Nurture the Yes Ones

Abuse Survivor, aging, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, self-portrait, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

I have a t-shirt I rarely wear, never in public.

It’s not covered with paint, not a stain or a splatter. It’s not folded and stuffed in a drawer, it’s on a hanger.

Soft material, sort of beige and in a classy black font, one word “influencer”.

It was given to me, not a purchase. Someone thought it was a good fit.

I woke this morning recalling a beautiful dream and contrasting it alongside a question waiting to be responded to.

I journaled,

If I am quiet, I will be able to know which things and which people align with God’s will for my life.

In a way, I was wondering which influences in my life point to hope and which do not.

I asked God to help me see others clearly and to be able to know which influences are healthy and which are not.

I recognized in my soul that just as God sees the vulnerability and weakness of me, He sees it in others and those weaknesses in them cause them to not be a right now good influence on me.

So, I made a bullet list, not one that says “you don’t belong”, just a quiet inventory of those who contribute to my hope and those who don’t.

Not a cancel type thing, just a recognition, a nudge of clarity so that I don’t give up hope.

I have a bookmark in my Bible.

“Only speak words that make souls stronger.” Ann Voskamp

I’ve been trying to commit to this as a filter in all I speak, write or even show in my facial expression.

I’ve been set on being at peace so that I can bring peace into every room I enter.

So that through me, the light of Christ and the voice of hope is observed and considered,

Not simply tolerated.

And so, I quietly asked myself, right now which conversations and interactions are making me

Hopeful?

Which are contributing to

Doubt?

Which feels like a reverent posture of pure and humble wisdom.

The stance God desires.

When this journaling began this morning, this inventory of the “yes’s” I need to nurture

I had not opened my Bible.

I turned to today’s date in “Joy and Strength” and was led to Deuteronomy.

Wisdom that complemented my own words.

A warning for a woman like me, a people pleaser, a longing to belong “belonger”, a person who is easily manipulated in ways that seem innocent, that aren’t harmful, just not best.

“If a prophet or a dreamer of dreams arises among you and gives you a sign or a wonder, and the sign or wonder that he tells you comes to pass, and if he says, ‘Let us go after other gods,’ which you have not known, ‘and let us serve them,’

you shall not listen to the words of that prophet or that dreamer of dreams.

For the Lord your God is testing you, to know whether you love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul.”


‭‭Deuteronomy‬ ‭13‬:‭1‬-‭3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Get quiet with God. Silence the naysayers. Listen to the voices that speak hope and healing.

Those who softly warn you of your straying rather than string you along.

Those who love you, not just court you.

Nurture the “yes’s” while not discarding the “no’s”. Tend to the hope God planted inside your soul so that it becomes bigger than anything about you.

So that your offering is first and only…always

Hope.

In the Waning

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, hope, memoir, mercy, patience, Peace, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

Seconds after my dream was of lying in bed with a grandchild close by, my phone let me know I had a message.

I didn’t respond immediately because the dream was so real.

A small cardinal, bright red had flitted into the room and rested in the hollow place of my neck.

In my dream I got the attention of my granddaughter and then “ding!” I was awakened.

In Progress

“For this reason the Lord is still waiting to show his favor to you so he can show you his marvelous love. He waits to be gracious to you….Overwhelmed with bliss are all who will entwine their hearts in him, waiting for him to help them.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭18‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I answered the text, a long hoped for desire was decided would come true for a child today.

She’s been longing, hoping and waiting.

It’s exciting, the planned surprise!

A memory will be made.

There will be more “waited so long for” ones to come.

What have you longed for that’s already been given and yet, led you to long for something bigger or simply just left you wanting?

I sat in my “art room” with someone I love. What a mess, papers everywhere, started and stops and pauses, the evidence of where my art journey has come from and where gone

Is hoping to go.

Fascinated by a box full of artwork, I invited her to choose as many as she wanted.

Uncertainty

We went through the stack together. I loved the ones she chose and the reasons she shared.

I told her of my certain belief that it’s God who kept me for art and kept it safely waiting for me to enjoy it, to share it as a part of my faith.

I have surely achieved more, been afforded more opportunities than I ever thought, given my history.

That’s why I know it’s true, I told her.

This is what God made me for.

What began with the timid tagline “quiet confidence” has become more brave.

