Made Peaceable

Faith, grace, mercy, Prayer, rest, Salvation, Trust, Vulnerability

We have meetings to hear all the sides and to keep pushing to a place of simply able to coexist, sometimes.

Such is the environment of working in or calling a homeless shelter a home.

Different dilemmas and dynamics all get together after nearly falling apart and landing like the big fairy tale egg at our doorstep. Mothers, women, daughters and sons, different paths scattered by different ways.

I dreaded a meeting; but, knew it had to be and we all gathered, three of us who do the work and an objective listener.

The agenda set with a plan of issues to clarify, I walked up on the big porch of the historic home now a shelter, steps flanked by lush ferns to greet our families coming home.

I had not planned to do so; but, I used my sometimes negative attitude and demeanor as an example…spoke of how I’m sometimes prone to stomping in and taking charge, of correcting whatever might be wrong.

“I’m guilty of that.” I said, of being all puffed up because the ferns on the porch didn’t get watered.

The three of them smiled and for a minute or two, I believe simply called to mind things and attitudes they know were theirs.

Sometime ago I heard a sermon on the Beatitudes. The radio preacher, essentially said that the proclamations in these verses are how we as Christians should live.

“And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”‭‭ Matthew 5:3-11

These days we’re living in everyone knows most of how another is feeling and believing.

Bandwagon faith or fault finding.

There’s a big mindset I believe, toward declaring oneself a “believer ” of everything. We set the tone for loving all, embracing, all. I suppose erring on the side of not finding any error at all.

Far be it from us to question or debate one’s belief over ours, we fear being called judgemental or condemning.

It’s a delicate walk for the Christian who boldly cherishes God’s word.

Cherishes it, truly.

Especially, the red words.

It’s going to continue I’m afraid, so we’ll need to learn to be peacemakers.

Be more peaceable people.

We’ll need courage to say what we believe and we’ll need to check our attitudes.

We all stumble in many ways. One leans over, we lean too and there we go falling down that slippery slide of holier than they.

I told a friend yesterday about sitting with someone whose ideas and beliefs are different from mine, talking about fathers and how we loved. We talked about family junk, favorites, keeping score and grief.

We both knew.

We found common ground and that common ground path led to my sharing how I came to a place of acceptance in the very similar struggle we share.

I told her about prayer and God and she listened to me share the things that keep me sane, grow my assurance of and faith in God.

It was a pleasant exchange, unprompted.

Pleasant, because it came from her inviting. Her struggle led to my sharing, her listening led me to continue.

This is why I’m certain Jesus taught peacemaking as the way.

Judgement, avoidance or questioning our differences would not have led to our warm goodbye.

I said, “I’ll pray for you.” she said.

“Please do.”

Maybe we listen for invitations to share, not kick open the doors to demand a listen.

Lots of people say “love wins” or is “the answer”.

I’m telling you, though, I believe it’s peace.

I believe it’s peace, peace they will see.

“Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12:14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to share His Story.

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/storms-raging-around-jesus-meets-right/

Sing your Song

courage, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Oh, how unpredictable and how insignificant is the measure of oneself based on another.

If you remember there’s just one voice, one voice of you

you will continue on, sit down and create, regardless of and oblivious to what and whoever

you’ll lose your mind and be fine without it

you find you

and recognizing the emptiness of searching, of measuring you by the rule of another’s hand,

you remember

there is only one voice that is you.

And you sing, sing, sing

your song.

Oh, my Lord

what a beautiful song!

Little much

Children, courage, family, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, wonder

corn flakes, banana and pecan

Yesterday, we all had dinner together.

Beef brisket on little buns loaded with jack cheese and buns made shiny by warm butter

Fingerling potatoes coated in olive oil and Parmesan cheese, crispy under the broiler

A cole slaw fancied up with creamy bleu cheese, crushed pecans and cranberries

Decadent macaroni and cheese, thick, soft and warm

My attempt at a little cafe’ worthy finale’, custard and Nutella blended gently over heat, cooled and then covered in melted marshmallow, not the star of the show,

still sweetly delicious.

