Day 8 of 31 Days of UNimpressive writing: enough

family, wonder

What if one thing, first thing in the morning is the best thing of the day?

Well, it would be enough.

Three times in a row…Colt lept into the air and caught his tennis ball.

Barely daylight and I complained again of routine.

Put on a hoodie and boots and into the autumn air we went.

Our routine, several tosses, food, water, into his spot for the day with chewy things to occupy.

I toss, he retrieves, I say “drop” he drops, I toss again, again.

Three times in a row, he jumped, perfectly timed and caught tennis ball in midair.

He strutted back, “Good boy”, I said looking into his mud brown eyes.

And that was and is the highlight of my day.

And it is more than enough.

Prayed, simply Lord, help me to sense my blessings, your good.

Tennis balls and big Brown dogs, thrilled to be alive.

Yes, Lord, this was more than enough.

Day 7 of 31 days of UNimpressive writing: words of prayer

Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

I woke up feeling blah and my mind went back to a certain word.

Words are light

I hear a word, find a word it’s descriptive nature so truthful, so perfect… that I go back and ponder its meaning.

Thinking, “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant, so clearly what I felt”.

I’m hesitant to say this.

Not everyone has a love for words like me.

Not all people are “noticers” as my friend who understands me says we are.

“We notice things.” he says.

We linger in thoughtful remembrance of meaning.

My children, when they were younger, rolled their eyes, groaned and said “Why do you always have to use such big words? Just use normal words!”

I refused to be swayed. “Why would we have words, if not to use them? If you have words, you should use them.”

This morning, I woke with a sense of apathy.

I used that word last week when describing my concern over tone in voice that had me worried, an impenetrable attitude, a denial of doubting; yett, their tone spoke a resigned disbelief in most everything.

I told my friend, “There was just such apathy in their voice.”

And then, another friend, I saw this forlorn resignation her face.

A face that’s been saying for so long, “All is well.” had changed just slightly, head tilted, eyes more downward.

Perhaps that day they woke with apathy…woke with indifference.

Apathy

I heard apathy in the story of a child’s unthinkable choice.

Heard it in a story unexpected, tragic loss that made absolutely no sense. Heard it in the voice of a friend grieving.

Yesterday evening, the heavy stories piled up and I decided I must go for a walk!

I walked and was briefly a little better, guided by sunset horizon of rose-colored clouds.

It had been a while since sunlight.

My daughter, camera in hand, crouched in grassy roadside field taking photos

Seeing her, seeking beauty of light

like me.

Laughter, between us before bed as I disciplined my thoughts to continue towards hope.

Praying, believing.

Woke this morning and there it was to welcome me, apathy.

I woke with sense of “No need, doesn’t matter anyway”.

Woke with the notion that I’ve worn out my welcome at the feet of the father. That I’ve talked it to death, that I’ve become quite the nuisance.

The outcome’s been determined already anyway, why must you belabor the matter?

But then, my thoughts went to what I know, surrender and abiding.

I wondered how is apathy any different from surrender?

If I surrender, I trust.

If I surrender, I am remembering that God is Sovereign…yielding.

Surrender to light

A surrendered heart is a heart with light, a heart that is resting, not doubting.

Apathy feels like God has done more than he should. More than He will, that woeful mindset of bad things already to come.

Apathy is darkness, doubt and disconnect. Surrender is abiding in light.

The light makes all the difference.

“And we thank Thee that the darkness reminds us of light.” T.S. Eliot

Day 6 of 31 Days of UNimpressive Writing: writing from heart – how things happen

courage, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Afternoon art therapy. Some of my paintings will be in the new shop downtown, so this is scary for me because it’s been a dream for years. I hope I don’t chicken out. If you have that “thing” you love and it loves you back it’s easier to keep it safe than show it off.

This was my instagram caption on the day I decided to paint and to “do the thing I must do that I thought I could not do.”

Because if you love something so much it’s a treasure, your soul’s salve, you just don’t want to run the risk of tainting that relationship, that charm you hold close.

You know, the thing that’s yours and yours alone, so you keep it close, and comfortable and safe.

It all started with a conversation about hanging art. I said casually, “I paint” which led to the owner of a new shop asking to see my work. So, I took the next step towards that must do thing, went home and began to paint.

Painted for four hours straight on a misty Saturday,

Went back with ready to hang pieces, given names that she called stories. The story part, I loved the most.

Yesterday, Heather called to say “Guess what happened! I came to the shop to see your paintings and you had just sold one, the owner was getting ready to call you. It was the Isle of Palms painting.”

Less than two hours earlier I told my cousin “I sort of regret taking them.” I had already convinced myself that I’d end up bringing them back home and my walls would be even more covered with my art. My house is full of art.

