Tag: perspective

Believing in Beautiful …

Published on by Elizabeth6 Comments

“Mom, what does God tell you about all this?”, Brooke asked as she scanned the shelves of the refrigerator. It looked as though Brooke was searching for something to eat, whenrefrigerator asking this fateful question, But, deep inside I knew she was seeking so much more.

When life takes a sudden shift, the new set of circumstances creates a myriad of unanswered questions. Brooke was searching for solid ground. She was attempting to create a feeling of security by collecting information and threading together the knowledge she would gain. Then, I knew, because it is human tendency, she would go on to mentally map out potential outcomes, to create scenarios that sounded good and to carve out a story she created.

Standing on the other side of the kitchen counter, I longed to paint the easiest picture for her; one where everything goes just right and everyone involved is immediately  excited. Her heart has been broken before, I find myself wanting to knee-jerk to protect her from any more.

However, I simply didn’t have the authority to do that. I didn’t have any facts to share. Nor, was there a road map to refer to. Yes, this next God appointed adventure guaranteed a tremendous amount of uncertainty.

Even though it wasn’t voiced, I think Brooke subconsciously knew this. She knew I couldn’t predict the future. Nor, how it would unfold. Hence, in her wisdom and quest for something solid she aimed her question towards my Savior and the counsel He might offer.

Immediately, I was grateful she knew I would seek God’s advice.  And, be interested in what He had to say. She acknowledged and honored the relationship I had with Him.

And, that is when I knew I was time to share what had settled in my heart. For days, I had rumbled with how God wanted me to respond to this new  unexpected blessing. Trust me, as beautiful and unbelievable as it is, it held the power to shake the trusted ties that united our weathered family.

Rounding the edge of the counter, I walked towards Brooke and stopped in front of the stove. By now, her perusal for food had ended and she turned toward me with her full attention.

I paused before I answered. Not because I didn’t have an answer. God had already given me His sense of response before Brooke ever inquired about our inner conversations. Instead, I took a second before responding so the air would settle and my words could be heard.

Surmising the fore coming series of events and the twisting and turning it would take to assimilate and comprehend this new chapter of life was impossible. But better than giving Brooke a sense of security by speculating on earthly events, I affirmed Who I would follow.  Therefore, laying a solid foundation for all things going forward.

“Brooke, God has made it very clear to me that all of this can stay very uncomplicated if I, we simply love. That is all there is too it, simply love.”, I explained.

We continued our conversation of Christ’s instructions. I chose my words carefully to get Brooke to accept the truth that God doesn’t want us to search for answers, to predict actions nor to find security in knowing the outcome before it happens.

Instead, He asks us to move forward in faith. To be OK with not knowing everything. And, to trust that as we make room for the Holy Spirit to move , everything falls into place.

Watching with spiritual eyes, I was acutely aware of the interchange unfolding and was totally consumed with sharing the wisdom …

Control does not guarantee comfort. Instead, it is the power of Jesus that brings peace!

Brooke seemed satisfied with my reply, that the message  left for us in 1 Corinthians 13:13:

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” would see us through.

With ease, she twisted toward the simmering pan and started to rhythmically stir.  Inches apart, we stood still, both feeling the security of God’s sovereignty. But, the goodness didn’t end there because I had more to share.

“Brooke, there is something else I sense.” I said, recapturing her attention. With the wooden spoon in her hand, she turned and readied herself to receive.

Feeding her soul, I shared “The spirit inside of me says, don’t flinch and have absolutely no fear!”  I expounded on God’s guidance wanting Brooke to understand that as we stepped into this next leg of life it was important for me, for her for all of us to cast off any thought that might prevent us from fully embracing the fullness of what was yet to be.

Holding back because something might go wrong was not going to work.

Brooke relaxed into the words, her shoulders inched down and the edges of her lips inched up. She understood that if we allowed love and the Spirit of Christ to set our course, that bumpy it might be.

But because of Jesus we could believe in beautiful!

 

Romans 8:28

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

KJV

 

Believe in beautiful

 

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Crazy for Communion

Published on by ElizabethLeave a comment

celebrate communion.png

“Brooke, guess what Dad and I get to do this morning!” I worked to gain my daughter’s interest on the way to church.

With her eyes cast downward and her thumbs tapping the cell phone screen, Brooke obliged me and answered without any attachment, “What Mom? ”

My excitement made me resilient to her hollow reply.  Instead of shutting down because of her aloofness, I pressed in determined to cue her curiosity.

Leaning forward, I reached my arm over the top of the front seat to where she was sitting.

Then, in an attempt to transmit my physical feeling of enthusiasm, I lightly pinched the tippy top of Brooke’s shoulder. I was hoping it felt more like a tickle touch, rather than being an uncomfortable sensation.

My strategy was successful! Brooke looked up and turned her head to the left, giving me her full attention. “We get to serve communion today!” I cheerfully revealed what I was looking forward to.

“Mom, you like doing that?” she quizzically asked.  “YEEESSSS, I love serving communion at church!”  I quickly responded.  I imagine my smile served as a second indication of my  positive emotion.

As Brooke squeezed her shoulders into her neck and narrowed her eyes at me, I could tell she was listening, but couldn’t anticipate what I might say. I quickly stepped into the opportunity to share and began by explaining that for me serving communion wasn’t a job, but rather it was a JOY!

“Mom, you are the only person I know that would get excited over serving communion.” Brooke stated, chalking my affirmative attitude towards sharing the Eucharist with others to my list of out-of-the-norm characteristics.

I chuckled, well aware that some of my actions and inner thoughts fall outside of the category of common.  However, my honesty vs. her opinion opened the door for discussion.

And, that is when I dove in deeper explaining to Brooke, in the words of Pastor Joseph Prince …

… Holy Communion is not a ritual to be observed, but a blessing to be received.  

“Brooke sharing a taste of The Holy Spirit, even if it is for a split second, even when  it is with a stranger is completely satisfying to me!”

I continued to retell of my experience sharing the Lord’s Supper with all those standing in line. “Brooke, men, women, married, single, young adults, adolescents and even two year old’s approach to share in the Lord’s Supper.  And, I get to be the person that pours a little bit of Jesus into them.” I went on to state my case.communion

Increasing the emphasis, I leaned forward and jutted my chin out. Then, I pinched my thumb and fore finger close to my nose so that Brooke would get the point I was trying to put into focus. “Understand, it is so much more than merely standing in front of folks and sharing wine with them.” I unwrapped the routine for her.

