Tag: Gifts

We Need A Play Date Pronto

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 8 Comments

How did He know?  How does He always know.  The longing of our hearts.  The intricate wish lists written faint with the flesh tone Crayolas of fear, on the sketch pad of our innermost parts.

Encouragement comes like stumbled upon treasure at fragile times of longing.

When the heart is downcast a bit, and circumstances feel dull and bland like gray day dreary, the one who lifts us up, sends special people to the threshold of our lives to do the heavy lifting.

An encourager with a word or a phrase like cool aloe gel on burning skin, soothing the soul.  Cooling damaged skin.  Healing hurt from the day out under the day sky of life.

Yesterday I sat in a place of need.  Those small stinging word nettles penetrated the heart.  The ache of the empty sat for awhile.

Need sat pregnant.  Waiting.  Expectant. Unspoken desire for the call of a friend. For fellowship.  Knowing that I too could be the one to ask.  But sometimes we want to be extended too.  After tender bruising we want to be nursed back to health by sweet restorative Love.

And  Grace walked in early and as I press in to my firsts this morning of this new day and week a friend sends a text  that spells out my name, including my Maiden, and then I miss your face with an adjective injected about how she sees my face, one any woman would blush over, and then “We need a play date Pronto. xoxo.”

Called by name.  Called out to do life together.  An invitation to sit across a table and just be. Speaking right into the middle of my hollow need.

We sit spell-bound by a nature-show about a tribe of people who eek out an existence in  icey Antarctic region. Everyday a challenge to hunt and gather enough for survival.

We hang on every word, eyes fixed on the screen as a nylon rope is used by a few friends to tether a man to themselves.  Then they lower him over the side, with care. A cliff side of rock is his hunting ground for gathering eggs.  Nutrient rich eggs to mix up the diet of his people. And the voice adds as he gathers beautiful blue eggs from the hiding places of the rock, that many have died gathering here.  But for fifty eggs for his people, he trusts the men at the top and goes down for the needs of his people.

A beautiful picture of trust and going the distance for others.

Sacrifice for others.  Encouragement for others.  Seeking out the need of others.

In the middle of the messy and the Plan B life, in the midst of the tyranny of the urgent and in gray ordinary days we can jump into the circle of life and grab on and be.

Be the friend.  Be the consoler.  Be the friendly neighbor. Be the phone call of encouragement.

I hear him.  He tells a story that speaks to my heart in his sermon about showing, not telling.  Reaches into my insides and carves out places to implant Truth. And I too can show more and tell less.

And I  can show story here on these back lit screens that we share.  Telling falls flat and showing jumps off.  You don’t come here for mediocre and substandard telling. You come for substance and sink your teeth into meat.  Your heart doesn’t long for the dull and the gray but for life giving and life proclaiming.

So as I grow up and grow more, I long to show more of my story and His story through words.  You bless me and you are patient.

I can show you my gratitude by this.  Today I cancelled an appointment with the doctor freeing up time.  I carry a notecard today that says wynnegraceappears reader.  And today I pray for you.  I don’t know your need, but this card represents you and you have my prayers.

We need a play date pronto.  We need fellowship and friendship pronto, injected into the middle of the ordinary.  Linking hearts and lives and doing life together, not alone.  Wired for community, wired for fellowship.

So I can stop in between helping a child who is locked out of her car and helping a child who needs help with a tuxedo rental and helping a child navigate through after college graduation life and jump into community.

Shall we. Shall we circle up and around.  Shall we gather at the river and drink up life together, not alone.  Encourage each other by actions AND words.

Ecclesiastes 4:12 — By yourself you are unprotected. With a friend you can face the worst. Can you round up a third? A three stranded rope isn’t easily snapped.

And I am calling that friend Pronto and saying “You pick the time and the place and I will be there.”

Because I  am not going over the side of the cliff alone.  I need a strong nylon rope and strong friends.  Ones whom I can trust to love hard and hold fast.  To white knuckle that rope while I scale down the sides of this messy and crazy wonderful life.

And I will take my notecard with me today and pray for you. Enjoy your play date with your life and your day.  Make it fun.  Give Grace.  Find someone to Encourage.  You are needed by someone.

Counting gifts with Ann at A Holy  Experience dot com. Boldly thanking the Gift Giver for each one.

* Encouragers after church yesterday, several who spoke kind nuggets into my heart

*Time to talk with man-child about his after college plans and following after a potential offer of career not job with a company that is known for its love of our Lord

*spring cleaning my porch and enjoying time there alone to read and be windswept

*a text of hope from one far off who struggles

*sweet new neighbors who are answered prayer

*two going to prom on Saturday and listening to plans for community and fellowship in their world

*words softly spoken to me over the bread and wine of encouragement at the altar rail so kind so needed

Let’s Go On A Scavenger Hunt For Joy

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 6 Comments

Written in the front pages of an old journal are the words “We can’t remember what we don’t record.

