“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Philippians 4:7-8 ESV
Whatever you can depend upon, think of such things.
Last night, I realized I hadn’t shared “lovely” things in a while. I started posting pics with the simple words from Paul…whatever is lovely, think about such things, way back in 2019.
I get to watch the sun come up while the toddler is stirring. This morning, it made me want to add a phrase to Paul’s instruction…
Whatever you can depend upon
because I remembered my Father in heaven is as dependable as the sunrise and sunset He made.
The closer I get to Christmas, the more frantic I feel and I remind myself of the hope, the internal goal…peace, joy that is evident in me whatever room I enter. I’m a work in progress, I’m thinking it’s evident.
I recalled my life verse (Isaiah 30:15) early today. I jotted it down…paraphrasing. I’m best when I’m quietly confident, when my repentance leads to rest. I’m at my worst when I strike out on my own, either running from something or trying to rush something on my own.
But grace waits. Grace returns like the tangerine sunrise in the country.
I don’t know what has you fretting or forlorn. Others may think you should’ve long let it go or may consider it trivial. But, your secret concerns are yours as are mine and others’.
It is yours and it’s heavy, there’s no good in comparing our struggles.
As sure as the sun will rise, you are loved by a dependable God. Me too.
The orchid, delicately teasing me with the buds barely visible, has been nothing other than knotty branches since I (read the instructions) shook the dust off the gnarled roots and repotted it.
God will help her when morning dawns.
While the dollar store Christmas cactus is popping out fuchsia shoots.
Left alone, barely watered since a Christmas last year with no blooms even hinting.
I thought “cease striving” last week, worried over the decision to order an extra 100 calendars from the printer.
I told myself, based on your history, forget about it, let it go, it’ll come back around, the interest in the calendar with your art.
Today, I woke at 5:00 and thought again, “cease striving”.
Let come what may.
Let things grow in their own time and way, not yours.
These are words I tell myself with regularity.
I opened my Bible to find Psalm 46:10 to read the psalmist’s same recommendation.
It wasn’t there. Instead, the words are “be still” in every translation I searched for comparison.
Somewhere I, and I believe others decided we may need a tone more disciplined, more direct.
“Cease striving”…with perhaps, once and for all added for emphasis, at least for me.
Psalm 46 is about rest. It is an exhortation to remember the strengths of God, his handiwork and plans.
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.
Selah
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns. The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Selah
Come, behold the works of the Lord, how he has brought desolations on the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the chariots with fire. “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Imagine being with the most prolific teacher, one you’re humbled, challenged, encouraged and fascinated by.
Grandma Mornings
I had an English professor, Honors English in my Freshman year. She saw my timidity and yet, she gave no mercy when it came to writing. Honesty, brevity, tenacity were her standards, more so than grammar.
Write with honesty. Don’t copy.
Don’t quit.
I left that college and that Honors English professor after barely eight months. Art scholarship and English were sidelined by events uninvited.
I wish I could remember her name, that tiny framed woman who commanded the room.
She taught me about doing hard things. She spoke of choices that would bring joy.
It’s crazy really, the forceful tone she used to cut no corners and instruct me has been my motivation for as long as I can recall.
I was afraid of her. I was unsure.
She told me I belonged in her class and I should never forget it.
I have been writing all my life in one way or another.
My writing lately is cursive, blue ink in my journal and most days an early morning Instagram post.
Honestly.
I honor that petite professor who never played favorites. Shy poor girl me or sorority blonde, she taught us to write and to continue writing.
She left us all with what was important.
Most important.
Jesus left the disciples with many commands that he hoped they’d honor. He told them doing so would lead to joy.
Most of all,
He said, “Love one another”.
Some mornings I read a verse or more and I write a sermon to self. Mornings like today, I share it:
Look for light today, where the love of Jesus falls and changes the simple or hard things.
“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” John 15:12 ESV
Years ago, I concluded that God made us all so different, so uniquely difficult in our ways, so individually changed by our circumstances in not always so easy to love ways, so that we’d be challenged to obey the command to love one another.
The greatest commandment isn’t a suggestion.
The other day I “vented” with a friend about difficult people. She listened. I listened. We had things in common. I didn’t feel better for my venting. Wished I hadn’t.