When I speak the words, “The blood of Christ shed for you.” to each person that passes by I get all giddy on the inside. I’m happy for the person that arises out of their seat and walks toward and accepts the blessings that are found when living  in close communion with Christ.” I outlined to Brooke, who much to my delight was now engaged in my story line.

“But more than that Brooke, I am bright eyed and bushy tailed and blessed beyond measure when given the opportunity to bestow the Good News of Jesus Christ onto another individual.” I shared the stirrings of my soul. “It is an incredible privilege to participate in another person’s walk with Christ. And, when they are receiving His blessings for themselves, it is an incredible party to be a part of !” I ended my passionate observation.

As David put our car in “park”, I began to accept that Brooke understood what I had to say. And, regardless of how strange I sounded, she was beginning to agree.

I  believe Holy Communion is the feast of the soul. a source of deepest joy for ourselves. So, if ever you are in the line where I get to serve, know that I am celebrating with you, for you and alongside you!!

Serve the LORD with joy. Come before him with a joyful shout!

Psalms 100:2

Dear Heavenly Father,

Thank you for the opportunity to serve others and to bring The Good News of your kingdom to those around us. For you have taught us by doing so, we in turn will be blessed. Thank you for allowing us to be in communion with you, for by doing so we are given the bread of life and washed clean of our sin through forgiveness. 

Amen

 

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Enlightened thru Isometrics

Published on by Elizabeth9 Comments

barre-edited

“Now plie and hold, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!”

“And, now pulse, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!”

“And, again, plie 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!”

“And, now pulse, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!”

Finally, my Barre instructor called out “And, down, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8!”

All at once, I released my death grip from the ballet bar and went into full rest mode!

Sweaty, with my hip sockets searing in pain and my shoulders stuck in place I  wondered how in the world I had been influenced to attend such a difficult exercise class.

Yes, like so many Americans at the start of this New Year, I have committed to increase my exercise. However, I didn’t foresee that my current level of fitness would falter under a new set of circumstances. Honestly, this “Total Body Barre” class kicked my butt!

So much that the next day, I opted out of group exercise and decided to simply take a walk.

Physically, I was working, walking at a brisk pace trying my best to burn calories.

However, it was my mental work that would matter the most.

long-walks-editedFor quite awhile, I have used long walks to have great conversations with God, and this day was no different. As my feet pounded the pavement, I prayed for others and I prayed for myself.

Two miles into my walk as my muscles started to cry out because of the previous day’s challenge, I noticed my attitude changing from holy to hurting.

As a result of my achiness, I shot off a snippy question to my Savior, “God, if you are in everything and about everything, I sure would like to know what you have to say about that Total Body Barre class that kicked my butt!”

I chuckled and reigned in my testy temper, “Elizabeth, you are such a goofball, God doesn’t have an opinion or time for that!”

Totally aware we can approach God with any situation, but as ridiculous as my questions was I certainly didn’t expect an answer.

However, a few steps later, The Holy Spirit, the gift that God gives us so that our hearts and minds know Jesus Christ laced its teachings with my thoughts.

“Elizabeth, there are lots of truths that can shine through that exercise class, ” the Holy Spirit stirred inside of me.

“Really?” I silently replied.

“Yes, think about this!” the Spirit insisted.

Elizabeth,

… when you are holding the plie, I want you to realize there is strength in staying still!

… when you feel unbalanced, you can reach out and take hold of the rod for stability!

… remember concentrating on your “core”, the “center of who you are” is the most                     crucial. After that is strengthened , the other parts will fall into place.

… remember keeping the pain in perspective is important, trusting the burn will be                    followed by  blessings.

The longer I walked, the more I learned! The wider my stride, the more I was reminded.

There were other motions, the Spirit mentioned.

But, none of them where more wonderful than the revelation concerning the warm down!

 

editted-ballerina

Heading back home, I thought about our final pose, first position, elbows up, arms out and then we ended with a sweeping bow. The movement was beautiful and for a nano-second I felt like an authentic ballerina.With one elegant move my body was relieved.

And, that is when the Spirit remind me, “Elizabeth, it is all about grace, My grace. In all things, I AM the good. I AM God and my grace will get you to, through and lead you to triumph over everything!

 

Once again, similar to the conclusion of that grueling Barre class, I ended my exercise with an ah-ha moment. However, this time is was my spirit that was refreshed as opposed to my body being rejuvenated.

Guys, God is the good, His grace covers us in all things and because of His gracefulness towards us we can know victory and triumph over anything!

And, he can and will show up in the strangest places and spaces to teach us.

Honestly, who knew I could be so enlightened through isometrics!

 

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Trauma … Take Two

Published on by Elizabeth6 Comments

cinema clipboard 1

“PTSD from Katrina kicking in, smells that you can never imagine. Every house has lost everything including at least 2 cars. Y’all pray for Louisiana!!!

When I saw this Facebook status posted alongside a photo of piled up debris, I knew I wasn’t the only one sliding backwards.

For so many affected by the recent floods in the Baton Rouge/Lafayette area, this current cataclysmic event is a flashback to the aftermath of some other natural disaster experienced or overwhelming sense of loss incurred. Whether it is the smell of sweltering garbage, the reality of all of your belongings stacked in a heap on the curb in front of your house, the loss of a loved one to the raging flood waters or possible even a beloved pet, the triggers all point to the same underlying issue.

TRAUMA – an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident or natural disaster. A traumatic event or situation creates psychological trauma when it overwhelms the individual’s ability to cope.

water rescueWould it be surprising to know that the above list didn’t do it for me? Rather, it was the process of saving the people and the water recovery that sent me reeling backwards. The scenes of boats racing over the water, men in life jackets intent on rescue and helicopters overhead that pulled me to a painful place. The scenes were so familiar and carried a past so stressful that it felt like a smoldering piece of metal piercing my heart every time I saw a picture.

Physical symptoms of distress began to manifest as tears trickled down my cheeks while out for a walk, I noticed myself upset and unsettled in the evenings when it was time to relax and I began waking up in the wee hours of the morning because my mind was racing with thoughts. The third time I confessed to David, “I feel like tears are filling my ears and a bulge of emotions is blocking my throat.” I knew I needed to stop with the activity and devote some time to myself.

