Reminded of Rescue

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

Advent Thoughts

The Advent image for today, the second day, is darker in color, a brilliantly deep red.

Smooth and symmetrical white lines evenly flowing through color and text,

“Deep calls to Deep.” evoking thoughts of wide, deep ocean.

The red, a deep wash. The hue representing our Savior, the color of love, blood-red.

Psalm 42 : a cry for rescue

Psalm 41 and 42 : a cry for rescue

 

I read Psalm 42 this morning.

A searching for peace,  questions of returning to a place of discouragement, of remembering God’s kindness; but, being unable to muffle the sounds of the tumultuous raging of life’s seas.

The waves and surging tides washing over again and again.

Life mirrors the Psalms.

We praise. We thank. We glorify and honor.

We cry out. We question. We long for understanding.

We remember the rescue only to question again the storms.

We search for redemption rather than remember we’re never without.

God’s love is unfailing. He beckons us, calls us, longs for us to experience the deep. Deeply loved, loving deeply.

We find ourselves lost in the deep to eventually find his love is deeper still.

We find ourselves in Him

When we come undone in His presence.

My prayer for Day 2 of Advent, my exercise in mindfulness and peace…

Cleanse me Lord, wash over me anew so that I can believe again, be reminded again…of your rescue.

You have preserved my life because I am innocent; You have brought me into Your presence forever.

Psalm 41: 12

 

Peacefully Believing

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

 

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On Saturday, I opened a gift to our family.

26 beautiful little paintings to illicit thoughtful pause and intentional focus,  26 days before Christmas Eve, the season of Advent, time of preparing hearts.

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Not being quite sure of the proper activity, I’ve displayed them all and will, each day seek to be enlightened.

Prayerfully, quietly, peacefully.

Day 1,a buff colored tan with barely noticeable white lettering.

If peace were a color, it’d be white like this.

Barely there, almost translucent.

And white against a background of subtle doe colored buff would be contentment, acceptance, humble submission.

A color evoking a heart that has settled, found a resting place. A color that speaks of  believing what God promised would be.

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A heart like Mary’s, settled and waiting

unafraid of the scary or the spectacularly miraculous.

Because she believed what the Lord said would be accomplished.

So, I begin this journey of Advent, purposefully seeking to be at rest, to believe, to anticipate my heart’s welcome of the coming day.

To believe in the glorious

To believe like Mary

To be brave in a quiet way. Brave enough for feet to travel places that minds say are not possible.

Humbly content

Confidently at rest and accomplished through God’s hand on my life

Mostly though…

To be still in His presence and wait for Him to act. Psalm 46:10

 

 

Sparrows and other oddities

Faith, grace, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

This morning was a chance to sleep a little later.

I sat with coffee and journal, the sun already warming the windows.

Deciding to walk with my daughter, morning instead of late afternoon, I saw sunlight through the pines, wrapping round them in loose embrace.

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Earlier this morning, at just the right time, I looked towards the wiry branch of barren crepe myrtle to see a lone cardinal amongst a group of sparrows.

Sparrows flew away quickly,  the cardinal too and then one tiny sparrow came back to rest, as if coming back for me.

I believe this to be true.

I’m convinced of it actually.

That my place on this earth is surrounded by beauty waiting to be noticed.

So, I notice.

Out walking, I thought of the poem about growing old, of all things purple.  Of wearing purple and living like brilliant purple.

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I turned to notice the  brightness in sky of clear blue today.

I thought of how odd I may seem to neighbors glancing through living room windows as I pause to capture skies and trees, out for a walk with my phone pointed towards the sky.

I thought, just a minute and then continued on.

I’m not bothered in the least that people might find me odd

My love of sparrows, skies, moons, and trees, the words to my rhyme.

When I am old, I shall notice sparrows and stop to collect blue feathers beside my feet.photo-23_kindlephoto-11317205

I shall marvel at cloudless blue sky and notice the budding of trees after coldest of days.

I shall spend mornings quiet, in quiet home, a satisfied nothingness of retreat.

I shall paint for hours, with abandon and careless grasp of time.

And I shall notice even more each minute.

In this world made to be noticed.

The heavens tell of the glory of God.  The skies display His marvelous craftsmanship.  Psalm 19:1

 

Golden Morn

Children, courage, family, Motherhood, praise, Vulnerability, wonder

From my morning spot on the couch, the sun came through in an all of sudden attention seeking way.

I glanced up to feel its greeting and then basked in its exhibition.

A wall, covered in memorabilia admittedly in excess, I remembered our color game.

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I spy with my little eye…

Blue denim jacket, straw-colored pony tail, coal-black labrador and brown crinkled winter grass among brown,white, tan-colored beagle

Loved you long, long time labs and beagles, she has.