Now, “always hope” coupled with my truth that “art offers hope”.

Hopeful

This morning, I wrote “hopeful” under the date, the gift of the cardinal on my pillow invited the tone longing to be expressed.

And I wrote myself a note that’s as true as my very breath.

Whatever and whomever (other than Jesus) you make your everything, your tipping point to measure worthless or worthiness, will continue to frustrate you with its dependability as far as not being enough.

So, wait for the one who is always and unchangingly enough. Be amazed by what comes with that commitment to will yourself to wait.

Success shifts.

People change.

Excitement is powerful and yet, it wanes. It’s supposed to.

God makes life this way so that we remember the only “enoughness” that never changes

Is Him, our Sovereign and often mysterious Maker.

Self-Portrait

Not since the world was made, Jacob was told in a dream of protection and little girls like me became women who waited even if imperfectly to recognize the providence, protection and promises of God…

has the gift of waiting been more an unchanging promise.

“Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭28‬:‭15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

It took three trips in and out of the Art Center to retrieve and load my unsold paintings yesterday.

It was hot. They were heavy.

I won’t deny the emotion I fought to deny. It was difficult.

Still, it was beautiful, the experience and the exhibition.

“Believer”, “In Every Season”, “Mercy Remembers”, “Secure” were a few of the unsold pieces.

Now they’re safely waiting to be found.

“It’s all in it, Lisa” my mama

This artist journey is a teacher. I’m still like a child learning.

For this reason,

I have hope.

Always hope.

“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭131‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

(P.S. I’m meandering my way back to writing from both losing the desire and I believe a bit of ability. I hope you’ll be forgiving as I decide to learn to write again.)

Continue and believe.

Possible Things

Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, hope, patience, Peace, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, waiting, writing

“It is possible to see the will of God in everything, and to find it, as one has said, no longer a sigh, but a song.”

Handley C.G. Moule

“Jesus said to him, “‘If you can’? Everything is possible for the one who believes.”
‭‭Mark‬ ‭9‬:‭23‬ ‭

Yesterday, I thought about the promise of “possibilities” and this morning one bird woke me up early. I remembered being drawn to read about the Samaritan woman at the well over and over, really drawn in by Jesus’s offer in just one verse.

That life could be different for her if she’d understand and accept His offer despite her history or her confusion and questions.

“Jesus replied, “If you only knew who I am and the gift that God wants to give you, you’d ask me for a drink, and I would give you living water.”
‭‭John‬ ‭4‬:‭10‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I sit in the quiet, books all around me and coffee in my cup and just like yesterday, I find a promise in one verse I could “live with” all day.

And I, like the daddy of the boy in need ask…

I believe, help my unbelief. (Mark 9:24)

Can you imagine all the things that may change if you’d be brave and a bit innocent enough to simply believe God for the possibilities and breakthroughs He’s waiting to bring?

It’s a simple little shift really. Just decide to believe all things are possible when we ask God,

Is this your will for me? And then take the next steps onto the path of unexpected possibilities.

Or wait quietly when the answer is no, not now, not for you.

Possibility is born in the heart of one who believes. God’s will becomes a song, not a sigh.

Continue and believe.

Considering Trauma

Abuse Survivor, aging, anxiety, confidence, courage, eating disorder, grace, grandchildren, love, memoir, Peace, Redemption, Stillness, traumatriggers, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

May your head and heart speak with one voice. (Last night’s teabag)

Yesterday, I heard someone say that trauma is not what happened to us as much as it is our response to it.

I wondered if avoiding what reminds us of a harmful event or period in our life is doing more damage than we ever thought.

I thought about this, sipping my tea in bed in the dark after reading “How to Babysit a Grandma” and planning matching outfits with a spirited five year old.

Thursday Night Sleepy Tea

I took my little girl self by the hand and we remembered what happened on Monday in the dental chair.

I decided to consider my trauma response, look at it closely, learn from the recognition of my reaction.

The hygienist told me there was a new approach to cleaning. It would involve an instrument blowing air with a little bit of force in my mouth. Because of that, a thin paper shield with an opening would simply cover my face.

The procedure began. It wasn’t painful. I folded my hands together and sat still. Then I began to sort of dig one finger into my thumb, an anxiety reliever, I thought.

Then, I noticed my breathing change.

Then, I noticed fear.