 It was then, in the stillness of assessing what was messing with my head and in turn twisting my heart that a light was shown on what I was going through. I realized something happening in my current environment was causing me to look backwards, to revisit, to relive, to revive an extraordinarily painful time in my life.

ptss

Oh, and I was guilty of “going there” and walking in defeat for a few days. I withdrew from helping with relief efforts out of sheer self-protection. I sought refuge from the chaos by seeking calm environments. Honestly, being in the disarray of recovery mixed me up mentally. As well, reopened an emotional wound I would rather leave untouched. My empathy overflowed at the overwhelming sense of loss that so many are experiencing to the point I couldn’t concentrate. I know what it feels like to have your life turned upside down and scattered like a 10,000 piece puzzle.

Truly, being amidst the shambles was causing me to stumble.

(I wish I could say it isn’t so, that I’m stronger than that, that I can handle any situation that comes my way. Instead, I’m realizing I can’t. Nor, am I called, too. )

So, in an effort to find my way out of the slimy pit that I sunk into, I began to pay attention to myself and worked to mentally challenge the triggers. I made a concerted effort to turn off the memories that possessed the potential to wreck my well-being. As I used the tools in my trauma toolbox to help me cope, room was made in my mind to remember what served to save me during my personal season of trauma.

Yes, during that time God showed up in miraculous ways on numerous days, but it was His Word that carried me through the tedious times. When fear, anxiety, stress, and uncertainty arose (symptoms of PTSS)  I recited, chanted, sung, wrote, read and clung to God’s written word, knowing that through it He shares His wisdom with us, that He teaches us the perspective He wants us to adopt and that He states the promises we can trust in.

Sams Bible

The longer I sat, the more grateful I became for the time and foresight to regain my composure. As I rested, a sense of urgency swelled inside of me to reread the scriptures that were earmarked with a sticky note in Samantha’s Bible. The ones that I had repeated over and over, the ones I read then implemented in my own life, the ones I trusted in, the ones that encouraged me to take another step and the ones that promised a fruitful future after profound loss.

Ahhhh, rest, renewal and reassurance soothed my heart. Words that served to revive me before where breathing life into me again. Text that brought dominion and order over this world were doing it again. Passages that promised God’s presence and offered hope were pouring into my spirit again.

Yes, God’s Word had gotten me through a season of personal trauma. And, it was doing it again!

I invite you to journey with me over the next few weeks as I share ten scriptures that serve to sustain me. Along, with how, when, where and why they work for me. Whether it is past or present circumstances doesn’t make a difference. What is important to remember is God’s Word is living and actionable in all situations and it works!

Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”

Matthew 4:4

To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

John 8:31-32

Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.

Matthew 7:24

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What I’ve Been Reading

Published on by Elizabeth3 Comments

lizs-library

“Elizabeth, you need to read this book!” my friend exclaimed.

“Ok!” I replied, showing my openness to be inspired.

“The story is about a family from Bogalusa, LA, right here, in our own backyard,” my friend continued as she bobbled the book in front of my face. Her jerky movements were meant to get my attention and keep me engaged.

“Elizabeth, you know how this story came into print?” she asked pinching her voice to make a point. I rounded my lips to respond, but didn’t have enough time for a sound to form.

In a split second, I realized my friend had no intention of hearing from me. Instead, she was determined to move her end of the conversation forward and motivate me.

“Rebecca, the author of the book was sharing her story during a Bible Study. The people in attendance were so moved by what they heard they convinced her to write the story down. Elizabeth, God took it from there, leading Rebecca on a path to get it published,” she added.

“You know, the same thing is going to happen to you!” she punctuated her words with firmness.

I nodded my head to let her know I was listening. As well, I received her words of encouragement because I needed them. I am beginning to learn there is nothing easy about publishing a book. Besides the writing process that is required, there is a social media platform that must be built (YUCK!) and many rejection letters to be received before finding the right publisher, all of which have stretched me beyond myself.

However, anything that I am feeling in the department of discomfort pales in comparison to what Rebecca and her family were called to endure. As I read, The Devil in Pew Number Seven, I was reminded of the pain Christians are often time called to endure. Surely, the Nichols family suffered their fair share. Often times when reading, I thought more than what they could possibly handle. Fear, persecution and feeling hated played a part in their journey. They were constantly harassed, bombs were set off near their home and a broken glass window pane shattered on top of their newborn son.

As difficult as it was to read, God’s grace in the lives of these people was ever present. Rebecca is honest about the scars that are left on her family. However, she doesn’t park herself there and hang onto the pain that was inflicted on her nor, the family she loved.

Instead, she moves past the affliction and learns how to forgive. She isn’t shy about sharing the struggles. However her ending emphasis is one of deliverance. Ultimately, she shares a story of survival. Therefore, allowing her readers to tag along with her as she breaks the chains of trauma, allowing her to live a life of freedom.

If you can imagine, when I turned the last page, I found a gentle smile on my face.

Oh, yes I ached on the inside and my empathy was in over drive!

However, the message that I walked away with is Forgiveness is the Answer to Freedom. In the end, Rebecca’s faith allowed her to heal after living through a season of scarring. Then as the years past, she was led to a place of peace about what had happened.

On top of that, she took the time to write down her experience so that another person could glean from the wisdom she gained, be inspired by her perseverance and to illustrate an example that faith in Jesus Christ works.

Thank you Rebecca for showing me how it is done. You made yourself vulnerable and for that I appreciate you. You kept my eyes on the cross as you walked me through your crisis. As well, you showered me with hope, love and faith all the way to the end.

A few days later, during a quick phone call my precious yet pesky friend asked “And, how did you like the book?”  “It was unbelievable and reading it was good for so many reasons,” I started my response. Quickly sucking air through my nostrils, I readied myself to unleash all that I reaped by reading Rebecca’s book. Unlike our last conversation, this time I had plenty to say. “You were right,” I confirmed to my loving phone caller. “Reading her story inspires me! Seeing her story in printed form lets me know publishing can happen for little ole’ me living in Mandeville and her faith journey has nourished the hope inside of my heart.” I added.

Before we hung up, I ended our conversation with,”You know, it is my prayer, that one day I could touch as many lives as Rebecca has.”

Here’s to hoping Sam was Here … (my proposed book title) will be used in the same way.”

Be blessed as you read this book:

The Devil in Pew Number Seven

 

 

 

Dear Lord,

Guide me as I try to do the same good work as Rebecca. I know, just as she does, that you are present in all things and that what occurs in our lives will be worked for good. Help me as I work to record your presence in the middle of my mayhem. Possess my writing so that my words are interesting, easily understood and carry your message of healing. I ask that you open doors wide so that I can step through them. I ask that you lead me to the places, to the people  and to the publisher that are waiting for me to arrive, so that together  we can send forth your message of hope.

