Posts in category Give Me Grace

Give Me Grace : Open {for The Church Door Series}

Feb 21, 2015 32 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

The Episcopal Church of the Heavenly Rest on 5th Avenue at 90th Street NYC

Open

She walked in wearing red
Tie died in blood, a crimson cloak hung from her shoulders
Hands wrung worn from prayer covered her mouth
Years of broken dreams and too many maybes had done a number on her
She crept forward scraping the almost empty barrel of belief

Her silhouette bled into a carpet running the length of the aisle
A Red Sea parting…dividing rows of cramped cherry stained pews.
I was there. It was hard to tell where she ended. Where it began.
Her movement, one with the hushed rhythms of silence in a sanctuary
She seemed to float. Suspended. An apparition.

Her desperation filled the room with longing.
I wanted, we all wanted to see her made new.
Was it shawl or shield, camouflage or armor
I couldn’t tell. It both freed and bound.
Disillusionment will do that.

The frayed stitches of a scarlet letter emblazoned at her breast clung to her like a broken promise.
It hurt.

She’d been named.
Labeled by her pain. Marked . A curse
Branded…not blessed.

It smothered her faith, choked her spirit… until she had nothing to say.

Except this…

Open me, open me that I might be emptied.
Let me be the offering.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

♥

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Posted in christianity, faith, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, open, The Church Door Series

Give Me Grace : Tuning in, Taking Notice

Feb 07, 2015 31 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

For, behold, I am for you, and I will turn to you, and you will be cultivated and sown. Ezekiel 36:9

We made it to the bus-stop just in time to catch the M3. I shuttled the kids ahead of me as I searched in the black hole of my purse for change. They scrambled for seats as the bus made its way down 5th Avenue. Slowly. I always forget how long it takes to get anywhere on the bus at midday.

The ride gave me time to meditate on my one word for the year – slow. I’d looked up to track our progress when I noticed we’d stopped in front of Conservatory Gardens, just 2 blocks from where we got on. It took 15 minutes to travel 2 city blocks. We weren’t moving.

I love this garden. It’s the home of our family tree. Where I remember Nicole – where God speaks to me on a bench. In this garden, I’m healed. But I haven’t been in a while. The Lovelies and I have weathered the winter indoors. Frigid temperatures and an unwelcome stomach virus kept us cabin bound for weeks.

Sometimes God stills us to get our attention, so I recognized the nudge. God wasn’t interested in my plans to arrive at the theater on time. He had something to say. He wanted me to look up. To notice.

Just beyond the branch covered pergola I saw a bulldozer and tractor. Piles of upturned soil and big chunks of ice pushed aside and tiny people moving in the distance. Major construction was taking place in my garden and I hadn’t noticed.

And this was the message. “I’m working. Let me do it. Let me change you. Yield to my ability. Improvement is necessary. I want to make you better. Surrender to rehabilitation, renovation. restoration. Trust me.”

Take notice – He’s turning the soil, renewing the field of your spirit…planting new seeds. All the time.

I saw it as a metaphor for life…and a promise. A promise I need to hear. Because I sometimes doubt He’ll do all He says He can do. I wonder about the reality of being broken beyond repair. I doubt the possibility of a do over. And even though He hand delivered a message to me in a reminder that’s now 4 years old, I worry that perhaps it’s too late. I worry I won’t be able to begin again. I don’t see the work He’s doing. Sometimes I don’t.

That day I saw past the breakdown to the build up. The deconstruction before reconstruction. I saw past the work of renovation to the work of redemption. And I saw the strength of my limbs in the branches of barren trees. Holding the weight and worth of a world longing for spring. I’m fragile and vulnerable. But I’m here and I can do it. The birds trust me. I haven’t cracked or broken. And somehow I keep producing. I twist and bend and because of Him I do not break.

I am the bud that blossoms after the soils been turned. I am the tree that rises after years of rest.

