Vulnerability

Flying Parallel

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, family, praise, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

This post popped up as a memory from three years ago. So many things have changed, been accomplished in the lives of my children as I sit by simply as a flight consultant, an occasional guide, a woman learning to fly to new heights of my own.

What happened yesterday, I consider spectacular.

Spectacular in a way I almost think I shouldn’t tell a soul.

What happened yesterday was God reading the stories I was writing and somehow coming in and being the Sovereign editor.

A day that was typical, work issues, family thoughts, waiting and wondering and hoping, writing “trust” in ink again on my palm.

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out the whole time conversion of when my son’s plane was to land. I decided to focus on work, to walk to the post office, to pick up lunch.

I walked towards our front door and opened it, looking down.

“Oh.” I stopped.

“Oh.”

I touched the tummy of the bird fallen on our brick. It moved slightly, one leg twitching as if somehow it had folded into itself and couldn’t get unfolded.

“Does that happen?”, I wondered or is it worse than just getting tangled on landing?

Someone saw me, I told them I didn’t know what happened or why the bird had fallen, unable to fly now.

She stood at a distance watching my worry over the bird, walked towards her car and added hopes, that maybe it will be okay.

I cupped the bird in my hand. It resisted at first and then moved its body in a cautious hop to a wobbly standing position.

I’ve never seen such beauty up close, the wings in its back caught the afternoon sun and caused a golden sheen. Its little eye was still and focused forward, almost seemed resigned in some way.

As much as I love birds, I had never held one, never touched its spindly claws, never caressed a creature so supple, so sublime.

I held the bird in my hand, my day interrupted by its falling.

Back on its little feet; but, afraid to move, I waited.

I’ll go, I decided. I’ll walk to get the mail, pick up my salad and I’ll see when I get back if the sparrow has flown or fallen back down.

My phone in my hand waiting to hear he’d landed, I walked and decided already, this bird falling to the ground and my noticing has a purpose.

I decided, a foreboding or foretelling of either hope or hardship.

Still, I accepted that I’d return and I’d accept what I found.

Which was the bird on my porch, still standing, slightly moving, maybe had waited for me to see, I believe this could be.

Water, I thought. I’ll get a little water in a jar lid and I’ll set it down in front of its feet.

But not interested, it shuffled just a little towards the steps and then flew, low at first and then up and away.

“Oh.”

Later, I decided to leave work early. I had yet to hear that my son’s plane had landed in another country, a place I can’t get to.

It was too much for me to figure out if I was wrong about the time or if, oh, I don’t know what if.

I had three stops to get the contents of the mission project bags. Each Christmas, our church contributes to bags that are dispersed to prisoners. I needed 100 more pre-stamped envelopes. I had planned to get those tomorrow or Friday since I go to the post office anyway.

Instead, I told myself to finish, to at least have all of my supplies, then the job of putting them together will be all that’s needed.

The clerk asked what I needed and then asked me to count behind him.

“See if you get 30,” he said.

I reached for the stack, the envelopes usually stamped with our flag and “Forever” underneath.

I smiled and counted along with him.

I thought to tell him about the bird and how I was waiting to hear that the plane had landed.

Instead, I kept it close.

I smiled.

“Oh.”

Got into my car and kept moving on. I’ll get the tree, I’ll make wreaths for the front windows. Christmas is my favorite, this will help.

Then, the message came. “Just landed, the flight was longer than I thought.”

“Oh!”

I’m hesitant to share this story I consider spectacular.

I guess if I had a book to ask it be included it would be the one that talks about when God winks or it might be good for Reader’s Digest or at the very least, I decided it must be recorded here.

I started my morning yesterday very afraid inside, afraid of what might happen or not, a recurring theme in my story.

I thought of asking for prayer; instead kept it inside and remembered I’d already cried and cried quietly to Jesus in prayer.

Sometimes it happens this way, the way He shows us He knows in spectacular ways.

God is everywhere, don’t forget to notice. me

We’re worth more than we know to Him.

Worth more than the sparrow and to me, He knows that’s a whole lot because I sure do love the sparrows, the bluebird, the cardinals and the dove.

