It’s helps that it’s catchy, the wise words for remembering.
Listen, Lisa
Works I Love
I stepped lightly to assess where I may have gone wrong, rushed to edit, didn’t leave “well enough for now and maybe always” alone.
Now, I see.
I should’ve listened to that pull, the voice that said.
This is you.
This is good. Let it rest. Let it be.
There’s no need for a rush to redo. There is no expectation for anything other than that you listened.
Listened attentively.
Listened with no plan of action or scheme.
Listened for the opening that never comes like a bursting, more like an invitation.
Listen and learn.
Contribute to the redemption of where your listen wasn’t necessary at all or steered you wrong.
Remembering, you can’t hear the gentle tone of directions spoken if you’re thinking you got it on your own.
Listen and then, welcome your role in the redemption that made a mess and muddied your message.
Always a good one, led by patience and surrender.
“From of old no one has heard or perceived by the ear, no eye has seen a God besides you, who acts for those who wait for him.” Isaiah 64:4 ESV
There wasn’t time for a deeper conversation. There wasn’t the space nor would the talk about the state of my heart, my mind have been able to find space in all the other chatter.
Someone I love and who loves me and is wise, told me later on the phone…
“You looked so tired that day.”
And I did my best to decide whether to say that I was in fact tired, to share with her all the reasons of how I had just been pushing through
or to wait and see if her observation may have invited
a more beautiful conversation.
If she might have time to listen, if I might be brave to clarify. If she might be courageous enough to share her own heart.
Being honest is risky.
I try to recall that day. Was I exhausted or was I just me at 63?
Likely a combination.
But, wouldn’t it be beneficial in a loving way, I thought if she’d have said,
“How’s your soul, what’s on your mind, what’s causing you to feel unwell, what’s brewing underneath that’s about to boil over and you’re trying to keep it under wraps?”
“What’s the thing under the thing”
Then, I would have sensed an offer of hope.
This morning, before I threw off the covers, responded blurry eyed to a ding on my phone, I thought of this longing…to be seen,
to have a sweet conversation about why she thought I “looked so tired”.
I thought of Martha.
I thought of what Jesus told her and how women especially, decide even if in secret, “Mary was his favorite.”
And we know that Jesus was simple telling her to see her sister’s choice to rest as a better choice and still, I wonder…
Could he have elaborated, could he have spoken with more clarity and could Martha have used different language?
“And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” Luke 10:40 ESV
Could Martha have been more vulnerable?
Could she have simply asked the question that prompted warm tears on my cheeks today?
“Jesus, do you see me?”
We likely don’t know the entire conversation, Jesus beckoning her from the kitchen to sit beside her sister.
What if what he meant was simply…you seem so tired, I know your gifts are serving, working, preparing and fixing…
So, come and rest with your sister and I and if you’d like to tell me more I’ll listen.
Many beautiful conversations have been had with the one who pointed out what she saw as my exhaustion.
I know she sees and saw me.
We’ll talk about it soon.
So, today’s good thing?
Being seen.
Who can I truly see today and in an honest exchange allow them to truly see me and then in a conversation that offers hope.
My talents as a cook are hit or miss. I’m not a follower of recipes and so, sometimes what I think might be a good combination is actually not.
My husband will comment, “That was good, can you remember how you made it?”
I smile to myself, knowing only a few dishes are close to guaranteed goodness.
Spaghetti is one, quiche another.
Spinach and Sausage Quiche
Warm and cheesy.
Delicious before I begin today’s list of promised art things, some a tiny bit anxiety causing.
You can do hard things, Lisa.
It’s gonna be alright. You just enjoyed breakfast with extra cheesy creamy goodness and allowed yourself the nutrition, the comfort. You’re not consumed by your consumption.
You’re gonna be alright.
In quietness and confidence is your strength. Isaiah 30:15 NLT
(Today is processing calendar orders day. You can visit my website and click on the “Smaller Things” page to order one or a few and their on sale through October.)
On Monday, baby Henry was a tiny bit heartbreaking. He’s getting new teeth. He wanted me, wanted to be held.
Our morning walk required holding.
Today, he bounced his little feet and nodded his head. He was very happy in the stroller.
The news broke through regular shows because the President was about to speak in Israel.
I didn’t want Henry to hear it, sense it, see it.
I turned the television off.
Baby settled, we took off strolling.
And he was so very content, I began to filter recent conversations, a wide and varied assortment.
A strange thought came, I embraced it, a question…
If I were to talk as in TedTalk fashion, what could I contribute?
I made a mental list. You should too.
I could talk about:
How to supervise employees with helpful attention and kindness
How not to because you work best alone
How to forgive those who harmed you even though forgetting the wrong is not possible
How to recover from disordered eating and why the recovery is a constant decision not to seek comfort or self-destruction through food. Why it’s complex and invites patience with oneself
Why it’s important to be brave in your conversations with your children, adults or babies or teenagers. Why it’s good to be silent, allow them to throw their words like darts towards you as you sit still,
bravely listening, receiving.
