Found in the Morning

Morning makes me feel like a child, there are chances and choices and I wake with the realization of opportunity.

Morning, more clear in its inventory of me, my prayers are more honest, less prompted as if thoughts were shuffled in my sleep to the place they become conversation with God, bedside and solitary.

Words are exchanged and then silence before the thoughts that can no longer be hidden from the day are offered, truth.

Lord, help me to stay on track, get back on track and stay there.

Have I hidden my eyes from you or have I allowed the maze of life to mask my view?

No need for pretty words or inserting of song or verse.

The heart has spoken in the time before day takes over and tries to obscure my view.

The secret things unhidden. I have been found.

The longings and commitments unmuffled and unmarred by this world we live in.

Morning, a brief abiding and

A prayer to stay here longer, abiding in Him.

And now, little children, abide in him, so that when he appears we may have confidence and not shrink from him in shame at His coming. I John 2:28

Prompted to write about being “Hidden”.

todayi am

Cause me to see, Lord

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

Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee.

Psalm 143:8

I watched a little boy digging a tunnel from the place where the tide crept close up to his mama’s feet. His lanky arms, working hard with occasional glances up to meet eyes and small of his mama.

A straight line, little clumpy hills bordering the hollowed out path from edge of ocean to his mama.

She smiled towards him, then towards me as I stepped over his tunneled path to walk down towards the open space of shore.

Her smile, a knowing smile, the sweetness of motherhood, our bond.

What beautiful stories are the ones of mamas and children, brief moments of treasure.

We walked on, my husband drifting ahead, slightly towards open water. My walk more slow, a response to the invitation of space wide and unhindered now.

I reach down to touch a washed up feather, wet, dull and textured, beaten by surf into its shape. I’ll place it in my book, allow it to dry, become white again and cause me to remember it as my treasure.

This morning’s verse, a morning verse, a call to God to turn my heart, my eyes and mind towards grand things and small things. The King James Version, more direct a request asking “Cause me to know you and see you, God.”

Cause me, stop me in my haste; may I be unable to look away, to not be aware of you, Lord.

Turn my face, Lord. Open my eyes and heart to the wide expanse of your glory and to the smallest of stories that invite my reading along.

New and Foreign Territory

courage, Faith, Prayer, Teaching, Trust, Uncategorized

She asked if I’d help and I was hesitant.

“I don’t want to say yes and not do it well. I want to make sure it’s right for me, want to make sure I can connect.”

I told her I knew nothing about being a Missions leader because, well…I’m just not a mission type person. It’s all so foreign and far away. I’m not worldly thinking. I told her I’d look into it, see what a leader should look like, don’t want to do it halfway.

All the countries, all the places all over the world and “Shoot! I’m afraid to even get on a plane!”

All my life I’ve considered my work my mission, called it that sometimes.

poverty, abuse, homelessness and suicide

My mission field is my work.

Still, I promised I would consider leading and the deadline to tell her, I missed it, but knew she was waiting to hear, waiting for me to pray about it.

I hadn’t until just now.

Asked God, “Clarify to me what you would have me do.”

Last week I met someone who described faith in action as being a deliverer of God’s kingdom right where you are to as many people as possible, to just start a spread.

I read in Matthew, a parable of an invitation to a wedding, unopened by many, ignored by many.

Then today, thinking about the question, the nomination…I journaled again, the words of Jabez…Bless me indeed, adding little words…good things, best things, right things.

Then on to the next line, a simple, vulnerable, powerful prayer…

Enlarge my territory.

I stopped, knew it then, underlined the words, straight solid and bold.

I researched the goals, the purpose of WMU and I decided to help.

Woman’s Missionary Union challenges Christian believers to understand and be radically involved in the mission of God.

To be challenged to understand more and to be radically involved.

To help the women and girls of my church as believers becoming more involved in things we see as “foreign”.

Linking up to hurriedly talk about help for Five Minute Friday…I think I took longer, though.

http://buff.ly/29QYESi

Color and Heart

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized

I began to think, if this happens at just the right time and the precisely right way, then I will know it is just as it should be.

That I should continue to create the Colors of My Bible journey, story, art.

To visit friends, honor them and God, telling the stories of us.

I got lost, though, and I wondered if maybe it was a sign, the directions told me I’d arrived when in fact I was crossing one of three old country bridges over a wide, wide river.

If precision and pattern or duplication of previous experience were signs of favor, perhaps this was a sign of something else.