And red striped swimsuit next to hand holding sister in pretty peach, ladylike tiny hand hair held back from brown freckled cheeks.

And rusty, brown, yellow and white kitten lapping snow-white milk from a silvery bowl, little chubby pink cheeked blonde boy, kneeling beside with happy brown eyes

A magenta painted door behind ornate black Charleston gate. No reason for keeping until now,  a place my heart is drawn.

A postcard from travel, a thank you note from a young man,  handwritten words faded gray.

Sandy white gulls under powder blue sky, white tidal froth and bronze colored little boy arms tossing bread towards the sky, sailboat scattered print hanging from tiny torso.

A beautiful young woman, pretty blue eyes framed by incandescent lemony hair.

Lime green frame, artsy black text added.. love you to the moon and back…a bright red heart and orange crescent moon, a thinking of my mama even though I’m with others gift from Heather.

A rustic bird made of brown, buff and grapevine green, reminding of mountain climb as family.

A starkly detailed pen and ink, a black masterpiece of bugs, Austin creative and elementary.

I spy with my little eye the colors of my world.

Memories colorful and cherished, warmed by early morning light.

 

 

 

Heartlight

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

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Dear Child of God frustrated by life,

If you could ask yourself now, is this the person I want seen…to be seen as, to be joined together with?

And if you know, maybe not so much you at your best.

Just know it’s not God befuddled by you, it’s you conflicted over the place you’ve stopped by to mull your condition.

It’s not God telling you in an earth shaking reminder that this is not your place.

But, it’s a subtle heads up because people around you have noticed and are satisfied in your communion…drinking the wine of bitterness, anger, confusion and retributive response.

And they might be your people, so you share in their meal and the thick bread of satisfaction over like-minded condition is scarfed down with gluttonous abandon.

So, you join because you belong there, sharing in the feast of ugliness.

But, you leave the table feeling bloated by discussion.

Until, you get by yourself and rest in the quiet of whatever reminds of you of light.

Slight breeze, hot bath, quiet rain, crisp sheets, moonlight, or birdsong far off.

It’s a funny type odd thing to me.

The way I don’t always see when I can’t hear.

In the quiet of finally hearing and feeling, I begin to see.

When relieved of the noise that buffers, I’m reminded then that my heart has been listening patiently.

You’re reminded then gently without chastising or shameful correction of a flickering inside gone unflamed.

Ever burning, just  a little shadowed by angst.

You remember again.

It’s the light, your light and it hasn’t gone out.

It won’t.

Ever.

Get quiet now and shine

if only a tiny and nondescript tealight kind of shimmer

until you can shine again, a bright luminous glow.

Stay there, rest in the quiet flicker.

Make it your ambition to live a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, so that your daily life may show the world that you are a Christian.

I Thessalonians  4:11-12

Shine now, quiet child. You are loved.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee along with other story tellers.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/what-we-all-need-to-know-when-we-want-to-tellhisstory-badge-1give-up-tellhisstory/

 Jennifer Dukes Lee

prayer, life

Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

 

It occurred to me just now that I never prayed for Paris.

I posted an image and  typed a captioned prayer; but, I never prayed for Paris.

My words, a prayer for Paris.  But, I never prayed.

I captioned my prayer with a  photo for impact, shared it and got “likes” and “Amen’s”.

My prayer:

Dear Lord, comfort those who are afraid, terrorized and in shock. Strengthen us, equip us to stand courageously and turn our hearts towards you even more so as we remain faithful to you, our God. #prayforparis

FB_IMG_1447896513028 And I know without doubt my prayer was seen by God.

Was a sincere and imploring request for peace and mercy.

Still, I never prayed for Paris.

So, tonight, inundated by media, social and otherwise; I felt sad at the realization that I had joined the Pray for Paris trend, yet never thought to pray.

I wonder how many did. How many prayed?

Prayer, to me is surrender in a conversation with God.

Lately, I’ve been reminded that my prayer life, my understanding of prayer is not the same as others.

I’m not opposed to Mimosas; but, I am opposed to Prayer Breakfasts that are simply gatherings with champagne and orange juice held in the early morning hours.

I am thankful to be a part of meetings that still open in prayer;  but,  if the prayer is scripted and poetic, I will just pray silently in my seat.

For me,  prayer is more than ritual, it’s God waiting to hear what He already knows as we give it over to be unraveled, worked out… the expression of our hearts…hurt, joy, anger, distress and dilemma given over to God in childlike submission and acknowledgement of sovereign knowledge.

I see prayer as humble respect of authority.

I talk to God and I wait and then, I see.

I notice little things, answers found within smallest of occurrence in my day.

Something will happen and there it is, “Yes, God, you heard me”.