The hygienist finished and I felt my body unclench, my neck unstiffen and my belly exhale as she freed me from being trapped.

She didn’t know.

It was too strange.

Here I am on Friday considering the gift of small and unthreatening, albeit unavoidable reminders of trauma.

Here I am deciding that just maybe these not so scary things are meant to be noticed and acknowledged so that we over time may still have a trauma response.

But, we can make sense of it and making sense of it will only lead to even more healing than we would know if we’d silenced our thoughts.

Being held down with a hand over my mouth, my face, my eyes was decades ago.

Decades ago.

Has something deeply hurt you? Were you a child? Were you on the cusp of grown-up?

Are there reminders from time to time?

Don’t silence them. Notice how they show up unexpectedly and so very often in safe (but scary) ways.

When we consider our trauma, we’re not coddling the helpless baby of us, we’re simply honoring our story and giving ourselves and God credit for all the rewriting.

How can we rewrite such stories?

Maybe like this:

My cleaning appointment was better because I put my very own music in my ears. The hygienist was kind. She’d changed her hair and I told her two times that it was beautiful. The instrument used to remove the plaque was not enjoyable but necessary. The new technique with the air pressure in my mouth took the place of the polishing. The tissue paper circle covering my face was not pleasant but kept me dry. No changes, keep flossing, maybe go without your partial on top to ease the inflammation.

There’s trauma all over my issues with my teeth.

Last night Elizabeth, my granddaughter watched in fascination as I cleaned my dental “appliances”.

When she asked,

“How many teeth have you lost, Grandma?”

I answered “two” because the true story, the number being slightly more would’ve been too hard on her little ears.

Instead, I smiled and said “Two!”

And her little blue eyed face lit up as she grinned and said.

“Me too!”

Considering trauma, let it talk and pay very close attention when it speaks gently.

Simply longing to be heard and learned from.

You are loved.

Continue and believe.

Restoration is a process and a promise.

“I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent among you.”
‭‭Joel‬ ‭2‬:‭25‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Healing Observed

Abuse Survivor, aging, beach, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, family, grace, grandchildren, memoir, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

“And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.”
‭

Solitary Watcher

I’ll likely forget it but I chose “healed” on a reset of yet another password forgotten.

Such is life.

Such is the life of one grandmother on the beach walking, eyes to the crannies and nooks created by the rocky barrier.

Deciding I found the perfect golden conch yesterday.

Announcing to my daughter “I’ve never found one like this before”.

No need for new discoveries today, I just whispered to myself.

That one, a reply to a choice to “find the joy today” on yesterday morning needs nothing more.

Not a grander discovery.

No comparisons.

I’m on the beach alone under the tent erected by my kind son in law. Chairs waiting to be plopped down on remain bottomless.

Surveying all the people. Older ones strolling, younger ones strutting.

Noticing

I consider their lives, curious over their stories.

I remember my self-defensive anger so many years ago when a woman who was struggling and angry over expectations of a program I oversaw,

Shouted at me,

“You don’t understand! You’ve got a picture perfect life!”

And I replied not with shouting but more of a how dare you to presume I’ve never had a “bad life”, I assure you I have not!

Today, walking along the edge of the ocean, glancing up towards our umbrella to greet my family’s arrival,

I realized a new thing.

Discoveries

I paused to pray for healing for typical childhood ailments, for others undergoing treatment and for pending resolutions to questions.

I thanked God for the good things already.

And I felt my breath catch in my chest and stood still to really acknowledge

The realization that maybe thinking of others, praying for others, offering open-handed surrender of others to heaven, rather than prayers and longings for self…

Might just be the evidence of one who is

Healed.

On the way to there, at least.

Farther along.

Because maybe, just maybe my life is not perfect but very

Close to the picture of what is closer and closer than I’d ever imagined.

Because of a heart that’s surrendered to softening, has opened all the locked windows and flung open the doors to hurts hidden, held onto for far too long.

Healed and still healing.

Observing.

A Listener Believing

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, grief, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom, writing
“Believer”, in progress

I’m a fan of phrases, a few not several words strung together that I can remind myself of.

Maybe write in sharpie like a tattoo on my arm. Praying this morning, I was thinking speculatively. I was afraid of something going wrong.

I said three, maybe four times in my solitary prayer…

“You’re a healer, not a harmer”.

