Walk Easy Towards Good

courage, Faith, rest, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability

Your hope will not be disappointed.
Proverbs 23:18

I only made it through 9 of the 31 days “of UNimpressive writing”.

I neglected to announce to the hundreds of bloggers who all, in their own voices, committed to write for 31 days on topics of “inspiration”.

I just stepped away from the challenge, no need to acknowledge a surrender or writer’s defeat. I just decided to go at my own pace.

Less demand, more heart.

I continued to write, though hoping to avoid the pull of being “impressive”.

One lapse into writing to impress and one follower, kindly and honestly picked up on it.

His honesty is and was a gift.

Otherwise, on this day 26 of 31 I’ve been content in my writing. My words have continued to be honest, to attempt to point to God’s place with me now as opposed to where I’ve been, and to write bravely with confidence in such a way that someone may read and stop to think, just to think.

Either, can’t believe she had the courage or lack of discretion to write about that or I have felt the same way and I’m glad I’m not the only one.

My aim, the transparency of a writer’s heart exposed to the world like a house made of windows with no drapery.

There has been purpose for pain and for pleasure on my journey. I am led to share the stories reframing of God’s hand, his constant redesign.

And so I walk slowly, writing along the way.

I heard the sweetest story yesterday about a baby excited to walk. The grandmother, my friend with an honest and earthen voice, told all of us ladies in the choir that “He’s learning to walk!”

We all sighed a collective and excited reply, “Awww.”

The grandpa wanted to buy him shoes right away, make his legs good and strong, saying ” We got to get him going, help him learn to run !”

To which grandma replied, “Oh no, let’s take our time, let him walk.”

This morning I prayed a request to just handle whatever shows up in my life.

To respond and adjust in a way that demonstrates faith in God.

Consistency and persistence, growing more important than ever somehow.

Baby steps are good.

Slow moving, tenuous steps, cautious enough to anticipate.

Steady and strong enough to run.

So much talk I have of faith, trust, courage, honoring God and yet I get all twisted and tangled in why I stumbled back there, back then…

Or how I’m ever going to make it to wherever and whenever.

I read this morning about a runner, concerned over impending rain.

A brilliant writer whose images literally pull me to his words.

Words, so subtly strong, they sink down and ease me to a powerful place of insight, never jolted or pushed.

Offering a chance to understand, never a demand.

Running. With Rain.

I’d like to grow in this way. I’m humbled that he has read my words, has shared them.

Just keep moving forward, Lisa… keep moving through, noticing the beauty.

Keep writing, painting, loving, trusting, holding fast to faith; in life, in God.

Run when you can; but trust your walk, pausing just long enough to grow strong.

Or waiting there, stepping forward only towards Good.

Linking up with others who write at Jennifer Dukes Lee, Tell His Story. Read her important and wise advice on friendships here, http://jenniferdukeslee.com/the-five-friends-we-all-need-tellhisstory/

Not so Far Ago

Children, Faith, family, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I looked at a photo from the beach today.

Austin grinning a big, carefree little boy smile and Heather, beautifully classic and on the cusp of womanhood.

God really blessed me, when he chose me for them.

Their smiles so close, I ‘m there now, right now…not at all so far ago.

Felt so close, not long ago at all.

As if I could turn my head to look back, allowing my feet to follow.

And be right there again on the beach, chasing birds.

This evening the clouds were heavy with grey white borders.

Like the remnants of an overnight fire.

Beautiful, soft and white against widespread blue.

I remembered mama when I turned to see the moon.

The moon, almost full. I felt her near.

I wondered then if the rain to come on Tuesday would obscure its fullness. Would the sad, grey dark of rain clouds obscure its shine?

I walked on towards home prolonging my return.

Stopped to look towards a yellow leafy tree and felt it then, the change in air, brushing my cheek as I paused.

A lightly cooler wind, as if God had suddenly, quietly moved up next to and beside me.

And I continued to think of my mama; sensing her now, again.

And turned to notice the changing clouds and continued towards home.

I noticed the red geraniums, a tradition for mama.

They’ve lasted through summer and into fall, and so I stopped to prune the brown and brittle leaves.

