When the Way You’ve Always Done it Doesn’t Work Anymore

November 12, 2012 by 35 Comments

He broke through the second act in the play of my life and took the scene in another direction. And I welcomed it the next time. I’ve learned that beauty lies outside the walls of convention.

During my college years I fell deeply in love. He courted me on the grassy knoll next to the library under star dust where we talked for hours without distraction. Like a watchman on the wall, observing the glow of the city beneath, He pointed out hope and future promise. I hurried back to my dorm room before curfew coveting peace and left doubt strewn about the clover.

On a fall walk on crunchy leaves, under a hollow of bare branches, I sat on the bank of a babbling brook with arms wrapped around my bent legs, untangling the knots holding my heart captive. He held up the frayed end of the rope and assured me it didn’t need to be perfect before I showed it to him the next time. Messy and imperfect, He’s okay with that.

Beside my apartment complex swimming pool, face down on a lounge chair, I shed tears behind sunglasses as the sun warmed my skin. Tears dripped onto the pages of Codependent No More lying on the concrete beneath. Healing hovered over me in the stillness. I pulled the gate open on freedom, wrapped a towel around my waist and walked home with a new identity. No longer chained to the consequences of my mother’s alcoholism.

God uses whatever is useable in a life, both to speak and to act, and those who insist on fireworks in the sky may miss the electricity that sparks the human heart. ~Barbara Brown Taylor, Leaving Church

Yesterday, I took a walk with my camera swinging over my shoulder. A stranger asked if he could take my picture, said I was prettier than anything I saw through my lens. And I don’t believe it. But it sounded like God’s voice so I told Him I would try to accept it, and I kept walking.

Down a road I avoided when my dog was my companion. Three years of skirting the collective howl of neighborhood pets so I missed the beauty.

It was waiting there, like art hanging on the wall expectant in the unbridled surprise of joy on the face of the beholder. Illumination.  Of color shouting change is coming. Leaves floating on the surface like fairy dust dripped from wings before passing the curtain of trees.

The line between heaven and earth is a thin place and His portals of presence, they are vast.

I pray that your hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope he has given to those he called – his holy people who are his rich and glorious inheritance. ~ Ephesians 1:18, NLT

Can you remember when you fell in love with God? Have your ideas about God changed as you’ve grown to know Him?

For six weeks, we’ll be exploring the question, “How do we walk out our faith in the midst of pain, suffering, disappointment, and loneliness,” with a book club discussion on Thursdays about Leaving Church by Barbara Brown Taylor. Join the conversation in the comments and at Redemptions Beauty Book Club. Start here for more information.

Joining Ann today in counting thanks for the shift of seasons that introduce a new season of the soul, for standing room only worship, renewal of vision, sadness turned to joy, despair into hope, chicken pot pie, a newly painted front door ready for welcome and books, lots of books.

Linking with Michelle, Laura, Jen and Eileen.

 

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,

I Never Expected This

October 1, 2012 by 61 Comments

When I started writing on this blog a year ago, I had no idea how a patch of sunlight would find its way through the dark canopy of my fears. Expose a rare flower in the High Calling, blooming generosity on the forest floor of my writing life. Its petals lying open handed, fragrance of Christ.

This group of writers, they offer the loaf of communion, one encouraging bite at a time.

As writers, we find the place to pull the cork on words huddled in the corner of gate 14B among the empty vinyl seats. Spread out on a café table infused with espresso in its cracks. Under the glow of fluorescent between jeans hanging in rows and robes on hooks. In a dimly lit room of shallow breath, lying beside the rise and fall of life we bore.

We pour paragraphs like coffee from a carafe, brewed early, left warm on the counter. Craft words of worried ways and welcome wandering. String sentences of settling in and spilling out. Wonder if what swirls in the cup will taste good, leaving them thirsty for more.

Inspiration scribbles into journals lying beside soppy cutting boards of ripe tomatoes, idle at the red light on the way to carpool.  And in the midst of flipping hamburgers on the grill, we realize that writing is more than endless laundry piles. It’s a lover our heart yearns for the moment we part.

But we win the battles of the mind in the company of our kindred kind.

At Laity Lodge, we pass tea carafes and lemon poppy seed loaf boards pondering our place on the grassy shore among the five thousand and baskets of bread.  Some of us stand beside Jesus passing out bread to their hungry group of fifty. Others wait along the fringe, uncertain about their place among eager crowds; worry there won’t be enough to feed everyone.

And the quiet waters of the Frio seep into the empty cracks life has worried into the soul with the words of wisdom gathered around the table. We claim victory over platforms and page views, agents and proposals, self-doubt and sorrow in the warm embrace of a fellow sojourner.

