Morning Unfolds and Evening Nods

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

I walked outside, barefoot. This morning, the grass wet and cooler than just a few days ago, it caught me by surprise.

I lightened my steps, tippy-toeing, the dogs wondering, “what’s the problem?”.

Summer slumber moving me towards the letting go and the crisp of cool Fall.

I looked towards the sky, turned to go back inside and looked quickly, again back towards the tall pines.

One clump of green up way, way high, lit up golden,  welcoming the day. Day of change and chance.img_2100_kindlephoto-19126492

And I took it to heart, I thought…Yes, there’s still chance for new and good.

I angrily covered over a canvas last night, erased the amateur tones that couldn’t be made right.

Then, decided to write, to add some thoughts to words already started.

But, force and anxious effort took over.

Like the Psalmist I wondered,

Could it be God has forgotten to be gracious to me?

Psalm 77:9

Empty feeling, I left the words there, just draft.

Devoid of creative and exhausted from the effort.

I prayed later on. I cried, just a little. Surprisingly to some, I’m not at all the weepy one.  But, warm tears, just enough to blur my sight made sense.

Then, I just decided to let it be, let it rest.

So, as morning is purposed for, the morning sky gave a chance to understand…again.
It’s crazy how little tolerance we have for things not going like we think they should.

We can hit one roadblock or not get something just right and we concoct a whole dialogue about our lack of worth and our lack of being good enough for good things to happen.

I just wrote my monthly Faith column for the Wagener Monthly. This month,  about a blind man who thought he was blind because he was bad, his parents did too.

Never convinced him differently, even after he could see.

He met Jesus. He could see, he was healed. He believed. They still didn’t.

I falter in the two things I feel God has given me to do and I, like the blind man’s parents, start thinking…I was wrong, not me, not good enough, made too many mistakes to measure up to this gift.

That kind of thinking grows and grows until you become so miserable that you have to decide to be blunt and question yourself…where is this from…what’s this really about?

Asking yourself the things no one else would dare ask.

 Like, why did you find it necessary to post every single angel you painted? What were you seeking? What void were you attempting to fill?

Then, you remember.

Oh, this thing I used to consider joy, that used to fill me up and spill over, I’ve made it something else. I’ve made it a place that’s open to fault finding, to self-ridicule and worst of all, to comparison.

Then, jealousy.

So, you get quiet and you get back to you.

You rest,  let it rest. You sense the slow change, feel it, move through it at a sweet pace of your own.

You rest. You notice again.

I walked this evening. The cooler air separating the clouds, an intentional separating, breaking down and apart…sifted to smoothness and patterned for best.

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I turn towards home, stopping with the Labrador in the grassy spot that feels like country and linger with him in the weeds.

No need for rushing.

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We both look towards the place where the sky is wide. He saunters, the high grass brushing his belly and I  unleash him because we’re almost home anyway, it’s safe.

I look towards the sky, then we’re done with the day.

And I’ve not pushed, I’ve prayed some more. I’ll paint tomorrow, write again too.

I’ll welcome the unfolding of morning, the nod of evening skies knowing God has been so, so gracious.

Again.

 

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee

Believing Afraid

courage, Faith, praise, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

image.jpegLast night, this thought just sashayed through my mind. Popped up, hung around and I thought, yes, this feels like truth.

Feels like revelation.

I thought, go write it down; but, didn’t for whatever reason. Friday night, long week why must I always think so much anyway?

Then woke and remembered and it was still just as good, just as huge and real.

Thought again of heaven, of first impressions and of impressions I may have made.

I could see it new and different after years of not quite enough, not seamlessly believing without doubt or living without faltering.

I could see that it was good, would be okay.

I imagined standing there before God and him caring less about my fumbling and more about my feeble yet persistent pursuit. I heard him say…

I saw you learning to be loved, learning to believe. It was beautiful to see how those around you saw me through you.

I saw you being afraid, too. I saw the times you let your fears suffocate your belief and so you stumbled and you had some failures in your faith and in some things you let go your pursuit.

But, don’t be troubled. I’m not disappointed.

I saw you, saw you believing more everyday. I saw the times your heart’s rhythm was at ease or was joyous. I saw you, when you believed and your soul thrilled in its place of peace. I saw the blue of your eyes, clearly opened anew and the curve of your quiet lip in a humble smile.

