What do you know of yourself because of 2019?
How can you be honest with you?
It is good to understand your ways, good to be truthful with yourself, good to right unintended wrongs.
I can be distant, lose connections, be a not so dependable friend.
I’ve got some notes to send, some catching up to do with my “colors” the women who supported me through the years.
In a way the year has felt like an onslaught, a flood, a deluge of concerns along with a swift flowing stream of so much love.
My word was “faithful” in 2019, meaning I was faithful to keep pursuing God’s way for me and knowing He was gonna be faithful in His care for me.
Just kept on going, kept being buoyed in the storms, safe and learning.
We went out to the country the day after Christmas. Because of the rain we expected the dam would have bursted and his parents’ pond might be empty.
But it wasn’t, we walked together towards the edge, following the sound of bubbling, the soft yet strong flood of overflow towards the wide tree planted creek.
So, no problem. We stood and then stayed a while. It was quiet, tucked away in a back corner of his parents’ land.
The dock seemed more brilliant in color, the sun and shade mixing the tint to an almost feminine green, green like the color of spring, green like soft velvet.
The pads on the surface some with long weedy tendrils were situated softly, not overgrown in a cluster.
Mostly single floating blooms.
The little bridge he built of old wood was bordered by stone he made from bags of cement.
But, it didn’t seem manmade. It looked as if the water’s edge was made of a beautiful white stone, marbled by harsh weather.
A lily pad top was resting, its softness molded into stone.
Must’ve been forced from the pond by the flood of water and somehow rather than drown in the rushing torrent, it was found pretty by me.
I knew the sight was meant to be mine to see. Other than just a bit of nature, there was something else for me.
I choose not so seriously a word every year. I don’t spend time in prayer or take time to decide. It’s always just happened to be found and I decided it made sense.
And then, it has.
In my Bible next to the verse I call “life”, I’ve penciled the last few years in.
“Endurance”, I’ve decided, my word for 2020.
Because I could settle with the good enough I know, my life is good, my family, my marriage, my children.
My art, my piecing together of words into sentences, stories.
All of the former would be wasted in my settling, if I didn’t endure to the calling forward.
My breakthrough in healing over past trauma, my getting better at waiting, not forcing, of being “still”. My grasp of God’s faithfulness and my ownership of it.
After all this time, I believe it’s not just for others, that He loves even me.
Endurance like the pond’s flower, not resisting the strong rush of water, being pliable, being carried to a safe place and resting there to be seen as strong and surrendered to whatever.
What still will come.
He will give rain for the seed with which you sow the ground, and bread, the produce of the ground which will be rich and plenteous. Isaiah 30:23
The seeds from my breakthrough were scattered, not wasted and there was a stagnant period that felt like a flailing of me and my value.
Still, I waited.
It was unpleasant and heartbreaking at times. Waiting felt like being nothing, doing nothing, like the end of possibility because of my age.
But, I painted still and I was frantic over every chance to be seen as important, either a writer or an artist.
I was pitiful at times, seeking pity from others too.
None of this stopped God from holding on to His hope for my purpose. I was persistent although struggling, what He saw was that I was “faithful”.
Now, days from a new decade, I’m seeing joy in all of it. Being chosen for exhibits, an idea making sense and being well received, a 2020 calendar, a different perspective on the “Colors” memoir manuscript.
A brave goal by the end of January, 30 pieces to launch a more serious art website. (?!?)
I was brave in 2019. I made choices I would have never made before, choices that are not the choices of a timid victim, choices that said “victim no more”, no longer controlled by fear.
2020 will be a year of remembrance, I’ll be buoyed farther from the safe and hidden shore and I’ll not expect unwavering tides or resting ease.
I’ll go where his faithfulness has brought me and I’ll trust with endurance the newly emerging artist and writer, woman of me.
I’ll endure to see more clearly what God made me to be.
Because of mercy, I’ll continue. LT
Now I rise from my “morning spot” to tackle to the waiting list in my workroom, newly cleaned, brushes washed, desks rearranged, laptop and manuscript newly placed.
A letter for my “colors”, finish two commissions, one of which has made me feel so ill-equipped and then begin the first of 30 new pieces.
I’ll begin today and then
the ability or strength to continue or last, especially despite fatigue, stress, or other adverse conditions; stamina