Looked up and saw the moon again, had followed me home.

and I think of mama.

Not so far, not far at all.

Long ago; but, not so far ago.

I could turn my head, or glance just slightly upward, so still and quiet in just a moment’s time, five years feeling like five minutes.

I know she’s not so far away.

The moon, the clouds, the sky…and the Lord.

Stilled and quieted myself like a small child is quiet with its mother,

like a small child is my soul within me.

Psalm 131:2

Grateful Pauses

Children, family, Motherhood, praise, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Last week, I decorated jars.

Attached pretty slips of paper on twine wrapped greenery.

Greg added little openings in the jar lids and I smoothed out the paper labels Heather made, “Give thanks” labels for front.

Took them downtown, added a little sign to sit beside with Quiet Confidence, Isaiah 30:15 and my name

Calling them “Gratitude Jars”.

I need to make my own now, label it and become diligent in daily recall of blessings.

On my way home a couple of weeks ago, I stopped; another car and mine, waiting for light to change.

Two men on the corner, one helping the other.

One, shaky in his walk, clutching his brown bag, being led by the other down the sidewalk.

For just a minute, I wondered if I should be afraid, should flip the door lock.

I didn’t.

I watched, pausing to remember my daddy and a time he needed my help to walk, memories of his unsteady days.

This was the week of the remembering him 17 years gone.

And the memory of holding him up had nothing to do with drink.

I paused to watch and smiled.

It was a sweet, solemn time. He had surrendered to love, help and grace in his last months of life.

Another time, similar in scene, came to mind. Again, in the car. This time, Heather, Austin and I. A man holding a cardboard sign, dressed in clothes that were a little scary and looking towards our car as we approached.

My daughter and I remarked something; I can’t remember what now, not at all kind, I recall.

My son, probably around 8 spoke up as clear as a bell from the backseat…”What if he’s Jesus?”

And the car fell silent.

Pausing to remember even now, the conviction in his voice as he chastised us.

I headed home, the two men in the distance.

Thinking of my son now, knowing he still believes in what he said that day.

I will remember this as a “Grateful Pause”

Last Sunday, “Mr.Bill” had Children’s Sermon. He’s the best. He’s animated, unpredictable and loves to surprise them.

I always listen intently and watch their faces as I sit in the choir loft.

His props are the best. This Sunday, he pulled out a shovel.

He asked the group, “How many of you like to dig in the dirt?”

He paused. I paused.

And the sweetest memory came to rest. My eyes misted up just a little and I saw my Heather Analise.

Blonde, blue-eyed, wearing a sun hat. The two of us sitting together in the sandy field for hours on end. She digging in the sand. Me, digging my heels into the cool earth while she loaded dirt in her little shovel and then moved it to a pile, only to wedge her little shovel into that pile and move back to the other.

Hours on hours of the nothingness of our blissful play in the dirt with my daughter.

I pause even now, remembering and grateful for the sweetness of my life.

A grateful pause.

Grateful Pauses, I’ll label my jar.

I’ll jot these stories down and drop them in.

Then, I’ll watch and listen, pausing for more chances to be grateful.

Praise the Lord, my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits— Psalm 103:1

Linking up with Tell His Story writer, Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/the-best-seat-in-the-house-tellhisstory/

Humility, a New Path

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

It occurred to me today that moving through change towards your heart’s desire is simply just to keep moving.

I wouldn’t have expected both desires to begin to grow stronger at the same time.

Saturday, I wrote for two hours and then I painted for three.

My writing was good for me, it was representative of my heart.

My art, tedious and detailed causing me to almost quit

Instead I sat it aside, went back and then

Leaning it against the wall for a long look, I was satisfied in its message.

This morning, I woke thinking of humility vs. insecurity and I determined the difference.

Humility is strength enough to move towards accomplishment with no concern for acclaim. Humility is simply patience on the path while listening to God’s quiet direction forward.

Growing up along the fence, I would have missed this if I had not decided to take just a few extra steps to a place in my own backyard.

What does God have for us that’s just a few extra steps off our habitual or unbelieving path?