I saw you.

Believing, afraid.

I made a new list, a letter to self. One side, what I believe, the other what I’m afraid of.

Then sat and colored in my Bible in the place where John recorded Jesus’ time on earth, the place where disputes over believing in Him and His outlandish love, healing, and behavior were deemed inappropriate.

They were afraid to believe, I guess.

Aren’t we all, until he reminds us?

Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” John 11:40

 

 

 

Effort, less

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

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I finished a grant, resubmitted a report, calculated the number of homeless in need of shelter and hugged a mama who wants to see her daughter left in another state because at least there was a home there.

Chasing grants, projecting budgets, tweaking outcomes.

I helped another mama figure out how to search for a surrendered child and I requested items needed from donor.

Finished up screenings, collaborative efforts in recognizing depression and inventoried supplies, worried over funding loss.

Came home, reached for leash, ready to walk. He pulled, on a scent, resisted me all the way.

We walked, out of synch. I was annoyed.

Unregulated in his walk, routine off, he calms finally.

So anxious to begin, worn out and panting towards the end.

Leash off, water bowl filled.

Not at all refreshed, renewed.

So,  I put out food for the birds. I can do this at least.

Then painted, finishing a landscape.

I love it so!

I remembered my son’s call, just when I’d decided to be okay without his call…he called.

Oh my.

Reached for the phone to text my daughter then,

She called me first. “I was just about to text you!” I said.

Oh, the joy of things unexpected.

The things that happen without effort.

Effort, less.

I filled the bird feeders and then noticed the seeds had become moist, clumped all together.

So, I left a little more, expecting it not to last.

But, happy to know it was discovered.

 

Better is a handful of quietness than two handfuls full of toil and a striving after the wind.

Ecclesiastes 4:6

 

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story. http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/

 

Finding Perspective

rest, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

 

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Seeing new beautiful

Seems there’s been nothing quite so beautiful lately.

Sure, the sky’s been blue, the clouds have changed from thick puffs to feathery gray shadows like a penciled cross hatch artist technique.

I’ve seen birds and the geese have flown over. I’ve stopped being moved, though.

Not sure why.

Butterflies still all gathered and bright green vines cascade over their pots into big puddled places in the ground.

I suppose I’ve become accustomed to the beautiful to the extent I’m less amazed.

I walk unfazed by the earth, my walk, becoming habitual.

Then, we veer off. The dog’s nose keen and persistent. I resist the pull of the leash, firmly shouting the “No sir!” that causes him to obey.

I let him wander and I stop.

An old skinny tree, fragile, leaves becoming marigold from healthy green, I notice the web, huge sack-like cottony, a fibrous balloon.

Dense and thickly woven, a place for pine needles and changing leaves to land.

I ponder what lives inside, certain it is cherished.

Beautful in its place, it’s time and it’s purpose.

Refreshing my walk with

a new perspective.

I’ve heard some think of  Autumn as a beginning, much more than Spring as a time for new and renewed.

A time to see beautiful and possible and purposeful in things you’d not before.

Autumn, may you be my season.

I’ve been looking for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Treasure

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

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I have sort of a secret. It’s more than sorta personal, the kind of thing you hesitate tell somebody or somebodies because there’s no way their reaction will honor the beauty of what’s been shared.

So, it’s been over a month now since this thing happened. I’ve recorded its occurrence in my journal, they way it appeared least expectedly.

The answer to a prayer while walking one evening. I’ve had answered prayers before, big, heavy and hard ones I’ve laid out before God, mostly about my children,

Rarely, so boldly about me.

I prayed that miserably hot afternoon, “Lord, is it your will that I write this book?” (I almost left the word “book” out here, doubts, fear, etc. saying don’t put that out there…don’t be so brave, keep it to yourself). The talk with God rambled on as I walked.

“Lord, I don’t want to think the way I’ve always thought. Maybe, deep down I don’t believe it’s possible. I believe it’s only a dream and this battle between believing it possible and fearing failure is strong.

So, Father I’m asking,  do you want me to follow through, is writing a book a part of your plan for me?”