Gifts exchanged late Christmas night. Laughter and languishing. Sprawled out in the den.

Late night led to late waking.

Back to the kitchen, I go for the simple.

Remembering my grandma’s house when we all had breakfast from the box with the big rooster.

And how I loved it when the honey colored flakes floated in a pool of white.

I’d dip into the bowl with little fingers, pick just one and bring it my mouth, letting it rest softly on my tongue.

Then I’d turn the shallow bowl up and drink down the milk that tasted like candy

My feet swinging loosely over the edge of my grandma’s chairs up close to the big table.

My cousins all around me, the day after Christmas at the old house in the country.

Little is much, I know this to be true, know its peace.

Truth and Figs

courage, grace, Prayer, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

truth-and-figs

I looked down at my boots and thought, “Someone’s gonna think I’m wearing leggings to church.” My jeans tucked into my boots underneath a sweater covering belly and a long cardigan; it occurred to me that my jeans are going to be mistaken for leggings.

For months I’ve been noticing the thickness, that heavy layer around my waist. I decide it’s age, at half way past the in between of 5-0 and 6-0, it must be age. Or, I thought, it’s stress or hormones or maybe something digestive.

I imagined all kinds of reasons and thought of pulling out the thick red reference book; or worse Web MD. In any event, I woke up miserable about my weight for the umpteenth day in a row with blah, defeatist mood.

Then it happened, an awakening thanks to the mirror I turned to notice. I’ll not dare to describe to you what I saw. I’d hate to conjure up the image in your mind, the side view going from laundry room to bedroom having gotten panties from the dryer…

I stopped, stunned into attention and out of the blue as thoughts sometimes pounce and say, “Listen up!” I accepted what I already knew.

There are truths we know of ourselves; yet, we hold out for something or someone begging to differ. We invite platitudes and giggly little assurances of just how okay we are, all the while we are not at all okay. We know what we know to be truth.

Shaken to the surface, the truth of my health and habits came to light yesterday.

My weight gain happened because of figs and cheese and chocolate and wine. It happened because there can never be enough sharp cheddar in the scrambled eggs and the bacon has to be crisp, fig preserves to contrast the salty when spread on buttered toast.

Evenings disengaged all cozy after a warm shower are always better accompanied by a glass of red or a glass of white, creamy milk…fig newtons or PB&J. Chocolate loves a balance of a few salty Ritzs and some peanut butter or some popcorn. Sometimes, breakfast at night with raisin bran, bananas and milk makes sense, feels right.

Last month, we Ladies on a Mission all shared anonymous prayer requests. We told each other what we longed to be free of. I shared my struggles with my weight, telling about my college years of deprivation and denial. I told them how I had been trying to lose fifteen pounds for two ding-dang years…and I need that prayer to be answered!!!

The friend I prayed for and am still praying for had a burden much more meaningful, more lingering and troubling. Still, I requested prayer for being fat for too long.

I was jolted into reality yesterday morning, a glimpse of butt and a looking down over thighs squeezed into “jeggings” that were meant to be jeans.

The prayer group met last night. I told them, “If one of you got my request, then I believe you must have been praying for me because I haven’t lost a pound; but, I finally know why!”

I looked to the left, the right, the semi-circle and I met the eyes of one who said: “I’m not saying a word.” But, I knew it was her.

I knew because she’s told me the truth before even if I didn’t want to hear it. She’s told me the truth about my voice, my insecurities and she’s been bluntly perceptive about my need.

I had good food last night and healthy food today with lots of water in between. It used to be all or nothing or sneaky and secretive. So, sneaky like fig newtons for the sake of the fig, and peanut butter slathered on apples for the sake of a fruit was feeling a bit like nothing at all, countin’ my baby peas and surviving on lettuce.

I knew the truth, just needed to hear it in my own time.

Truth and Figs, good things I know.

Not Common – Five minute Friday prompt

courage, Faith, family, Prayer, rest, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

Maybe it’s age I thought, except it doesn’t feel like an aged thing to do. I look towards the sky, treetops, moon and sun. I pause in the connection that feels more like settled than sage.