Less than an hour passed and my mind went to the loss of my mother. A loss I’d just heard about, cancer being its ugly self.

And a friend who thought she’d told me the timeline of her husband’s death and I listened; oh, how I listened.

Her pauses were peace giving, her recall was resonant. I listened to the telling she thought she’d already told.

Knowing somehow each telling made her and her captive listener more strong as well.

So, I thought about my morning declaration:

You heal, not harm. Lord, you are a healer not a harmer.

And I just spoke it over myself

Over and over

And over.

Strengthening my believing muscles grown weak from the realities of human struggle and unfortunate sorrow.

I went for a walk, barely missed the storm and answered a text from a neighbor who said they’d seen me walk by.

They were checking on me.

I was seen.

I am seen.

Have been all along and always will be and this is truth that builds strength that will stay.

Knowing we are seen

That’s a strength that will remain.

That and being a listener who is also a learner and who longs to strengthen the teller of their story.

To bend down, to pause, to be compelled to understand.

To listen like a believer.

To listen like Jesus.

“Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath!”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭116‬:‭2‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Fragile Breaths

Abuse Survivor, aging, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, family, fear, grace, grandchildren, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, testimony, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom
A snapshot

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:”
‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭3‬:‭1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Before sleep, I rethought the day. All the places and things squeezed in, the storms, the back country roads to my people, my childhood territory.

My aunt caring for my uncle, prone now to suddenly falling. His sweet conversation comparing himself to his soon to be ninety year old brother who “falls more.”

My aunt with her pink soft shirt, leopard print loafers and nice coral colored lipstick lips

I remembered my daughter describing my grandson’s tumble off the porch.

I remembered her saying he cried and was scared but wasn’t hurt.

He likely will fall again.

Likely, my uncle will too,

Unfortunately.

I remembered my granddaughter’s sweet smile. I recalled her intuition.

I drifted to sleep knowing I’d need to decide on an artist trip, an adventure I could learn from the anticipated mostly younger artists.

I thought of the wavering of my feelings.

I remembered a word I read early in the morning.

“There comes a moment when you throw caution to the wind. There comes a moment when you need to go all in.” Mark Batterson

I strangely thought of resilience, of being strong and sure in “my walking” while there’s time.

Because life is so wrought with fragility, likely to include falling and deciding to remember,

The rising you’ve known.

You can rise.

You can go forward.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Nevertheless, Worth Fighting For

Abuse Survivor, aging, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, depression, doubt, eating disorder, Faith, grace, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, painting, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, testimony, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder, writing

Disclaimer: There’s honest mention of eating disordered behaviors in this post. My intent is always, offer hope, not remind of harm. I pray so.

A large painting in progress leans against the fireplace. A practice of mine is to gaze over at an in progress piece or a finished one to decide if “I like what it says”.

This one began subdued and starkly pure in tones, white, ivory, subtle gold and the strong dark grey.

Now, it’s in a different in progress stage, almost done and more strong in color.

A Corner Detail

Years ago, I wrote a blog post chronicling an encounter with a man who was a splendid storyteller. He was very much a fan of the word “nevertheless”.

He shared his life story in incremental pauses introduced by the word.

I’ve since learned to love the word.

Last week, I stared at my unnamed painting. I knew its story was unfinished and I’d need to be intentional; nevertheless, not force its completion.

As I pondered the piece, a thought and words came.

“You’re worth fighting for, Lisa. You may have never heard those words, but you are and you’ve been ‘worth fighting for’ for all of your life.” Journal entry 5/10/24

So serious. Yes, I know.

Too serious to write about has been my thought.

Nevertheless, there was a new clarity in those never before uttered words.

And I saw the figures in the painting, two angelic and others onlooking in strength and love and that’s what I saw in the little brown-haired girl.

Me.

Her sweet and shy acceptance of that truth she’d made progress in believing but still had a ways to go,

To keep believing, nevertheless.

To keep believing so that she could overcome even more.

Not overcome to be bold or brave or boastful but because overcoming symbolized more.

Led and leads to more.

You are worth overcoming whatever is trying to overcome you.

Worthy of Overcoming

A few weeks ago I had my first physical with all the bloodwork in several years. A new physician, one recommended by two trusted friends, asked me a question I’d not been asked in decades.

