Vulnerability

Freemind

courage, Uncategorized, Vulnerability
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color, palette knife, pastel and graphite

A mood hovered over, no reason at all.

No reason at all.

The day, not especially hard not especially easy; but, the mood hung a dark cloud, pulled the shades down over the good I looked around to see.

I find this quite regular, normal and human.

The body tired, the mind deplete, sneaky way you find yourself sort of lonely blah.

Few speak of it, even fewer embrace it for the beckoning of its call to be noticed.

Slow down a while,  won’t you?

Pause.

Slow down, empty your mind.

Find some place wherever in your little heart that waits vacantly to take ahold of your heavy.

And be better for the time you decided to go easy on you and to free your mind

and let the colors follow.

 

Chance and Fences

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability
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chances, today and hopefully tomorrow

I’m pretty sure God would not design us to straddle the fear of failing fence.

Pretty sure, he calls us to walk steadily towards good things, things that he knows our hearts desire and our minds were made for.

Things we wonder over whether it could be possible for us, all the while being unafraid

to try a new thing,

a different thing

a thing you decide admittedly naive,

might it be possible?

Today, I entered a writing competition.

That is all I required of myself.

Write and enter.

I did. I took a chance.

That was all that was required, write because you love it and let others read your words.

That was enough, all it took.

I thought later.
“The more chances I take,
the more
chances
I will be given.”

 

enough for one day.

by faith

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

 

 

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towards heart’s desires

Faith, to me is really more bravery than anything.

It’s enduring self-doubt and even hostility towards your own tender self and deciding to continue on, not growing weary.

Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself so that you may not grow weary or faint hearted. Hebrews 12:3

By faith, whatever that treasure you hold tightly to, keeping quiet about it lest your heart be broken by the attempt and failure or the safety of keeping it secret…

By faith, it can come to fruition.

Hebrews 11, I named the “By Faith 15” cause it’s full of stories of people who simply kept moving forward towards God’s treasure for them.

So, by faith. I began painting again. By faith, I began blogging, telling myself I’m so not skilled for this but, I just kept on writing, by faith.

By faith, I told some special people about my book idea and even let some critique it’s intro.

By faith, I decided to be a brave writer, to be true to my story, not doubtful or embarrassed over the naivety of my dream coming true.

By faith, I wrote almost 2000 words on a Saturday afternoon, my laptop lost 500 of them but, I stopped and looked out the window towards my mama’s birdbath and said “Do not give up.” By faith, I sent the submission in and by faith, I made the final round for publication. By faith, I’m waiting now for the next step…the email to say whether I was selected.

By faith, I will trust God in the decision.

By faith, I am writing tonight, maybe painting too.

By faith, I will submit an essay to a contest no later than Monday because that is the next step.

By faith, I will decide between “It Was Libby” or “The Colors of my Bible”
Two essays, about 700 words so far.

By faith, I will wait and know God will reveal today which story should be shared.

By faith, I will look for God in my moments with others today and I will prepare my heart to lead Missions tomorrow.

By faith, I will just keep taking the next step. I will not grow weary, not grow faint hearted.

Precious Life

Children, Faith, family, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder
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Elijah Blue ‘n Colton Dixon

Made it in time before sundown and we covered our faces in fleece. Heather says fat burns fast in cold air.

So, we strolled, imagining calories burned for the sake of cold air. Baby sized ponds, the dogs ran through and we fussed over it, then called ’em back, inviting their play again.

A storm last night, she said, “The windows were shaking, mama, I mean shaking!”

I thought for less than two seconds, “Wish I’d known.”  and she continued with telling me of reaching for her sleeping husband.

Precious, I thought, oh, how sweet!

I made it before sundown and we walked on thick and sandy dirt roads, wide expanse of sky and talk of nothing really and everything really.

“What is it you plan to do with
your one wild and
precious life? “

Mary Oliver

How precious.

Word

courage, family, grace, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I read today and remembered why.  The thing is, I’d forgotten it as pleasure.

Countless messages, subscriptions to opinions and advice of others to equip my writing, prepare my way, make me more writerly. So many voices, is there room for mine?

Information overload.