“What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭10:29-31‬ ‭NLT‬‬

A Blessing Simply

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, marriage, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Yesterday began with creamy oatmeal, warm in my lap and just a touch of the crunch of peanut butter.

I believe I shall have this today as well.

Made a pot of soup later and had a whole house quiet til afternoon.

“It’s a blessing,” he said, as I questioned whether I’d need a jacket to walk the dog.

The temperature just right and he’d come in from the country place where his parents lived before they died.

I ventured out and walked all the way around. We met three little girls who were new to the neighborhood and bouncy with their bubbliness “a dog!” I heard one say.

So, I eased him over and had him sit while I guided their tiny hands, one at a time to pet him. They smiled big dimpled smiles, one with chocolate on her cheek and their hair was all tousled and let be.

We walked on and I unleashed him on the trail, he started into a little trot and I walked slightly ahead then called him to come back.

As we turned back to the main road, I saw them there, their backs bent and their faces close the ground. The rhythm of their work so simple their eyes never rose to meet us.

An empty lot, a new home unoccupied and the lawn already laid down in pieces, someone had smoothed the pine straw in a sort of kidney-shaped border amongst the pines.

A few more feet we walked and I saw the determined face of the wife, not the husband. Her long gray hair fell over her face, her hand smoothing it behind her ear, I thought her eyes will see us; but, she carried on with her picking up and dropping into a bucket.

Not a sound, not a word, no invitation for how are you or what a pretty day, obliging conversation.

I thought of their tranquility as I walked on, thought of their solitude and silence, together.

The task at their hands wasn’t their responsibility, but a choice.

As if all the pine cones had been picked up from their yard already, just around the corner and they sought and found another place to do the work of their hands, the work of a simple life.

We came to the place where the three daughters now live and seeing us from far off, the oldest must have planned it just right as they skipped towards the end of their driveway to see the dog again.

Fascinated by his softness, their voices soft and admiring, I allowed them a little more time to be little, captivated by their sweet faces and the joy of their conversation.

We headed back up the hill, the big Lab relaxed into a saunter and I thought wow, he was right, it’s a blessing, this day.

This simple day.

The evening came and I thought of them again, the couple uninterested in us, singing the song of solitude, of silence, a simple life.

Then lyrics found their way in and the thought of this season, a simple season of love and grace understood more clearly, held much closer to an embrace. I thought of Alison Krauss and went searching because I remembered her wanting something simple like that.

Simple Love

A love song seemed fitting, more than enough, so I sang it.

Yesterday was simple, in its solitude. I believe today I shall find it too, grace, mercy, peace, and love. Find it unexpectedly when not looking or not so a surprise in my seeking.

Because yesterday had room to breathe, it was made of open spaces and things just fell into them without agenda. And God gave me grace and since I’d decided, not sure why, it didn’t seem an intentional choice, to rest from berating myself for what not done; or the agony of the fear over never being done, I was open.

Open to mercy, to love, then came peace.

“May God give you more and more mercy, peace, and love.”

‭‭Jude‬ ‭1:2‬ ‭NLT‬‬

I’m linking up with others here: nitaojeda.com/2017/11/26/imm-november-12/

Jennifer Dukes Lee spoke so much truth here, thank you seemed like never enough:

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/dont-get-know-time/

Sure as I’m Able

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

I love the part about being sure.

I love the thought of that assurance lasting ’til the end of my days.

But, I can’t decide which I love more.

The sure or the without end.

I wrote it down, like I’d written “trust” one time before.

“Always”

I might use a ballpoint and pretend I’ve been brave enough to be branded.

Write “Always Believe” on the thick part of my palm, the spot that seems the place the thumb finds naturally.

I walked up the hill last night and the sky was marked by a straight arrow white line of jet plane on its way.

I watched for longer than made sense.

Captivated by the distance.

So very distant.

Far away.

I thought I’ll never see the sky the same.

I’ll forever look for white lines going away with trust and sure faith that they will come back.

“He’s got the whole world in His hands.”

And I’m certain there are things I never thought I’d see happen even if they only happened from a distance and without me.