Closer to God, closer to them. I see my father in the tallest of narrow pines, the moon resting there, unpretentious.

If I told you a story of my father, I might have described him as common. I may have told of remembering his scarcity of conversation. I may have told you about his best friend Thomas who looked after my mama after he died.

I may have told you of his intolerance towards the pompous or arrogant or his consistently trying to be more than life and hardship had equipped him to be.

I may even have told you about his love hate relationship with drink, loving the way it numbed his past, hating its angry hold.

Most likely, though I’d tell you he was handsome, neat as a pin and wisely quiet and refined. When he smiled, it was true.

I might tell you that I never saw him read his Bible, nor did I hear him pray out loud. I believe he did.

I believe he believed and he prayed the way he lived, like Paul urged, quiet and not for noticing.

¹¹and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you…I Thessalonians 4:11

Uncommonly quiet and simply uncommon…

We have that in common, I pray.

http://katemotaung.com/2016/11/10/five-minute-friday-common-a-giveaway/

Grace and Tender Places

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

It happened again this week. Crazy, sort of thing, this place and time that a thought comes and becomes more.

The same tree-lined block just before I make the left turn towards work, a thought so clear, a revelation really, it happened and I’ve stored it up as truth.

This time, as powerful as the time before when God gave name to his plan for me, called it “treasure”.

I’ve not let that go.

Won’t.

But, on a morning that caught me off guard by its bitter tone, I hear again; God in response to my heart’s soft question.

Are some days more tender?

Are there moments, mornings and whole stretches of being that the heart’s wide open with raw remembering calling to be healed?

Or do we allow unaware, the covers thrown back, inviting bravely the attention needed to be well?

Yes, Lisa there are, healing is a process. Move through it, you are healing.

Learning.

Not like falling back into deep pit of pity, it’s quite beautiful, really.

No need to cause alarm or wondering “Oh, are they okay?”

The hardest lessons are the ones we must accept about ourselves and our flaws.

They’re revealed in the hurts of our histories or then eased into acceptance of mislaid plan or controlling lives of outcome gone off in different directions, not always bad ones…

Just ones we didn’t design.

We make boldly confident declarations about what we’d not do, let happen or ever have come and take up space in our homes, in our hearts.

Happenings, mishaps and missteps make you live out your cliche of “but for the grace of God I go there” when, oh Lord…you realize you are there.

Oh, the humbling reality of proud, mislaid lives.

You went there and now you’re on the cusp of beautiful other side…

Until, again somehow

tender places in my heart, like skin rubbed off my baby toe because I wore the fancy shoes, the rawness reopened to be healed.

Oh, I remember now, it was me who opened it up again…one exchange of truthful word.

I remember now the cause of tender sting.

I spoke up for another when the question was posed, “How does a smart woman like her stay in that abuse?

I answered with an answer I believe some never knew me by…

“Seven years, mind control, isolation and thrown against a wall more times than I can remember. God is good though, he kept me here for a beautiful purpose I don’t yet fully know. Hard to comprehend unless you’ve been abused.” Me

So, some days, the heart’s more tender, the wound more open and the realization of vulnerable more palpable.

Open, truthful and gracefully well.

”Tis grace that taught my heart to fear and grace my fears relieved.” Amazing Grace

Sunday Rest

courage, Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized

Rest today and do what you will, Lisa.

Rest in His perfection.

This God whose way is perfect. Psalm 18:30

But, fret not over time or talent.

For perfection cancels out joy.

So, rest in your creative, in your Creator.

A few lines, maybe a canvas, resume where you left off and rest in its brevity or exhilarated expression.

Either way, rest in His perfection through you in perfectly imperfect doses.

This one thing changes everything.

Rest in His way.

“…satisfaction is a lowly thing, how pure a thing is joy.” Marianne Moore

Treasure

courage, Faith, Prayer, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I have sort of a secret. It’s more than sorta personal, the kind of thing you hesitate tell somebody or somebodies because there’s no way their reaction will honor the beauty of what’s been shared.

So, it’s been over a month now since this thing happened. I’ve recorded its occurrence in my journal, they way it appeared least expectedly.