Walked on, relieved to have gotten it all out in the open. Better for being straight with God, like finally breaking the silent treatment with your spouse, the tension of what needed to be said is lifted.

It’s a start, at least towards good.

You say what you need to say and decide to just carry on regardless.

Not like a limbo state, just a sense of okay either way. Might seem like nothing but at least your load’s been lifted.

And now, I ramble.

The morning after the walk and talk, I do my normal sitting, reading, praying and lingering.

Typical morning, same routine and route.

Heading in to the office, good music, traffic info and some talk of events on the radio.

Then a word out of nowhere. Something I heard, crazy I couldn’t remember why or when.

“Treasure” it said and rested in my mind.

“Treasure”

“Treasure”

“This is your treasure, Lisa. This is your ability, your opportunity. This is your thing, I planted there, a tiny thing that you’re only beginning to see. But, you see it now because you’ve gotten quiet. You see it now, because you’ve gotten loud and unafraid about it. You see it now because it won’t let you not see it. Don’t conceal it any longer.

This is your treasure. This is your treasure. The thing you carry around with you everyday, embrace it some days and fear it others…the thing you’re crazy excited to do and the thing that you’re terrified of.

This is your treasure, it has great significance.”

i heard God’s  voice. It’s impossible to minimize this experience or to detail it in a way that matches its reality and quiet awe.  It was real, not spectacular, just real.

It was His answer and so, I will write the stories, compile them with grace, with brave and honest recollections, “The Colors of my Bible” will be its title.

Because, six months ago, I scribbled this hurried question across the page of my journal. Writing the words in an anxious “gotta write this down before I decide it’s too heavy to write…to even think!”

“Lisa, what if it is God’s will for you to write a book…200 pages or so…and one person, maybe two connects with your story and has hope, understands God more clearly, believes in redemption in a way that’s not just a word for others?  Isn’t that enough? Wouldn’t that be more than enough? “

So, continue. Finish. This is your treasure, honor it. Write God’s book.

This is your Treasure in you, a humble and hesitant jar of earthly clay, created by God.

 

 

Healed

Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized

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She walked in slowly, not yet feeling welcome.

I’ve known her almost a year now and yet, she has a ways to go in not being afraid or unworthy.

We worked together on a matter of crisis she might not have been able to handle.

We talked about her worth. She was surprised when I listed her qualities, when I questioned whether she agreed; maybe more surprised by how strongly I insisted on her worthiness.

She broke her leg last year. We had to move her to the downstairs room of our shelter. It was a tough time.

She said to me out of the blue, in the middle of our meeting, “I can’t believe my leg doesn’t even hurt. I can’t believe that broken bone got healed.”

We both smiled.

A friend stopped by on Tuesday to talk about our programs collaborating more. We decided on a new initiative to prioritize a mother’s thinking, giving value and purpose to their lives, the gift of their child.

We prayed together; she first, then me.

I thanked God for her and the time she prayed for me, in agreement with me and the falling apart time she got me through.

I heard her sigh and felt the emotion of her surprise, my mentioning her to God.

It was raw, almost touchable, as if she felt God’s hearing of my voice.

Because in that moment, the thing we didn’t discuss, my healing, was real and she’d been a part of it.

The broken place was healed finally.

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of grace who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. I Peter 5:10

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five minute friday :: heal

 

God like you

courage, Faith, grace, grief, Trust, Uncategorized

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Having noticed the birds singing as the morning on cue unfolded, I questioned my surprise.

It made no sense to me that birds would sing, butterflies congregate and the sky open so vastly midday.

Had they not heard of loss? Had they a resolve tougher than ours, more able to shake off the sorrows and sadnesses of life, of death?

I paused to listen again, to notice

Without fail, a God who like you.

Causing me to see, to hear, to know.

To be still. To trust both the beauty and the not so beautiful.

Crescent

Faith, rest, Uncategorized, wonder

I’m sorry but, the crescent’s my favorite.FullSizeRender-16_kindlephoto-3176886

Not the full nor the occasional bright fiery red.

Nor the yellow one with the soft border, the ring like an angel halo on a winter night.

Most of all, better than the apricot sunset, the cobalt stormy sky, cotton ball fluffy clouds or brilliant million star starlight…

I love the crescent moon,

the beginning of full

the hint of possible

the beginning again, better again.

