Understanding Skies

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

clarity

I’m not one to toss and turn. If I’m troubled, I go to bed.

Say to myself, tomorrow will be another day.

Then, place one hand on my chest and pray.

Silently, easy like water traveling a slow path to a broad river.

With morning and time come newness.

The sky was a wide expanse of cold, pale lavender today.

Its width cloudless and open. Enough open space to learn.

An expansive sky, with just a faint glimmer of sunlight in tall tree.

epiphany

My eyes rested there and remembered my earlier revelation.

I hurt someone’s feelings trying to be right. Looking for answers to a question already known with certainty. I have a few sayings.

One of them is never ask a question you know the answer to.

Asking for trouble. Not answers. Asking to be right when being right makes no difference in the hurt, adds harm to hurt.

I was self-righteous. Smug, hot-headed and determined to point of the wrong in another causing hurt that was never intended.

I begged God to fix my mistake. Not the answer you need, said God.

The answer is seeing, truly seeing.

Epiphany, in an insightfully clear sky.

The manifestation of Christ in me, with me despite errant will.

Looking down, it’s still there. I thought of adding to my collection earlier, decided to let it rest instead.

A petite pine cone, stiff with the cold and shining silver in brown straw.

And I smiled, remembering gifts of baby pine cones she brought.

boots and pinecones

O Lord, you have searched me and known me!

You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.

Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.

Psalm 139: 1-8

Dreams and mornings

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

Colt and I sat for a bit this morning as the darkness lingered in the rain. His usual sauntering towards the door could wait I suppose, as if he knew.

Some thoughts, memories, random comments spoken yesterday found their way out last night.

Out from the places in my mind that apparently were unsatisfied with the time I devoted to pondering.

That’s where dreams come from, I’ve decided, good, bad, scary or beautifully outlandish.

They’re just bits of thoughts, really.

Not seen through to the end, tied up neatly, put away.

I dream quite grandly. I notice explicitly, don’t just discard my thoughts, that I put them aside for later.

This morning, I unraveled the night’s inventory of yesterday’s profound incompleteness of thoughts.

And, the big dog rested his head on the edge of his bed, heaved a satisfied sigh and waited there.

I notice most everything, ponder things longer than most.

It’s a gift and a burden. A gift, because I care deeply.

A burden because my mind sometimes hoards what should be let go, the irrelevant and the irrational.

Holds onto a thought, a conversation and then goes to bed with

“What if?

So, I rose early on my day off. Saw my daughter who went to bed exhausted and achy as bright as sunshine and crisp as blue sky, heading out into rainy darkness to bless little 4-year olds.

Thankful she was not sick and I smiled at the thought of bride.

Just a little blip of a bad and worrisome dream….not reality,

Yay for a pretty wedding in less than three months!

And my son was asleep, his last day at home. He had not left with his guitar on his back without saying goodbye.

Another dream, not so much a “blip”.

More like a marathon on Netflix, an engrossing drama, looking everywhere for something, all vivid characters and colors.

Dreams that make you thrilled for morning.

Mornings mean clarity and gratitude.

Best things about it to me along with coffee and Bible.

Big dog patiently waiting as I scribble, read, thank.

Until we begin the day, noticing.

Noticing all day, all the goods, turning the not

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Mid-night scattered thoughts on brevity and prayer

courage, Faith, Prayer, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

There’s nothing like 3:00 a.m. logic.

Oh, to be so simply satiated in thoughts, words and actions just hours earlier.

Darkest of dark times. Yet, clear as glass.

What a rambling of text, my attempt to convey hope, my writing earlier.

Thinking I’d present a different perspective on faith.

One sentence, maybe two would have sufficed, been quite the gist of it all.

I had prayed earlier in the day for my friend. Walking down the hallway, I remembered…”you need to pray for Melanie, what we’re hoping for will come true for her.”

Believing what we’ve asked

So, I did. I prayed,

Lord, I’m not quite sure of what all is wrong. What needs to be healed. But, Lord please let this be a time of good news, of healing for Mel.”

Went to sleep then…to be woken by thoughts.

Troubled by the discombobulated collection of words written earlier.

Knowing simplicity would suffice. Less is more. No need to circle around and round pounding my rambling words.