Because In the words of Ashley Cleveland, “It’s really about the people, it’s always about the people.” And all the way to heaven, is heaven.

While writing becomes oxygen to the soul squeezed tight with the cares of life, relationship with Him, with you, it’s the muse pulsing words to life.

I follow those who walk before me, stepping over boulders to sit on limestone terraces. Rest under cypress arms bent over Madeline L’Engle and Eugene Peterson stretched out with pen and prose in days gone by. Imagine their toes dangling in the water.

And I let go of needing to know all the answers about my future. Because this life He serves in the smorgasbord of options, it truly is a high calling. I’ll let him fill my plate, one meal at a time.

I’ll be writing here every day for the month of October on the practice of letting go. Because really, it seems to be a sacred echo in my life – letting go of what keeps me from walking in freedom.  Perhaps it is for you too.

We’ve started our journey sitting together on a limestone terrace, watching the rainfall on the Frio and who knows where we’ll end up. Maybe that’s part of letting go, not having a map or a final destination.

I know, it makes me a little nervous too.

I hope you’ll join me each day for a short story as a reflection to start your day. You can link back to this page to find each post, in case you miss one or several.

If you are a writer, you can join the community of 31 Dayers.  I invite you to link up a story you wrote on the theme of letting go in the comments on Friday of each week in October. I look forward to reading your words.

Linking with Ann, Michelle and Laura.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Because Timing Is Everything

September 23, 2012 by 25 Comments

How swift the summer goes,

Forget-me-not, pink, rose.

The young grass when I started

And now the hay is carted,

And now my song is ended.

And all the summer splendid;

The blackbird’s second brood

Routs beech leaves in the wood;

The pink and rose have speeded.

Forget-me-not has seeded.

Only the winds that blew,

The rain that makes things new,

The earth that hides things old.

And blessings manifold.

 Excerpt from The Everlasting Mercy, John Masefield (1878-1967)

Sometimes we expose our roots just above the water line when the season of the soul shifts in the middle of stacking clean dishes. We’re all showy and colorful on the outside, bare knuckling hope down underneath, until someone trades a bouquet of  forget-me-nots for your dish towel. And you smell the rain coming through the screens and watch the leaves shift cameleon.

Welcome to Fall friends. May our hearts rejoice in the hope that change carries.

There’s an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth. ~Ecclesiastes 3:1, MSG

Filed Under: Saturday Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,

When You Have More Questions Than Answers

September 14, 2012 by 33 Comments

His duvet wrinkles from sweat the night before. I pull it up and brush my hand underneath in the empty place to feel the warmth that lingers. The breath of God in the absence of the body, it calls me to worship. I want to kneel down and lean over the bed rail right there in thanks.

Don’t let me take it for granted Lord, the way a heart beats healthy and strong.

It seems I have more questions than answers on most days lately. The way locusts are leaderless insects, yet they strip the field like an army regiment; lizards are easy enough to catch, but they sneak past vigilant palace guards. (Proverbs 30-27-28)

I sit on the porch of small change, offering consolation to a friend suffering. I listen to her tiredness, and see it there, shouting for attention. The way the light shows up in my lowliness.

I’m holding phone in one hand, camera in the other trying to catch the light and keep it all in focus. My mind, my heart, my ability to see and hear stretching out in tandem.

And I think most of life’s questions wave clothes pinned on the line unanswered, like the mystery of the locust and lizard. Because silence in my need to know outcome reminds me that joy hangs in the wait of trust and eludes me in the quest for answers.

There is something beautiful in what I can’t see through.

Linking with the Five Minute Friday community with the one word prompt: Focus.

 

 

 

Filed Under: Five Minute Friday Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

Reclaiming Wonder

September 3, 2012 by 23 Comments

The sound of her tiny feet digging into wet sand pull my praying eyes open like shades rolling up to welcome a new day.  I watch her from my spot in the lawn chair seated behind the screen. She gallops along shore and my bible, it slips off my lap in concentration.

A loon echoes off glassy lake unzipping early morning stillness.

She holds the plastic handle on the clear box, zigzags between  boats lying on shore, scavenging for signs of leaping life under their bellies. Wispy strands dangle curtain over the sides of her head as she bends low.

A youthful gasp cracks open the quiet and the wonder seeps out in the finding. “Mom,” she calls out and runs for the red screen door. Minutes later, her father follows close behind, picks up the edges of sleeping boughs to capture found treasure.  Little hands full of tiny frogs awakening from slumber.

And I wonder if the miracle of creation loses its allure when I stop giving thanks?  

It’s why I carry my camera like a third arm, to capture what the lens magnifies in surprise. The sacrament of photography, it restores holy awe. In bending over to see, the heart renews in thanks.