Beauty and wisdom are found in the places we avoid, are afraid of and for me, maybe you…the impossible places.

A friend said to me on Saturday, “You should be published.” And I smiled and instead of saying, “Oh, it’s hard or maybe or I doubt it” I said,

“God is moving me to the place of His purpose.”

You can make many plans, but the Lord’s purpose will prevail. Proverbs 19:21

Persisting

courage, Faith, praise, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

There are a few, maybe more than a few things I am persistent in.

I always make my bed, taut linens, perfectly smoothed quilt.

I pray every morning in the shower, like singing it’s a place to be secret, a sanctuary.

I journal, sometimes half-heartedly, gratitude and anxiety.

I walk in the evenings, if daylight allows. My walking, sometimes good and refreshing, sometimes nothing more than prescribed discipline.

Yet, I persist.

I walked yesterday evening. The sky was clear, the roads quiet and empty. I looked for pink skies and found only icy blue.

Earlier than usual, a warm afternoon and the sparrows were gathered, moving tree to tree in rapid little sweeping flight.

Landing for just a second or two before gathering again to rest in brief refrain. I caught sight of one resting up high on skinny branch.

Reminding me of rest, of waiting, of listening and trusting.

Persisting.

Scribbling, quickly this morning

Again my thoughts on persistence.

It may take years and years and many types of trouble, calamity, crisis and question to truly understand the value of prayer.

Because the answer holds little value, is really no more than change in circumstances. God loves us so, so much that He will bless us with reprieve, with clarity, with relief.

Still, this is not the significance of God’s longing for us to discover through prayer. God’s desire and constant beckoning of our hearts is for us to lay our hearts bare and broken before him…to persist there in that place…aligned with Him. To be fully content in simply abiding.

To return to rest in the safe place of God.

To persist in pursuit of the peace of God.

To be hid in the shadow of His wings and that be all we need to keep us confident and courageous as He bends to listen, protect and strengthen. This is design and desire of God.

I am praying to You, because I know You will answer O God. Bend down, listen as I pray. Your unfailing love is wonderful and You save with Your strength those who seek you as a refuge. Guard me as the apple of Your eye. Hide me in the shadow of your wings.

Psalm 17: 6-8

Linking up to Tell His Story with other writers, persistently praying.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/for-those-times-when-you-dont-see-a-happy-ending-to-your-story-tellhisstory/

Art and Soul

courage, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

My friend told me, “Your art is very calming.”

I paint with all my heart, usually start a painting and finish it in a day.

I’m frantic in my process; yet, oblivious, content.

I paint as I write. Honest, brave and from my heart.

Otherwise, it’s contrived and it’s letters, words and colors.

Not art.

Not soul.

I sold a painting today. It’s one that I loved.

I have only recently been brave enough to share my art, my soul.

Continue reading →

Richly Beautiful

courage, Faith, family, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I walked again on the beach this morning. The birds were gathered, foamy white gathered at their feet.

The air was cold, crisp and damp.

Just a few people out, dogs, toddlers and joggers.

I’d grabbed a jacket, thrown on over T-shirt and pajama pants; my only thought, just to walk on the shore.

I’m thinking now, what freedom…to be unconcerned about appearance, seeking only to be filled, fulfilled, connected to God.

I’m not quite sure if it’s age or wisdom or wisdom because of age.

I care a little less about appearance in comparison to other women; still, not nearly enough yet.

I sat next to and walked amongst throngs of women this weekend. All moms of a Citadel cadet, all shown up, fixed up.

There to see ours sons, while looking at each other.

Beautiful women, tall, thin, heavy, dressy, sporty, dresses, shorts jeans, heels, flats, fancy sunglasses, perfect hair, ponytails and buns.

Women, looking for sons and looking at each other.

I was an overweight teenager. I spent hours looking at Glamour magazines, longing to be thin, pretty, a “Glamour do”.

I learned to starve. I learned to starve more and I had more clothes than most, yet never enough.

I lived this way for too many years.

I sat just behind a woman about my age this weekend in a football stadium. I fixated again, it had been awhile. I found myself longing for all she seemed to be.