I wondered then what God thinks of us when we pray. I wonder if he, engaged like a reader waiting for new words sometimes longs for brevity.

After all, He knows our thoughts and concerns. He just desires we lay them there at His feet and then turn to rest, trust and wait.

To rise with clarity.

To walk as visuals, examples of simple utterance of need already known.

Today, my read through plan of the Bible led me to Matthew 8.

A collection of the stories of requests for healing, of the healed.

A leper who prayed. A Centurion who prayed for lowly servant. A man praying for his mother-in-law. The busy one longing to follow Jesus, worried over who’d have to be left behind. The many possessed by demons, turning towards a good God.

The fearful in midst of storm, calmed by His presence alone.

I have three friends I’ve not seen in many years. One had a scare last year with her heart. Another’s sweet husband has cancer. And Mel, she’s tough as nails and determined.

And we all are praying and we all are believing.

The Lord has heard my plea. The Lord accepts my prayer. Psalm 6:9

In the morning, when I rise, give me Jesus.

Balloons, Anchors, Hope and Faith

courage, Faith, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

Walking outside with dogs, hoping for a glimpse of tangerine sunrise and I’m happy to turn back, look up and get crescent moon instead. It’s my favorite moon.

Makes me hopeful for things happening in places I can’t see yet.

Makes me believe, stay faithful.

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for.

Hebrews 11:1

Inspires me not to give up.

Like faith, believing the things I see now.

Things that caught me by surprise.

Hoping for the fullness not seen yet.

Holding onto hope like thumb and index squeezing pretty ribbons trailing balloons.

You may have heard the verse. It’s become the trendy quote, the go-to for hope. The definition of hope, an anchor for your soul.

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. Hebrews 6:19

There’s strength in this verse. The idea of being firmly secure, able to drift only just so far…our souls in a place of safety, anchored, sure to stay put. That’s a good feeling; but, hope’s something more to me.

Something a little lighter, a little brighter, even whimsical.

Like pretty balloons gathered together for celebration.

Imagine if we all went through our days balloons tied to our wrists or held gingerly as we stopped to acknowledge a friend.

Think of your day, appointments handled, issues resolved, periwinkle colored balloon hovering above your desk.

What joy it would be to turn upon waking and see it there, tied to nightstand drawer pull, moving ever so slightly as you begin your day.

Most of all think of the countenance upon our faces as we paused, intermittently to look towards balloon.

Well, that for me is hope.

It’s looking up towards heaven reminded that hope’s still there.

It’s the crescent moon, crisp and bright against morning sky.

It’s expecting sullen sky and turning back towards home to see pearly white clouds filtering light.

It’s being reminded of what we’ve held in our hand all along.

Hope and faith, balloons and anchors

Linking up with others who Tell His Story

Seeking, Walking, Seeing

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

I can certainly see why people may find faith, trust and surrender to God as futile activities. All require the giving up of control, of engagement in outcome and of the opportunity to collaborate outcomes for our own lives.

Still, I begin my day with God. Some days, though, I’m only midway through and have forgotten the strength of my time.

I falter, seeking again to see things unclear. Just a few minutes every morning, storing up reserves of wisdom, most likely needed for recall by noon. Some days I’m more disciplined, more connected. Some not.

A day can change directions in an instant when doubt, fear, and insecurities take the wheel.

I’ve begun to read through the Bible this year. I’m up to Chapter 6 of Genesis. Already, I’m understanding Eve and her choice to eat from the forbidden tree in a new way. I can empathize with Eve, the one responsible for changing the plans of God

What a frighteningly honest admission.

The one who caused our viscious cycle of honoring God only to question God. The first of us, responsible for all of man, of woman, incapable of resting in the place of not knowing, the place of trust.

Eve was tricked, she rationalized her behavior…how can it be wrong for me to know good from evil, to know what is to come? The words of the serpent made sense. Sometimes make sense to me.

For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Genesis 3:5

Today started strong for me as far as my faith. An engaging lesson, a beautiful song and my pastor’s convicting message.

After lunch though, my mind drifted, couldn’t find rest. I wondered about this, doubted that.