The humble crescent, gradual and discreet.

Beginning beautifully towards full and then done.

Soon, I will shine.

 

To Know Him

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

imageI wonder if the skies were prepared to welcome him.

If the darkness of His death night was illuminated as magnificently as his birth night.

If the hierarchy of officials wept in regret over succumbing to the crowds who protested their decision, their desire.

Herod and Pilate, both longing to know this man, to experience his healing, longing just to meet him.  Maybe even excited to know that things could be different.

They must both have been longing for more than just existing, controlling, surviving.

Aren’t we all?

They had heard of  his power and love. But, embrace His love, abandon their power?

They caved to the maddening cries of those all around, the seekers of gore, of violence, of death, of spectacle.

I missed this part in the story until today

or perhaps, my heart’s more receptive or longing to be reminded.

When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had long desired to see Him, because he had heard about Him…Look, nothing deserving of death has been done by Him. Luke 23:8, 15

I’m fascinated by Jesus.

I’m enthralled by the nuances of His life.

Life sacrificed for me, for them.

But, they demanded with loud cries that he should be crucified. And their voices prevailed. Luke 22:23

I believe the stars were magnificent that night, gave a new clarity, a regretful longing to wish they’d known him more.

Oh, for grace to trust Him more.

To know Him more.

Jesus, Jesus

How I trust Him.

 

 

 

Watching God’s Children

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Teaching, Uncategorized

 

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All it takes to be changed and moved by God’s word is to read the stories of people and places who knew Jesus, to read the stories of Jesus.

I believe the writers of God’s ancient yet beautiful words had in their minds that for generations to come, scripture would change us. Stories and teachings are different in small ways each time we read them. We’re softened in areas we need softening and corrected in the areas we’ve fallen prey to doubt, lost our way, maybe need a little empathy, not sympathy.

We come to God, to His word in different ways, different places each time we pause to read our Bible.

My house has no children now.

I pause a minute here.

They’re doing good things, learning new things, are doing them in new and bigger places.

The story of young Jesus in the temple had me standing right there with his mama, our arms linked.  Her son amongst scholars and leaders, was holding his own.

I read the verses and all I could do was think how overjoyed his mama must’ve been to find him; yet, wishing he’d never left her side, didn’t have to venture  in new directions.

I wonder if she longed to cradle him in her arms again. If she could go back to the miraculous starry night, would she if she could or did the sight of him speaking of His Heavenly Father overwhelm her?

Mary, the ultimate giver of roots and wings, an empty nest beyond compare.

Every year Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem for the Festival of the Passover. 42 When he was twelve years old, they went up to the festival, according to the custom. 43 After the festival was over, while his parents were returning home, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but they were unaware of it. 44 Thinking he was in their company, they traveled on for a day. Then they began looking for him among their relatives and friends. 45 When they did not find him, they went back to Jerusalem to look for him. 46 After three days they found him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. 47 Everyone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers. Luke 2:41-47

I imagine Mary,  when after losing her son for three days, walking up to the temple and there he is!

She’s standing still, overwhelmed as she catches her breath.

I see her there, utterly enthralled.

His character, his voice and his pursuit of knowledge.

I can sense her knowing, her understanding, her acceptance.

There are things he will do, places he’ll go that she’d never know, not be able to go along. He won’t need her there.

Captivated, she listened and watched.

Something happens in a parent when the child they’ve raised speaks up, speaks for another or simply stands tall in crowd we’d be intimidated by.

It’s a beautiful moment to see.

Watching your child teach children with love and authority, speak with confidence, or demonstrate some act of kindness to another.

Take on a challenge you didn’t expect,

expecting to see it through.

Or maybe, if your children are adults like mine, they notice a place you could do better, tell you about it and you’re not offended by their truth.

You’ve taught them well, you decide.

So you, stand in the distance and watch when you can.

Finding joy in finding them again after being apart.

Captivated by them, God’s children, knowing

He’s watching them now.

  And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me?

Luke 2: 49

 Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and her story of a time she thought herself as less than and now she knows so, so much better!

 http://jenniferdukeslee.com/put-brakes-today-happiness-hijacker/

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