the art of taking note
Brave, they seem
Beauty in the cold
Bold, they bloom
Bringers of hope
Bouquets of art in ash
Brave, they are
Bracing their blooms in the arctic winds
Braving the elements
Bringing merciful glory to a garden
Bunched or singular
Buglers of tomorrow’s new
Bastions of grace amid green foliage
All will be well with my soul,
When the camellia bloom.
Joining Laura at The Wellspring for her Playdates. One of my favorite places.
When Hurt and Pain and Death play hopscotch on your very life road,
The heart circles all pumping blood flow back to the vital. To the very critical need.
The life blood, crimson seeks to triage the need and it deems it is the need to see the simple.
Simply see the joy in the simplest. Of gifts, of life.
To circle back and gather round, all the heart beats round the life givers. Life enhancers.
A word, The Word, bread, The bread. Feasting on the written, feasting on the life bread. Feasting on His gifts.
A Feast is pumpkin bread grilled cheese, say grace around the simple. Feasting senses on the just enough. Not more. Satisfied by simple.
All bells and whistles, accoutrement and clutter cast off for the bare boned simple.
Allowing simple to sing her song of lovely, sing her song of living. She leads us to her simple stream, a trickle flow enough.
Return of beet red male bird at the feeder, he who fights with self on glass. He beautiful. He a one man performance teetering eating seed. Act One, a simple show on window.
Art, the paint. Art, the song. Art, the page. Art, the wiper of the dusty dirty off the soiled soul places. Art, the interchange of actors in the play of living.
Art, life’s extravagant simple embellishment. Art, worship. Art, creative man gifts back to Creator God. Simply seeing art in all.
And love in all its four greek meaning forms, the greatest though of these simply love.
He serves in small trips to the market, long trips eight hours round trip to provide for us.She speaks simple I love you. He calls, he smiles, he thanks.
All wrapped up in beautiful family love. Love, simple poetry.
And simple takes the chalk out of the hand of that hopscotch threesome on the life-road,
Writes instead we love here, love lives here, cursive on the black asphalt.
So all who drive, see simply, love.
See simple living, savoring of the gifts. Breathing deep the fullness, hope-filled breathes.
Simple signs her name on the last line of the day, it is beautiful, isimply beautiful.
An alleluia chorus on an amen day.
This is Day 11. I am joining 31 Dayers at The Nester’s place for this series.
And I am linking with Michelle.
“Sometimes”, said Pooh,” the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” —A.A. Milne
There is amazing power in the one small thing. One small thing can create a big impact on a body, a soul, a mind, a heart, a moment, a day.
Like the last drop of rain on a leaf is enough to break the bough, tipping the scale, tipping it over.
Rippling through for better or worse, making its mark, this one small thing can impact with force.
One small fleck of dust in the eye distracts and blurs vision.
One small splinter in the finger causes pain and attention directed to the throbbing digit.
And as a crack in the hull can sink the Titantic, one word can start a war, one gesture can mend a wounded spirit, so one small action can really shake things up.
I woke early, very early, restless.
What a slow learner I am. How slowly I let lessons creep in, settle in and then stay.
I had stumbled, tripped up, been tripped up. And wanting a do-over, yearning for new-found patience, hungry for a re-written script of my narrative was surely at the root of my sleeplessness.
And a message pops up in the pre-dawn hours which changes me. It softens and it loves through a back-lit screen. It tenderizes the tough spots. And salves the tender ones.
A note so simple saying she just didn’t know why but she was praying for me.
A small few black words on a white background delivering hope and ecouragement. The floodgates open and my insides want to erupt with the ripeness of the moment, hitting the bullseye of my heart with perfection. Love crawling across a screen to meet my insomnia and my woundedness.
I receive so much from a young mother who is up nursing her baby. She also nurses my soul.
She says that she just doesn’t know why but she can’t stop thinking of me, I am stuck in her head and when that happens she just prays. So, she continues, “you are getting a lot of prayers.” And she says she just wanted to check in with me.