She asked “How is your eating disorder?”

And I sat quietly, I looked intently into her kind face and I answered.

“So good, I am doing so good. It’s been close to 35 years since I’ve had any of those patterns. I’m so glad.”

She nodded.

And waited and I added,

“But there was a moment a few weeks ago. I was home alone. I was feeling less than, feeling the rejection that comes sometimes when we are vulnerable in life and art. I was standing in my kitchen and thought, eat all the butter pecan ice cream and balance it with a bag of burgers and then just throw it all up.”

She listened.

And I added,

“But, I didn’t even though for a moment…not more, I could feel in control, I could punish myself and I could treat food like the love I felt was missing.”

I thanked her for asking. I meant it.

For believing I was worth the question.

And for the way the question led to the remembrance of this realization.

You’re worth fighting for.

Another Corner (in progress)

What are you battling that requires the lasting embrace of this truth that God has never given up on you?

Don’t give up on yourself.

Get back in there and fight to be aligned with His sweet and sovereign idea of you.

Because I’m convinced this is the key that will unlock the door and that the big deadbolt that keeps the door barred to wellness in our bodies and souls is this…

Insecurity

Insecurity is the voice of your foe. Insecurity blocks the door. Insecurity says “You’re not worth fighting for.”

And insecurity hides in depression, loneliness, hides in a careless attitude about our unhealthy choices,

It hides in the belief that to advocate for oneself is prideful and not humble, is haughty, not meek.

Insecurity says God’s tired of me, tired of listening to me battle this thing,

Insecurity says maybe God doesn’t care anymore, why should I?

“As long as I live I’ll keep praying to him, for he stoops down to listen to my heart’s cry.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭116‬:‭2‬ ‭TPT‬‬

I promise you, I’d not be sharing these words if God would’ve let me forget them by now.

Nevertheless, I sat in my morning spot, quiet and a little sullen and I heard deep in my soul, the words I’d never heard…

You’re worth fighting for, Lisa

And I answered, wrote him a note with a little girl tone, like a bedtime prayer.

“Thank you, God for helping me be stronger now, to decide I’m worth fighting for.”

You are too.

Believe it.

Continue and believe.

(Sermon to self always first because I stumble too. We all stumble in many ways and most every day.)

Surrender.

“The Lord preserves the simple; when I was brought low, he saved me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭116‬:‭6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

And continues to save me.

Listen

Abuse Survivor, aging, book review, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Holy Spirit, hope, love, memoir, obedience, Peace, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder
The Still Small Voice

I pulled her book from the shelf with the others, dusty and turned with the red spine toward the wall, because I like simplicity, only the ivory color exposed.

How do I know which books are there?

I have to be a seeker.

On the first page is the author’s signature and a note from when we met years ago,

“God 1st!”

This morning, well rested, I glanced over and saw the book waiting for my devotion of seemingly wasteful time to sit still and read. There’s so many other things to do.

Coffee first and journaling then I turned to Colossians and a familiar few verses.

“Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”
‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3‬:‭2‬-‭3‬ ‭

A resigned and contemplative shape of a woman in the left margin and notes to self on the edges about how to love others, how to think, how to live.

Now I’m just thinking about the thinking part, about setting my mind on things above.

And the page I could fill of all the things I want here on earth more than I want God.

Naturally, I made a list because I so love a list.

Then summed up what I believe these verses are saying and what this book waiting to be read again, adding new underlines and “oh’s”.

We want “bestness”

To be our very best

and so we look for the path to being best. We look everywhere for evidence of such “bestness” and we don’t really have to look for long.

A screen will pop up with suggestions for pros to help you with being your best. Your inbox will give you instructions from someone who’s an expert on what is the measure of your best and they’re ready to bring you along.

A podcast will guide you in understanding your “number”, your personal markers of trauma and will offer to help you erase that mark in time.

Toward Hope Collection https://thescoutedstudio.com/collections/lisa-anne-tindal-1

These are helpful, they are valuable and yet, not givers of that certain and essential quiet hope that feels like a tender and sweet secret.

Seems we’re all aching, yearning, researching, and striving for “bestness” and maybe in our quests we drown out or subtly buffer the expert voice within, the quiet unwavering, not “in your face”, unchanging, uncomplicated voice of God, our Creator, the very author of our unfinished book.