I thank God often, not as often as I should;  I ask for answers sometimes, other times I desperately plea for a sign of His favor.

I pray “Show me your glory.” or  “Bless my children today in unexpected ways.”

Everyday, a surrender.

Everyday, a chance to pray knowing God is in control.

I pray for my children and my husband daily.

Sometimes, unknown to them, at their bedside with knees down, open hands upward, my face cushioned by their covers.

I want them to sense God.

I ask God, simply and sincerely to put smiles on their faces.

Paris seemed so far away I guess, so I only thought of praying.

I joined thousands who said they were praying, that they would

Pray for Paris.

I will pray for Paris tonight and try to remember to again pray tomorrow.

For Paris

If I forget or get busy I am certain of tonight’s prayer being heard.

Because, tonight I will.

Pray for Paris

And my prayer will be heard.

 

 

 

Entertaining Strangers

courage, family, grace, praise, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability
Entertaining strangers

Entertaining strangers

My Gratitude journal entry for today:

Chances to be kind.

Chances to take chances on others.

Chances to offer chances.

Our homeless shelter has an opening, a room. In one day I met a recovering heroine addict, a woman a year younger than me told by friends “you have to go” and a teenage boy who thought we would be afraid to help, that our rules said he was too old.

When I can, I meet women needing shelter. Them and their children.

Last week a, middle schooler named Leila gave me a  tiny school picture, writing her name on the back. Her mama gave us pictures, thanking us for covering the cost.

One mama, yesterday had no place for her 17-year-old to sleep. The people who were helping said “no more” and so he would sleep in a hotel room alone until she ran out of money…one more night. We had no room, five families, 13 beds and in “shelter speak” we did not have bedspace. We tried other resources, no help; so we made a plan.

To accommodate, to make it work.

On this Saturday, bright sunshine hopeful…a family, a mama is with her children all together. Her son has joined the family.

There was a lot of talk about Red Cups last week and the Christian responses recommended was to “feed the hungry, clothe the poor…generosity, demonstrating love, accommodating the distressed……Loving one another”

And I keep thinking of sayings and quotes,  silly and/or profound…”Blessed are the flexible for they will not be bent out of shape.”

“small things with great love” and “every little thing’s gonna be alright.”

Our shelter, a place of blessing and accommodation, a place to entertain strangers.

God, our God will richly bless us. Psalm 67:6

Troubled Hearts and All

courage, Faith, grace, Prayer, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder
The day, already designed

The day, already designed

If it were possible for God to be perplexed by us

I wonder which would trouble Him more

Our hearts or our minds?

The sky was filtering early signs of sunlight finally, today.

Just before dawn I noticed and stopped to ponder my wavering faith.

To settle my thoughts on one word, All.

To trust in all my ways with all  my heart .

Proverbs 3:5-6

Proverbs 3:5-6

If God were troubled, annoyed, frustrated

Would my less than grateful heart be the cause?

My heart is confident and assured at times, but if reminded somehow of loss or regret I go right back to solemn and sullen. So quickly my mood can move from presence of good to  overshadowed by the past.

So, I’m wondering this morning what life would be like if God grew impatient and bewildered when we turn our hearts back to the shadows and we

get stuck there

unwilling to embrace goodness.

Would he be more confounded by darkened hearts or questioning minds?

Minds that doubt His design, losing sleep.

A prayer before sleep last night, a lament of surrender led me to wake earlier today.  Vacant thoughts slowly led to recall of a  “memory verse” that beckoned me forward.

Trust more, Lisa.

All your heart, not just a little.

All your ways, not just some.

And then in the quiet, a reply,  “It’s good that you’re back, Lisa.  Hope you stay a little longer this time.”

Grace, grace, God’s grace.

He’s a good, good Father.

Just a hint, rising up, peeking through. Waiting and believing with all my heart, all my mind.

Just a hint of light, peeking through. Waiting and believing with all my heart, all my mind.

Far better things ahead – an editorial on hope

courage, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I was late in sending this editorial to the paper.  I’m sharing here because life intersects work and the work I do causes me to reflect.

And I know its Friday night and there’s football and festival tomorrow. So, not to be serious to the point of being avoided.

Just serious enough to say….if you know someone who has lost all hope, just stay close, ask important questions and remind them to hope for the far better things ahead than what they’d be leaving behind…and if they don’t believe you…hang in there until you both see the hope you waited for, held on for.FB_IMG_1444441760771_kindlephoto-7926424

I’d like for you to know that I know very little really about suicide.

But, the one thing I know is that the one who chooses suicide is choosing out of hopelessness, this is the only consistent thing I have seen and heard, the loss of hope. Here are my thoughts, efforts to help others understand.