My friends, I say

 My Heart does not remember what I do not record.

Go write down on the pages of your heart the good in this day.

Jot down joy and marinate in the moments of this single day.

Seek and find particles, pieces, and chunks to hold . Cup them in those fingers with care.

Hold a thought, a sentence, a paragraph for more than a moment.  Scribble it on paper or on heart pages.

Be the diligent record keeper of this one life.Take good notes along the way.

Let’s go on a scavenger hunt for joy.

Paint the beautiful.  Write the wonderful. Click the lense with a curious eye. Capture the amazing grace.

Press a flower, preserve the worth preserving in a can, a jar, a journal.

Then be joy, and share joy with others in this one day.

And my friends I say deep down thank yous for being Gift and being here.

Make Art from and in your day.

And to Him, The Artist and The Creator God be all the Glory.

And all God’s people say amen, and amen.

Do You See The Gifts – Nestled and Tucked Away

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ Leave a comment

Nestled – to settle snugly and comfortably, to lie in a sheltered position, to draw or press close, lie or be situated in a half-hidden or obscured position.”
Nestle – To lie or be located in a sheltered spot, to be naturally or pleastantly situated. To house in or as if in a nest.

Do I see them there, the nestled gifts in my life?

Do I count and name and mark as packages of life and love from Him all those tucked away goodnesses?

Do I see myself in that nest of His creation, the secure, safe position of closesness to Him.  The place of resting close to Him.  Of being pleasantly housed in the safety and security of His love and shelter.

Will Trust walk along side and adjust my lense to see my beautifully gifted circumstances, no matter what they are and what they bring.

If I invite him.

Will Trust re-align my heart so that all is always viewed  through the lense of His Grace, pointing and leading toward His plan and His will.  Will Trust do that for me if I soften and release and bend to that place of surrender?

Will I permit my heart and my life to rest in His loving grip? And house my life, my childrens lives in the nest of His provision.

I can see them there, all of them,  most of them right under the bridge of my nose, lent to me, given to me and placed on the silver platter that is His provision.

They are wrapped in laughter, surrendered to sleep, marching defiantly through the door.

They are in need of love and forgiveness and patience.

They are in need of a clean shirt, pants pressed, longing to be clothed in properly fitting and styled garments.  Longing to be clothed in love, mercy, grace and forebearance.

They are belly-laughers, and belly-achers.  They are puffed with pride and laid low by humility.  Hurt and beaten-up.  Loved up and weary.  They are fatigued with fighting and striving.

And they are emptied out and proud, turning back to the heart of Him.

They are seeking and struggling, yearning and longing.  These gifts are hungry and battle-scared.

And like bird in nest, they squawk squeak, cry out beak open for nurishment, sustenance from sustainer- God, provider-God.  Gift-giver-God.

They are dressed in uniform, ready to run the race.  To wear the victory, wear the defeat.  Shed the tear, celebrate the victory with the cries of happy warrior.  Arms flailing, spinning in joy of moment of celebration and song.

And I can hear them.  Gifts all loud and happy.  Loud and mad.  Loud and pressing in with defining self, and growing up self, and finding self.  I hear the flesh asserting, demanding, crying out in hungry need.  For this and for that and for those things.

And I sense like soft, gentle cheek breezes, gifts under nose and gifts covered up.

Lost under shuffle of life and hurry.  Gifts under confetti sky of lunch with friends while fruit trees drop spent blossoms on noses like He  announces His presence, as if we doubted He was there.  Invitation goes out in Grace, Lord be in our conversation.  Lord be in our moment of fellowship.  He came, as He does.

Gift-giver.  Lover of respite.  Lover of community and friendship and linked hearts.

And I see them, these beautifully wrapped gifts,  long like unending jet stream streaks in blue sky, sky streamers, heaven ribboning. Long, conversations. Long, life ponderings and musings. With these soul sisters, red lipped momma friends. Deep down gut laughs.  Deep un-masking, authentic presentation of life journeys. Safely harbored, safely moored in moments of linked momma hearts.

Extending ear, lending heart.  Preceeding conversation with safely guarded sanctuary of trust and acceptance.

And I see these gifts in furrowed brow, angry tone, loving smile, extended ear, apologetic offerings, prayer on phone, sweet good byes, abrupt hello’s, news of pain, and news of joy, moments of correction, parent-speak, momma pleas, disappointment, second chances and messy life.

So my thank you notes, penned, spoken, whispered, muttered, under-my-breathe and out in the open are these words in part —- the gifts are precious, they are many, and I am blessed.

And each is kissed by lips of humility. Written by broken flesh, and unworthy hands.

Yet sealed in the shadows of the cross.

Thank you for all.

Thank you for each.

Grace-fully Gratefully Yours,

wynnegraceappears