Moving through afternoon with nothing more than mindless chores towards evening, I decided at dusk to walk.

Reluctantly moving my thoughts, my feet, my mood, seeking God nevertheless. My walks are seeking walks. Whether I intend them to be or not.

The sky was blue this evening. Not blue like ocean, bright tiles or happy eyes on freckled face child. The blue was of winter on a Sunday marking the end of the day on the cusp of hopeful next.

I turned to see the sunset from various spots on my path. And it happened. I paused in God’s nearness.

Then walked on towards home, towards the unknowns of tomorrow.

Its good and its evil, perhaps.

My life in God’s hands.

Content in the reminding.

O’ Lord, in the morning you hear my voice… Psalm 5:3

Putting it Together

Children, courage, family, Motherhood

I decided to buy a puzzle.

Thought of us working together, something new, unexpected.

Calm, but frustratingly challenged to find “that” piece.

It’s a unified task, a togetherness challenge.

It’s like-minded thinking…”Why on earth did we start this?” and “Oh, here I found your piece!”

A different game night for us. My idea, they expected Scrabble.

1000 piece puzzle of lip balm…no idea. I thought they were candies

We had dinner, cleared the table.

They indulged me. My daughter and her fiancee. My son and his girlfriend.

Then stayed there, circled ’round, elbow to elbow, our searching eyes scanning expanse of bright jigsaw.

Flipped the pieces, separated ends and corners.

And together, we did something new.

Something different.

Together on New Year’s Day

Putting it together, together.

Nothing better than that.

Bibles and Pantsuits

courage, Faith, family, praise, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

My new Bible, a Christmas gift from Benji and Heather

Every Sunday, she’d ask. “How many daily Bible readers did we have today?” The person who kept the Sunday School record would respond. I waited, scanning the encircled group of class members for expressions as she responded.

“This is the one we thing you all should do…how else will you know how to live?”

For a very long time I rejected her advice, her exhortation felt too much like demand.

Puffed up and independent minded, I reminded myself that I would not concede to pressure. I would not be made to feel inadequate or a sinner by not following one person’s ideas or rules.

My grandma, “Bama” had varicose veins. Big, thick purple bulges held down by thick rubber-like pantyhose that went up above her knees.

She wanted to go to church; but, felt unwelcome. She had to wear slacks, sharp little pantsuits.

She stopped attending church after a bit.

Stopped after judgemental glances from other women dressed in pastel colored dresses with hummingbird pins on their scarves, matching purse in one hand, tightly clenched smiles and fingers wrapped around their Bibles.

Bama, dressed in crisp pantsuit, sharp and fashionable, yet scorned.

I wear pants to church most Sundays, it’s okay, feels right to me.

Not for Bama though, back then.

The preacher, continued on admonishing errant ways of ladies in pants and other behaviors that most likely would lead to burning in hell.

I never understood why wearing pants was wrong back then. My grandmother must have been hurt. She never let it show.

I was.

I don’t recall her ever complaining. She just stayed home.

A preacher’s daughter unwelcome in the church

Yet, she always had her Bible, her little Gideon New Testament in her purse and King James version beside her bed.

I remember her nightly ritual.

I’ve seen my name in the margins of her Bible.

I cherish the image of dimly lit bedroom, me sometimes there beside her, pretending to sleep, under thick quilts.

Sleeping with Bama on Friday nights, careful not to brush against her legs.

Quiet, sweet, calm nights with Bama.

Lying next to her, before sleep Bible reading.

Obedience to God, not people.

I’m a daily Bible reader now. It’s not an obedient-like requirement or a response to curtail retribution or chastisement.

It’s not an avoidance of punishment or hardship; rather, for me an act of expectant submission.

Anticipation of revelation and comfort.

God, revealing new things, His words exhorting me to continue or comforting me in my missteps, misfortune.

I know that to know God is to read His word.

Know that choosing to live with God’s word in my heart and mind is the most certain way to see clearly my life as God designed.

So, I cherish my Bible. I cherish my mornings, marking in the margins of my Bible, like Bama.

Morning by morning he awakens; He awakens my ear to hear.

Isaiah 50: 4

Our King Has Come – Walk in Confidence

Faith, grace, praise, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

I laid the Advent Card representing today, beside my journal.