He’s cultivating. Pruning. Stripping. Tilling and turning the field of my life. I have to let Him do it.

I looked up long enough that day to notice this. A cardinal. Trusting. Resting. And the bud …believing. I noticed.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Posted in christianity, faith, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, ezekiel 36:9, garden, God, notice, noticing, slow

Give Me Grace : The Power of A Single Story…Yours

Jan 31, 2015 34 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all the day, for their number is past my knowledge. With the mighty deeds of the Lord God I will come; I will remind them of your righteousness, yours alone. O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come. – Psalm 71:15-18

From the back of the room I saw tears forming in the corner of her eyes. She spoke with a lump in her throat and I could feel the soft tremble of emotion as she told her story…again. Elise Daly Parker is a community building powerhouse and her story is the goose bump kind. She tells it in a river of words that take you on a god-spotting journey. From faith-shattering to awe-inspiring you straddle the crest of the wave knowing its equal parts awful and lovely, broken and true. Still, God leaves room for calm, space to breathe…in her storm. Elise tells it with heart.

I woke up early this morning to take a van from 42nd St in New York to attend the Circles of Faith Women of Influence Breakfast. I’d looked forward to it for months. A chance to connect with other bloggers and writers on the east coast was one thing I wouldn’t miss. I made it my business to be there. An opportunity to hang out with Chelle Wilson would have been reason enough to attend but there was so much more. I met the only East coast representative from Noonday and enjoyed divine appointments with women whose lives mirrored my own. The staff at Circles of Faith did a wonderful job in assembling such a diverse group. And I brought a friend, Tanya Jones, my long-time sister in ministry sat right next to me.

Before Elise finished telling her story the room erupted in jubilant praise. Standing to our feet we couldn’t help cheering. I’m sure it happens every time she tells her story – and that’s just the way God wants it. Telling our stories is potent powerful medicine. It’s a healing inoculation against doubt – a booster shot for faith. We all enjoyed the after glow of the presence of a God who lives in the story. Each word a holy helping of grace – an in the moment measure of encouragement.

I think we all got saved again hearing her story. In the telling, she did too. It’s the God good kind of story that makes you believe…because He showed himself mighty, He redeemed every shattered thing and she…lived to tell.

Don’t doubt the power of telling your story again and again and again. I watched it heal her and help us. Doing the happy dance at the end of a battle doesn’t mean every wound has completely healed. Let’s face it, every story is a journey, a process. The fullness of redemption takes time. In the interim God makes magic with the words. The brilliance of the masterpiece is in the weaving of each sacred chapter. It all starts with words.

We live in a fast paced world that demands something new every day. It isn’t easy to keep up. We respond to the onslaught of new information by archiving our stories. Our testimonies get shelved. A good flashback reminds us of His righteousness…His mighty deeds. God works in the wonder of a new day, I’m sure of it, but there’s no expiration on the glory of a story. So begin at the beginning. I’m listening.

Celebrate the power of a single story. Tell your story again.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Posted in blogging, christianity, faith, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, Chelle Wilson, Circles of Faith, Elise Daly Parker, encouragement, friend, God, story, Tanya Jones, the power of a single story, women, Words

Give Me Grace : En Route

Jan 24, 2015 30 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

flickr cc : jen’s art and soul

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. – John 14:6

En Route

She stops to rest near a sun-drenched log
A field of birch trees surround her…encircling her in prayer
Tilting her head, she leans long into the breadth of their sweet embrace
It’s quiet and she is still

She knows the call of the hawk,
field mice scampering across a forest floor
Shhh…
She’s racing against the darkness before midnight
She is listening

She’s stronger than she looks
The last piece of ice in the center of a frozen pond
Everything around her
Melting
She is waiting

She is water
Droplets and mist…a frost you can feel
She is a cloud on a clear day…fading
She is changing

She’s the last leaved tree
An honorary evergreen
Bound by the forever of tangled roots
She’s adapted

She’s peeling bark and pine needles
Fallen.
The dust of the earth
Recycled. Redeemed. Reborn.