Her purse, its label, one that comes with a price..around $599.00

I noticed her wristwatch, casually resting against a delicate gold bracelet. Her jeans were smooth in texture, a fabric akin to dry cleaned slacks. Her thin belt, a correspondent to flat leather shoes.

Her cardigan, loose on shoulders fit perfectly to show the subtle gold looped chain that centered itself against crisp white top. Her earrings, thin hoops of gold accented her cheekbones and spoke of casual femininity.

I thought, ” I’d really love a watch like that.”

I’ve not had opportunity to splurge. I’ve not been afforded with riches or income that allow spending without concern.

I’ve become content in the extravagance of a mom who wants her children to have more. I have seen goodness, the goodness of enough, of God.

So, I sat there in the stadium and I thought in a new way, to visualize her riches on me. I wondered if life might be better.

I saw myself wearing her watch. Rising from my seat, reaching for the soft leather of her purse, my purse. I pictured me in her outfit; I imagined my face framed by soft cardigan and pretty earrings…

And I realized; clearly, nothing changed. I am me.

She is she.

This morning, I read only one devotion, my routine different because of travel. I read from Jesus Calling.

Found feather

I read of God illumined in me, of His gift in me…Beautiful.

In me, with me. I gently laid the feather found. This one, washed and covered in gritty sand.

I settled it there to rest.

Battered and imperfect, redeemed.

Beautifully redeemed.

For it is not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you have been redeemed . I Peter 1:18

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/six-words-that-can-make-all-the-difference-today-tellhisstory/

Day 7 of 31 days of UNimpressive writing: words of prayer

Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I woke up feeling blah and my mind went back to a certain word.

Words are light

I hear a word, find a word it’s descriptive nature so truthful, so perfect… that I go back and ponder its meaning.

Thinking, “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant, so clearly what I felt”.

I’m hesitant to say this.

Not everyone has a love for words like me.

Not all people are “noticers” as my friend who understands me says we are.

“We notice things.” he says.

We linger in thoughtful remembrance of meaning.

My children, when they were younger, rolled their eyes, groaned and said “Why do you always have to use such big words? Just use normal words!”

I refused to be swayed. “Why would we have words, if not to use them? If you have words, you should use them.”

This morning, I woke with a sense of apathy.

I used that word last week when describing my concern over tone in voice that had me worried, an impenetrable attitude, a denial of doubting; yett, their tone spoke a resigned disbelief in most everything.

I told my friend, “There was just such apathy in their voice.”

And then, another friend, I saw this forlorn resignation her face.

A face that’s been saying for so long, “All is well.” had changed just slightly, head tilted, eyes more downward.

Perhaps that day they woke with apathy…woke with indifference.

Apathy

I heard apathy in the story of a child’s unthinkable choice.

Heard it in a story unexpected, tragic loss that made absolutely no sense. Heard it in the voice of a friend grieving.

Yesterday evening, the heavy stories piled up and I decided I must go for a walk!

I walked and was briefly a little better, guided by sunset horizon of rose-colored clouds.

It had been a while since sunlight.

My daughter, camera in hand, crouched in grassy roadside field taking photos

Seeing her, seeking beauty of light

like me.

Laughter, between us before bed as I disciplined my thoughts to continue towards hope.

Praying, believing.

Woke this morning and there it was to welcome me, apathy.

I woke with sense of “No need, doesn’t matter anyway”.

Woke with the notion that I’ve worn out my welcome at the feet of the father. That I’ve talked it to death, that I’ve become quite the nuisance.

The outcome’s been determined already anyway, why must you belabor the matter?

But then, my thoughts went to what I know, surrender and abiding.

I wondered how is apathy any different from surrender?

If I surrender, I trust.

If I surrender, I am remembering that God is Sovereign…yielding.

Surrender to light

A surrendered heart is a heart with light, a heart that is resting, not doubting.

Apathy feels like God has done more than he should. More than He will, that woeful mindset of bad things already to come.

Apathy is darkness, doubt and disconnect. Surrender is abiding in light.

The light makes all the difference.