I will get to thank her today and to wrap my arms around her sweet spirit. And I will smell and touch and hug her first-born son, who is weeks old.
Because her one sweet small note to me opened up communication, I am now privileged to spend time over lunch and a new born with this precious young woman. Amazing grace. And if a note on a screen can deliver such joy and hope, I cannot imagine what time in the flesh will present to this soul.
And oh, how I want to stretch this forward to another. To go be small to someone today. To show-up in a life, to a heart, to a friend, to a stranger in all my smallness.
Don’t we long for these encounters with others. How many have I missed.
Small opportunity.
Small invitation.
Small calls to be obedient in love, in encouragement, in offering a lifeline.
This blog is a baby. It is a new-born by the world’s standards, months old.
As it grows up a little, I pray that God will use these pages in a small way.
But more importantly, that I will have ears to hear, and a heart to listen.
As I write, and I blog, and I listen, and respond, and dig in, and wrestle with, and process, and tackle, and ponder and question, my hope and prayer is that it is pleasing to Him.
My sweet friend has taken up a lot of space in my heart today. Her gesture just sits there being all big and beautiful.
May we all go seek out and be one small thing in someone’s life today, delivering Joy, Hope, and Grace by the boatload.
I started my day praying for forgiveness and I will probably end it the same way. But maybe in the in-between times God can use this broken soul to be a blessing to another, to serve as I have been served in love and in obedience.
Confusion bends the heart and warps the spirit. And we cry for peace and we cry for understanding. And the tears like cripples crawl wobbly down the slow rocky path from the eyes to the chin.
But oh, how His word soothes the soul.
The soothing repetition of God’s word sings sweet comfort to confusion in our world. Over and over it speaks sweet truth.
And slowly confusion bows to peace. And peace brings comfort and a restoration of hope.
I stare at the computer screen and try to unscramble the code that asks me if I am spam, am I human. Confusion looks like that. Letters warped, unrecognizable, sideways turned, oddly shaped, gross distortion.
And confusion blurs the focus, like this intentional filter questioning before allowing you to pass go, continue on to the next step. This code to filter out the bad, eyes strain at the distortion to make sense and attempt to get it right. To straighten out and make it plain and clear.
Confusion rocks our word leaving a seasick queasy, lost and vulnerable uneasiness in our spirit.
I step outside and throw myself on white rope hammock, fall into the arms of the Master softly swaying on the netted bed. He has caught me. I am His . My gaze goes up.
It always heals, this black lit sky presenting one ultra brilliant star, like eye wink from Him. Winking, blinking Mercy. Assuring me there is a way out of misunderstanding and confusion.
The looking up always restores Hope. The gazing skyward always meets my eyes with Mercy. In the moment of raw human need. And raw human heart. He stares back down to a hurting child, swaying slow and steady under His sky at night and whispers calm in the black of night.
And because He loves so deep and wide and all black sky cavernous, I speak apology.
I know the path out starts here. So what love falls out of the sky at night to a busted heart seeking solace on the ropes of life, in the woven hammock must be extended horizontal now. Given out as freely here as it came down from the heavenly eye wink from the Merciful one.
Confusion rocks. But He steadies. He gives gift of solid rock to stand firm upon.
Confusion blurs who we are, what we are, and WHOSE we are. He loves through a lense of everlasting love, with a clear and pure abiding Love, always and everytime.
Confusion breeds pride and anger. He gazes down with unfathomable Love and ushers in a spirit of humility, peace, and calm.
Steps from the front door of my heart and my home I run into His arms, caught in the black of night. Tears wiped by the One who extends Grace upon Grace upon Grace.
Winking and blinking and saying from His throne, sweet words of Comfort soothing the soul. Tender words of Mercy mending the brokeness. Gentle words re-building Trust.
One black night, one sweet star, and one Tremendous God.
One fresh start with new Mercies leading the way.
elizabeth w. marshall 