All my days are in you, God.
This thought, my waking one on a free Friday morning.
The Bible says we’re worth more than sparrows and that God knows the number of hairs on our heads.
Still, I find myself wanting to keep it all under control, worry over what I need to do to become what I’m not yet.
A trio of black crows gathered out by the woodpile on Thursday.
I pointed them out to my granddaughter, acknowledging their being so close, not flying above us anymore.
We talk about the birds as we watch from the windows cold to the touch of our hands.
Foggy mornings cold to southern girls like us, cooped up and positioned for curiosity.
We had three days like that.
Then the sun came.
I woke this morning thinking about the sovereignty of God, of peace and of that being a relief.
About realizing that every moment holds peace if we accept that in every circumstance, every craziness or every seemingly unfair lull in meaningful activity, God is in it with us.
Be at peace.
What a relief to accept every single moment as God’s orchestration.
Either of needed rest or of unexpected yet longed for relief.
I’ve often found myself on the edge of a forlorn cliff deciding to sit and be at peace or to jump for relief, either running from my anxiety or demanding evidence of God knowing me, finding me worth knowing.
Truth is found over and over in the quiet place. His Spirit is relief.
Yesterday, I was escorted back home from the winding roads bordered by overgrown splendid trees, bright moss clinging to clay ditches and a wide sky with soft brushstrokes of clouds like meringue.
I noticed the birds.
I decided they were the ones from Tuesday.
A trio of hawks led me back to the main road and I held up my phone thinking this is for you from God.
Saying good, see you’re seeing me, Lisa.
I wanted to remember the threesome, the hawks swooping and swaying above me as I turned from my third grandma day back home to paint.
I am learning to live aware of all my moments.
To live peacefully, momentarily.
To remember the things God is saying about His will being found by me.
Be where you are.
Notice God there.
I saw that the grass my daughter picked from the pond had faded and told her I loved it more, the softer color.
She paused, maybe she saw it.
Peace as a centerpiece.
The will of God is found when we accept ourselves in the places He places us, changes us.
When we give fully to every calling, each one of value.
Not anxious over what is unfinished or not even begun yet.
Be where you are.
Life and peace, this is your life and this will be your finding peace.
Life and peace.
Singing “Deep and Wide” to an eight month old and watching her eyes, seeing her awareness of love, her noticing God.
Allowing this captivating exchange.
Standing in front of the easel, taking time to nourish this calling. Creating from a closeness with my Creator, not worried over whether someone will want it.
God’s work through your hands, think of it this way and be sweetly, simply amazed to be an artist.
Writing without seeking acceptance, writing your one and only story.
Writing for those God knows need your words. Don’t consider that small, never see that as a small calling.
Listening to my husband who loves lyrics like not passing this way again. He’s so subtle. Aging is a melody, it is best done together.
Be what God has shown me to be for my adult children, available and unrelenting in my belief and God’s in them.
There’s no need for analysis or expert advice.
Keep being their mama!
There’s a peace here, it’s a heart and mind decision, sacred in relationship.
Be who God knows you’re on the cusp of becoming and look for His assurance, not others’.
Be who you are.
Relieved in that acceptance and aligned with the one who made you.
See, you are loved.
“So here I am in the place of worship, eyes open, drinking in your strength and glory. In your generous love I am really living at last! My lips brim praises like fountains. I bless you every time I take a breath; My arms wave like banners of praise to you.”
Psalm 63:2-4 MSG
What a gift, I decided.
You, where you are.
Continue and believe.