Encounters, Grief and Joy

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

I was more than a little excited to see her. She and I, I realized when we met almost four years ago now, had the same long, slow southern accent.

I was sure she must be from Georgia and even more sure, I decided, we had to be distant relatives. Her dialect, her slow and lilting sentences ending with just a slight upturn. Well, she sounded like me I decided and so, I was happy to know her.

So, when I saw her on an early morning estate sale venture, I couldn’t wait to say, “Hey” and “Oh my Lord it’s been a really long time.”

I was joyous to see her there.

I wasn’t prepared for her response, she leaned back, was hesitant. I figured “Oh well, she doesn’t remember me” or does but, can’t remember how. Still, I was just so happily surprised over seeing her again.

I should have read her cues, should have seen it for what it was.

Instead, I added, “Remember, from the group?” She said, “I remember.” nothing more. It was clear she wished I hadn’t reminded her, refreshed the memory.

It was humid; awkward and cramped, standing amongst the trinkets, treasures,and big patterned armchairs.

She’d moved away, opened an antique shop in a pretty little town. She’d come back, was in charge of the sale that day.

Someone offered a fan, she replied “I’m fine.” and turned to look towards the drive so I wandered to the back porch and into the little house.

I continued to explore, found a pretty little bud vase and a bird for me and a rooster for the sake of memory of mama. I held my little things close to my chest and went to pay. Her eyes met mine and I said, “I hope you’re doing well and I apologize if I overwhelmed you when I saw you.” She said, “That’s okay.” Nothing more. I added, always the one trying to fix the messes I make, to undo the damage, “We were in the mountains and I was so close to your antique shop; but, couldn’t find time to come.” Again, no reaction really, just another nod.

Finally, I said what I should have said in the beginning and maybe again as I left with a simple goodbye.

“It’s so good to see you again. I hope you are doing well.”

My happiness over seeing her came from a place of recalling our connection, of remembering her sincerity and kind, kind heart, although grieving.

Her seeing me changed the course of her day, turned back the clock, flipped the page to the time and the memory of loss.

And mine as well, to the night she talked and I listened.

To her story of a sorrow I dont know, haven’t felt, only have heard.

Each heart knows its own bitterness,
and no one else can share its joy.

Proverbs 14:10

It was so good to see her, I hope she is doing well.

All is Grace

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Prayer, Uncategorized

When it happens you will sense it. When a gathering brings a chance to pause and the evidence of grace looms large, an aura of God will capture your eye, captivate your thoughts.

You’ll find yourself immersed in a grace God promised all along.

You will know this time is one to treasure. You’ll not dwell on the doubt you had so long and so often expecting such grace and good in things that weren’t for you.

You might have decided to settle for less, half-heartedly longing for more. Perhaps, adjusted high expectations, dreams, regrets and accomplishments less than what you’d dreamt of, even driven towards.

You may realize that letting go and letting God was not as much struggle, just reluctant acceptance still sort of wishing for whatever. Eventually you accept a different way with only small little moments of wondering why or why not.

Looking so intently, striving for what amounts to joy that we chance missing the grace.

But, then grace, not one to give up, finds and overwhelms with its delicately powerful and undeniable presence.

“…we could never learn to be brave and patient if there were only joy in the world.” Helen Keller

On an evening to gather in the country for supper, the sky so wide and stormy, I’ve no desire to go inside. But, I do, offering to help prepare. The kitchen window, wide open to sky, I’m distracted by glory.

Looking through windows covered by gauzy linen, I pause again. The beauty of this place astounds me.

All is grace, I think.

To me, it was a heavenly occurrence here on earth, a soft nod of grace and assurance, remembering the words I’d scribbled on my husband’s Father’s Day card…”We are blessed.”and sitting in room with assurance of grace.

All is grace, I know.

Relentlessly Quiet

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

It’s a practice, maybe more like a ritual, this morning thing I do.

An intentional discipline, I suppose. Sometimes motivated by an open mind, others, if I’m honest, an idle mind longing for more time to be idle.

Seeking for something indicative of hope or something demonstrative of my commitment. I guess, maybe I’m sometimes looking for the fruits of my laborious devotion.

The discipline of devotion, I sit in my quiet spot with a noisy mind.

Realizing, intentional discipline and the pursuit of God turn out to be not much more than duty, sometimes.

Looking for holy becomes holier than thou.

Not always, but pretty often, if I’m honest.

I finished my reading and got ready for the day, stopping suddenly and clearly with interrupted thoughts of the day to come.

So, I just waited, holding on to what I knew to be a word from God, as if to say.

My waiting, actually quiet enough finally. must have been noticed by God.

I believe.

“I’m glad you’re listening. This is what I want you to know. This is what I have for you today.”

And there it was, my reply

“I want to do more for you, Jesus.”

Then, carrying this little few seconds around with me all day, I smiled, thinking maybe God smiled too at the simplicity of my words in the quiet of empty morning house.

