Pausing Our Buttons

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 3 Comments

We had some of those moments .

The ones the momma’s heart wants to pause.

Marinate in, soak in, stay in.

Pace teases.  Tempts.  Tortures.  Too fast.  Unfolding lives and life.  Growing up and out.

Speedy time moves,  is spent, evaporates, dissolves. Shore bird stick leggy fast.

It goes  mist steamy, up and out. It goes  kite tail spinning  heavenward, into the blue haze. In the  fog of living, friendly fire takes down the good with misfires.

It goes forward , need for pause or reverse or rewind  ignored. The mommas heart uses all available tools to record.

Rewinding the heart, rewinding the times of these lives. Rushing back when others are moving forward.  Slow to proceed.  Slow to catch up.  Resting on words , phrases and memories that need me to pencil draw them on the memory, the mind. They plead, please jot down.  They beg please take note of us.

A look, a glance, a phrase, not coming in the singular, but the plural.  The multiples, the paired, the groups like flocks of birds.  These moments and transactions of life.

Butterfly net swinging at dizzying speed, the mind sets out to capture the elusive.  Capture the beauty on wing like Monarch migrating through.  Trapping phrase, glance, tone.  Netting the moment.

Living in family, where lives cross paths like crowded landing strips , take offs and landings , schedules , plans, zipping and jet-speeding out and in.  One ill-timed flight pattern, then crash and flames.

Banter back and forth holds keys to life.  No one notices.  Only the mommas heart hears words like clues to future.  Clues to the heart plans, holy grail important. Ignored and almost left for dead.

Slowing down offers hope.  Preserving saves for later.

Resting in words of life saves some casualties.  Recording gives life support to memory.

I rock these lives, slow like baby after nursing for nap.  Slow and steady.  Smell memory. Hold life.

Swinging hard, swinging fast the net of the heart.  Crying out for a pause.  Heart hoping for freeze-frame.

Easter new bring fragile eggshell time.

Easter new bring time in the shadow of His sacrifice.

Easter new bring nets of love in the celebration of His Resurrected Life.

Easter new restore.

Easter new, we thank you for it all, the end all, the be all, the He gave all, looking long in His wonderful face and receiving it all, with gratitude and grace.

wynnegraceappears

Counting gifts with Ann, at A Holy Experience dot com

*Easter planning in the details with a friend

*Steps forward, steps of growth with a son

*Having a sweet sweet comment in my inbox which I am wrapping my heart around with re-reading

*Lab puppies on the maybe horizon

*The end of some sports, the beginning of others

*Sisters

*Holy, Holy, Holy Week

*Glimpsing heirloom eggs at The Fresh Market, going to seek them out

*New Neighbors

*New growth coming back from last year, not expected, offering surprise

*A positive email from the school of the one who’s trying harder

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Thank you for your response. ✨

Grace. Period.

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 4 Comments

May we look for His Grace in this day,  made and given in love. Thanking Him for it as we name it, offer it back. Offer it out.

Deep searching for ways to rest in His Love, be still in His embrace and restore in His Words.

Palms wave in anticipation, celebration , proclaim who He is by the way that we live, the way that we love,  the way that we serve.

Heart searching for real.  Heart bending toward authentic.  Heart softening to Him.

Peace in your day, in your homes,  your hearts as we prepare for the Holy, the triumphant, the donkey-rider, and humble King of Kings.

Oh Glorious Day.

Pausing in the calm of His touch, the wonder of His Love, the extravagance of His Grace.

wishing you His Grace,

wynnegraceappears

Message In A Bottle And Other Places

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 4 Comments

I love a sweet story.

Heck, I  just love story and stories. Stories allow us to peek into places and people and amazingly woven lives.  Lives lived out colored in hope.  Drawn in love.  Painted with wonder.

But I especially love tucked away stories that have a tender sweet hiddeness to them.

The ones that call you  to look a little deeper, seek a little longer, and go a little further with the eyes of your heart. To see the good, the miracle, the Grace.

Do you have one.  I’d love to hear a piece of it.  A part of it.  Or all of it.

Because stories encourage and stir us and point us toward hope.

The hope of the what’s to come.  The hope of God’s hand in our tomorrow and our today.

I love the creative ways of God.  And how he finds us ,speaks to us in and through our circumstances, through our families, and through the lives around us.

And just like a message in a bottle, sometimes they are tucked away a little bit.

Precious girl of mine was asked to walk on the beach.  And there buried in the sand was a message in a Coke bottle asking her to go to the prom.  A man after my own heart, tucking away a little bit.  Creating a stumble upon moment to pop this little milestone question.  Creating a moment of discovery and surprise.  And allowing a sweet moment of joy.  Simple sweet joy.

So I am heading out to look for the sweet simple joy today.

And I’m bending my ear to hear His stories of Grace.  Your stories of Grace.

And to look for buried messages of His love.  And the messages of His love which are out in plain view.

I asked for two groups to pray for me.  And I see God moving already in that area.

Thank you my friends.  Thank you my God.

Your messages wrapped in Love are Gift.

You offer us Hope.  Bring us Hope.  Show us Hope.  Deliver Hope. Your message, your word is clear, so clear.  Thank you for sending us Hope.  By the cross and through your Son.

May we see all that you have for us this day.

Wishing His Grace,

wynnegraceappears