So, I skimmed my “pins” saved to my “Makes me Think” board and I remembered my last and most beautiful to me book,  The Kite Runner. 

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I understood the story, it was truth for me.

Then, I went for beauty and I wondered still how can it be I’d gone my whole life without the gloriously truthful poetry of Mary Oliver in my life, my heart?

I sat with her words, sipping berry infused tea as I thought of a promise to myself, an essay submission, a friend committed to critique and I’m only 200 words in.

Moments

There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.

Like telling someone you love them.

Or giving your money away,  all of it.

Your heart is beating, isn’t it?

You’re not in chains are you?  There is nothing more pathetic than caution

when headlong might save a life,

even, possibly, your own.

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Then, I settled into Sunday afternoon empty house, content with alone. I continued on the trek with Andra Watkins, reading, prompted by guilt over an unfulfilled promise, Not Without My Father. 

I thrilled over understanding, I smiled over connectedness. A book about walking the Natchez Trace because a person who is a big part of history walked this same trail, long-suffering and anguished. I was reluctant. Not a history person, yet, I longed to read the book.

Then, it happened about midway through!

She wrote of giving up or not. She wrote of longing to be noticed. She wrote of the anguish of being understood or of at least being seen. And her father told her he saw her, he noticed. He was proud. She was tough, tougher than he imagined. So, she cried over the gift of exactly what she’d been longing to receive, to know.

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Then, I continue with her. I’m walking the trail reading the book and joy of all joys, she knows about the red birds, she believes in the cardinal, her “Mamaw” beckoning her, fluttering and following, saying “continue” and telling her it will be good from now on.

She is assured. So am I.

On Saturday, I walked and I thought of words and verses and truth. A bare tree, hosting a bevy of grey and tiny birds, I stopped to stare.

I walked on and decided, those birds were there so I’d notice and look towards the sky, to God and to good.

I thought of my beliefs in the moments like this, so real they’re like treasure. I thought of writing, of sharing the emotion of seeing birds fill a tree up high against sky blue.

I thought of keeping silent, of not describing this Saturday afternoon occurrence of birds for the sake of those who think less of the notice of God, of birds, of word.

Then decided, surely there’s another who might be waiting to say “Yes, I saw them too..oh, the beauty of it all.”

Words, sky, scripture, truth and birds up high in lonely tree

Beauty,  waiting for us to see.

Sing your Song

courage, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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Oh, how unpredictable and how insignificant is the measure of oneself based on another.

If  you remember there’s just one voice, one voice of you

you will continue on, sit down and create, regardless of and oblivious to what and whoever

you’ll lose your mind and be fine without it

you find you

and recognizing the emptiness of searching, of measuring you by the rule of another’s hand,

you remember

there is only one voice that is you.

And you sing, sing, sing

your song.

Oh, my Lord

what a beautiful song!

Longing Ponds

Children, courage, family, grief, Motherhood, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

” So, come to the pond, or the river of your imagination, or the harbor of your longing. And put your lip to the world. And live your life.” Mary Oliver

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I’ve plenty of time now to talk to myself.  Empty morning house and moving slowly through the rooms.

My thoughts, an exchange with my soul, so true it’s a wonder the dogs don’t hear and

Tilt their heads towards me as if to say, “Oh, it’ll be okay.”

Today, I woke and made plans as if my day was free. Like a silly survey to guess my type or temperament, I saw myself answering,

What would you do today if you could do anything?

I saw myself, assuredly, giving voice to my wish.

“Well, I’d drive to Georgia and my mama would be there. We’d sit on her dock after eating good fattening food somewhere, havin’ gone to town and to K Mart, buying stuff we didn’t need.”

That is what I’d do.  I can’t say why; but, I’m missing her more this time, this coming back to the day she died just before her birthday time.

Grieving after a long time is even more a secret sorrow now. It’s not a heavy grief, more a wish kept secret for the sake of its sacredness.

So, I’d have gone to sit by the pond with my mama, maybe walk around the dam, see if the beavers had clogged up the “run around” and listen for the geese in the distance

Just so I could hear her say, ” Here they come.”

I went to the country today, to my daughter’s. Later than I had planned, I was rushed and annoyed.

“It’s okay if you don’t have time to walk.”  I said.