Notice how you feel when it’s a challenge to love others, choose the way of Jesus to do the best you can.
You’ll feel better for trying, for doing what the teacher instructed.
Remember, we don’t know the experiences that lead to the behaviors of others. It really is all about perspectives formed by circumstances.
We just can’t know the whole story of anyone other than the portion they share.
What we allow to be influenced by Jesus, by love, by vulnerable secret places exposed to light, lends itself to our stories being rewritten.
We begin to believe the vastness of God’s grace is for us, not just for others.
We loosen the bitter, cynical ropes that tether us to making sense of past wrongs and in a gradual epiphany type way, we see hope as more than a sweet little word.
We may wonder why it took so long and we may fear falling back into the questioning pattern tattooed on our soul by trauma.
We may wonder over this change causing glimpses of heaven.
Or we might decide to embrace it.
We may just move this Christmas season from believing and accepting Christ Jesus
To fully embracing Him.
We’ll be easy on our fragile human hearts when they try to grow stiff again.
We’ll pivot towards the soft light of love, we will reset our hearts on hope again.
We will say to ourselves, maybe on little post-its or with pen on our wrists.
“healed”
…by his wounds, I am healed.
We’ll continue seeing God. We’ll be amazed where He is.
“having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might” Ephesians 1:18-19 ESV
I wonder if I’m more observant of the light because of darkness so early or if it’s a needy seeking of quietness with myself leading to peace with God.
I found a feather next to the pretty bottle we store our found feathers, my granddaughter’s sweet solution I adore.
Left for Finding Light of the World Known
“In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:4-5 NIV
And God said, “Let there be light.” and there was light. Genesis 1:3 ESV
Thinking of light and darkness like knowledge vs. mystery or questions vs. answers, certainty vs. doubt, I found John 1 and had a quiet little cry.
We don’t know it all, but we do know light, love and hope.
Light is trust.
“We are conformed to Him in proportion as our lives grow in quietness, His peace spreading within our souls.” T.T. Carter, Joy & Strength devotional
In quiet confidence is your strength. (Isaiah 30:15)
There’s comfort in understanding more clearly. There is new perspective found in new knowledge.
I calculated the years of my daddy’s life events one evening. I recalled the information about the grandfather I never met, the details of his murder.
My older brother is good at research. He is skilled in looking into causes of things. He’s intelligent and a seeker of knowledge.
As I read of the circumstances of my father’s father’s death and then his mother’s passing later, I felt a veil lift, a veil that brought empathy, greater understanding.
From my calculations based on my father’s obituary and the details my brother shared,
My daddy was 13 when his daddy was taken from him. He grew into adulthood with his mama and siblings then went to Korea for how long, I don’t know.
He came home from war. Two days later, his mama died of a massive stroke. The grandmother I wish I’d known, along with the grandpa who contributed to the handsome man with the gentle spirit
And at times, tortured soul. No surprise.
I began to think of how life is such a mix of mystery and truth, vague recollections of family dynamics we just gloss over, afraid to look bravely enough at the vulnerability and pain of those we knew and know.
There’s a story buried, deeply concealed under most everyone’s story.
I believe this.
There’s me and three siblings who have raised wise children, children who are resilient even if they’re unclear how come. There are grandchildren who deep within have a yet untapped stream of strength from whence they don’t yet know.
I believe this.
Today, I sit with a sleeping kitten close by. I smile as I think this wouldn’t surprise my mama or daddy, even those long lost grandparents.
I smile because I imagine them wondering what took you so long to accept the truth of you.
The quiet one who is most satisfied quiet, the complex one always hoping someone will understand. The creature much like a cat, letting others near on her own terms.
I imagine my grandmother seeing me making notes and writing in my Bible. I see them all content in their contribution to who I am and who I’m becoming.
I see them happy about the heritage I’m creating for my children and grandchildren, even if messy or often unsure, always unseen, but hopefully remembered, my prayers.
They see, alongside my Father, my secret prayers.
Mystery and truth, I’ve come to believe that’s life,
life as a follower of Jesus who keeps following and life as a human in this wrought with pain world.
In the margin of Deuteronomy’s chapters, I find sketches of women, underlined reminders of being humbled by God.