And that’s been quite something else for sure!

To have seen how far they can go.

And how close my Lord can stay.

I know He has been with me always, with them, with us and it’s not yet the end of the age.

So, I will be sure.

Be sure of this…

The whole world

The whole sky wide world

is in His hands.

Because of Love

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, Homeless, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Serving, Trust, Unity, Vulnerability

There was no excuse in my not turning back. I stopped.

She stopped. I waited and she stood still.

I turned left towards town and quick thoughts were an effort to make sense of my driving away.

“You’re headed to a kitchen called Grace, Lisa.”

“You are serving breakfast to the homeless. It is 36 degrees outside and there’s a woman bundled up in black and burdened down by her baggage and you left her there, afraid of what she might do.”

So, I turned around and saw her walking in the cold and damp high weeds.

I pulled over. Spoke to her through my open window.

She was not impressed.

She would not let me take her to a shelter. She said I didn’t know, I didn’t understand.

I implored her to tell me more, told her where I was headed, told her I work with the homeless…”Come and have breakfast” I said.

“No.”

Her face was anxious and her eyes angry…she said “I don’t think so.

No.”

I waited. She walked on. I drove away.

Chose a different road, not sure if I wanted not to see her again or her see to me drive away. I changed my direction.

I looked to my left towards the sun breaking through, landing on the open fields and the clouds were slowly shifting,

telling me to move on.

Told me to let go, let God. You can pray. You will.

I cried for just a second. For her condition and mine too and hoped I might see her at the kitchen called Grace.

But, no.

We served scrambled eggs, grits, bacon, biscuits, coffee and gave out bags we’d put together with items needed to be clean and fresh.

Arms reached for them. Eyes met mine. Good morning, Good Day, God is good and could I get another bag for my friend?

And then, a kind word and a smile on the face of a woman that saw my soul.

“How are you this morning?” She asked and touched my hand.

I said “I am good, God has good things for me to see today.”

She said, “Yes, it is good to see another day.”

And I sat with her a second, settled by her love.

And realized I had turned back this morning because of love and love had been offered up and love given me in return.

And the moment that I’d decided might ruin my day made it so much more significant, the love I had chance to give, the love given me.

“And do everything with love.”

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭16:14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Listen

Children, courage, Faith, family, grief, Motherhood, rest, suicide loss, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I looked up from my late day desk yesterday.

Caught off guard, I did not hear her walk in.

I rose to meet her, her neighbor couldn’t accompany her, she’d decided to come on her own.

“Good”, I said. “I’m glad you came.”

Almost a half hour before the others, I told her it’s fine. It’s good. It’s hard to walk into a room and know no one.

Now, you know me, and I, you.

I tried not to keep gazing there, the place where the light seemed so warm, so soft this evening, a day after I still think of their embrace.

I question what it is with me, the way I’m drawn to such sights.

The thin branches reaching out, reminded me of them, open and tenderly brave.

It reminded me of listening.

I sat between them, the three of us, mothers.

The one new to the gathering began to speak about her son’s suicide.

The room fell silent.

Reverent.

She looked past me towards the other and asked, “When did you stop blaming yourself?”

Seconds only passed, the imploring of her words, and I noticed the mother three years into grief over her son’s suicide, move slowly from her seat to stand.

Only for just a small breath of a moment did I think to respond. I should comfort.

Instead, I stood and with my hand on the shoulder of the mother to my left, I helped her over to the mother on my right.

I had missed it, that she was on the edge of sorrow, that there were tears about to overflow.

Somehow, she did, the mother to my left.

And, not a single word spoken. Their arms raised to meet the other, shoulders rhythmic with release of tears.

It seemed quite a while; but, the wait not the least bit unsettling.

The father of the son of the one gone three years, the husband of the one offering embrace.

He began to cry. I looked his way, looked slowly away and I joined with them in my own tears. My not nearly comparable mama tears.

Finally, after such a beautiful long time their arms unfolded.

She said, “Thank you.” to the mama who knew and sat slowly back down.

And the other mama waited, as if to be sure and I listened to the voices of grief I can never quite comprehend.