They’d be safe again, from critique, from judgement, from wondering “How on earth I could have thought of myself as an artist? ”

“But, it’s only been a week, I shouldn’t give up yet.” I said.

Here’s how things can happen.

You do something you’ve been afraid to do.

You’re vulnerable enough to be brave enough to allow your treasure to be seen.

You expose your heart’s desire to the world, because of dreams and thoughts of why not and you move closer towards confidence that seeks no validation.

You sell one piece of art, a painting called “Letting Go – Isle of Palms”.

You decide to paint again, before you decide it’s too scary.

To do that “must do thing” because you fear you will again think you cannot.

Day 5 of 31 Days of UNimpressive Writing: Geese, Bluebirds and New Chances to Love

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

The geese were back this morning.

First time in days.

I turned to make my way back inside, stopping to gather fallen leaves and heard their approach.Their sound a celebration of the day, exuberant and joyous it seemed.

I held fragile leaves in my hand, turned towards the sounds of geese and joined in their flight, my mind there with them, moving forward, renewed and committed to the day.

The ground is soaked here, covered in pine needles today. We were spared the damage of wind and flood, our yard simply evidence of rain, constant torrential showers. I was thankful today for leafy, wind tousled and soaking wet ground. Wet, muddy yard scattered with pretty color; my feet were planted in a level spot and I glanced towards the damp, steely sky.

My cousin called this morning and we talked of life, of children, of God. We were getting carried away, consistent in our anguish, of things we can’t let go, things that frustrate us. We talked about the flood of our weekend and she shared her experience of Hurricane Katrina. This flood, Joaquin prompted storm, had both she and her husband reliving the trauma. I told her I’m very afraid of water and wonder if people will be found dead in their homes. She said “Most likely” and shared of homes ravaged by Katrina that were marked with an “X” to indicate a dead person inside.

We meandered back to the subject of our children then.

We understand why we’ve mothered the way we have; just don’t know why we keep going back there,

Trying to be the mother they’ve outgrown.

The mother that meets our need, not theirs.

We’re making progress though, beginning to think as God thinks of us, agreeing that the greatest desire of our lives has been to parent well, differently, unquestionably committed to our sons and daughters.

We have been and are good mothers. We know this.

Never occurred to me until just now, I thought to myself. “I’ve parented well, absolutely wholeheartedly. Let God lead them now. ”

She got quiet, thinking, I assumed then excitedly announced “There are bluebirds in my yard. The most beautiful bluebirds are just outside on my porch!”

“God is telling us to have hope”, I said. ” He’s telling us to let go now, we’ve done our part, he’s ready to take it from here.”

They’ve left our nests; well-loved and knowing they are loved.

There are new, bright places for them to grow, us too.

Loved well and loving well.

New places to grow

Day 4 of 31Days of UNimpressive writing: Good Stories

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust

Every month, I get the chance to share my thoughts, my heart, my place with God and through God in a monthly Faith column.

It’s an honest place for my thoughts to land and is always a reflection of life,work, family, helping, trusting, questioning and living a life that reminds of grace. Persistent prayer, the truthful and loving lesson of God, the conversation starters of God’s glorious mercy revealed.

I get to write stories of God every month

October’s Faith Column, Good Stories

Yesterday, I had the chance to sit amongst several elderly women as they gathered for their Women’s Mission group. Their first meeting after a summer off, they were given the opportunity to share a happy memory of their summer. One shared about becoming a great-grandparent, another about a surprise 50th wedding anniversary gift and finally a third, a widow, shared about moving to a new home. She greeted me upon entering the room, vibrant and with a welcomingly genuine smile. Her face, I noticed was smooth and beautiful with the glow of happiness, a foundation that can’t be purchased at any cosmetics counter. Her new home, she shared, is an apartment in an assisted living facility. She smiled when I told her she lives just across the street from my office and that I could come by for a visit, that I bet she has some very good stories. She said “Oh, please do stop by.” I thought of the stories she may have, her countenance one of peace, I found myself longing to hear her stories of grace, of faith, of persistence.

I was their guest speaker. They wanted to hear about a program that’s often described as a mission: Nurture Home, a transitional shelter for women and children who are homeless. They listened as I detailed facts and figures, the structure of the program and the overall condition of homelessness in South Carolina. I stopped when we focused on the effect of homelessness on children and integrated a favorite story of a precious little boy telling me, “ I love my new house, thank you for my bed”. I shared my favorite stories of lives we’ve touched, opportunities to come alongside women and walk with them as they navigate the detours of their lives. I couldn’t help but notice that the faces of the listeners changed as I sat aside my materials and told the stories of hardship and hope restored. They agreed with me; stories make all the difference.