Of course, I took it that way.

But, only for a second or two, this time

remembering asking God for an unfolding of my day in early prayer.

Giving up control as a measure of contentment.

I will feel confident and determined, I will write. I will paint.

I won’t rationalize and manipulate the patterns, colors, textures and encounters.

Setting out to create the perfect blog, column or canvas.

Ending up with an attempt at duplication and nothing more than effort, no heart.

Thankfully, the heart knows clearly and the mind slowly remembers.

Then I’m afforded moments, sort of stumble upon open windows of times that are

Quiet, calm and easy.

And I fill the time with heart, words, and colors

Words come, precise and uncontrived.

Stories flow from relationship, encounter or stillness of memory saved, unfolding without agenda.

Nothing good by force, Lisa.

Art, writing, stories and encounters…life.

Layers soft, colors thick, stories touchable.

Less force, always heart.

More heart.

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.

Proverbs 4:23

Create.

Five Minute Friday

Life and Treasure

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

I noticed it there.

The early morning humidity touched my face like a clothes dryer opened to reach for clean towels. Clinging to my skin thick, unwelcoming and uninviting, I fill bowls with cool water for the dogs and glance toward the corner of porch.

Such a heavy morning, blah, slow moving pessimistically blah

I see it and move to capture it, getting closer to notice its frayed edged wings.

Black velvet and azure blue with little specks of bronze, I’m careful as I reach for it, my thumb and finger delicate in grasp.

Wings broken and pressed like a sentimental bloom, I decide to save it, for the sake of simply feeling fortunate in its finding.

So, I bring the butterfly inside, lie it down on the page of the day’s Psalm and carefully move my Bible to the center of table as I go to make coffee.

The house is quiet and cool, ceiling fan whisping my hair and the butterfly just slightly shifting on thin page of Bible.

I read from Psalm 7, thinking of harmful and hurtful times.

I thought of anger, fear, lives lost and of blame and judgement, of understable hatred and hatred stirred up.

Thought of my thoughts and I wondered then, do I really understand?

Could I maybe understand more clearly?

Noticing verses, timely and clear, I pause.

O’ Lord my God, if I have done this, if there is wrong in my hands, If I have repaid my friend with evil…. Test me, you who test our minds and our hearts. Psalm 7:3,9

Help me to see me clearly.

Then, I prayed and wrote and thought of hopes to see more clearly.

To do no harm if I could help.

Like the butterfly, captured and killed on back screen porch.

Could harm have been prevented?

Had it come in to escape the weather or maybe Colt, the happy lab bouncing in the air, excited by its beautiful movement snapped his mouth sharply and clipped its wings?

Brought it to the porch, a delicate and beautiful treasure harmed by rough exchange of play.

But, found by me.

A thing of beauty, tortured, lifeless, but beautiful still.

Life, its beauty remains.

Life, a treasured gift.

Going There

courage, Faith, family, grace, Prayer, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

There’s a place I’d like to go except that it’s hard to go there. I imagine the plans, think of the beginnings and I understand the decision; but, wish it made sense for now.

It wasn’t a trailer, it was a mobile home. It was big and solid and positioned in the spot away from pines but cushioned by the shade of trees. Its foundation was intentional and solid, not blocks strategic in their placement, no there was a real foundation.

My parents’ last home, the home place. They waited a long time to be there.

The home was stable, designed with stability in mind; it sat on a firm foundation.

The road to turn towards the place is still dirt. A slight left at the bottom of the hill will carry you through a narrow path and a field to the place it still sits.

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It’s been a long while since I’ve gone to the empty house. Someone asked recently, “When’s the last time you went?” I answered, “A long time, hard to think about it.”

Then nothing else was said.

It’s still standing despite years and weather and no touch from the hands of family. But, still standing because it was built on a permanent foundation.

The place of its situation is level and smooth, built on faith, dreams and hope and it was good.

It was loved. It was loved well and will be again…at the appointed time.

Yesterday, I heard a quick word about good things that come at appointed times. Things that come when we reject the hindrance of doubt. Essentially the words reminded me, God is good and Lisa, he wants good things for you. He knows the things you long for, things that have been established ahead of time to come to you.

The foundation is there. The building up is happening, maybe you don’t see it. Maybe you want to rush in, rebuild, tear down,start over. You look back at what was or you look at the passing of time and fear the longing to build will be forsaken…you’ll accept the falling down of the roof and the rotting of the boards because you understand it can’t happen on desire alone.