Standing still, toothbrush in hand, frothy lips and thankful heart, the irony of my devotion time.

I considered his relentlessly gentle pursuit of me.

Jesus, the shepherd, waiting quietly for my attention.

Pursuing me, one of his sheep distracted by life, habit and duty.

My sheep hear my voice and I know them and they follow me.

John 10:27

Happy to be found and happy to hear, like morning interrupting my morning.

The birds incessant, the dogs insistent.

I ventured out, found and tossed tennis ball and paused to notice God in the pleasant chill of summer breeze.

Ball retrieved and dropped, “thump” at my feet, he waits as I stand barefoot in moist green grass, wisps of cool on my cheeks.

And then, more wisdom, subtle in its delivery, a “Lisaism” .

“God is everywhere. Don’t forget to notice.”

Giving Them Back

Children, courage, Faith, Motherhood, Prayer, Uncategorized

…She continued praying before the Lord.
I Samuel 1:12

The wonder of the Bible is that you may have heard or read something before, but read again and just one verse will stick, maybe your ears are different, your situation or your place of mind and heart.

The telling of another’s struggle, their story read again or attended to in a new way as if written just for you.

And you might not be in that “place” right then, but there’s a familiarity of there that astounds and resounds.

Hannah was a woman of great endurance and there must have been times she quietly trusted, but others she cried out; she cried out to the point of people thinking she must be either drunk or crazy.

Seriously, this is why I love my Bible! Because haven’t we all been there? Longing for what our hearts told us could and should be a part of our life? Longing for resolution?

These not so quiet prayers make us anxious, a little crazy and might cause others concern.

These are not the easy prayers. Offered up and left for fulfillment.

These are the prayers for good in bad or hopeless, exhausted. These are the prayers of women, of mothers.

Hannah endured. She made it clear to God that she would be a good mother, she’d be thankful for His blessing and she’d give it right back to Him.

How did you endure? they may have asked.

And her reply was my reply.

“I opened my hand, my fingers relaxed, my palm towards heaven and said, This is your child, God, have your will.”

She’d remember her answered prayer.

Others thought she shouldn’t be so vocal, so steadfast, so committed to her request.

But, God heard and God answered.

So, may we remember prayers like that and may we remember God’s answers to them.

May we remember He blessed our endurance.

With good things like children.

Pretty Words like Hope

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

IMG_0189_kindlephoto-28491759

What if we saw it as more than a word on a pin, this word, “Hope”?

More than a trendy phrase about an anchor, more than the middle word in the group of three?

What if we knew this emotion called hope as more than a

word in passing, a vague and wavering optimism?

“Well, I hope so.” we say, as if hope is nothing more than a rare and pitiful possibility.

This morning, I rose to begin the day from the space on the carpet next to my bed.

Groggy and thankful for the ease of waking like clockwork without a clock.

My folded up, sleepy legs found their way to bending knees to rest in a downward pose to pray.

This morning, simply, “Jesus, help me today.”

I read from the Book of Hebrews, chapters 4 -6 and found the familiar phrase there.

Hope, an anchor for my soul, a catchy quote, trendy phrase.

I colored in my margin, drew an anchor, a sky, an ocean and a moon. Mornings like this, and my Bible are gifts.

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Fingers blending dusty colored pastel, a delicate touch on the border of a fragile page, I thought of hope.

The middle child in the faith, hope, love family. Hope.

Reading the verses just before the one I knew by heart, understanding a little differently, more clearly and stronger today. This sweet little pretty word, what a mighty thing is hope.

I read the whole chapter, the whole book and saw hope, the way God longs for us to see…to see Him, our hope.

Saw it as certainty, read about histories and lineages of people who understood hope.

That hope is unchangeable.

Hope is God’s promise and we know he keeps his word.

I read that hope is earnest assurance and that we might sway, but hope cannot be moved once established.

Hope, I read, is a better thing for those God calls beloved.

So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise, the unchangeable character of His purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie,we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement

to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf.

Hope, the place of pausing to rest my seeking knees, my open heart every morning, to be anchored in certainty.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/bit-light-youre-dark-day-tellhisstory/

Light and Momentary

courage, family, grace, Vulnerability

It was just a chance to notice.

The morning sunlight, perfectly landing on the floor

and easing up, in a warm thin shadow making light, causing me to stop.

To look towards the chest ‘o drawers, the one that held my mama’s clothes.

The light, just as perfect as possible, it invited my pause to remember.

For just a few minutes, that is all, I was happy to pause in the morning light.

My mood, softened by the brief glow landing in this corner.

The place that holds a piece from my mama’s house.

A momentary treasure, light and memorable.

Light and momentary, preparing me for heaven.

Maybe

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

Maybe, I thought, out walking in the late afternoon thickness of day…

Maybe, just consider it Lisa, there’s a change coming, a shift you’ve been seeking.