Stories like Jesus told, parables of people like you and I travelling the road of life, relying on hope and faith. The parables of Jesus are of people who believed after meeting Jesus and of people who were steadfast despite setbacks. The stories are of Jesus as he engaged with his listeners and his disciples, his followers and his doubters; Jesus was the ultimate story teller. His parables are timeless, making our circumstances and our concerns relatable.

In the book of Luke, Chapter 18, we have a chance to understand the value of persistence. Having recently experienced a big answered prayer in my life followed closely by another set of questions and doubt, it has become clear to me that the prayer God longs for is the prayer of persistence. The prayer that doesn’t say, “Oh, thank you, God that was awesome, I’ll talk to you later.”, rather a prayer that demonstrates a commitment to a relationship of patient supplication and trust. In verses 1 through 8, we hear the story of a widow who refused to give up on her plea for justice. An ungodly judge refused to grant her request for justice against her adversary, (vs.3) He eventually honored her persistent plea even though he thought he had no fear of her God, saying “I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually wear me out with her coming!” (vs.5) He saw she wasn’t giving up. Jesus shared this parable with his disciples to demonstrate that surely if an unkind judge would grant a persistent widow’s wish; wouldn’t it make sense that God will hear the cries of his chosen ones when we cry out to him day and night?

I’ve been thinking about persistence in terms of the longings of my heart; thinking of setbacks, of issues I felt had been resolved through answered prayer that had proven otherwise, or not quite yet. I thought of friends who are waiting for answers in health issues, serious diagnoses and uncertainty of their days. I thought of the widow who lives across the street and how I’d love to hear her stories of confident determination and persistence in prayer. I’m convinced her stories include prayers, and that they are persistent prayers and I just may go over for a visit. Everyone has a story, a story made better with God, a good story.

Day 3 of 31 days of UNimpressive writing: only heart words… Turning Season

Children, Faith, Trust, Uncategorized

We take the winding roads on our Saturdays together, my daughter and I.

Stopping to notice leaf change.

Greens reaching up, folding inward, holding on, procrastinating the brittle change.

Golds, surrendered to season. Changing with changes.

Settled in scattered places under shelter of black, mangled ugly limbs strained from summer harvest.

Accepting change.

Surprised by the gift of surrendering our seasons.

Loving what has come, moving towards what we know is soon.

My daughter, a wife soon.

New seasons under God’s heaven

Everything

Turn, turn

There is a season.

Day 2 of 31 Days of UNimpressive writing: only from the heart: Our Given Names

Children, courage, Faith, family, Motherhood, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Vulnerability

There’s a story about my mama’s name, mine too. She, Bette Jean, was supposed to have been called Elizabeth.

Mama wanted to call me Libby. Daddy said “No, that’s a can of peaches.” My grandma, “Bama” agreed to my name being Lisa; but, insisted on the Anne that follows.

Who’s to say whether we, over time, become our names or they were just right for us all along. My mama surely was not Elizabeth-like.

Couldn’t see her as a Liz or a Beth; Bette, for sure.

And me? Libby is cute, perky, and pretty. Not me. Lisa Anne is who I am, who I have become.

Heather could have been Olivia and Austin was almost Zachary.

Heather Analise, a child of God

Heather, open to life and at peace near open fields and cows. Her name fits. Analise added as a middle, pretty and classic.

Austin, James Austin, again just right. James a solid and reputable name, Austin, a nod to the dry humor and surprisingly big heart of his great-grandfather.

James Austin.a child of God

My children’s names, the names they have become.

I am thinking of the unthinkable today. One in college, the other a teacher leading a classroom of the youngest students.

I am trying, but struggling to place myself in the minds of the parents of students killed in Oregon.

I am wondering how, in the aftermath of terror and shock, I would feel to know that when asked, my children said they were Christians, told to stand and then shot.

I visualize not so clearly and can sort of imagine the scene.

Young adults, students, surprised by the intrusive presence of a peer with a gun, afraid; but, deciding to go with his demands, to not cause anger, to remain quiet, not draw attention to self.

To cower. To be compliant. I imagine this might have been their thinking in effort to survive.

Until, the question

“Are you a Christian?”

My children are Christians.

I witnessed the salvation of both and I’ve seen them acknowledge in ways big, small, private and outspoken, their faith.

They know Jesus. Jesus knows them.

People know that they know Jesus.

Children of God. A name that can’t be denied.

I am praying for the Oregon mamas and daddies, parents of children of God.

Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become Children of God. John 1:12

Thank you, Lord, for my name and for the names of my children.