A Walk for Hope

On Sunday afternoon, I’ll go for a walk at O’Dell Weeks.  I’ll be joined by members of the Board of Directors of MHA Aiken County along with Coalition for Suicide Prevention colleagues who have joined in a commitment to prevent suicides, increase awareness and support. Most importantly, I’ll be greeted with hugs, smiles and tears from many cherished friends.  Since 2011, I have become friends with many people who have bravely and brokenly shared their story of the person they loved, still love who decided suicide was the answer to the question they were burdened, completely overwhelmed by.  In my professional lifetime, I’ve encountered many tough realities of life. The grief following suicide is unique, complicated and impactful.

Yesterday, within just an hour or so, I took two phone calls.  The first, the father of a 17 year old daughter, who said to me “There’s no way you can know what I’m going through.”  So, I listened for almost a half hour to the distress of a father not wanting to give up on his child, yet feeling there was little hope. I was able to make referrals and follow up that the connection was made for what may be her turning point, his hope for his daughter.  About another half hour later, a wife called.  Her husband, a 53 year old man, unable to work, living on disability and in her words “tired of being a burden” to his family had mentioned to her that he “needed to talk to someone.”  I listened as she shared the series of events that led to her 53 year old husband being physically disabled and now emotional and mentally in a place of hopelessness.  I asked her the hard question; the one that must be asked, “Has he talked about suicide?”  She answered calmly that he has.  I made recommendations for immediate steps, put some referrals in place and as with the father earlier asked that they call me back to let me know how things are going, what else I might be able to help with.  Both callers thanked me for my time, for listening, for giving them something to hope might bring a change. These type calls happen regularly and illicit an intentional response because the details of hopelessness are markedly similar to stories I’ve heard before. They are like the stories of the Survivors of Suicide Loss shared in our monthly group as they recall the time before the death of their loved one; circumstances are unraveled and pondered in an effort to understand.

Later in the day, I saw a quote on someone’s Facebook page, a C.S. Lewis quote.  I thought of the callers, of the people they loved and of the condition of hopelessness.  C.S. Lewis reminds, assures, and beckons us to believe “There are far better things ahead than what we leave behind.” I thought of all who will walk on Sunday and their longing for the chance to say to the one they loved, “Be hopeful. This is temporary.  There are better things ahead. Don’t leave us behind.”

I walk for and with the brave survivors who would say to each of us “Remind those you love of hope over the hopelessness of what they see as an insurmountable circumstance”. I am walking for hope on Sunday.  Join me if you will.

 

Brown Dogs and Smiles

Children, Faith, family, Motherhood, Trust, Uncategorized, wonder

I’m a contradiction when it comes to surprises.  I love to be surprised.  Surprises, such thoughtful efforts in anticipation of a smile. I get all wrapped up in the moment of surprise, but obsess over the stuff to make it happen.

Sunday was a spontaneous road trip, a surprise I imagined being special.

Colt

Colt

Colt, “Colton Dixon”  to me, went to church.  His  bone and a tennis ball kept him company  during Sunday School then he tee-tee’d in the woods behind the cemetery and we were on our way.  ” you got this, Lisa…Good boy, Colt.”

Rainy day trip, traffic at a standstill for half an hour, too far to turn back, a restless lab and doubt bouncing around in my head in the car.

What a crazy idea. It’s gotta be raining there too. Who shows up with a dog, a tennis ball, bottled water and not much else to meet a young man in his white pants that can’t get dirty?

I parked at the Battery in Charleston. Warm breezes, sunny skies, sailboats and a grassy park filled with dogs. Colt, leapt from the car as I texted, “We’re here.” to my son’s girlfriend. She, shopping for a dress as a distraction said, “Headed that way.”

So, Colt and I stand, facing King Street to see them coming until I notice a group of people, one with a camera.

He, captivated by Colt waiting by my side, asks if he can take his picture. “Sure, I say.”  Small talk begins, they’re from Charlotte.

“I’m here to meet my son, it’s a surprise…thought I’d bring his dog…

hope it makes him smile…he should walk up any minute.”

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He did.  He was surprised. Raphael, the photographer who strolled through the park and noticed an excited mama and a  brown dog

Captured the smile.

And so this is how you take a chance on the weather

On spontaneity

on surprise.

And you get sunshine, memories and more surprised than ever imagined.

Raphael smiled, I hugged him.

He was surprised by my embrace.

And I said “God is so good!”

He smiled, nodding.DSC_0270-Edit

In Charlotte, NC and need a photographer? Check out Raphael Basisa at http://www.flawlesscapture.net/home.html

He’s got a big smile, big talent, spontaneity and heart…and now, Surpise! a dog named Colt on his website.

God is in the details.