And some of the tools of the rebuilding are simply not yours, are not matters in your hands.

At the appointed time, though, if you believe, it will come to pass.

The foundation will be there underneath it all. It will be steady. It will not have moved.

Waiting for the time to build again, a place to gather and remember our family, our foundation, to built on strength and heart and patience.

Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. Psalm 27:14

http://katemotaung.com/five-minute-friday/

Morning Love and a Prayer to abide

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

Lord, help me live in a way that my actions,my thoughts and my words can’t help but show how strongly you love.

And help me to be so trusting in my walk and so firm in my faith that no doubt or fear will hinder or make questionable my belief in You.

Remind me of the place of your dwelling, my heart, so that the ramblings of my mind not overshadow the Spirit of you, the Holy Spirit in me because of Jesus and mercy and grace, unmerited…unmerited.
Guide me to find you again and again and to remain there, that a place of abiding in you.

Lead my fingers to the words of ancient truth, truer today than I’ve known before.

Do not love the world.

Love God. Love your brother.

Abide in light.
I John 2:7-17

In the name of and because of Jesus, I pray.

Amen

I will pray

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

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On a blue, blue summer day I drove to see a friend, one of the women who’d colored my life.

I knew all would be okay, would be good actually, when I turned off the highway from the usual road. I’d traveled before, this road towards home, countless times.

The vicinity of my destination for today was close by, just a different direction.

Others might not understand the nervous place in the hollow spot adjacent to my heart or the need to go back to a place of then to acknowledge now.

So, I’d been praying as I drew closer to now.

I’m taking this journey in increments, circling back to be reacquainted. It’s a challenge of my faith in me and an act of gratitude for them.

The road just a few minutes from my friend was a thin grey thread towards a needle, narrow because of wide sky and corn field borders.

Its curves were easy, not sharp, its little hills and softly, forwardly coaxing me, like God’s hand resting on the small of my back, saying

“Getting closer, keep on.”

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There were big houses along the way set back behind fences and oaks and there were small little white ones, tiny porches and trailers up on cinder blocks, cool under shade of fully grown and lush July green.

A small brick home, a couple of old cars and a bed of roses at its entry made me wonder.

Off to the side, a simple sign like garage sale or politician’s was positioned just so, leaning only slightly despite storm I’d been warned of.

Bold, simple, intentionally brief; but with exclamation at the end.

“I will pray!”

Yesterday I prayed, most days I pray at set times and randomly.

My heart sought assurance and in return I noticed the sweetness of answer.

I welcomed answer and prayed in reply with a slight smile no one might notice, “Thank you for that, God. Thank you, Lord.”

Some would say, if I shared my prayer and the evidence of its hearing…that’s silly, you just worry or that’s no big miraculous reply.

It is and it was and it’s why I believe.

In God who is just as majestically sovereign as He is miraculously small, attentively swift.

Yesterday morning and again last night, I prayed. “God, help our country.”

And I wondered about the past, my parents, my grandparents and those recalled in history, when times looked as bleak and scary and incomprehensible as they do now.

I wondered why or if there are people like me who pray about children, friends, husbands, or a heart’s desire…but are now, just now we are praying… God, help our country and maybe, like me, are torn between

“Come, Lord Jesus” and “Trust and Obey”

And our prayerful mama hearts want much for our children and theirs…want time and hope and good things. We long for happy futures, faith-filled lives filled with smiling babies and beauty.

I wonder if there were times like these before.

Times when all felt lost and uncertain. Times of Job, of Isaiah and of Moses, of David, of Martha, Mary and Paul.

I listen for their cries for help in the words of my Bible and I search for God’s replies, finding them in thousands of places, replies of good and everlasting joy and of protection and favor in midst of struggle.

I hear God saying to them, to me.

“Choose me. Choose joy.”

But let all who take refuge in you rejoice;
let them ever sing for joy,
and spread your protection over them,
that those who love your name may exult in you.

For you bless the righteous, O’ Lord; you cover them with favor as with a shield. Psalm 5:11-12

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I embraced my friend, told her I expected I’d cry and we cried and talked and shared onion rings and fries.

I prayed and she told me she’d been praying and we reminded each other of ourselves and our unanswered prayers for our good and we prayed, we pray. We will pray, we agreed.

It was easy and good and love. I left her sweet house with emotions that beg for holding onto, the description of our time and our talk resting safely for awhile in a place so closely real and beautifully raw.