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“Oh, we’re going on an adventure.” she answered.

We walked on curving paths through fields and red moist clay.  The dogs ran ahead, turned back to catch up and chased after a rustling in the woods, just a little ways, we’d call and they’d come right back.

We turned a sharp turn, she asked her dog, “Eli, you know where we’re going?” and said to me, “This way.”

” A pond? ” I asked.

“”Yeah.” she said and we made our way through the briars and branches to the place under the pines where the water rushed through.

She couldn’t have known. My soul, I suppose led us all there, my daughter, the dogs, my mama and me.

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I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story. This week’s post is about grief? What I’ve come to know as my sacred secret as I move through the month of January, finding feathers everywhere.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/grief-becomes-gratitude-giveaway/

 

All Together Beautiful

courage, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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I was enthralled by her retelling.  Her hand holding her daughter’s. Her husband took his life. She did not know why.

I listened and agreed,  there is yet, no reason why. They’d unraveled, retold, no answers. Nothing to have known.

The pauses are long sometimes. Have they more to say?  Are there replies that might heal?  We pause.

The room is still; but, not uneasy.

She reaches into her purse, I figure to fill empty space, maybe look for Kleenex or phone.

Instead, she finds a book and she reads to us about grief and the only thing that has brought comfort, she adds.

“Grief” she read aloud, is hard and it is unpredictable and onerous in its coming, occasional going and coming again.

Still, if there is the opportunity to notice beauty, then there are moments that feel less like grief.

Oh, I thought, the noticing makes the difference…yes, me too.

I lead the meetings and I’m awkward at times and I’m sad later, not during,

having heard their stories.

I take them with me home.

But, I listened as she read from little green book and my eyes welled up as she offered hope to the ones who were there to make her hopeful,  help her make sense of her senseless.

So, I cried a little in the presence of her bravery on that, her first time at support group.

I woke at 5 the next morning, thinking of beauty, I drifted and slept for a little longer, more pleasant.

Ventured down the hall, good morning pats on heads of dogs and then walked outside with them onto grass barely daylight lit.

Tennis ball tosses, one or two and then I look down on shadowy ground obscure.

One, I see and reach down to collect it, then two, three blue feathers at my slippered feet. Not too many know, my place of settling,  everything an arrangement of three.

And I’m thinking still, two nights later about the complexity of pattern, of life, of grief, of brave recitation and of my mind

that woke with thoughts of beauty and followed to find it there.

Thinking now of all of the all togethers of beautiful noticing.

God is everywhere.

Don’t forget to notice.

All together beautiful.

Continue reading →

My Little Eye

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability
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Epiphany -January 6th

There are a couple of words I love most in my collection of “perfectly pretty words”.

The way they sound when they’re spoken by me, at least from my perspective is just special, significant and kind of sweet.

And the way the letters are so balanced and artful, their dots and intersected cursives making their mark on my pages.

I love them. Two in particular, vignette and epiphany.

I love a pretty place on bedside table, a collection of unevenly numbered things, a clock, a pebble, a book or a candle, framed photo and glass jar filled with pretty pencils.  I step back or sit next to a spot, eyes drifting over to my “vignette” and I smile.

I opened the planner on my desk left clean for my return after Christmas.  Not marked yet,  I turned to January.

Paused when I saw it, “Epiphany” , it’s tomorrow, the 6th.

Epiphany, the day that marks the time the Magi encountered Jesus, the newborn, Son of God.

I use the word when I stop suddenly upon a realization of truth or a long sought understanding.

I use it when the waiting and the hardest parts of my life show me their worth, their lesson, their value.

“Oh, I just had an epiphany.” I’ll say to myself, its validity a personal and precious gift.

Epiphany, an intuitive revelation. Intuition, another especially beautiful word.

Like “vignette” as description makes the ordinary arrangement more special,  “epiphany” makes our realization more heart and soul.

This morning I read a verse from Psalms that made me think of striking out on my own and the paths I’d rushed towards or stumbled through in search of desire and destination. The things I see when I wait to see through God’s eyes are much grander, established, settled, safe and sure.

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭32:8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

This verse makes me smile. I can hear it now….the voice of one or the other of my children. ” I spy…with my little eye.” I’d love that pause between spy and with because I knew their little minds were thinking about what might be hard to find and how much of an adventure it would be for us to either find it or give up!

God never takes his eye off me. I believe there are good things he wants me to seek…to stay right beside him, to depend on his not so little eye.

Or like a lost and disoriented misguided mule without reins, we’re either uncertain or overconfident. Lacking direction and stubbornly impatient.

Because, I spy with my little eye only a tiny bit of the light of what’s to come, like a skinny strip under a midnight door,  I can see just enough to get by.

Then, I stop looking for it or remember to see it

little vignettes and silently sought epiphanies

revelations of God.

 

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/magical-habit-lingering-free-journal/

 

 

 

 

Thus Far

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, praise, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

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We lived in a cute apartment in a sort of upscale community, my baby brother and I.  Our apartment was above a retired couple.

Their comings and goings always together, I’d glance down at them from the kitchen window, he gently helping her from the car and carrying one or two bags of groceries.

Occasionally,he looked up, his expression a contrast in wisdom and frustration.

Yet, they never complained of our late hours, our trash piling up or our completely haphazard life.

Both of us single, both of us sowing wild and hapless oats.

Every Sunday, they went to church. Sharply dressed and contentedly methodical were their steps back home.

On one particular evening, we ended up close enough for words. I asked the gentleman, “How can I know God’s will for me?”

Surprised by what he must have seen as a lost and careless young woman, he just stood there. “I’m sorry if we are loud up there sometimes.” I said, ashamed I’d asked the question.

Still, no words as we stood together in the shade of stairwell. Do I wait, do I leave him be?  Should I not have invited his sermon? Will he rightly point out my sins?

He answered with a book. I’d love to say it lives on my shelf; unfortunately, the patterns of my life were not abruptly changed that day.

But, a seed planted, oh my goodness and I’m so glad God allowed me time enough for it to grow.

There are many who will not believe there are big portions of my life not well-lived.

Who may think I talk of redemption and wonder how on earth do I really think I needed to be redeemed.

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Last night, a text came. I was painting and cleaning my art room. I’d walked the dog in the mist and fog, praying hard and quietly demanding as I walked.

The old heavy and annoying albatross of anxiety had begun to linger above my head.

It’s such a dull and cumbersome feeling, the one that cooks up chaos, confusion and confoundedness in the heart and mind.

I decided, after listing all my anxious taking of responsibility for plans gone awry to God, to head home, be quiet and paint. “I’ll paint. I’ll listen to Alison Krauss and I’ll just paint.”

So, I’m painting in silence because the air has cleared, my mind unfurled and open.

My painting, not furious, but an easy comfort.

My prayer was heard, my heart was made free.

I needed to answer her text; a young woman, mother of precious girls and one little boy is worried and has been crying for days, she said.

I’d given her a reference for a job. She didn’t know. She desperately needs one.

“I’ll pray for you, that a breakthrough will be soon.” I said.  She answered with something like you are so great, I really appreciate it. I wish I had your faith.

I told her that the things I say to her are the things I say to myself quite regularly.

I’m not who I was, still not all I should be. Closer every time I surrender, a thankful trusting heart at rest.

Told her I get the blues too. I have to pray, get quiet and trust.

I hope she knows it’s true, that the mess I am is not nearly as much a mess as before.

That, the will of God is for her a good and settled mind; but,  we have to seek it.

That’s what he said back then twenty plus years or so, the kind and patient gentleman who gave me the book.

“You have to seek God’s will and keep seeking it in the quiet place of prayer. ”

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This morning, I’m reading scripture from II Samuel. A devotional about setting goals for fruitful living, talks about spending time alone with God.

The passage is called “David’s Prayer of Gratitude”. It was written after he was the least likely to be chosen, after he defeated a giant with a stone and before he strayed haphazardly distracted again by lusts of life.

“Then King David went in and sat before the LORD and prayed, “Who am I, O Sovereign LORD, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?”
‭‭2 Samuel 7:18

He’s the good shepherd; he kept his shepherd boy who he chose to be a king.

He keeps us too, reminds us where he found us and where he’d like to help us go.

Where we long to stay, reminded of our thus far.