Day 1 of 31: Slow Mornings and Clarity

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

There will be no planning ahead in this 31 day challenge. My words, if I remember them all, will be thoughts that show up and make sense in an all of sudden way.

For me, for now.

This morning, I added in the final page of my latest journal its dates, 6/19-10/30.

A thick journal filled with quite alot, heavy and pretty ecru colored pages marked with dailies. I have loved this book and its time.

I woke this morning, surprised I’d not heard the rain.

Made sense though, I slept through the normal noises of morning.

Coffee, lamplight, stack of books and me

My morning spot.

New journal in hand, the one quaintly adorned with a feather to remind, I begin my day.

Resigned and surrendered to what may come as I read the words of Matthew, their beckoning tone of rest. A new place for me, accepting and trusting, come what may or what will.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.²⁹Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

I moved about lazily as I am prone to do, moving closer towards leaving my spot in the lamplight, my little morning corner.

Quiet house, slow and easy, my favorite way now.

Thinking of answered prayers, of prayers offered and of prayer meeting last night,

Ten or so of us, standing in hand holding circle to pray.

Each pray-er a different tone, a different grateful heart, a different sound of supplicate

I stopped then to remember more clearly as I glanced again, pausing at the prayer filled journal

A compilation of yearning, of growth, of challenge and surrender.

My mind, quiet then and more clearly causing me to wait, to let my thoughts making sense rest for a bit there.

To say:

“This morning, Lisa, here is where you are.”

” I have learned so much of myself, many things more clearly

all because

I have finally allowed God to teach me.”

Waking up Gray and Wandering

Faith, family, Prayer, rest, Trust, wonder

It’s a gray morning and only Tuesday.

I felt the foggy hue before I turned from the twisted covers to decide, “Get up, now.”

Made my way down the hall to discover Colt’s overnight task of removing the stuffing from his bed.

White fluffy puffs scattered in the mud room illuminated by laundry room light left on, piles of unsorted clothes, jeans, T-shirts, belts, shoes, towels all mingled together, my appointment for tonight.

I flipped the light off, closed the door and walked towards coffee.

Sat with my journal, a defiant posture, huffy and discontent.

Barely said goodbye to my daughter as she turned to leave.

Caught myself, not soon enough though, glanced towards the fog outside and said “Be careful.”

Yesterday was a good day, Lord. Why this discontent today?

Why this cluttered and anxious mind?

Jotted a bullet list called “What am I stressing over? Why this mood?”

Why do we long for more, for different when what we have is not just enough, it’s more than enough?

Why these empty and cluttered places I’m pondering today, places of a dissatisfied, wandering heart?

Places waiting to be filled to abundance, waiting to be the resting place of God. Places of uncluttered contentment, of abiding peace. Places we know mean rest.

Instead, I woke feeling like a 40 year desert wanderer, enmeshed with a throng of disgruntled and dissatisfied seekers of more. Looking everywhere for better, all the while surrounded by goodness, manna raining down from God.

Oh, Lord, forgive my discontented selfish heart that tends to wander. Fix my eyes, heart and thoughts on you, I prayed.

O’ Lord, You have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my every thought when far away. You chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every moment You know where I am. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord. You both precede and follow me. You place Your hand of blessing on my head. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to know! Psalm 139:1-6

I move along in routine, grab the tennis ball delivered by Colt. Walk barefoot to accept the day, feet moist and covered in specks of green and straw brown pieces of nature. Trees, darkened by two days rain, leaves mottled and moist with season and damp. The plantings of summer allowed to wither, cold is coming anyway. Trees laced with thick complex webs with leaves caught within, layered, entrapped.

The sky is a dull, almost porcelain gray and the cows from a field up the road, moan low and long in agreement. I look for sunshine, tossing the tennis ball, intermittently praising its retrieval, a big happy dog content with “Good, boy, Colt.” then turn back towards the door, seeing more color, less gray.

And then I pray, Lord, forgive our discontent; remind us of your goodness and graciously embrace our wandering hearts.

I link up with Jennifer Dukes Lee every week. I have just read her latest post with a contented smile resting on my face. Her colorful story of our heavenly reunion she has dreamt of just excites me for today, for what’s to come, for living to radiate Jesus! I encourage you to read this. It’s another gray day here, humid on this last September day. Click here and smile, assured of heaven.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/the-unlikely-invitation-weve-all-been-waiting-for-tellhisstory/?utm_source=Blog+Subscribers&utm_campaign=b575b42722-RSS_EMAIL_CAMPAIGN&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_90981b7d90-b575b42722-70727985

Wednesday Prayers and a Sunset

courage, Faith, family, Prayer, rest, Trust, Vulnerability

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