Wearing my Cross

Faith, grace, praise, Prayer, Salvation, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

Most days I wear it. It’s a simple gold cross, slightly curved on one side to help me know whether I’ve clasped it correctly.

A gift from my husband on a golden rope chain, it’s my cross.

Don’t remember when or where; but, not long ago I read an article by some well known theologian who questioned the habit of cross wearing.

He was curious about the wearers of crosses, big chunky gold or silver ones dangling like anchors around thick necks, fancy diamond faceted jeweled worn by fancy ladies, and delicate pendants presented to little girls.

He wondered if we all realized we were adorning ourselves with death’s symbolic charm.

It’s been months since I read this. I wear my necklace anyway, thinking “It’s important to me, I love it.”

This morning I read the story of the Samaritan Woman again.

Familiar with the narrative reminding me of Shakespeare’s young character marked with letter “A”, the imagery in the telling is one of the clearest.

A woman ashamed because she’s surrendered to the desires of multiple men finds herself caught off guard and meets Jesus.

She chose a time no one would be around to draw water from the well when the others had ventured into nearby city.

Jesus approached her and asked for water. Then he talked with her. Standing next to her, just the two of them, had a conversation about her life.

He told her about “living water” and about himself, The Messiah.

She left him, amazed that he knew her and still took time to have her know him.

She told everyone she could then, all of Samaria.

“Come, see a man who told me all that I ever did. Can this be the Christ?” John 4:29

Sometime later, she and those she told would hear of his horrific and sacrificial death on the cross.

For her, for them, us, me.

I’d love to know if back then, the ladies of Samaria wore crosses. I doubt that they did. I believe the times and the garb were simple, more functional and not at all fancy.

If they did, I envision the woman who met Jesus at the well wearing a cross, discreetly tucked under thickness of layers, her hand reaching to find it and remember mercy.

Death too; but, mercy more.

I think she’d remember the unexpected and life-changing encounter, the “no secrets here, you are loved and known” not so chance meeting.

I’ll reach for my bracelet, wedding rings and gold pendant with simple cross as I get ready for meetings today.

I’ll find my fingers touching the cross and I’ll be assured that mercy’s still there

And be thankful it found me at my worst.

I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee to Tell His Story. Her beautiful image of a child’s feet blessed me today and prompted me to pray for Haiti.

Read it here: http://jenniferdukeslee.com/stand-haiti-one-way-make-big-difference-today/

Mighty and Well

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

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I saw them twice tonight, the geese that give me pause and give me reason.

I planted my pansies in pretty pots today and thought of my grandma.

Fragile little faces on tender stems, purple, lavender, yellow and a rich burgundy; I dug little holes and crowded them in all clustered together like a crazy extended family.

The hurricane will bring rain and heavy wind this weekend; but, I planted anyway.

I soaked them real good and thought I’ll move them to the garage should the storm get rough.

The geese flew over, twenty or so, as I pushed the wheelbarrow back to its spot.

I’ve not seen so many before, they must sense a storm. I took my hands off the wooden wheelbarrow handle, turned as they flew into the distance and I prayed.

Opened one hand toward heaven as the storm cooled air brushed my face, I said

“Trust.”

The Lord your God is in your midst,
mighty one who will save…

Zephaniah 3:17

Someone I don’t know commented to me about our storm here in S.C. as we shared thoughts on not enough time for writing.

Told her, “My weekend’s full, I’m watching the storm and my son’s home from college.”

She left a reply, “Oh goodness, Father, keep them safe. May this time be one where they look back and see your mighty hand. Amen.”

I’m praying in agreement, that this storm and this time will be one we look back on see your mighty hand, God.

That we understand you as protector with purpose.

I thought to tell her, “There’s more storm now than a tropical threat of flood.”

There was a call and a crisis and now the aftermath.

There was a time to be thankful all is well and to ponder what could have been worse.

So, I walked with dogs like usual, I planted my pansies and I looked towards the sky altered by pressure.

And another bunch of geese, a few lagging behind flew over and it was good.

It was good for me to walk as on any other day, to see that all is well.

A bunch of geese, five of them…nothing majestic or awesome; yet, a mighty sweet sight and a sign of all very well.

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/knowing-god-sees-changes-everything-book-giveaway/

Sweet Remembering

Faith, family, grace, grief, Prayer, rest, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

It was late, almost dark.

The clouds were enormously ominous, a bunch of ’em all gathered up together and I could hear my mama saying,

“Looks like there might be a cloud makin’ up over there.”

The geese were holding a meeting in the grassy field. I brought the leash closer and said quietly, “Good boy.”

We hadn’t meant to scare them, we were just strolling lazily, Colt and I.

But, they congregated and flew up and away together with loud flaps and a chorus of harmonious fly alway song.

I was glad to see them because I heard my mama say,

“There they go.”

I remembered my morning prayer written in my journal, “Lord, send a little reminder today, that all is well and help me to see it clearly.”

And I heard my mama saying now, “It’ll all be fine.”

Lightning in the distance, I turn uphill towards home, cutting short our walk.

I’m content…under heaven.

Geese, storm clouds, and memories of mama.

Thank you, God.

That which was bitter to endure

may be sweet to remember.

a proverb

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee as we think about loved ones and heaven.

if you fear death, are puzzled by heaven, or wonder if you’ll live forever – #tellhisstory

Watching God’s Children

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

All it takes to be changed and moved by God’s word is to read the stories of people and places who knew Jesus, to read the stories of Jesus.