Amen

In the Middle of Ordinary

Published on by ElizabethLeave a comment

 

Lessons in Everyday Life – part two

Three days, three lessons. Each time it occurred, I was engaged in an average activity. Then in the middle of ordinary, the Holy Spirit stood up and had something to say.

Unlike like last time, reclined and relaxed in a beautiful beach setting, I was taught a lesson through everyday life while out on my bike.

Oh, it wasn’t a leisurely ride or one intended as exercise. Instead, riding the bikeit was all about the four legged furry animal that lives in our home. You see, I was riding my bike for the sole purpose of walking the dog. As unusual as it sounds; it’s absolutely necessary. You see, “Faith”, our family pet is a fast runner and has an abundance of energy.

Midway through our normal stunt, I began to perspire. Trying to ignore the heat, I looked down and peered at Faith’s sleek body and shiny black coat. With respect and resolve, I thought, “We aren’t going home, until I wear you out!” Around and around the neighborhood we went. I pedaled and she panted. The faster I went, the faster she ran.

On our third lap, we received a welcomed reprieve. “Hey Elizabeth! How are you today?” my neighbor calldogs-925701_960_720ed out as she walked into the street. As I slowed my pedal stroke, she approached the front tire. “I am well, how are you?” I asked, coming to a soft stop. Instantly, there were four of us squeezing in a visit on a muggy summer evening. My neighbor and I exchanged common pleasantries while watching her puppy, “Bandit” and my full grown mutt roll around.

“The girls have enjoyed watching Faith this summer,” she earnestly remarked. “I really appreciate their help while we are out of town,” I replied. “Elizabeth, she really is a great dog,” my neighbor added in gist.

My immediate response to her complement wasn’t expressed in words. Instead, all I could do was chuckle.

“Really?” I thought. I was sure she was totally unaware of the fact that Faith wiggles when she walks and runs sideways when she gets excited. Despite constant correction, she jumps on every person that walks through the door and has ripped through skin with her claws. On accident, thank goodness! As well, she eats her dinner at midnight and is traumatized when someone attempts to take her picture with a cell phone. Honestly, she hides under the bed for hours!

Regina smiled and nodded her head as I shared my laundry list of Faith’s downfalls. With the door opened to complain about our pets shortcomings, my friend added, “Yeah, I can relate. Bandit tinkles every time he gets excited. And, while out walking, sometimes, he just stops. He plops down and refuses to get up. We have to carry him home every time.”

I laughed, while I listened. After sharing faults as long as Santa’s scroll, Regina punctuated her statement, “It’s a wonder we still love them.”  “You know you are right! They make us crazy with all their antics.” I confirmed.

Jumping, barking, licking, growling and whining all of it can be annoying and difficult to deal with. People spend enormous amounts of time, effort and money trying to train their animals to behave.  Sometimes the pet’s behavior is corrected quickly.  Other times, the furry beast goes back to doggie school.

dog.jpg

 

Nonetheless, we love them!

 

 

 

As the perspiration beaded my brow, I pulled Faith’s leash a tad bit tighter, pushed back in my bicycle seat, and said my goodbyes. With each rotation of the wheels, Faith and I headed back home. However, I sensed the Spirit wasn’t ready to say, “So long …!”

“Elizabeth, there is more here to learn” stirred in my soul. Again, I felt like God wanted me to listen for His lesson. In a whisper of thoughts that wafted through my brain, I heard, “That’s exactly how I love you!”  “Despite your flaws and personality quirks, I love you!” the spirit of Jesus softly spoke. “In all your mess and madness, I will care for you!” delivered the spirit of God to the depths of my soul.

Certainly this isn’t new news. At the sweet age of two, I was singing Jesus Loves Me This I know, for the Bible tells us so…. By the age of 12, I could recite John 3:16, “For God so loved the world …” As an adult, I became aware of Augustine’s famous quote, “God loves each of us as if there were only one of us.”

However, at that very moment slouched in a bicycle seat, sticky from the moisture that hung in the air and wheeling my way back towards my house it was the mental picture that made the difference. “Lord, thank you for that.” I whispered while climbing the cement curb. “Lord, simple imagery reminded me of your unending love,” I continued to respond to the powerful truth as I rolled down the driveway. Parking my bike in jowls of my garage, I expressed my gratitude, “Lord, I’m so grateful you speak to me in ways I can understand.”

I’m learning  

~ When the Spirit of God mingles with the mundane one can expect to hear a magnetic and mighty message! 

Certainly, a bath was required before I climbed into bed. The residual of a steamy evening spent outside needed to be removed from my skin. As I refreshed myself in the warm water, I soaked my spirit in the love of Christ.  In all my mess-ups, He is going to love me. Through all my failed attempts, He is going to love me. Regardless, of my crazy characteristics and annoying habits, He is going to love me. And, when I finally get it right, He is going to love me.

Who would have thought, I could relearn so much while out on a walk.

~ In the middle of ordinary, it is a blessing to seek and see the Almighty! ~

 

This is the way God put it:

God told them, “I’ve never quit loving you and never will.
    Expect love, love, and more love!

Jeremiah 31:3 – The Message 

 

P.S. – stay tuned for Lessons in Everyday Life – part three

 

 

Lessons in Everyday Life

Published on by Elizabeth4 Comments

beach

The sun was shining and the waves were rolling in. David and I sat in lounge chairs, protected from the afternoon heat by a large blue and white striped canvas umbrella. Our seats were angled just a tad, allowing me a bird’s eye view of the family to my right.

Yes, we were at the beach and I was relaxed. The crew next to me, not so much, taking little ones to the beach can turn into a lot of work. I witnessed this as the parents lathered three little bodies with ample amounts of sunscreen. Then, the older boy called out, “Mom, can you help me find my goggles?” I looked on; her shoulders dropped as she pulled herself out of the folding beach chair slung close to the sand. Plodding through the shifting granules of the beach floor, she reach into their overstuffed straw bag and rifled under the brightly colored beach towels. Fumbling her fingers on the bottom of the rattan sack, relieved, she called across to her son, “I found them.” Minutes later her brood of hungry beach goers begged for a snack, along with asking for an ice cold bottle of water. Eventually, everyone was appeased enough to play.