Maybe, you’ve been so offended by being overlooked, over corrected and over reacted to

that you’ve not thought to notice the possibility, the maybe of this time.

Maybe, I thought, out walking in the dull empty summer air, there’s a shift occurring,

one you’ve worked for

one you need.

Maybe.

Count it joy, not maybe; but surely…these various trials of my faith are producing something that can’t be shaken.

James 1:2

Deciding Quietly

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

IMG_0077_kindlephoto-6725465

The sun made the narrow spaces between the blinds a warm golden hue this morning.

Allowing time for an easy morning, I looked towards the window and considered getting up, raising the blinds and taking a picture.

Decided against it because I knew it wasn’t the sunlight in its beginning of day that my mind embraced.

It was the light edged in shadow that kept me there under cool sheets and swift, swirl of fan, for moments longer than usual.

Looking towards the day in a way that spoke softly for my submission, as if knowing I’d grown weary of demands.

Barely lit bedroom, a haven and my morning less of dread…the light beginning to filter through, quietly without forcing response from me.

Slowly and with calm intention, I move on towards the morning.

I begin with note to self, calling it a commitment.

Certain of its timing, I write clearly, my penmanship better than it’s been, under today’s date and encircle it in a bold bracket.

Stop looking at what others are doing. Do what your heart tells you is right, is true, is good.

Then, moved to study God’s word, today’s passages in read through my Bible plan.

And because God is God, a few words were planted there to be discovered, to be certain of the quiet wisdom of today.

Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness.

I Timothy 2:11

Linking up my five minutes of Friday here:

Needing Rain

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

IMG_0086_kindlephoto-6706827 If you were raised the way I was raised, you’d notice the building of dark clouds.

You’d not be surprised by the dark, shifting clouds or the storms through the night with just short breaks in between.

You’d remember the stillness, the way someone would walk towards the porch to check the sky.

Then, turn to say, “We need the rain.”

And maybe after sitting and waiting, someone else would say,

“We need the rain.”

There’d be no dispute, not a word from us cousins. The corn, the butterbeans, the low, wide tobacco leaves needed the rain.

Last week I felt the air become heavy and unexpectedly dark.

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There was a complaint, a correction, a criticism. I was caught in surprise of storm. Suspicious of its source.

There was a feeling of being thrown into the storm with no one noticing my abandonment, my inability to swim.

It was work stuff; yet, it was hard.

It wasn’t family storm, not my heart; but it was hard.

Darkness of word, of reactions and of lack of reaction.

I suppose it was needed. Like rain on an early summer evening.

The kind of storm that causes me to get quiet, it’s storming.

I needed the storms.

I needed to be courageous in a way that caught uncaring people by surprise.

I needed to be humble when my pride and hurt feelings hindered my moving forward.

I needed to take a chance, to take the next step and to be uncertain of reaction, but decide to accept it as truth, as needed.

To hush the insecurities and doubts.

I needed the dark clouds, were it not for storm, I’d not understand, truly understand my need.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28

Sometimes God brings storms and we’re thinking okay, I’ll understand the purpose of this heavy rain, this earth shaking thunder or this frighteningly unexpected bolt of fearful lightening…eventually, we think.

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We need the rain. We’re better for the storm.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at http://jenniferdukeslee.com/tell-his-story/

Dog Walks and Dappled Pauses

Uncategorized

I had no choice really, but to take the longer trail, to circle the neighborhood.

The trail, bordered by tall fences on one side and trees the other. I’d have turned back sooner, the halfway mark; but, I heard it from behind and turned to notice. IMG_0046-2_kindlephoto-2759334

A big dog, head down and a deep rumbling sound echoing from his gut, I looked quickly, then continued forward to feel safe again. Years ago, a dog bolted out, barking loudly and chased until showing its teeth by my side. I was bitten by a German Shepherd.

So, I’m cautious. Calm, but cautious.

Turned back, walking steady, the huge dog smaller because of my distance, the bottoms of my feet barely grazing asphalt as we topped the steep, shaded hill.

Reached the trail and we’re good now.I would have been less brave before; but, I’m moving forward more often now.

Not towards a safe place, simply safer feeling in my places.

On the straightaway now, I notice the sunshine making dappling shapes on the ground as I go. IMG_0050_kindlephoto-2605493

I decide to slow a little, loosen up the hold and Colt weaves in and out of the low hanging limbs. He stops to seek out noise, a squirrel, a bird or a rabbit rustling ’round.

He’s calm. He’s intent and watchful, so I watch as well.

I wait. He watches. We rest.

Then, walk again with new ease.

To reach the shaded spot next to the back porch where the hydrangeas are so full this year they’ve begun to drag the ground.

Home, we’re back and the sun is shining now, the hydrangeas illumined and resting in beds of brilliant green pillow.

	Lisa Brittain on Women of Faith
	Lisa Anne Tindal on Women of Faith
	smoker4mom on Women of Faith
	juliedibblewrites on Embracing
	Lisa Anne Tindal on Shine On