Praying I don’t.

Found Praying

bravery, Children, courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Tonight, I walked down the hall, the house quiet and settled. The evening, a good one, I walked under leaves and on ground littered with beauty and returned in time to cook a good meal, to paint a bold floral.

I remembered some things I’d been thinking about and made note to be sure I made time to pray for things that will be happening tomorrow.

Stalled by my thoughts on the way to open the dresser drawer, find the warmer pajamas, I decided then, that I’d pray now.

The farthest end of the house, dark.

Unconcerned over not being alone, I knelt, my hands smoothing the creases on the thick quilted cover.

I prayed what needed to be prayed. I prayed what thoughts kept coming back, ones recalled from early and unexpected revelations and realizations from the morning. Ones I’d written down on my pages.

I prayed a prayer that said thank you for your goodness, you are good and your love endures. I told God how grateful I am, recalling sweet little images of my daughter with freckled cheeks and my son, chubby little tanned face, blonde hair bouncing as he ran.

Quiet then, I felt the shift of weight under my knees. I heard the soft sounds of steps on the carpet.

The Labrador presence in the room. I know his sound. I wait, he’ll come up close beside me, make that low grunt like a question.

Instead, he waited. I heard his sigh. He was patient, as if aware of my conversation with God not quite done yet.

He waited and I rose from beside my bed and touched the place between his ears and we walked calmly back down the hall.

And I thought then about something I read today. That people are making light of prayer, have decided we’re all foolish and fooled…those of us who are still praying.

Who will pray.

Who pray when led to pray at not set aside times and believe all the more in prayer, in God, in holy and Holy Spirit.

Because a big brown dog might enter the room and be reverent there until you’re done.

Might know to be still.

To

Be still and

know that He is God.

Psalm 46:10

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and other writers on journeys of faith and happy experiences of prayerful discoveries.

Visit here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/live-life-meaning-intention/

Sufficient Is My Treasure

Art, bravery, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I’ve become obsessed with an artist who paints vibrant florals. Her colors are thick with brightness and she covers the canvas, letting the leaves drape over the edge.

I’m a follower of hers, have an Instagram fueled yearning to be her.

I find myself fascinated by her skills, the way she markets herself, the gallery in which her art is displayed, I’ve decided is sleek and uptown.

“I need to paint florals.” I told Connie when I stopped by to scan the walls of her shop to see if she had any on display, sizing up what would be my competition.

I’d sold an angel and one of the “Pines” pieces. She handed me the check. I don’t believe I thanked her, how quickly I’d walked away,

Good gracious!

Last night, I told my husband I needed more time to write.

I need more time to paint.

If I’m going to be good, I need to do more and I need more time to do it. I don’t have the time I need to be good.

This morning, I walked by my little corner room. It’s a mess.

I’ve given in to allowing the dogs to share it.

My pretty rugs are all off kilter, edges rolled over, been rolled around on.

The blank canvases are not in order, out of place. The mason jars have muddy water covered brushes and there are at least four pieces unfinished.

I knew not to go through the door, I’d have wanted to stay.

I’d have started with putting things where they should be, clean slates for creating and then I’d have put my apron on and squeezed out plops of color on my palette.

I’d sit back and play, Alison Krauss or Bebo Norman and the dogs in their spots they now share would have begun to breathe soft and easy.

Lost in painting for no reason at all, except that it’s my treasure, this treasure God planted in me.

Time gets lost track of, I’ve no need other than to continue. Whole evenings feel like grace.

I could sell hundreds of paintings and I would still want more if I painted from the place of seeking to be special, to be seen, to be sought after.

There’s a need that’s insatiable, the bottomless pit called notice, the ocean bottom wide and wondering that asks why them, not me, and why not yet for me when so many already have so much more.

But with grace, sufficient is my treasure.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” 2 Corinthians‬ ‭4:7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I bought new canvases, one large and three nice 5 x 7’s. Tomorrow I’ll try my hand at florals, bright pink camellia type blooms with lively thick green leaves and stamens of happy yellow, thick in texture, touchable and bursting through.