Father and sons frolicked in the waves. Mom stole a few minutes of rest and read a book. Their third child, wearing a sunhat as big as a serving saucer, quietly played in the sand. Her little fingers sifted through the mixture of shiny and matte, tan colored crystals. She poked a plastic shovel into miniature sand dunes and flung what she scochild playing in the sand 2oped up over her soft rounded shoulder. Bowing over her personal playground, she was satisfied and oblivious to the wonder surrounding her. The majesty and motion of the ocean were just steps away. The
seagulls that decorated and danced in the sky were straight above her head. The rays of the sun that warmed the sand were on display behind her back. However, she was calm, content and carefree. Why would anyone want to interrupt such a peaceful scene? Especially one that involved a toddler.

With a peaceful heart, I watched the family drama unfold. The father’s aqua swimming trunks clung to his muscular thighs as he trotted away from the entertainment of the ocean. His quickened steps through the hot sand were aimed towards the youngest of his clan. Without warning and from behind, he tucked one strong hand under the youngster’s pudgy little armpit and slid his other muscular appendage under her diaper clad bottom. Lifting her into his safe embrace, he must have had good reason to disturb her.

Immediately, his daughter didn’t like it. She erupted into a fountain of tears that stung her pink cheeks and rapidly flashed her legs in an attempt to wrangle herself from his firm
dad and little girl in the wavesgrip. I believe, she liked what she was doing and saw no good reason to leave. The father held her tight and took a second to tenderly whisper a few words into her tiny ear. Whatever he said, didn’t work. Despite her two year old protest, he carried her towards the crystal blue waters of the nearby aquatic playground. He knew there were seashells to see, fish to find and the waves offered pure enjoyment, serving up splashes and sprays of cooling mist as they lapped up against the sandy shores. However, the unexpected interruption bringing her to a different place to play was not well received by the independent and absorbed young girl.

Initially, I chuckled at the unnecessary upheaval of an otherwise serene setting. As a mother watching from afar, my first thought was, “You should have just left her alone. She was perfectly happy just playing in the sand.”

Then, the Holy Spirit stood up and clamored for control, posing for battle against my average thoughts. This sacred part of me, which invites me to see the world through the eyes of Jesus began to write it’s version of what was going on across the ticker tape of thoughts passing through my brain. I sensed God was urging me to see below the surface. Within in seconds, I found myself asking,”What should I learn from this scene?”

Living in a new season of life, I have more space to tease out these kinds of questions. No longer do they rise inside of me, only to be swept away by the next item on my to-do list. With Sam in Heaven and Brooke away at college, the demands on my energy and attention have lessened. Therefore, allowing me space to ponder and soak up the wisdom that comes from everyday life. So, in my attuned frame of mind, I worked to reveal what the Holy Spirit told me I needed to see.

blog 1First, my eyes fixated on the father/daughter combo having fun in the sea. No longer did the little girl cry. Instead, she wore a smile that caused her cheekbones to touch the outside corners of her almond shaped eyes. Squeals of laughter and delight filled the heated air as her father tossed her up above the crests of the incoming waves. Her initial intimidation with the overwhelming body of water had given way to a relaxed posture while held in her father’s protective arms.

Sweetly, silently the lesson I was to learn eased into my soul.

“How many times have I acted like that little girl?” I asked myself.  Even as an adult, I have put on such a show.

Comfortable, contented, and complacent, I pitch a fit when God points me in a new direction. Not trusting when He moves me away from my easy-go-luck environment that surely, the place He is leading me will be overflowing with abundance. So many times, I have behaved like that youngest sibling, kicking and flailing when swept away from what’s familiar to try something new.

I had hours in the shadows of a glowing sunset to lean into what I was to learn. As the afternoon eased into a cooler evening, I gleaned the wisdom everyday life has to offer.

See, I believe the adoring dad wanted to share the wonders of the ocean with his cherished daughter. That is reason he returned to the beach and scooped her up, without asking. Actually, it was his job as a pareblog 4nt to always enhance her experience of living. He knew the added joy the ocean would bring. Despite her hesitation and unhappy reaction, he knew what lay ahead was better. In addition, he knew she would like, if she just gave it a chance. Gently he carried her to something more wonderful. When he decided to test her trust by dipping her toes in the bubbling waters below, he never let her go.

As so it is with our Heavenly Father, often He asks us to relinquish our comfort zone. So that, he can lead us to a richer environment. We kick and scream against change and fuss because we become worried about our future. Gently, he carries us as we struggle against what He knows is best, never letting us go as we come to peace with our new place.

Who knew a little girl playing in the sand could teach me so much?

Lord, 

Please forgive me when I choose to kick and scream with every new thing you ask me to do. Help me to rise into your arms willingly and embrace the constant wonder, joy, and excitement you offer. If I start feeling a little scared of what is to come, please cover me with your peace.

I give thanks for the Holy Spirit that stands ready to bring me closer to you. Everything you do, whether we like it or not, understand it or are confounded by it, welcome it or want to walk away from it is for our good. Help me to remember this, so I can step into the abundant living you have promised. 

I ask these things in the sweet name of Jesus.  Amen!

I’m Ready for the Red Ink

Published on by Elizabeth5 Comments

Almost a year to the date, I’m done. Today, I reread the last chapter for the final time before I ask others to slash and insert, rearrange and make suggestions to this project I have been working on. Relieved of their proofreading duties, David and Brooke eagerly agreed, ” Mom, the first draft is a done deal.”


“Elizabeth, you need to write a book” was the statement that got me started. Knowing I had a lot to say, but with no skill, nor knowledge about how to get started, I opened my word processor to a blank sheet and simply tapped the keyboard to type out “Chapter One.” Spilling my guts on the subsequent pages has kept me busy for the past twelve months. Dedicating a large portion of each workday has made this process seem like a part time job. Yet again, employment with no paycheck. I thank Jesus for an encouraging and supportive husband.

During some of my work weeks, thoughts and memories flowed freely filling the empty pages at a rapid rate. On other days, it was a chore to string the sentences together that conveyed my deepest sentiments. Wrangled with how to express the depths of emotions and the gravity of what I felt created frustration and pulsating urges to abandon my writing assignment. “David, I can’t do this. I don’t know the right words to use. This is going to take forever. Trying to write this book is a waste of time. I should just go back to work.” were excuses I raised to try and wiggle out of my responsibility.

I wasn’t prepared for the time, nor committment it would take. I had no idea what it would look like when it was done, nor how long it would take. The uncertainty of it all made it extremely difficult to remain dedicated. When I thought to far ahead, about what was left to accomplish, I welcomed anxiety into my workplace. Thankfully, during the first few months I honed another method of attack. Simply put, I pressed in and wrote the next word, organized the next paragraph, pulled together the next message and brought each chapter to a close.

