies and love

When I glance down and see a penny, I bend, hold it tightly, thumb and index finger sort of focused on the texture, the gift of finding it.

Finding pennies changes the course of my day.

I regroup, feel a glimpse of angels, a nod of affirmation…

Keep trying, stay faithful.

God is good, has good for me.

His love is unending.

We wander, drift, forget or forego our faith

He waits.

He brings to light our void

Causes us to long, gently, sometimes firmly calls us back, takes sin blinders and masks of selfish intentions from our eyes.

We find our way back.

Our heart, again beats for Him and we shine brightly, resting in His embrace.

His patient embrace.

We begin again, noticing pennies on our path and a longing to be held by a God who never lets go and believes in unending new beginnings.

His unfailing love, high as the heavens…and he removes our rebellion as far as the east from the west. Psalm 103:11-12

not knowing

Children, courage, Faith, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

In God’s hands

Heather’s about to graduate high school here.

A beautiful girl, having recently met her first love.

Now, a grad student and 4K teacher, a teacher who loves.

A young teacher, already honored for her accomplishments.

The hard times in the middle,though.

Her change of heart and mind of college choice, now just a blur…an insignificant blip in time.

Then, the heart problems. The scary, wildly, unpredictable heart condition.

Middle of the night, tachycardia that wouldn’t slow down, hurried ER trips. Horrific procedures that tried but didn’t fix. How scared, how vulnerable I felt.

Almost a year now of better. Perhaps, grew out of it. Maybe, it was just for a time. A reminder to embrace faith.

We did. She and I, our faith grew.

I think of the fear that I carried, the scenarios I imagined.

Austin was chubby here and still little boyish. About to begin middle school, running with his friends, all of them baseball stars.

Middle school came and went followed by a period of growing up, literally straight and tall.

Pictures of a very thin boy and questions of a condition diagnosed by whether his fingers could bend crazy ways and “Oh, I hear something unusual in His heart.”

All was well, through it all, well and good.

Now, a handsome, broad-shouldered (very tall) young man. Weight caught up with height. Still same, one lip upturned smile. Still sarcastically handsome.

Senior pictures and college choices, already accepted by two of his favorites…got that behind him. Choice is his.

Still a whole lot of unknown. A wishing of knowing what will be.

Tonight though, I am thinking about and praying for a mom I’ve never met. I imagined her as famous and as I began my writing journey months ago, hoped one day I could share my words in a big way too. She has published a book.

Yet, I felt I couldn’t relate. She is young, pretty, beautiful family and home I decided. I’ll just read her blog posts and be content to follow.

Then, I read about her son, Zachary and his mysterious, enigma of a condition that is causing his knee to swell. She poured her mama pain and worry into her words and I began to pray, still praying for Zachary.

This morning, her blog spoke of digging deep into your faith reserve. I thought, “Been there, came through.”

Let’s pray tonight for Zachary and for all the mamas like me, you, and Renee who might be in a place of not knowing, a place of trust in times of trouble.

Trust me in your times of trouble, and I will rescue you, and you will give me glory. Psalm 50:15

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