From darkest of darkness came light

My intent to ponder its visual as I’d done with the others.

The day got away from me and I waited for the rain to offer a half hour or so.

I wanted to walk.

I walked, noticing grey skies and vacant landscape. The sky, foreboding, the wind stronger when I turned back towards home.

But, it was okay. I walked on, my steps confident.

Raindrops blowing around me, landing sharply on my face like tiny pin pricks.

Still, I walked on, a confident, good and strong walk.

Trees, dark and severe against the stormy sky. Bare, curly limbs curled, like tight fists clenched.

The air was thick and the clouds began to meld into a more solidly thick darkness.

Still, I walked on.

Noticed barren limbs again on path.

Reminding me of crown made of thorns. Of a dark foreboding day before symbolic and surprisingly new life, His resurrection, mine.

Closer to home, I stopped to look for my companion.

A hawk. First noticed as I turned toward walking path from driveway.

Large bird, solitary and intermittent in showing itself, in unison it seemed.

I walked on, turning to look towards sky.

Back home, greeted by dogs, I look up and see again.

Circling above, still.

Led me home, joined me there, made sure I’m good.

And I think of what I can’t discern, bigger than me, greater than I can figure and I realize there’s no need. His way is not our way

Making sure I’m okay, leading me home

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, the night marked by the birth of a King, our Savior.

A King without a throne.

whose only crown was twisted, mainly limbs of brittle thorn.

A King sired by Holy Spirit. God the Father, to save our souls.

Merry Christmas. Advent has led us here.

Following your Star, Unwrapping your Gift

Children, courage, family, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, wonder

Advent Thoughts

On today, the day before the eve of Christmas Eve, I started with a note from my daughter, reminding me of Christmas coming…”feel better” it said and so I committed to feel better.

And I did. Some little things happened to help in the betterment of day. Gifts were wrapped, special notes written and gifts received.

Beautifully gifted day

I prayed twice and then read about the star that was followed by the wise men.

Thought of them differently, not of bearded ancient figures with long flowing robes walking through the desert gazing upward.

I thought of them as wise people, intelligent, wise men.

It occurred to me then that the star must have been so spectacularly compelling they couldn’t imagine not seeking to know more.

Couldn’t imagine turning back, abandoning their souls’ fulfillment.

Wise men, yet still seeking to know more, to experience fullness as their feet followed, guided by brilliant star.

So, I jotted quickly, so as not to forget the thought.

Hesitant to record my thoughts because they felt strong like epiphany.

To write in my journal might lessen the power of my thoughts.

But, I wrote a note to self:

“What’s your star? Where is the place God has for you? What gifts in store? What is the work God would have you achieve, knows you’re both capable of and long for?

If my feet followed my heart led by Jesus, knowing spectacular like a bright star awaits, I wonder where I’d be.

What gifts are waiting for my unwrapping?

Is it writing?

Painting?

Maybe the joy of leading by example, so that others move towards their calling, their joyous star.

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Day 23, a Need to Rest

rest, Vulnerability

I’m prone to crashing not the day just after being overwhelmed.

But, more so after the two or three days.

It all catches up and slows me down real slow.

Depleted at the end of the day with only minimum words and no answers for the question, “What’s wrong?”

“Just tired.” I say.

Because it’s hard to explain my fatigue has caught up with me.

With my emotions too.

The body gets tired, the heart’s always close behind.

The Advent card, today’s image reminded me of repetitious days.

Of sameness and habitual motions.

Of showing up, being more, doing more and marking another day done. Pencil marks counting another task finished, not much more than finished.

Day 23, two days away from Christmas Eve

The image reminding of 23rd Psalm.

A timely reminder, I need to rest.

Psalm 23
A psalm of David.

The Lord is my shepherd;
I have all that I need.
He lets me rest in green meadows;
he leads me beside peaceful streams.
He renews my strength.
He guides me along right paths,
bringing honor to his name.
Even when I walk
through the darkest valley,[a]
I will not be afraid,
for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff
protect and comfort me.
You prepare a feast for me
in the presence of my enemies.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil.
My cup overflows with blessings.
Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me
all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord
forever.

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