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/

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.

Accepting Sky

Faith, grace, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

Let it be.

I hurried home to get a walk in.

On the way, alone with time, I thought ahead to what might or might not be.

I redirected my thoughts, chastised myself, tried to account for all my wasted worries.

Attempted to measure the moments, curious of the amount, wasted on anxious calculation of possible or not.

Wondering, ever wondering.
I looked past the messes left for me…the throw pillows askew, the labrador has been sleeping on my sofa again.

Bundled up and walked real fast and focused in the wind.

Almost dark, I cut through the field.

Turned the corner and settled my mind.
The evening sky saying, “acceptance”.

So glad to notice you, God.

i appreciate your sky.

Towards Grace

courage, Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, rest, Salvation, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

On the first day of new, I wrote a prayer and called it “Winter”, knowing that what I write, I might retain.

I found it beautiful then. It was descriptive and true.

Grace found

Pausing to look it over, gray lines and loops on thin white paper, I pondered the seven days since I’d already begun to fear.

Welcome, Winter.

May your arrival bring new things.

May I be unafraid of your truth

and of mine.

May I hold fast to a promise uttered for others and for me,

a breakthrough is coming, it’s about to be time.

This morning I sat in a dim space. The morning faded by moist and thick fog led me to linger. I read and wrote, three or four lines at most. The quiet of the morning, too much of a calm nothingness for me to move.

I listened and heard a dove in the distance. Its coo was quiet, then more clear, then quiet again. The notes of its song danced like black squiggly shapes on sheets of music.

I listened and thought of grace.

Grace, manifested, making itself evident, the only other sound the tick of the clock on kitchen wall.

The cooing of the bird becoming conversation, for me, I decide.

I waited. It continued.

It quietens, so I move, unfolding the quilt from my bare feet.

I think of seeking the sound, the sight of grace.

For months, I walked almost daily with lens pointed towards the sky. Random shots of clouds that called me to notice. The sky, like dove song, I’m certain was always for me.

Grace, manifested. Grace, rediscovered.

Had never moved, not been removed nor withdrawn, I’d just stopped looking. Maybe I’d become comfortable in the apathy of apprehensive unknown.

Sometimes we do these little things like “quiet time” and journaling and they’re nothing short of cliched habit, practicing a trendy social sharing, searching for a word to declare will carry us through the day…like wearing our badges of honor to mark our fading faith.

Then, we see grace.

We feel it. We hear it because it was not of our making, we got silent and still enough to see God.

I’m looking again. I’m noticing again. It’s a quiet and private practice.

Earlier today, I was captivated by a presentation. Watch and listen:

Are you listening?

A video created by a photographer, the intent to capture the emotion of 2016. It’s hard to watch. Hard not to watch. The voice of the narrator is reminiscent of the sweetest teacher a Southern girl may have ever known. It’s a voice that is somber in its serious tone, broken in its cadence.

If voices were visible emotion, her’s would be the drawn face of sorrowful acceptance.

It was hard to watch, such an accurate commentary of our time, our distress.

Hard to watch, yet, impossible not to take notice.

I watched and still, I thought of grace.

I thought of Job and his refusal to give up on God, his dismay, his defeat and his holding out and holding on to see grace again when they all told him it was not to be found.

No more grace for you, curse what you’ve decided to count on for good and accept that your doubts have come true. His wife, his friends, the bodies of his children cried out. Job 2:9

I thought of the sky that I turned to notice once the fog had cleared.

The open spot where the blue came in.

That’s the place that reminded me of my Winter prayer

and eventually, again, of grace.

Give ear, O Lord, to my prayer; listen to my plea for grace. Psalm 86:6

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/want-give-2017-even-starts/

Little much

Children, courage, family, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

corn flakes, banana and pecan

Yesterday, we all had dinner together.

Beef brisket on little buns loaded with jack cheese and buns made shiny by warm butter

Fingerling potatoes coated in olive oil and Parmesan cheese, crispy under the broiler

A cole slaw fancied up with creamy bleu cheese, crushed pecans and cranberries

Decadent macaroni and cheese, thick, soft and warm

My attempt at a little cafe’ worthy finale’, custard and Nutella blended gently over heat, cooled and then covered in melted marshmallow, not the star of the show,

still sweetly delicious.

Gifts exchanged late Christmas night. Laughter and languishing. Sprawled out in the den.

Late night led to late waking.

Back to the kitchen, I go for the simple.

Remembering my grandma’s house when we all had breakfast from the box with the big rooster.

And how I loved it when the honey colored flakes floated in a pool of white.

I’d dip into the bowl with little fingers, pick just one and bring it my mouth, letting it rest softly on my tongue.

Then I’d turn the shallow bowl up and drink down the milk that tasted like candy

My feet swinging loosely over the edge of my grandma’s chairs up close to the big table.

My cousins all around me, the day after Christmas at the old house in the country.

Little is much, I know this to be true, know its peace.

stay here heart

Faith, grace, Uncategorized, wonder

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Heading out the door, time absolutely flies every morning. I don’t want to leave, I’m prone to lingering long in the quiet.

I reach for my keys and purse then stop.

Something happened this morning , I need to remember, I should write this down. I go back to my morning spot and with pencil record the words that say the way it felt.

On the blank page next to angel shapes preparing for painting, I write to remember.

That moment, stay there,

that feeling, hold fast to it.

It happened in increments. First, I was humming,mindless warm sounds under steam of shower. Then, quietly I began to sing.

The words from the day’s Advent card, just words, “Jesus, we love you.”