I find a drawing of a door with the words above it “the secret things belong to the Lord.”(Deuteronomy 29:29)
I see notes to self to “pray big prayers”. I discover a sketch of the earth with my words “In His hands we dwell.”
The book of Deuteronomy, a retelling of the teachings of God by Moses, a reluctant teller of stories, a rescued child chosen by God although he was certain he was unworthy.
I see God in the history, mystery and truth of my family. I pray the same is said in the mystery of me.
“The Lord heard you when you spoke to me, and the Lord said to me, “I have heard what this people said to you. Everything they said was good. Oh, that their hearts would be inclined to fear me and keep all my commands always, so that it might go well with them and their children forever!” Deuteronomy 5:28-29 NIV
Continue and believe.
Overcomers, we are.
A heritage.
“And he brought us out from there, that he might bring us in and give us the land that he swore to give to our fathers.” Deuteronomy 6:23 ESV
Among a crowd of frenetic students changing classes, a presence walked up behind me. I’d found myself caught up in a crowd that made no sense, I was just searching for the hallway to the laundry room in what others said was a nonsensical place.
I lost the landlord, a woman with a snarky pride over her Air BnB that she denied was in disrepair. She scurried through dark hallways and then she wasn’t there. I returned to the place where the others had complained about my clothes left in the dryer. There another led me through the toddler nursery. A cat slipped by my feet and joined in our fast walking. Suddenly, I’m in a room filled with cats and dogs. We pause to confront the property manager who asked “Where the hell did you go?”
I gave no reply. A cat vomited on my foot and the frustrated helper sighed.
I struck out on my own again, ready to gather my laundry next to my chest and begin the long trip back home from this less than idyllic weekend getaway.
That’s when the students were thronged together, they chattered and marched or had heads down persevering.
The man measures his steps to match mine. Asks, “Why the sad face, are you lost?” He comments about the owner, agrees with the rooms being in disrepair. He walks beside me.
I’m hesitant, but turn to see an easy smile, a jawline in need of a shave and a glint of hazel eye.
He points me to the door that leads to the laundry, has my warm clothes in the dryer.
Quickly and cautiously I say, “I gotta hurry, gotta get back to South Carolina.”
He walks on his way.
I gather my laundry and think of describing the encounter with the stranger who showed me the way, of the satisfaction of finding words to fit emotion. In my dream, I wrote a story about the kindness of a stranger.
The kindness that gave me comfort in the finding again of just the right words.
I decided to write here about this dream not as an invitation to interpretation or to cause you to consider how deep or a littlecrazy I might be. On both I concur. No, I had a dream that made me think of writing as beauty and I woke to think, maybe, just maybe I will write. I haven’t shelved that dream altogether. It’s still a joy.
and the kitten climbed the skinny crepe myrtle higher,
leaves fell like feathers and I underlined, then reread.
“Doing those deeply unfashionable things…slowing down, letting your spare time expand, getting enough sleep, resting…is a radical act now, but it is essential. This is a crossroads we all know, a moment when you need to shed a skin.
If you do, you’ll expose all these painful nerve endings and feel so raw that you’ll need to take care of yourself for a while.
If you don’t, then that skin will harden around you. It’s one of the most important choices you’ll ever make.”
“Wintering, The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times” by Katherine May
I lost my glasses on Monday, the cute ones, the ones a little bolder than my typical tortoise or black. Like most people my age, there are spare pairs everywhere. But, not on Monday.
We drove down the pretty road bordered with deeply rooted trees. Her mama had left a forgotten treat in the mailbox.
So early in the day, my readers must have slipped from my pocket or fell from my lap.
It’s an interesting dependence I now have on them, like a security blanket for a baby.
I catch myself thinking I have a pair like a headband only to pat the top of my head to be sure they’re there and find only hair.
On Monday, I was without them. I warned people I responded to in texts. They were unbothered by my typos.
By the end of the day I was managing just fine. My daughter didn’t find them on the road and I decided, oh well they’re just gone.
I gathered my things in the passenger seat once I was at home. Glanced down in the space between seat and console and saw a strange sight. I decided my husband had left some stuff in my car.
A little glass case, black with faux fancy logo with a pair of readers in the color peridot. I lost them so long ago.