As I reviewed the scenes in my life and recaptured what I remembered, along with what I thought memorable, I often wondered, “Who is going to be interested in what I have to say? About what happened to me?” When doubt about what I was doing crept from the corners of my desk, Martina McBride’s lyrics from “Anyway” would inspire me to type away ….

You can pour your soul out singing
A song you believe in
That tomorrow they’ll forget you ever sang
Sing it anyway
Yeah, sing it anyway
I sing, I dream, I love
Anyway

These words resonated with me and with what I was attempting. Martina’s musical message chased away my skepticism and thwarted my attempts to jump ship. Instead, I placed myself in her lyrical story and belted out my own battlesong, ” Whether anybody ever reads it, write it anyway.” Applying the freeing concept helped me focus and remain at my writing station. Who knows what the final outcome will be? Will a publisher deem my story worthy to print? Or, will what I have written only sit on my bookshelf? I don’t know the answer to that. All I know to do is try, trust and take the next step.

People can be more creative and productive when they take the space...: It is a good thing I wasn’t aware of the hours of isolation that would be required to complete this task. Needless to say, I may have never started. Early on, I discovered it was essential to detach myself from the hustle and bustle of everyday life to get this job done. Too many distractions, invitations and temptations came my way when I was socially engaged with the world. In order to write about a personal experience, you have to research yourself. The only way I could hear and remain connected to that inward reflection was to withdraw to my inner self. I came to undestand that (somewhat) cutting myself off from society was the answer, but with that came stretchs of silence. When loneliness set in, I pondered Picasso’s words of wisdom and went back to work.

Now, that my heart and soul is poured out on a stack of papers, I am gearing up for the next step in this process. Experienced authors have told me it is more grueling than writing the book. “Well, a Book Proposal, a Query letter, and a public platform will need to be developed before you can even think about approaching a publisher.” they forewarn. Continuing with their intimidating tirade, they suggest “Oh you might need to hire an agent and its best to have an editor read your work.” Adding to the upcoming angst, I don’t know if what I have written even makes sense. A year later, I  can’t remember what I wrote!

As they speak of these roadblocks and I entertain judgement by others, my attitude tends to take a tumble, which makes me to want to stop in my tracks and throw in the towel. “I don’t have to be an author. I don’t need this to be a published book.” I cry out to try and careen myself off course. “Oh no, Elizabeth. Go get started. This is simply the next step.” David will counter and steer me on course again. I know he is right. Marching back to my office, I cringe and push against the work that is ahead.

Reseated in my desk chair and having blown off some steam, I try to remember what first inspired me to get started. Sure, there were encouraging comments from people that attached worth to what I had experienced and what I had to say. Their observations and opinions opened my heart up and allowed God to reveal to me that my mess could become my message. That is good and just motivation and served to carry the writing process to completion. However, not enough to see me through this next step. I am weary and know I need a stronger nudge to kick start this second phase. So, I look to the scriptures for purpose and I have found what I am searching for:

Return to thine own house, and shew how great things God hath done unto thee. And he went his way, and published throughout the whole city how great things Jesus had done unto him.

Luke 8:39

But Jesus said, “No, go home to your family, and tell them everything the Lord has done for you and how merciful he has been.” So the man started off to visit the Ten Towns of that region and began to proclaim the great things Jesus had done for him; and everyone was amazed at what he told them.

Mark 5:19-20

But in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect,

Daniel 4:2

It is when I fix my focus on the cross that life begins to make sense. After breathing in the righteous reason for this project, I am reminded of my original objective-to simply record my personal journey from ache to alleluia. Glorifying God during my walk to restoration was effortless, as he was my trusted companion and mighty miracle worker along the way. His continued presence allows me to reflect and reopen a painful season in my life. In the hopes that intimately sharing my experience with Him will show others a holy way of recovery. As well, bring light and life to all the days ahead.

Leaning into this humbled reason for writing, I am strengthened to take the next step. If allowing others to edit what I have written, writing a lengthy detailed report aimed at captivating a publisher and highlighting the unique aspects of my story and networking with the public to build an author’s persona are what is required in today’s world to spread that message, then for the sake of Christ, I’m going to give it my best shot.

Alas, I have come accustomed to sitting in the quiet, allowing for long patches of stillness. Making it easier to hear the Holy Spirit and search through my own thoughts. Engaging in an attempt to sell by literary work and myself (publishers expect one to have a “following”, basically a built in audience prior to publishing their work!!!!! Lord you will need to lead the way on this one!!!!! ) are not activities that I look forward to. They are extremely out of my comfort zone. However, I’m going to continue to be led by the Lord, following the inspiration that first got me started and step out on that limber limb because I know that’s where the fruit is.

This next step is going to be a stretch for someone like me. As I reach forward inching away from what feels safe, I remind myself who has brought me to this point. Surely, He will accompany me the rest of the way.

14 Chapters, 67,573 words later, I am reinspired and ready for the red ink!

Another Attempt

Published on by Elizabeth6 Comments

There isn’t an inkling inside of me to be an author. Maybe, that’s why this is so hard to start and stick with. Prior to the last four years of my life, I haven’t ever felt a soulful satisfaction to put pen to paper and share what’s inside of me, exposing events that have occured, revealing reactions to certain situations and sharing the stirrings of my heart. In fact, those words, expose, reveal and share cause a portion of myself to shut down. Upon hearing them, my first instinct is the fight or flight syndrome. Not being much of a fighter, the flight mode usually ensures an escape route to a secure setting. Causing me to shy away from any venue that would introduce vulnerability. (Presently, I’m working on myself to adjust this reaction. Refusing to run away. Instead, choosing to stand not in my own strength, but relying on His instead.)

But, after 25 years of adult self-diagnosis, I’m learning part of this is simply how I was created. My personality traits were recently validated when I read the book, Quiet: The Quiet by Susan CainPower of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking by, Susan Cain. Can you believe that title tantalized my thinking? Oh, but it did! (I’ve always known I was a wallflower, I’m learning to like it!) I saw myself in statements like, “They are the ones that prefer listening to speaking; who innovate and create but dislike self-promotion. Who favor working on their own over working in teams.” Again, I could relate to thoughts like, “Innies, they are the ones who find joy in doing their own thing, prefer a book rather than joining a party or think monastic silence is bliss. There is no longer any need to feel quilty or like we are oddballs because of our preferences.” While reading, I nodded in agreement with what was written and found kindred companionship with the people descibed on the pages. “I wasn’t alone.” “There are others like me.” These were freeing thoughts that allowed me to better understand myself.