So, I drove back towards Carolina, indescribably, thankfully good, especially glad.

The pretty road just as pretty and the view different only because of direction and another house…white, small but with big trees, tiny porch and front yard sign proclaiming,

I will pray!

Let us pray.

I will pray.

Linking up to Tell God’s story with Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/what-we-all-have-in-common-tellhisstory/

Welcome, Rain

courage, Faith, grace, rest, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I welcome the grey sky and the swaying pines, looking towards kitchen window, I’m anticipating a good rain.

I chose today to rest. Said yesterday, if I can finish this, I’ll stay home tomorrow.

I worked with the goal of completing the task and tried my best to express differently, convey more clearly a need for support.

I’m anxious. I’m apathetic. I fear it may show.

I’d said it all before, usually mostly the same ways in copy paste fashion. Asking for support, articulating a need and lining it up with a result, an outcome.

I write grants, ask for money to help homeless families.

It’s impossible to share in full how important our interventions are. It’s even harder to ask for money, to sell your heart’s work as if it’s a product or commodity.

Hard to think business when your work thrives on heart.

So, I let it rest.

The incomplete application saved to resume on Monday.

Walk away from it. Let it sit. Let it rest.

Deciding to start fresh another day. For now, Friday feels like Saturday and I walk out into the yard, the view from kitchen window making me hopeful for rain.

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I rest a minute, the thunder’s way off. Hydrangea and hosta, richer, deeper blue and green, waiting in shade of intermission.

Then, the rain comes.

101 degrees just moments ago, I watch rain through the window, thin and straight sheets like arrows.

Just a few minutes and it’s done, so I go to see the flowers planted round the pool, bright again and refreshed.

The pool empty and shimmery blue, a single leaf floating in repose.

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Thunder again in the distance, inviting more rest and more rain.

I welcome you, rest and rain. I welcome your blessing, your end to my season of draught. Welcome, rain.

And I will make them and the places all around my hill a blessing, and I will send down the showers in their season; they shall be showers of blessing.

Ezekiel 34:26

Encounters, Grief and Joy

Children, courage, Faith, family, grace, Motherhood, Teaching, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

I was more than a little excited to see her. She and I, I realized when we met almost four years ago now, had the same long, slow southern accent.

I was sure she must be from Georgia and even more sure, I decided, we had to be distant relatives. Her dialect, her slow and lilting sentences ending with just a slight upturn. Well, she sounded like me I decided and so, I was happy to know her.

So, when I saw her on an early morning estate sale venture, I couldn’t wait to say, “Hey” and “Oh my Lord it’s been a really long time.”

I was joyous to see her there.

I wasn’t prepared for her response, she leaned back, was hesitant. I figured “Oh well, she doesn’t remember me” or does but, can’t remember how. Still, I was just so happily surprised over seeing her again.

I should have read her cues, should have seen it for what it was.

Instead, I added, “Remember, from the group?” She said, “I remember.” nothing more. It was clear she wished I hadn’t reminded her, refreshed the memory.

It was humid; awkward and cramped, standing amongst the trinkets, treasures,and big patterned armchairs.

She’d moved away, opened an antique shop in a pretty little town. She’d come back, was in charge of the sale that day.

Someone offered a fan, she replied “I’m fine.” and turned to look towards the drive so I wandered to the back porch and into the little house.

I continued to explore, found a pretty little bud vase and a bird for me and a rooster for the sake of memory of mama. I held my little things close to my chest and went to pay. Her eyes met mine and I said, “I hope you’re doing well and I apologize if I overwhelmed you when I saw you.” She said, “That’s okay.” Nothing more. I added, always the one trying to fix the messes I make, to undo the damage, “We were in the mountains and I was so close to your antique shop; but, couldn’t find time to come.” Again, no reaction really, just another nod.

Finally, I said what I should have said in the beginning and maybe again as I left with a simple goodbye.

“It’s so good to see you again. I hope you are doing well.”

My happiness over seeing her came from a place of recalling our connection, of remembering her sincerity and kind, kind heart, although grieving.

Her seeing me changed the course of her day, turned back the clock, flipped the page to the time and the memory of loss.

And mine as well, to the night she talked and I listened.

To her story of a sorrow I dont know, haven’t felt, only have heard.

Each heart knows its own bitterness,
and no one else can share its joy.

Proverbs 14:10

It was so good to see her, I hope she is doing well.