We have a bend towards not being needy, of believing we should be far enough along to not need and absolutely not to ask for help.

We (maybe just me) are timid in acknowledging we still struggle, we still look for evidence of our value in many things, we still wish we were farther along in our walk with with God, after all.

We resist circling back and beginning yet again which is crazy because it’s in the necessity of just us and God knowing this that we can have a sweet and private revival.

It’s a simple Sunday. The birds are singing. It’s a stay home day.

Later, I’ll open the book with my name inside and I’ll begin again, the wisdom in the admission of the need for revival.

“I Want God”, by Lisa Whittle

https://www.lisawhittle.com/books

Because I’m sixty-three years old and in my life, I’ve done a whole lot of growing and am a pretty good “knower” of me.

But, God knows me better.

Knows me more.

You too.

We are loved.

Continue and believe.

God knows you more, loves you with a merciful call every day.

“When you turn to the right or turn to the left, you will hear his voice behind you to guide you, saying, “This is the right path; follow it.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭21‬ ‭TPT‬‬

Thoughts on Loneliness

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, hope, kindness, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, writing

On the mornings I’m awakened by the birds early, just a couple or three singing outside my window, I sense the key in the door of hope gently turning.

Reminding me I’m never without grace and a decision to privately proclaim,

Today’s a new day!

Birds that dance on the country porch, rest on the arm of the rocker and quickly fly upward when the baby and I decide to get closer.

Their intent it seems is for me to be content in the sighting, not the pursuit.

There’s a verse in my Bible, in the right margin there lives a very faint sketch.

A little country house, yellow with one window and a slight slope of roof, pencil colored gray.

The lines of ink are thin and intentional.

On the roof, there’s a teeny tiny bird.

There are lots of sketches in my Bible that are a bit tender, there are added notes to self that are even more tender.

Someone told me once,

“Your Bible could be in a museum one day.” Drake

This kind soul was not employing flattery, he was and is brave and so very intentional in his observations of life and us as we live it.

Honestly like the psalmist whose words are a juxtaposition of praise and peril, of despair and hope, of beseeching and blessing our God.

The little bird drawing born of timidity in the acknowledgment of loneliness?

“I lie awake; I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭102‬:‭7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Oh, how I love a beautiful and brave word.

Months ago, I was gifted a book of Declarations, a compilation of poetic prayers much like the language of the Psalmist.

“Declarations in the Desert – Life Changing Decrees for the Dry and Dusty Valleys of Life” by Tara Sierra Moseley

It’s a book, I’ve read slowly, taking in small doses and then slowly increasing my “treatment”.

It’s a book and a practice in the beginning I decided

I’m not quite there yet spiritually to pray this way, not qualified in the field of faith to pray in such a confident way.

No surprise, this has long been my way of thinking.

Unforced and with ease (the best way for me) I began to pray, to records my words with God as declarations not timid asks or complaints.

Loneliness is a state I’m familiar with. Loneliness, or being alone is a response and a place I’ve often decided is safest for me.

I flee to hide.

I run as fast as I can to avoid conflict or triggers of fears and pain I’ve known.

Running and hiding lead to desperation, not safety, I am beginning to see.

“One thousand will flee at the threat of one, at the threat of five you will flee,

until you alone remain like a solitary pole on a mountaintop or a banner on a hill.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭17‬ ‭HCSB‬‬

Alone, on a hill

a tree

stripped of its branches.

And still, I’m gently called like a bird in the morning after a night of nightmares, realizing it was loneliness I saw in the eyes of others at a gathering that led to fitful sleep.

Glad that the birds woke me to invite newness.

Return. This is the way.

Let’s walk together.

Let this be your declaration.

A Declaration

Today is a new day. I declare that you’ve never abandoned me. I declare that Your strength allows me to choose strength and that Your strength is always available.

I declare that you’ve never left me on my own and that you’ve not once been unavailable to me.

I declare my bend towards fleeing and freezing is seen and understood by you and You, Lord are still so confident in the future you’ve made for me.

I declare trust and quiet confidence in this becoming increasingly my every moment hope.

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you hope in your latter end.” Jeremiah‬ ‭29‬:‭11‬ ‭RV1885‬‬

Continue and believe, quietly and confidently.

You are never alone and you are loved.

Hope.