Engaging in the next episode, does not conjure up feelings of comfort. I know it will prevent me from staying in those safe spots. What it will entail and the possible outcome creates a scenario of uncetainity, uneasiness and the unkown. Feelings of anxiety, fear and possible failure stare me down like a viper ready to strike with its paralytic poison. Preventing me from pressing in, to finish what is before me.

Honestly, the grueling work has been done, suffering the loss of Samantha, grinding through the grief, healing because of a Holy helping hand and eventually reincorporation into the earthly world. What is left is really no big deal!!!! All that needs to be done is weave it all together to tell a story and then simply write it down.

It sounds so simple. But, I struggle to start and stay focused. The deep dive into the unknown creates a barbed wire barrier. I allow the feeling, that I don’t know what I’m doing, and that I’m being unproductive torment me. Causing me to start then stop.  I have tried before and been derailed by my own demons. Run right off course, when I rely on myself.

In addition, I know there will be details to the drama that I haven’t dealth with yet. Questions that I have avoided because I can exist without uncovering the answers. Recordings I haven’t listened to. Afraid of what I will hear. The biting words of a little girl missing echoed throughtout the media.  The how and when certain things were discovered and in what condition they were in. Situations such as these are easily ignored because of the painful prodding into the reality of it all. Nonetheless, facts that need to be addressed in order to set the stage. They may not all get included but, I feel like I needed to know what I’m writing about. As I begin to delve deepeer into the parts that I haven’t picked apart, I feel the bandage over my broken heart taughten to deflect these painfullyl pointed truths. 

Today, I realize, it will be necessary for me to look beyond myself, past the borders of what is safe and secure. Casting my vision over the feelings of inadequacy, to right where He is. Completely expecting to be equipped to handle the erruption of what has been submerged. Not pushing myself. In contrast, allowing myself to be led “to” and “through” it all.

After being isolated for so long, I thought reengaging with the world was a good thing. Partaking in two part time jobs, volunteering in different venues, being a wife, mother, aunt and sister, neighbor and friend all had benefits. They all kept me busy. Hours well spent but, some of what I was doing was simply a distraction. Not that it didn’t serve its purpose. Reconnecting with society did show me healing had occurred and that I could be a shell of my former self. But, in reality what had happened was I had become engrossed in the details of everyday life; living but not being led. Surrounding myself with tasks and todo’s that interfered with sitting still and spending time with my Savior.

I have know for quite a while, what was necessary. That is, relinquishing some of my responsibilities in order to promote relaxation within. Severing the sense of security that is a byproduct of compartmentalized committments. It felt good to rely on the rhythm of each day; wake up, work, return home, rest and repeat. Oh and by the way, I was earning an income. After completing employment in the nonpaid position of “stay at home mom” for 19 years, it felt good to get a paycheck printed with my name on it. For any woman that can relate, who walked away from a career to concentrate on raising her children, returning to the workforce has the potential to be empowering to the point of intoxication.

Certainly, I had carved out a life that hindered the Holy Spirit. Working at an upscale boutique, I allowed myself to be infatuated with the sacred stitches of designer duds. Don’t get me wrong, the clothes themselves weren’t the bad things. Nor, my place of employment. I worked alongside spiritual soulmates and assisted incredible women. Instead, what went wrong was what crept into my conscience. I allowed myself, even if just slightly, to be absorbed by my surroundings. Everything was beautiful and I allowed it to grab my attention. At the time, I didn’t mind it !!! As a matter of fact, I was enjoying the earthly entanglements.

Not having the ability to silence the Holy Spirit; I could only stuff down so much. I knew what I was doing was in essence disobedient. God no more wanted me wrapped up in the world. Picking and choosing for myself rather than placing myself in a position of purpose was not pleasing to Him. My attention to Him and the telling of His story had been usurped by the attraction of what the world had to offer. The hours of complete quiet that promoted a profound connection had disappeared into the daily grind.

My immediate family witnessed this new pattern of self protection. All along, in disagreement with this way of life. David, constantly inquiring, “Elizabeth, when is something going to give? Nearest and dearest to my heart, they were the ones that prodded and poked me to return to my previous work. Able to see when I am in my element, better than myself. Their prickly encouragement is unwavering and unending. I’m grateful they haven’t become agitated to the point of giving up on me when I haven’t poured myself out in the right places.

No longer working two part time jobs, able to make my own schedule and carve out hours of quiet uninterrupted hours has allowed the Spirit to swell back into my soul, allowed my eyes to see the everlasting and my heart to ponder what is important. Afraid of being lonely, kept me connected. Walking away wasn’t easy but, it was necessary. Lessening my life load has increased the Almighty activity within. It is a good thing. Exactly, where I need to be.

So, I pick up where I left off. With no condemnation for being careened off course. Once again, it is time to attempt to gather the scattered half written stories and complete the scenarios. Fill in, with the chapters that need to be written and compile all of it into an organzied presentation of papers.

Embracing, that I don’t know what the end result will look like. Strangling the thoughts of anxiety that a single soul may never care to read what I have written and get back to the real work of my life.

Praying every step of the way that with each word written, I would hear His voice.

Pleading, that He strengthen my spirit so that nothing has the power to deter nor distract me.

Inspiring me, with ways to retell His story to touch others.

Finding peace, that he will do with the final project what He pleases.  

Instilling, that no energy is required of me to figure out the future concerning, all of that….

Assuring me, all I need to do is write.

Believing, when He calls it complete and the bound book is placed into the hands of an open heart it will serve to strengthen someone’s Faith.

My Mind is Made Up

Published on by Elizabeth1 Comment
Just before the havoc of the holidays began, my thoughts were that I might return to school and earn another degree. One that would enable me to use my unfortunate experience in a more professional way. I didn’t know if engaging in coursework was necessary nor, which identifying initials behind my name would render me certified to counsel others. (MSW, LPC, SW, CPL just to site a few) Trying to iron all of this out, I decided to consult with several counselors in the community. I choose three individuals that I thought might influence and inform my decision. Seeking them out, I scheduled appointments with each.  My first meeting took place in a coffee shop. A therapist by trade but, also a life long friend, Melanie told me what it took to get where she was today. Herself having a story to share. At times, a painful journey that led her to pursue a profession where her experiences of suffering could support someone else.
 