Upcycled at the base of a rock
See her broken but found
A blood stained sign marks the way
And she knows the way to go

She’s en route

She believes in sunlight
A glint of gold anointing a tree
A healing saber
guiding, piloting
For breakthrough – Walk. This. Way.

She honors the bud waking up to flower
Bows down to the holy wonder of wildfire
There’s peace in the valley…space and shadow and light in her heart

His light.

She’s searching for that thing you can’t see
The One, The Way
The baptism of a burning bush
Follow her gaze to the horizon and LOOK

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Posted in christianity, faith, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, en route, John 14:6, the one, the way

Give Me Grace : Wanderings of a Daughter

Jan 17, 2015 24 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

May our sons in their youth be like plants full grown, our daughters like corner pillars cut for the structure of a palace; – Psalm 144:12

Trailing skirts, braided hair, turrets and a tower. I never walk past the towered church on 86th St and West End Avenue in New York City without imagining myself in a period piece. Say what you will but my heart belongs to the old world. I have an affinity for the architecture and fashion, the speech patterns and peculiar graces of a society set on the semblance of propriety. Even knowing the lack of adequate plumbing doesn’t deter my kindred connection to anything Romanesque, Gothic or Renaissance inspired.

♦♦♦

I spent Friday morning sitting in a pew at The Church of St. Paul and St. Andrew. Churches in the city have been a great friend to the homeschooling community. On Friday mornings my tween and teen explore algebra with a small group of children on the third floor of this beautiful church. I have the privilege of spending a few hours bathing in the perfection of midday light flooding the sanctuary.

It’s quiet and spacious. And holy. That day I sat and cried while reading a gorgeous piece of writing by Holly Smothers Grantham. She lost her mother last year and her struggle and longing, her wrestling to make peace with the now of this transition as a daughter has been hard and beautiful…all at the same time. I’ve learned so much from it. Her struggle makes me think of my own.

“But, even at her weakest, my mom never stopped throwing open wide the doors of her heart. Whenever I crouched at her bedside to feel the heat rising from her brow or curled up under the covers and clasped her hands in mine, I was received into her deepest places. Not even disease could choke out love born in a broken body. Those fissures of cell and marrow became offerings of humility and grace and I always wept in their holy presence.”

Her words washed over me. Warmed and healed me. They did their magic, filling the wordless chamber of my heart – the silent space where I wrestle with being a daughter of an aging mother…the daughter I was, the daughter I am now. My mother is changing, forgetting. The mother I remember. The one who mothered me. I need her but she needs me more and that shift is hard.

I’m living in the tight space between two worlds. In one world I’m corn-rowed and carefree, in the other I’m doing the braiding. I’m washing hair and paying bills, wiping noses and folding laundry. I’m waking up for coffee after too little sleep. I’m sending out and tucking in. I’m planning and doing… all the things she did for me. And now I wonder and worry about her… if she’s eating well… if she went out today. If she’s afraid.

I’m thinking about legacy and living well. I want to live the example my mother set for me. I want to love and hold her up during this transition. I want to live every thing she taught. How she held our hearts by melding the old and new…her life lessons and dreams, her individual creativity and inspiration to build a family…a home, a tower of love for her children…even through change.

I am her daughter.

I wander through the complex floor plan of our relationship. I’m finding my way in the spaces between rooms my mother designed. Everything is familiar and foreign – because we’re different. Both of us. Still, this season finds me meandering through the palace she built.

But our foundation is laid solid with grace. No matter how complex I find areas of affinity, threads linking, connecting me to the home she built. I’m searching but sure. I know why I’m here.

I’m here to maintain the structure of her palace. As my daughters will do in mine.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Posted in christianity, faith, life, motherhood, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, church, daughter, grace, mother, psalm 144:12

Give Me Grace : