Messy, Pretty, Good

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

There’s paint spattered on the wall, a greenish blue ocean color.

A canvas a while ago, I was intent on the texture of sky and sea, large brush strokes, attacking white canvas…until I got it right. Kept at it until satisfied.

Until I could step back, look towards color and be content with what I’d made.

If it’s good, there’s peace and rest. Not good, its surface gets painted over, propped up to dry and I’m torn between trying again or letting it be.

I’m always certain of plans for a painting, intent and abandoned in the process.

I’m hard on myself, denying I’m meant to create. What is talent, who decides?

Just like that, I leave it for a time…let it go.

Then, an afternoon frees itself and I’m covering the table in sheets, laying out paint, filling mason jars with water and bringing out the piece I gave up on, maybe a blank canvas too.

And I paint. I change black to blue, textured with thick layers like silk, reds, bright and full.

Poppy-like blooms, strong and long green stems barely able to support the fullness of blooms.

Later, it’s dry and I can hardly stop myself from staring. I turn it to its back and sign, “LT…Quiet Confidence…Isaiah 30:15”.

Called it “Joy”.

Joy

Yesterday. I woke with recall of the sweetest and smallest of unexpected good. Today, as well.

I looked over towards pine tree tops and saw sunlight peeking through.

I sat there, with that sweetness…yesterday and today.

Remembering how I’d pushed for perfect.

How I’d given up, defeated and despondent until like a child pitchin’ a fit, I’ve done all I can do and I traipse away to my corner to accept life as it has been given, my perceived pitifully unfair lot in life.

Until, like a sullen and sulking child, I begin to let go and let it be.

And God, like a parent who saw that special thing hoped for; but, held back knowingly, softly walks back in and says. “Here, child. This is what I had for you. It’s better than what you wanted.”

It’s the unexpected and gloriously beautiful, like rich red and peaceful blue paint on a discarded old piece of wood.

Merciful grace to those tripped up by hastened and erratic desire.

Messy made pretty, made good.

Return to rest, my soul. The Lord has been good to you.

Psalm 116:7

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee, Tell His Story

Grace in the Silence of Morning

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

I heard it most clearly

As the rain fell steady and fluid.

It continued through the night.

I’d wake and hear it’s shrill and consistent cry.

Then, drifting back as opportunity allowed, only to be roused again.

A solitary bird, must be a baby I decided…somehow stranded, lost, seeking to be found.

So, morning comes and the dogs must have heard it too.

So anxious to be let out

Rushing through the door, bolting towards back yard, barking frantically at the sky, full retrieval mode.

Barking and circling the yard, looking up from rain-soaked trunks, tracking the cry of a solitary bird.

Where are you?

What do you need?

Their barks, a seeking and determined banter.

And I followed behind, just as intent, looking up towards skinny and broken pine limbs way up high.

Looking to find the place of this needy, deliberate, and insisting cry.

Others joined, a variety of bird, more melodic as daylight pushed its way through drizzled gray.

The lone bird’s cry paused, finally.

Had been responded to, so grew softer then, more expectant.

Not so shrill, not so impatiently anxious.

The morning then, a harmonious repose.

So. as the morning goes, I find myself in my familiar place.

Jotting, reading, praying, sipping coffee and finding words.

Opening my heart, it’s an effortless sort of graceful gift.

God hears my silent and seeking cry again.

As my thoughts become settled and silent.

God’s words making sense every morning.

Easy in the silence.

The Lord will fight for you, and you only have to be silent.

Exodus 14:14

To Be with Jesus

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

I wouldn’t say it was the very first thought today.

But, once I had sweet creamy coffee in hand, I sat and then thought.

Morning

Lord, what is it you will teach me today?

I’d read from the Book of Mark yesterday and would be picking back up there. Jesus with people, seeking, following or doubting…all hearers of His stories, parables and encounters. I’d have been captivated

I would hope so.

I wonder, if I’d been one of the chosen 12 or at least had time in His midst

Would I have been an attentive and engrossed student

Listening closely, comforted and content?

Or might I have been one to question, to be agitated by notions of what should have been a more prolific and royal presence?

Mark 6:6

Would I have been disappointed?

Wondering, who is this friend of sinners, teacher and one who beckoned everyone…come closer, listen?

Would I have hunkered down, found a quiet place in the boat, raging storm all around; nevertheless, secure because of His nearness?

Or would my fears have gotten the best of me, untrusting

And He marveled because of their unbelief. And He went about among the villages teaching. Mark 6:6

Unwilling to believe?

Would my terror have led to anger, so much that I questioned this man sleeping in stormy waters…this healer, this soon to be Savior?

I wonder if I would have known His peace or panicked.

I wonder if I’d been one following close behind Him on narrow paths of dirt

If I’d have been a happy disciple or a fatigued and weary traveler.

Would I have been bitter over Jesus stopping to notice a greedy little man in a tree, a filthy, lonely soul covered in sores, or a brazen woman aware of her sin, yet still hoping for redemption?

Or would I have known the purpose of the stories?

Would I have been impatient, expecting an elaborate and rehearsed lecture to prepare for the kingdom, culture, or citizenship to come.

Scholarly and pompous, would I have shown up only to be given wise instructions?

Or would I have listened like a child at His feet, hanging on words that told of a wayward son’s choosing wealth over work, pig troughs, the worth of sparrows, not hiding lights under bushels, and seeds sown the right way so as to grow big, big faith?

I hope I’d have been the one who rose early to be with Jesus

To ask

Morning glorious

“Jesus, what is it I need to hear today?”

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story

Psalm 23, Art and Rest

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

Psalm 23…scribbled in the corner

I almost painted over it…the brush strokes too wide and thick. “Psalm 23”, I called this one and decided to leave the words in its corner.

On the 26th day, I read Psalm 23, following the guide in the back of my Bible. Before that, I’d read from Genesis. Fine pencil lines marking the words of Joseph’s father, a very old man, realizing his son had not died. A beautiful story, son clinging to father, tears soaking shoulder.

I read from the Book of Mark, an account of Jesus in the early days of healing. A man, paralyzed, delivered to Jesus to be healed, forgiven, walking. Believing first, then with healed legs, moving forward.

Then, Psalm 23, I lingered there. I thought of green pastures.

Shady, wide-branched trees and blue, blue sky.

And on this day, I thought all day long of resting.

This painting was purchased weeks ago, I wondered by whom for awhile. It’s size large and painted on antique door.

Then, this week a call, a note for me had been mailed to the shop.

The young newlywed wife from Oregon wrote to thank me.

“The painting hangs over our bed” , she wrote. “It’s calming.

I’m not religious, but Psalm 23 speaks to me.”

I read the note, tears in my eyes because I’d lingered there that morning, 23rd Chapter, Book of Psalms.

I cherish this now, a thank you note from a couple, my painting hangs in their home evoking rest.

And just last week, walking, a longing in my heart.

I’d prayed, “Lord, help me see my worth, help me know I matter.”

23rd Psalm, resting, restoring…walking in valleys and shadows.

Little sketches or big paintings on old wood….comforting like cool grass under shade of tree.

I shall lie down…my soul restored.

Goodness and Possibility

courage, Faith, family, grace, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

May the Lord fulfill all your petitions! Psalm 20:5

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

This daily, hourly, prompted or not

Offering up, recording, pouring out or simply conversing with you, God.

Less uncertainty

More possibility.

Less effort, more expectation.

Believing, although not knowing.

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

For intercession.

For just the slightest of change in my dilemma, desire or discontent.

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

For big, big changes that cause my awe of you.

Give credence to my conviction.

And for subtle and secret answers. Answers that ease mind and soul.

Answers that wrap me in ease of mind, sense of coming change.

Acceptance of my lot or just contentment in the waiting.

Thank you Lord, for prayer.

For seeing, knowing, calming and blessing.

You bless me indeed. Surrounding me with those I love and enlightening me by bringing those I need…people placed on my path to teach and grow me. You keep your hand on me and with gentle caution you stop my rushing forward. You prevent me from causing pain. You hear my thoughts, my prayers.

You intercede on my behalf.

Thank you, God, for goodness and possibility.

In Jesus name, Amen

Faithful as the Day, our God

Children, Faith, family, praise, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

The day began with cold rain.

Nice to hear, fitting in a way. I woke thinking of challenges, questions, contemplations over what the day might bring.

Might not.

I stepped outside, unconcerned with the cold and wet, then turned back towards inside to prepare for the day, the Sunday.

To not be bothered by cold, wet rain speaks volumes in terms of mood, of place in life.

Accepting the day.

Accepting the season.

My spirit, reluctant.

Meal started, dogs settled, lesson studied, dressed for Sunday.

And the sky changed to brilliant blue.

So, we drove; casual talk and heavy, pretty country road, trees clinging to sunlight.

Faith, fear, hopes, goals, concerns and the such.

Almost cliche’, our rambling of topics has become.

Words befitting of our age and place in life, in relationship.

Sunday School lesson taught, choir song sung ….

“Sweet, sweet spirit in this place…surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.”

I join him then. Just us, no children on our pew anymore.

“I could hear your voice, it was good.” He says and holds my hand as we are reminded how to worship.

A sermon on commitment, being committed to your worship.

Being in the moments God brings, noticing He’s there always.

He is faithful.

The day, cold still and darkly stormy again as we drove back home.

Changing three times already, one day, three colors of sky.

House warmed by fire, meal finished up.

We sit together, just the two, with good food.

He offers up prayer that God keep us in His will.

Then football for him, painting for me.

A sweet, sweet spirit in this place, this season.

God will make this happen. For He who calls you is faithful.

I Thessalonians 5:24

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee, Telling His Story

Morning, a lingering

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

If morning were all day and filtered into evening

I may be a little different.

Morning still

My maybe might be sure.

My perhaps would be probably.

I’d be more apt to linger, content in unfolding of day.

My “No’s” might be more steady.

My “Yes’s” more enthused.

My failures be more misunderstandings than mistakes.

If morning lingered longer

I’d wear the color of patience on my smile.

Subtle, pretty and just a hint of shine like a peachy lip

My pauses be more often, intentional in exchange

My words more heart than hurry.

Mornings like today, moved more slowly towards task and rested in time for contemplation.

The sky was more dusk than dawn.

Rain coming, not here yet.

Questioning the time of day…is it earlier than I thought?

Could I have a little more early morn?

Oh, good! Thank you Lord, for mornings lasting longer.

The sky reflective of rest, not at all impatient to commence.

Patient, satisfied and content for whatever may be.

Oh, to the linger a little longer in the mindfulness of morning time.

Thus, prepared for the unfolding of day.

“Restlessness and impatience change nothing except our peace and joy. Peace does not dwell in outward things, but in the heart prepared to wait trustfully and quietly on him who has all things safely in his hands.” Elisabeth Elliot

http://katemotaung.com/five-minute-friday/

Just Stay Near

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

A toddler’s hand, small and supple in the hand of a father

A frail and spotted one held firmly but tenderly as feet move intentional, yet uncertain towards someplace.

Quiet Confidence…Abiding.

The one leading speaking softly, with intention

Stay with me, just hold my hand.

Don’t let go.

Because maybe abiding is not so much perfection or unwavering trust.

Maybe abiding in Christ is just staying near, remembering what happens when hearts and feet wander.

Maybe steadfast trust doesn’t look all bright, shiny and triumphant.

Ironically, more of a resemblance to resignation.

Because surrender is not always defeat.

It’s acceptance with full hearts, hands, feet and mind at rest.

It’s moving forward with deliberate and thoughtful feet, despite the cold, hard questioning days.

Determined, not despondent.

Just staying near. Staying is sufficient.

Sufficient, like grace.

Feet may falter, hearts may fumble.

Frailty might give way to fear.

Just stay near.

I think of how much you have helped me;

I sing for joy in the shadow of your protecting wings.

I follow close behind You;

Your strong right hand holds me securely.

Psalm 63:7-8

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee, telling His story.

Tell His Story

Understanding Skies

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

clarity

I’m not one to toss and turn. If I’m troubled, I go to bed.

Say to myself, tomorrow will be another day.

Then, place one hand on my chest and pray.

Silently, easy like water traveling a slow path to a broad river.

With morning and time come newness.

The sky was a wide expanse of cold, pale lavender today.

Its width cloudless and open. Enough open space to learn.

An expansive sky, with just a faint glimmer of sunlight in tall tree.

epiphany

My eyes rested there and remembered my earlier revelation.

I hurt someone’s feelings trying to be right. Looking for answers to a question already known with certainty. I have a few sayings.

One of them is never ask a question you know the answer to.

Asking for trouble. Not answers. Asking to be right when being right makes no difference in the hurt, adds harm to hurt.

I was self-righteous. Smug, hot-headed and determined to point of the wrong in another causing hurt that was never intended.

I begged God to fix my mistake. Not the answer you need, said God.

The answer is seeing, truly seeing.

Epiphany, in an insightfully clear sky.

The manifestation of Christ in me, with me despite errant will.

Looking down, it’s still there. I thought of adding to my collection earlier, decided to let it rest instead.

A petite pine cone, stiff with the cold and shining silver in brown straw.

And I smiled, remembering gifts of baby pine cones she brought.

boots and pinecones

O Lord, you have searched me and known me!

You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.

Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.

Psalm 139: 1-8

Dreams and mornings

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, rest, Vulnerability, wonder

Colt and I sat for a bit this morning as the darkness lingered in the rain. His usual sauntering towards the door could wait I suppose, as if he knew.

Some thoughts, memories, random comments spoken yesterday found their way out last night.

Out from the places in my mind that apparently were unsatisfied with the time I devoted to pondering.

That’s where dreams come from, I’ve decided, good, bad, scary or beautifully outlandish.

They’re just bits of thoughts, really.

Not seen through to the end, tied up neatly, put away.

I dream quite grandly. I notice explicitly, don’t just discard my thoughts, that I put them aside for later.

This morning, I unraveled the night’s inventory of yesterday’s profound incompleteness of thoughts.

And, the big dog rested his head on the edge of his bed, heaved a satisfied sigh and waited there.

I notice most everything, ponder things longer than most.

It’s a gift and a burden. A gift, because I care deeply.

A burden because my mind sometimes hoards what should be let go, the irrelevant and the irrational.

Holds onto a thought, a conversation and then goes to bed with

“What if?

So, I rose early on my day off. Saw my daughter who went to bed exhausted and achy as bright as sunshine and crisp as blue sky, heading out into rainy darkness to bless little 4-year olds.

Thankful she was not sick and I smiled at the thought of bride.

Just a little blip of a bad and worrisome dream….not reality,

Yay for a pretty wedding in less than three months!

And my son was asleep, his last day at home. He had not left with his guitar on his back without saying goodbye.

Another dream, not so much a “blip”.

More like a marathon on Netflix, an engrossing drama, looking everywhere for something, all vivid characters and colors.

Dreams that make you thrilled for morning.

Mornings mean clarity and gratitude.

Best things about it to me along with coffee and Bible.

Big dog patiently waiting as I scribble, read, thank.

Until we begin the day, noticing.

Noticing all day, all the goods, turning the not

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