At the time, all I could do was talk in general terms. Carrying my own set of experiences, I was still soul searching, for the best ways to reach and teach grief-stricken souls. Yearning to know the specifics and continuing to open myself up to a preordained path, my questions centered on varying types of degrees and what each would allow me to execute. How many school years would it take and would it be worth the money and time invested. Where would I work and would I need my own office space. By the time I capped my caffeine consumption, I had received the information sought about schooling. Our discussion had been full of details but, at the end, no decision had been made. Melanie’s last statement to me was, “It will be interesting to see where you end up.” Her words were encouraging; not ones meant to mix me up. However, they brought no defining destiny. When we parted, I sensed that returning to school to earn a professional degree was secondary to something the Spirit was insisting that I do.

Even with this inkling, I sought out the second person to meet. I was familiar with who she was, but we hadn’t met face to face. Still a stranger, in a sense. I knew she was an activist in our community, supporting many lost souls and leading them to the Living God.  Somewhere along the way, I had been exposed to her story. Looking at her life now, I knew she was more than just surviving. Instead, fueled by her own testament, she spent her days steering the souls of unwed mothers, counseling those seeking relief from suffering and reaching her healing hands into the community. Watching from a distance, I saw a woman of action and involvement.

I was able to introduce myself early one morning when she allowed me to sneak in after a meeting with her staff. Shaking hands was the start but, what followed was the real beginning.  I explained the information I sought; What did her previous path look like? Did she attend school to certify herself? How did she organize her experience so others could tap into her testimony?. Her schedule is demanding so, we didn’t have time to cover all the specifics. Nonetheless, I gleaned what I needed to know to take the next step.

Unbeknownst to me, she was in attendance at The Woman of Hope Conference where I shared “Samantha’s Story” for the first time. Abbey attested to the power and providence of my experience. Proclaiming, that returning to an educational institution was not what I needed to do. Instead, she affirmed that I had passed enough tests, ones harder, requiring more endurance, discipline and commitment than anything that could be achieved on a piece of paper. Testifying, that Jesus is the Great Physician, The Great Counselor and that is what people needed to know. Once again, inserting her helping hands into the lives of learners, we scheduled a time to continue our conversation. Stating, we were Sisters in Christ and helping me was the least she could do.

Three weeks later, every obstacle imaginable surfaced and tried to interfere with our time to talk. Feeling flustered, I pressed in and conquered the attempts to dissuade me from arriving on time. Walking into the room, I knew it would be inappropriate to cave into all that had gone wrong while getting there. Instead, a peace prevailed and I calmly expressed my gratitude for grace.  I was greeted with a warm welcome, invited to sit down and settle in. We opened in prayer. My sense of hearing on high alert, enabling me to receive the wisdom in the room. Rambling, I retold how my head and heart were beating up against each other as I sought the path in finding the purpose in my pain.

All the while, Abbey held the Bible in her hands, counseling me with the written Word. She uncovered within me a doubt concerning the worthiness of sharing my story, a fear of what others would think of me when I exposed my experience and the possibility that others might question the authenticity of what I said. Maybe even more than that, challenge me, cornering me into an uncomfortable confrontation because of the my lack of biblical knowledge. The woman sitting before me addressed all of my issues with targeted truth. She lead me to scripture each time that identified my emerging emotions and in turn, clear instructions on how we are to overcome them. Clearing up any confusion about whether I was to stand in fear or follow in faith. She released the feeling of confinement when insisting, I wasn’t responsible for the outcome. That some folks would hear and others wouldn’t. But, that wasn’t up to me.

With that established, our conversation turned to ways to give identity to JustDoToday.org. Squeezed amongst all that she said, I was comforted by her comment, “Elizabeth, you remind me of myself 10 years ago. Continue to sit before the Father and He will lead you.” All of the sudden, I knew what to do. Stopping her mid-sentence, I confessed our conversation could end because I had just received my next set of instructions. “Write a letter!”, is what I heard. Abby raised and lowered her chin in agreement. Encouraging me to tackle the next task. Prayer was how we parted but, it wasn’t without homework on my part. In order for the world to recognize JustDoToday.org, a tag line, a logo and possibly a non-profit would be required. The third step is a tough one. As of yet, I am unable to wrap my brain around the idea.

Immediately, I went to work on the things that seemed doable, creating a combination of words and perusing through appropriate images. While working late into the night, everything came together. Quickly, JustDoToday.org had a purpose and a picture.

IMG_5214Next step, write the letter. Sitting down and sifting through what I wanted it to say, I outlined my main thoughts. Working with a friend, we arranged the words, organized the paragraphs and penned a page size letter explaining why and what I am being led to do. Putting all the pieces together, I was ready to run my first copies. Walking out of Office Depot, I knew I was about to make myself vulnerable to the world.

Since then, I have mailed out 40 letters to local and out of state pastors, varying grief groups and individuals whom I know play a part in the spiritual development of others.   Each day a new group is placed on my heart, I respond by connecting with them so I can share “Samantha’s Story.” Today, it is time to share the letter with those of you online. Please read it and if you know of any gathering, group, conference, retreat, etc. whose lives would be sustained and whose faith would be strengthened by listening to “Samantha’s Story”, please contact me.

JustDoToday.org Outreach Letter

P.S. – I believe this blog was for my benefit. Like the old days of http://www.my_walk_with_thee.blogspot.com, there are times when I just need to write. When I do, the golden thread that is weaved throughout the ordinary events in my life, stands out and shines.  But, boy, do I have something to share in my next post!

By the way, I met with the third person. Lately, the licks of life led me back to my personal therapist, giving me a good reason to call and crawl back for her wise counsel. She was one of the three but, I fought the fact that I needed help again. Visiting with her allows me a safe place of honesty and time to hear advice from an objective resource. Knowing she is a committed Christian makes it easy for me to open up and express all that I hold within. I shared my doubts, my fears and my desires. The same story as I did before. I received identical reinforcement, “Write the letter. Mail it out. Wait and see what happens.”

******If you can believe it, as I connect with the keyboard, to recognize the work of The Almighty, I just received my second invitation to share “Samantha’s Story.” On January 20th, I will participate in a grief group at a local Hospice Care. I am excited about it, if you can imagine that. I know, it doesn’t make sense. How can sharing in a grief group, bring peace and joy? Only, when walking in the will of the Lord would such a thing occur!!!! ********

Oh, there are many scriptures resounding within me!!!!

The LORD says, “At that time young women will dance and be glad. Young men and old men will rejoice. I will turn their grief into gladness. I will give them comfort and joy in place of their sorrow.

Jeremiah 31:13

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 5 For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.

2 Corinthians 1:3-5 

“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

Isaiah 55:9

What an incredible experience to be a part of The Kingdom!