“And we thank Thee that the darkness reminds us of light.” T.S. Eliot

Day 6 of 31 Days of UNimpressive Writing: writing from heart – how things happen

courage, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Afternoon art therapy. Some of my paintings will be in the new shop downtown, so this is scary for me because it’s been a dream for years. I hope I don’t chicken out. If you have that “thing” you love and it loves you back it’s easier to keep it safe than show it off.

This was my instagram caption on the day I decided to paint and to “do the thing I must do that I thought I could not do.”

Because if you love something so much it’s a treasure, your soul’s salve, you just don’t want to run the risk of tainting that relationship, that charm you hold close.

You know, the thing that’s yours and yours alone, so you keep it close, and comfortable and safe.

It all started with a conversation about hanging art. I said casually, “I paint” which led to the owner of a new shop asking to see my work. So, I took the next step towards that must do thing, went home and began to paint.

Painted for four hours straight on a misty Saturday,

Went back with ready to hang pieces, given names that she called stories. The story part, I loved the most.

Yesterday, Heather called to say “Guess what happened! I came to the shop to see your paintings and you had just sold one, the owner was getting ready to call you. It was the Isle of Palms painting.”

Less than two hours earlier I told my cousin “I sort of regret taking them.” I had already convinced myself that I’d end up bringing them back home and my walls would be even more covered with my art. My house is full of art.

They’d be safe again, from critique, from judgement, from wondering “How on earth I could have thought of myself as an artist? ”

“But, it’s only been a week, I shouldn’t give up yet.” I said.

Here’s how things can happen.

You do something you’ve been afraid to do.

You’re vulnerable enough to be brave enough to allow your treasure to be seen.

You expose your heart’s desire to the world, because of dreams and thoughts of why not and you move closer towards confidence that seeks no validation.

You sell one piece of art, a painting called “Letting Go – Isle of Palms”.

You decide to paint again, before you decide it’s too scary.

To do that “must do thing” because you fear you will again think you cannot.

Day 5 of 31 Days of UNimpressive Writing: Geese, Bluebirds and New Chances to Love

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

The geese were back this morning.

First time in days.

I turned to make my way back inside, stopping to gather fallen leaves and heard their approach.Their sound a celebration of the day, exuberant and joyous it seemed.

I held fragile leaves in my hand, turned towards the sounds of geese and joined in their flight, my mind there with them, moving forward, renewed and committed to the day.

The ground is soaked here, covered in pine needles today. We were spared the damage of wind and flood, our yard simply evidence of rain, constant torrential showers. I was thankful today for leafy, wind tousled and soaking wet ground. Wet, muddy yard scattered with pretty color; my feet were planted in a level spot and I glanced towards the damp, steely sky.

My cousin called this morning and we talked of life, of children, of God. We were getting carried away, consistent in our anguish, of things we can’t let go, things that frustrate us. We talked about the flood of our weekend and she shared her experience of Hurricane Katrina. This flood, Joaquin prompted storm, had both she and her husband reliving the trauma. I told her I’m very afraid of water and wonder if people will be found dead in their homes. She said “Most likely” and shared of homes ravaged by Katrina that were marked with an “X” to indicate a dead person inside.

We meandered back to the subject of our children then.

We understand why we’ve mothered the way we have; just don’t know why we keep going back there,

Trying to be the mother they’ve outgrown.

The mother that meets our need, not theirs.

We’re making progress though, beginning to think as God thinks of us, agreeing that the greatest desire of our lives has been to parent well, differently, unquestionably committed to our sons and daughters.

We have been and are good mothers. We know this.

Never occurred to me until just now, I thought to myself. “I’ve parented well, absolutely wholeheartedly. Let God lead them now. ”

She got quiet, thinking, I assumed then excitedly announced “There are bluebirds in my yard. The most beautiful bluebirds are just outside on my porch!”

“God is telling us to have hope”, I said. ” He’s telling us to let go now, we’ve done our part, he’s ready to take it from here.”

They’ve left our nests; well-loved and knowing they are loved.

There are new, bright places for them to grow, us too.

Loved well and loving well.

New places to grow

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