I believe the writers of God’s ancient yet beautiful words had in their minds that for generations to come, scripture would change us. Stories and teachings are different in small ways each time we read them. We’re softened in areas we need softening and corrected in the areas we’ve fallen prey to doubt, lost our way, maybe need a little empathy, not sympathy.

We come to God, to His word in different ways, different places each time we pause to read our Bible.

My house has no children now.

I pause a minute here.

They’re doing good things, learning new things, are doing them in new and bigger places.

The story of young Jesus in the temple had me standing right there with his mama, our arms linked. Her son amongst scholars and leaders, was holding his own.

I read the verses and all I could do was think how overjoyed his mama must’ve been to find him; yet, wishing he’d never left her side, didn’t have to venture in new directions.

I wonder if she longed to cradle him in her arms again. If she could go back to the miraculous starry night, would she if she could or did the sight of him speaking of His Heavenly Father overwhelm her?

Mary, the ultimate giver of roots and wings, an empty nest beyond compare.

Every year Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem for the Festival of the Passover. ⁴²When he was twelve years old, they went up to the festival, according to the custom. ⁴³After the festival was over, while his parents were returning home, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but they were unaware of it. ⁴⁴Thinking he was in their company, they traveled on for a day. Then they began looking for him among their relatives and friends. ⁴⁵When they did not find him, they went back to Jerusalem to look for him. ⁴⁶After three days they found him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. ⁴⁷Everyone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers. Luke 2:41-47

I imagine Mary, when after losing her son for three days, walking up to the temple and there he is!

She’s standing still, overwhelmed as she catches her breath.

I see her there, utterly enthralled.

His character, his voice and his pursuit of knowledge.

I can sense her knowing, her understanding, her acceptance.

There are things he will do, places he’ll go that she’d never know, not be able to go along. He won’t need her there.

Captivated, she listened and watched.

Something happens in a parent when the child they’ve raised speaks up, speaks for another or simply stands tall in crowd we’d be intimidated by.

It’s a beautiful moment to see.

Watching your child teach children with love and authority, speak with confidence, or demonstrate some act of kindness to another.

Take on a challenge you didn’t expect,

expecting to see it through.

Or maybe, if your children are adults like mine, they notice a place you could do better, tell you about it and you’re not offended by their truth.

You’ve taught them well, you decide.

So you, stand in the distance and watch when you can.

Finding joy in finding them again after being apart.

Captivated by them, God’s children, knowing

He’s watching them now.

And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me?

Luke 2: 49

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and her story of a time she thought herself as less than and now she knows so, so much better!

http://jenniferdukeslee.com/put-brakes-today-happiness-hijacker/

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/

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.

prayer for the middle

courage, grace, Prayer, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

Dear Lord,

Help me to live with purpose, with meaning, with intention.

And let those three not be measured or determined by

another. Let the three be determined only by you

and by your promise.

Help me not linger, disenchanted in the waiting,

the waiting for time to do all I feel so deeply you’ve made for me to do, the things of me, made by you.

Help me to move from hope to knowing.

Yet not rush, head and heart stumbling over self, a careless and haphazard effort driven by insecurity or comparison.

Dear Lord, help me to live as you purposed, as you promised.

Help me to live and love in the middle of hope and heart and

best to come

in time.

because of mercy and because of asking

and of believing,

I say

Amen.

And stopping, Jesus called them and said, “What do you want me to do for you?” They said to Him, “Lord, let our eyes be opened.” And Jesus in pity touched their eyes and immediately they recovered their sight and followed him.

Matthew 20:32-34

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at Tell His Story and Suzie Eller’s prompt, Lord, I need a sign.

Live Free Thursday

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/

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.

Relentlessly Quiet

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

It’s a practice, maybe more like a ritual, this morning thing I do.

An intentional discipline, I suppose. Sometimes motivated by an open mind, others, if I’m honest, an idle mind longing for more time to be idle.

Seeking for something indicative of hope or something demonstrative of my commitment. I guess, maybe I’m sometimes looking for the fruits of my laborious devotion.

The discipline of devotion, I sit in my quiet spot with a noisy mind.

Realizing, intentional discipline and the pursuit of God turn out to be not much more than duty, sometimes.

Looking for holy becomes holier than thou.

Not always, but pretty often, if I’m honest.

I finished my reading and got ready for the day, stopping suddenly and clearly with interrupted thoughts of the day to come.

So, I just waited, holding on to what I knew to be a word from God, as if to say.

My waiting, actually quiet enough finally. must have been noticed by God.

I believe.

“I’m glad you’re listening. This is what I want you to know. This is what I have for you today.”

And there it was, my reply

“I want to do more for you, Jesus.”

Then, carrying this little few seconds around with me all day, I smiled, thinking maybe God smiled too at the simplicity of my words in the quiet of empty morning house.

Standing still, toothbrush in hand, frothy lips and thankful heart, the irony of my devotion time.

I considered his relentlessly gentle pursuit of me.

Jesus, the shepherd, waiting quietly for my attention.

Pursuing me, one of his sheep distracted by life, habit and duty.

My sheep hear my voice and I know them and they follow me.

John 10:27

Happy to be found and happy to hear, like morning interrupting my morning.

The birds incessant, the dogs insistent.

I ventured out, found and tossed tennis ball and paused to notice God in the pleasant chill of summer breeze.

Ball retrieved and dropped, “thump” at my feet, he waits as I stand barefoot in moist green grass, wisps of cool on my cheeks.