I witness grace in the birch peeling back like paper pages revealing hidden beauty. In red shouting low among leafy ground.

I watch Him brush pink sky melting twilight into blue canopy, gazing at her reflection in mirrored pools beneath.

I see Him smile in the joy of an after dinner ride down a quiet dirt road. Thankful for the way an empty agenda ushers in unexpected gifts.

I find thanks in the youthful heart of wisdom that understands play beyond restriction.

And capturing small bits of beauty one frame at a time, it forms a portrait  revealing the nearness of his presence every step along the way.

As we celebrate this Labor Day holiday, may we reclaim the wonder by giving thanks.

Linking with Playdates with God, Multitudes on Monday, Miscellany Monday.

 

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

For the Restless

August 25, 2012 by 31 Comments

Possess your soul in patience

Own it. Hold your heart the way

you’d hold a live bird–your two hands

laced to latch it in, feeling

its feathery trembling, its fledgling

warmth, its faint anxieties

of protest, its heart stutter

against the palm of one hand, a fidget

in the pull of early light.

Possess it, restless, in

the finger cage of patience. Enfold

this promise with a blue sheen

on its neck, its wings a tremor

of small feathered bones

until morning widens like

a window, and God opens

your fingers and whispers, ‘Fly!’

~Luci Shaw

Wherever your weekend wanderings take you, may you be gentle on yourself and take a few moments to breathe deep. Hold your plans loose enough for others to join the circle. And when you find yourself wanting to hide from the noise, wait for an open window of peace. Stand in it with your eyes closed and linger awhile. If you  listen close, you can hear the whisper of redemption.

Happy Saturday Friends!

Filed Under: Saturday, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

When Blindness Helps You To See

August 13, 2012 by 87 Comments

Forty years ago, I stood next to my grandfather under a familiar white tile counter. The smell of onions and hamburger permeated my senses. I could almost feel the steamy bun between my fingers; taste the White Castle square before I pulled it from the miniature box bearing the blue pen drawing of the famous restaurant.

A year ago today, I pressed publish on this blog for the first time.

I crawled into a virtual canoe waiting beside the shore and took the paddle in my hands. I had no idea where I was going and could barely see above the water line. He told me not to worry; His voice would lead me to the destination.

Sometimes we know what life tastes like before we put the bite into our mouth. The writing life is often like paddling in the dark without a map, we just hope we’ll hit land before the mosquitos of self-doubt eat us alive.

For four years, I received a paycheck every two weeks for the articles I wrote, never certain about calling myself a writer. Until I tasted the words of strangers standing at my door holding the other paddle, dripping sweet on my welcome mat imprinted Redemptions Beauty.

And as I listened to my pastor explain the way God spoke to Ezekiel (Chapter 1) in a crazy vision using simile and metaphor yesterday; I saw how God used all the same messages for me over the past year as a blogger.

  • The unexplainable disappointments in life are an opportunity to sit in a place of transformational exile. Because it’s in the places of brokenness, God changes me for purpose. The same way he changed a priest into a prophet in the person of Ezekiel.
  • The act of writing is a lonely seat for this extrovert. But When I’m alone, God sees me. He never takes His eye off the one He gives life.
  •  Swept up in the eloquent words of others and their columns of accolades, I forget where I’m going and lose my way. And in those moments, He takes my paddle, digs deep into the waters of my soul, the truth leading me back on course. When I’m lost, God leads me.
  • Days of doubt come in the awareness of my small place in the crowded room of words shouting from the world. In my weakness, He strengthens me.
  •  And on those days of grief, looking back and wishing I’d done it all differently, he reminds me of the promise in the rainbow. When I fail God, he forgives me.

Today, as I write post #235, those 6,225 comments in a span of a year allow me to see above the water line. I’m grateful for you, standing among the crowd gathered on the shore of welcome.

Yesterday, I sat at the dinner table and watched my family open a box of chocolate cookies. When H put one in his mouth, he said it tasted like Sunday School. Sometimes we know what life tastes like before we take a bite and those moments give us courage to keep paddling the uncharted waters.

I hope you’ll climb in the boat with me for the next leg of the journey, there’s always an open seat.

Continuing to count gifts with Ann:

  • Celebrating a one year blogoversary.
  • For every single one of you who chose to follow Redemptions Beauty and join the journey.
  • For the encouragement of friends and family over the past year, helping me to breathe when self-doubt suffocates.
  • New blogging friends that help to navigate the unknowns.
  • Prose that inspires me to be better.
  • The faithfulness of God, the way He assures me along the way through dreams and visions and answered prayers.
  • For my grandparents, their belief in me before I believed in myself.

Linking with Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday, Playdates with God, Soli Deo Gloria, Just Write, Into the Beautiful.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
«Older Posts