The answer to a prayer while walking one evening. I’ve had answered prayers before, big, heavy and hard ones I’ve laid out before God, mostly about my children,

Rarely, so boldly about me.

I prayed that miserably hot afternoon, “Lord, is it your will that I write this book?” (I almost left the word “book” out here, doubts, fear, etc. saying don’t put that out there…don’t be so brave, keep it to yourself). The talk with God rambled on as I walked.

“Lord, I don’t want to think the way I’ve always thought. Maybe, deep down I don’t believe it’s possible. I believe it’s only a dream and this battle between believing it possible and fearing failure is strong.

So, Father I’m asking, do you want me to follow through, is writing a book a part of your plan for me?”

Walked on, relieved to have gotten it all out in the open. Better for being straight with God, like finally breaking the silent treatment with your spouse, the tension of what needed to be said is lifted.

It’s a start, at least towards good.

You say what you need to say and decide to just carry on regardless.

Not like a limbo state, just a sense of okay either way. Might seem like nothing but at least your load’s been lifted.

And now, I ramble.

The morning after the walk and talk, I do my normal sitting, reading, praying and lingering.

Typical morning, same routine and route.

Heading in to the office, good music, traffic info and some talk of events on the radio.

Then a word out of nowhere. Something I heard, crazy I couldn’t remember why or when.

“Treasure” it said and rested in my mind.

“Treasure”

“This is your treasure, Lisa. This is your ability, your opportunity. This is your thing, I planted there, a tiny thing that you’re only beginning to see. But, you see it now because you’ve gotten quiet. You see it now, because you’ve gotten loud and unafraid about it. You see it now because it won’t let you not see it. Don’t conceal it any longer.

This is your treasure. This is your treasure. The thing you carry around with you everyday, embrace it some days and fear it others…the thing you’re crazy excited to do and the thing that you’re terrified of.

This is your treasure, it has great significance.”

i heard God’s voice. It’s impossible to minimize this experience or to detail it in a way that matches its reality and quiet awe. It was real, not spectacular, just real.

It was His answer and so, I will write the stories, compile them with grace, with brave and honest recollections, “The Colors of my Bible” will be its title.

Because, six months ago, I scribbled this hurried question across the page of my journal. Writing the words in an anxious “gotta write this down before I decide it’s too heavy to write…to even think!”

“Lisa, what if it is God’s will for you to write a book…200 pages or so…and one person, maybe two connects with your story and has hope, understands God more clearly, believes in redemption in a way that’s not just a word for others? Isn’t that enough? Wouldn’t that be more than enough? “

So, continue. Finish. This is your treasure, honor it. Write God’s book.

This is your Treasure in you, a humble and hesitant jar of earthly clay, created by God.

The world, to me

courage, Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Feathers, flowers, baby pine cones and birds…little is much.

It would mean the world to me to stay in this place. The sweetly surrendered time that brings me pause

Causing my eyes to burn warm with the sensation of blessed assurance.

The time, not searching, unhurried, not anxious, the time that I pause inviting God’s reply.

The moment, seconds only really when I pause and it comes, His voice, in a clear and gentle rush of real…

You are good.

You are pursuing me, continue.

I see you getting closer. I see your grasp holding more tightly now,

my desires for you.

I see you choosing to rest, not fix.

I hear your voice, notice your words, your thoughts.

I see you choosing love and mercy over authority and demand.

I see you, righteous and strong; beginning to wear your robe of assurance now.

Your days of feeling unfit to wear the garment of my love are fading.

I see you, beginning to wear it well, beginning to lovingly smooth its sleeves and collar as you wait, peacefully, prayerfully before speaking or acting.

Your days of self-righteous rushing ahead are necessary no more.

You anticipate troubles, expect hardship; in this world, there is much over which to worry.

But, you know trust. You’ve chosen to be wise and humble, forgiving and meek.

And though I’ve promised you’d inherit the earth, it’s good to see you content in the smallest of its things, to see you beginning, finally to believe

You are blessed.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Matthew 5:5

Linking up with Holley Gerth and Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://holleygerth.com/

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/happiness-dare-pre-orders-gifts/