Quietly, repetitively I sang

Jesus, we love you.

Jesus we love you.

You are the one our hearts adore.

Three, four, more times, I suppose I sang the same few words to the song, each time more fluid than the last.

I fall short in describing the quiet elation, the place my heart felt peace. I’m hesitant to tell for fear it might lessen the tenderness of moment or the possibility of it being rare.

For, we can’t chase joy. We’ll fail in pursuit of the splendidly content moments. We’ll find ourselves just shy of happy in the simple and we’ll negate the beautiful of a moment in forcing its happening again.

So, I’ll remember my shower song. I’ll remember the moment when the words caused me to continue

in the finding of joy.

Day 11 – grace, regardless

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

Day 11, Advent
Uphold me in your promise that I may live and let me not be put to shame in my hope! Psalm 119:116

How we feel about God, about His part in our plans and how we give him a role in our lives, our faith, dependence, trust…our unwavering acceptance of his unwavering grace is the image and message we convey.

It can’t be hidden, won’t be hidden. With God, there’s no masking, no faking, no playing of holy part. Our lives are not scenes from a grand play for which we’ve auditioned and are chosen to be the star follower or the longing reject hoping to be picked to follow Jesus.

There’s no need for acting. There’s no need for striving to maintain appearance of never being afraid or feeling condemned, yet again because of negative conversations with self.

If we try to cover our doubts about grace in the day to day, how will we ever convey God’s saving grace to the doubters of us and of life and love, all around us and in our lives?

We end up exhausted from the farce of it all…going through life only sporadically believing in grace.
Grace is daily.
It is our bread, our sustenance.

It’s what we know we lack and circle back to remember.
The very same grace we accepted as ours when we surrendered our wandering, questioning hearts and believed is the grace that is ours every second of the day.

So, I let my insecurities show and some might be repelled by my lack of discretion, of not covering up. By the grace of God and my discernment of right people, they show less day by day.

In time one of two things surely happens:
It will, my insecurity, show more or struggle to stay hidden. Insecurity is relevant and relatable. It is beautiful for us to be brave enough to be less than strong enough or as we might be expected to be.

The more we remember grace, the less glaringly we’ll obstruct its beauty by the wearing of our masks of can’t be known.

Heather said she’s ready for the leaves to all fall away, the trees should be wintry now, it’s Christmas.

I agree. There’s beauty in barren. There’s beauty in exposed and clinging to what means life.

Can a winter branch shield itself from cold, wet and harsh season?

I think not, still it’s a beautiful thing to see resting in the strength of roots and even more clearly visible unadorned with leaf against wide blue sky.
#graceupongrace #quietconfidence #birthofjesusday

Blank Page Prayer

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

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Eleven or so lines, gray soft graphite point from crystal colored pink pencil, that was all today.

I woke and scribbled self-talk truer than most days, a carry over from evening thoughts quiet in theme.

Evening walk ending with letting Colt walk towards sunset unleashed. I waited, prolonging our walk as he meandered in high grass turning brown against brilliant edged sky.

Pencil to page:

10/25/16

I thank you Lord, for things you remind me to pursue and for those you help me let go and let be.

For, it is then that that the sweetest answers come.

In reply, a surprising confirmation and unexpected love words.

Remind me Lord, to acknowledge my imperfections in a way quite okay and then accept my vulnerable as well as fallible me.

It is then I let go of the swiftly flooding rapids of doubt.

Head up in confidence, facing warm sun and one hand open in trust, my heart more aligned with God, I move with rhythm of life’s stream.

Seeing clearly and seen clearly.

Shine lightly and softly, girl, shine.

Let it shine, shine, shine.

Your heart.

….with the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit

I Peter 3:4

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee as she shares the beauty of brokenness.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/taking-broken-way-way-real-wholeness/

Sunday, Light with Song

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

We had rain, mostly drizzly sideways sheets and wind. The violent storm not nearly as destructive for us as for many.

Still, the storm had come through. Left me grateful for the mercy of its path; but, dwelling on how bad it might have turned and turned out to be.

I skipped church on Sunday searching for more solitude in service. Found sanctuary of everything out in the open to be seen or kept inside. Yet, the doors flung wide in welcome.

The trees, their pine needles and leaves swiff, swiff, swiff and swaying a sweet subtle song. Unison, the song in my ears reminding of love, mercy and all will be well.

Not another soul out this morning to meet me on the path, to walk towards me in intrusive greeting or half-hearted hello.

No need to answer how my week had been, to bring up request or to discuss things concerning or concerned over. My concerns, I held close. They were enough for me to know.

How free I felt, the sermon, a promise of redemption. Vast and open, opportunity ahead, my steps were intentional and seeking of light.

Sunlight in new place, spilling through from heavenly hand opened to persuade me.

Turn this way. Look here. See, it’s here. It’s new and light and overwhelmingly, surprisingly better than you thought.

Next Sunday, I’ll sing a special and the next I’ll teach small children.

Today was just me by myself drawing near to listen and to capture again His light.

Renewed for today.

And the day to come. This time for you, you were right in choosing.

Now, go on, there’s more.

It’s up ahead.

Three Feathers, one Pristine

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

Found these three today.

Message from Heaven

I found one, then a second in the yard behind the shelter.

Said, “Here you take this one” and gave it to Serina.

She smiled, said “I’ll keep it, Miss Lisa.”

We took a few steps together, both of us looking towards our toes and I saw another, small and pristine.

I knew it then.

Everything will be fine.

A message from my mama.

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