We shall see what beauty may come, shall come from a place held by grace.

About Grace

bravery, Faith, grace, mercy, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

The most beautiful things in life are lost in our searching for more, I believe.

Like looking for what you think might be phenomenal, if you could only capture it, to notice later something there all along you’d considered only as a backdrop.

Grace is like that.

It waits for us to notice it’s there, been there all along.

She sat down, had not intended to, was slipping away from the crowd, I suppose, to be alone.

But, I was there and so she paused. We began to talk and we began to listen.

We both had thoughts, both had frustrations, both had hopes that had yet been fulfilled.

Things in common, things we wondered why and stuff we’d like to see done differently and if only others would be brave enough to consider…we were in agreement.

The conversation shifted when I saw the longing in a young woman on the cusp of her future eyes, a little glossed over.

So, I thought I might try my best to talk about grace, about living and walking and breathing and hoping in the air we breathe called grace.

I didn’t say it all the way I wished I could. I saw myself in her, miserably questioning everything in life, missing the trees for the forest of questions, considerations, doubts, and fears.

I told her of when I’m at my best; but, I tripped all over my words trying to help her see.

I am at my best when I am living in a way that says I am walking with grace, on grace, through grace.

(That’s not what I said; but, it is what I tried to say.)

When I don’t discount grace. When I don’t treat grace like a compliment over a blouse in the back of my closet…like saying Oh, grace…yeah it found me and I kept it but I must have forgotten about it…but, I’m glad it’s still there….can’t imagine why since I’d forgotten about it. Man, I feel bad about that grace I hung in the back of my closet, so I can’t really say it’s mine ’cause I didn’t act like it was mine to wear.

I do not at all understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.

Anne Lamott

Grace is defined as unmerited favor.

But, that doesn’t mean we have to walk around feeling undeserving.

Making apologies for getting it as a gift.

I told her to look for grace. To stop looking for answers, to walk and sit and sleep with that grace. She’ll know when she’s living in light of grace, breathing the air it’s in.

To revel in that grace and to wait for what revelation will come from her time of not questioning, not distracting, not deciding on discontent over things that are not of our concern.

Not for now, wait. Rest.

Well, I didn’t tell her then; I wish I had. I am now.

Telling us both, what I know about grace.

How I’m wishing now we’d spent more time talking about grace instead of all the places we’d gone wrong, found to be wrong.

And I believe we both know now. We shared, we listened. We were in agreement, we were confused, we were challenged and we confided.

It was grace that brought us there.

Grace will see us through.

Will not leave us where we were found.

 

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and other writers at Tell His Story. This week she’s sharing a brightly colored PDF to remind me to be grateful every day!

Check it out and start being intentionally grateful!

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/join-us-30-days-gratitude/

Hope Not Harm

Abuse Survivor, bravery, courage, Faith, family, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Writing, prompted by the word “Overcome”

Last week, I prayed before getting out of my car for work, opened my eyes towards my open palm and was awakened to the truth of my life becoming too noisy, my telling of things to myself and others just a little too tender, too tough to know, to remember. I was reminded of my strength, my hope, my faith, my love, my peace, of what is true. I was reminded of the quiet me, the quiet confidence.

Delicate charms and a strong timepiece I wear, gifts given by those who know me well, I know this well, I am loved.

I was reminded.

I came to a place that made me see I’d not actually overcome some things and instead, I’m still prone to them overcoming me.

That harm, not keep me hoping.

It may change my course altogether of the plan of God I’ve called my treasure and I may actually be closer to living what I believe, to believing more consistently the little things I say, to hope not harm.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭29:11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

I use little bits of wisdom here and there like “My story was just a story, then God became a part and he made it a testimony.” or “God’s not finished with me yet.” or one I have painted in softly colored capital letters covering the length of an old piece of wood, “Live What I Believe.”

Only pleasantries really, if all I do is say them, post them, share them.

My good intentions got tripped up I found myself falling backward, back into the place of misery and memories. Not for long, the warning was clear, clearer than ever and not a correction, a consolation now.

I spoke of overcoming trauma, hinted at freedom; yet, I became close to being overcome by it.