How to look in the mirror, full on when suddenly your eyes are tiny and your body is dramatically shifting
Why rest is golden, why it’s okay to lie down in the middle of the day, why it’s peace
What children have taught me about prayer, always thank you’s, never give me now and hurry
Why I believe in Jesus and how I wonder why others are afraid to just believe.
How I know God is acquainted with every facet of me and the true occurrences that surprised me to say “See, I see.”
How to be brave.
How childhood poverty always makes you feel like you’re dressed in old dresses or too tight pants, inappropriate shoes
I’ve spoken in public on occasion. Honestly, without notes…only my heart for the cause for which I spoke.
It would seem I might be able to speak for and of myself.
Instead, I choose writing and I pray writing keeps choosing me.
A day full of things. I chose the right turn to best navigate the way. Not so early morning, feeling blah, not really clear in my thinking kind of day you’d be better to just stay home.
I heard a sound like a passing breeze and wondered why I’d left my windows down.
Looked up and saw an SUV the color of the shadows on the asphalt just in front of me.
I’d almost turned.
I didn’t see the car.
I heard it and I paused, puzzled.
And that pause caused by the sense of my hearing might have made the difference.
We are fearfully, intricately, very intentionally made. God knows it very full well, as did the psalmist.
As do I.
Grateful to be sensitive to sounds, sights, smells and other.
It’s hard for me to drive in the dark, mostly the early morning darkness on back roads.
There’s no reason other than me deciding this is hard.
The congested four lane before the interstate, the winding two lane road to the country
Me, traveling out to the wide open space and all the others “goin’ to town” for work.
The headlights that approach, the obnoxious ones, I decide don’t care enough about me to change to dim.
It makes no sense to feel sort of stalked, sort of threatened, sort of unable to be sure of being safe; headlights coming in a way that feels like force always scares me, tells me I’m in danger.
The place that marks the “almost there” this morning beckoned me to glance forward.
A fence with overgrown weeds as borders made the perfect shape of a cross in one section.
My headlights landed there.
I’d never noticed before.
Morning Came
The grey blue sky showing no sign of morning until it suddenly, surprisingly did.
And there I was, safely cradling a baby safely as we stood steady on the porch with lingering love you’s to sister and mama.
And I thought, how sweetly I’ve been guided all my life.
Talk is swirling, bad things are coming, violence and threats and better be prepared warnings.
Friday the 13th. A day I used to dread for other reasons, a few of them evidence of crises that in looking back weren’t just on a day with a horror movie predictability.
Horrible things don’t only happen on days called 13.
So, I avoid the warnings.
I pay attention to other occurrences.
The geese just flew over. My mind went to my mama’s voice, no more and no less than a simple acknowledgement to me as a girl and later my children,
“Here they come.”
So, day 13 of the 31 days of taking account of good things is celebrated not with an egg, no bread. Instead, a cranberry orange scone, buttery.
Yesterday, I listened to a conversation about worship music, more about worship than songs.
I learned that worship is not me standing side by side in an auditorium with a stage lit by changing colored lights.
Worship is not necessarily outward celebratory gratitude or praise.
It can be quite the opposite.
Worship is the tears that come when someone shared a kindness or the tears that come when someone is honest about their fears and their eyes begin to glisten, a mirror of mine.
Worship is me sitting in my mamas chair and honoring her and my God by settling my self for barely a few seconds to simply listen.
The geese noticed.
Noticing God.
And worship is me opening my hand, always the right one and saying countless times a day,
I surrender all and all is well.
And worship is the allowance of good things, rather than constant critical condemnation.
A cranberry orange scone for breakfast.
How will you worship in small ways today?
Yesterday, I was surprised by generosity. Someone purchasing art as gifts for others.
Twice in a day this happened.
I gave the giver of gifts a hug, got in my car and she in hers and I sat for a second and I smiled and shook my head in a questioning of such goodness kind of way.
And I said tenderly in a worshipful whisper,
“What a day, all this goodness, thank you, thank you God.
Once again, you’ve surprised me, wow.”
Continue and believe.
“So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” 1 John 4:16 ESV
Most of my life I’ve been nurtured by the pencil in hand, a piece of paper, a margin that invites.
Art sustains me.
A wise Dr. and author, Curt Thompson reminds often of attachment that we as children needed to be “seen, safe, soothed and secure” and that need is innate. We will always be in pursuit.
Embraced By Grace
Interestingly, adding color to paper and hinting at an emotion are when I feel these needs are known most and met.
How about you?
Is it art?
Music?
Prayer?
or something else.
I hope you know this “withness with God” often.
You are loved.
Even if the child in you lacked one of the “s”’s.
She’s still there, self-aware, surrendered and seeking solace in the sweet places she’s found herself
we run away from our discomfort... but it doesn't leave us. to heal we need to turn around and face it, experience it and once we truly do we are out of it. We heal and we grow.
2 Timothy 1:7-8 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. This blog is about my Christian walk. Join me for the adventure.
Lisa Anne Tindal 