Not as fancy as the blue, but I loved them and missed them.
Why am I writing about finding reading glasses?
It’s the thought that came after, the clarity in a sweet message from God.
About good in God’s time and God’s way, about the way answers come when we accept we don’t know, can’t be in control of everything.
The way God is the very best at the “art of surprising”.
On Tuesday, my granddaughter wanted another treat. It was close to lunchtime and she had a slight runny nose, but would never tell her grandma she was feeling bad.
(Memories of her strong mama here, rarely voicing a need or trouble.)
I let her lay on the floor, not flailing but fussing. Let her let her mood play out, allowed her to reconcile what she wanted with what her person in charge decided was best.
From the kitchen, I heard her whine change to elation.
“I found Gamma’s cross! Grandma, I found Gamma’s cross!”
She ran over and handed me the tiny gold cross, the one Gamma lost months ago and we all searched until we settled on not finding and stopped searching.
I called Gamma. Told her “Guess what?” and quoted our precious granddaughter.
She found the cross.
Under the couch, found when a little toddler tantrum decided to get quiet and lift the fabric of the couch to hide underneath. How she spotted it is really nothing short of a miracle.
No one else would’ve looked there.
Yesterday, we had a sweet day together. The back seat of my car strewn with a used pull-up, tiny books, little cards and juicy cups, and “guess what?”
My fancy blue glasses.
Hmmm, a surprise.
I had a thought yesterday as I listened to the words of a popular song “My Jesus”.
I thought “I don’t feel the nearness of Jesus now.”
I told God that very thing, asked Him to help me see what’s blocking my view or maybe, just to show me it’s okay to not always be searching, rather to wait for his revealing.
Gamma and Grandma both wear crosses, I suppose it’s one of our granddaughter, Elizabeth’s favorite things, our necklaces.
And our bracelets.
Yesterday, she sat in my lap and asked about every charm on my bracelet, the tiny artist palette, the little girl and boy silhouettes, her mommy and her uncle. She spotted the tiny angel, a gift from my husband prior to her birth. She said “That’s like my angel”, an angel her mama’s grandma gave her when she was just a baby.
One charm she skipped over is the circle with the missing charm, a tiny mustard seed enclosed in glass. Lost so long ago, I stopped searching.
When I called Gamma, teary with excitement, she called our granddaughter “my angel” and I agreed.
She added, “Now, let’s wait for her to find your mustard seed!”
“That would be something!” I said.
The sketches on the thin pages of my Bible often overlap with faded color, the Psalms especially.
I opened the tattered devotional to the pages marked Day 4 and found the list in faded blue ink. There are names of people here who aren’t here any longer.
The name of my pastor back then, other family, friends and I think a friend of my son from his middle school years, Will.
There’s the name of the little boy, Noah who was pretending to drive and put the SUV into reverse. He ran over and killed his mama.
There’s the prayer of surrender to and acceptance of outcomes. There is the word “thanks” for my home and husband.
There is the tender request for my children still children back then, I asked God to give them joy.
That prayer is recorded. My request is unending, no expiration.
Joy for them, joy unexpected.
“You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” Psalm 56:8 ESV
Recalling my restlessness last night I decide if there was something fearful to have play out in a series of dreams like short films, last night I dreamt an entire season.
No cause known, nothing unsettled, I decide it’s because I gave my mind no rest yesterday. I was on overdrive towards organizing all the tasks to come.
My second evening of adding running to walking, I came home to discover we had no hot water. So, no shower to help unravel the day.
All of this hurried unexpectedness led to no rest.
All is well. I am fully known and loved.
I shall move now into Thursday.
Remembering God.
He steadies me. I don’t have to take control.
The way ahead is safe as are my thoughts, questions and prayers.
Safe and sound.
Settled already.
“Look straight ahead, and fix your eyes on what lies before you. Mark out a straight path for your feet; stay on the safe path.” Proverbs 4:25-26 NLT
we run away from our discomfort... but it doesn't leave us. to heal we need to turn around and face it, experience it and once we truly do we are out of it. We heal and we grow.
2 Timothy 1:7-8 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. This blog is about my Christian walk. Join me for the adventure.
Lisa Anne Tindal 