It hurt, not healed.

It hindered my faith, did not help my hope.

Father, thank you for making me attentive, for seeing the worth of me and my story. For showing me the way forward, the way of hope not harm. May I not be overcome by my own telling. May my words bring hope, not harm.

Because of your mercy, I pray.

Amen

me

Linking this post up here: http://fiveminutefriday.com/2017/10/26/overcome-day-27/

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Turning Corners

bravery, courage, Faith, grace, mercy, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I saw them first. Up ahead, maybe the distance of two cars or three.

We’d need to go left. They’d be going right.

I stepped it up. My face down, eyes up, are they closer, do they see us?

No idea if they were female or male, four of them gaining on us, I knew we had to get there first. I pulled left. He pulled right.

We can do it. I’m fast. You’re strong.

We got this!

They zeroed in towards us. He saw, “No sir.” I said.

Eyes met.

“No sir,” I said and he made a sound like oh I want to bark so bad or scream but, I’ll hold back.

Then they let loose, yipping yapping, yipping yapping, four white fur balls perfectly coiffed bouncing along the asphalt out of control, black lines twisting here and there leashes turning round and round.

He stepped in step with me, his body by my side, but turned all awkward and his head tilted back with a half-hearted plea of a bark fading away into silence.

Good boy, good boy.

We were free, had made it to the track making for a long way around.

It was getting dark. But, we were good and

Free.

Free and clear now, free.

We made it to the straightaway and since the sky was turning dark blue and the air felt so very clean, we ran.

We ran a rhythmic run. No strain, no push, no expectation.

We ran. Then, we walked and then because it occurred to me I could, we ran again.

Downhill, feet clapping happy claps on the pavement. We ran with abandon.

Then turning towards home, oh my goodness.

It’s dark.

We stopped at the place where we stop and he sat under the crescent moon and I waited.

We crossed to the other side of the road and ran a solid and determined run about a block back home.

Progress unintentional for me, to run.

Progress for me today.

A blog post waits in draft status, been there three whole days, all about tender hearts and hope and falling apart to be put back together by the one who made me.

Three attempts to move it from draft to published.

Probably, maybe trashed. Yes, I think so. I’d gotten all tangled up conveying how my heart became tender, how it felt like a consequence for oversharing here. I had an idea of something big and breakthrough I wanted others to know. It was my heart that wasn’t so much hard-hearted; but, that needed to be okay with being soft, open to a gentle handing, willing to rest in my Father’s hands.

For whatever reason, I couldn’t string the words together and then the draft wasn’t the draft I’d saved. Okay, I told myself, not touching that again and tried to forget about how significant it was, the realization of my need to let go my defenses, my strong facade.

Maybe too fixed up, too contrived, too well-groomed; but, yet held tight by the leash that holds back called comparison, approval, like or compliment in a comment.

Maybe I’d given it the wrong attention, or too much.

I’m the grandma for my son’s dog who was abandoned on the side of the road. Adopted from a shelter.

Not wanted, not trained.

Yet, well-mannered. Attentive, understanding and amenable.

Not at all concerned with being a good dog, just “good boy”.

My cousin told me I shouldn’t throw my pearls to swine.

I understand now, I should save my most truly me thoughts turned words for those who might be open to their meaning and message.

Much like taking off with the untrained but, well-mannered Labrador to avoid the approach and possible attack of the fancy and trained yet, unable to behave pedigrees.

I worry over my words amongst the words of others and then I waver.

I wander.

I’ll keep walking. I’ll keep noticing. I’ll keep writing about noticing and walking and running and skies and sunsets and yes, yes, yes…

about God who reminded me to cry, who brought me a place where I slightly fell apart in a late night hard cry, only to say.

I’m taking that heart of stone you’ve decided is what kept you confident, brave and strong and I’m making you tender again,

making you open, making you, you.

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭36:26‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Helping you run with feet softer, more sure of being safe, more knowing you’re free.

More okay with the decision to run.

 

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee who shares some very good advice on who to keep near. 

Visit here:http://jenniferdukeslee.com/four-kinds-friends-need/

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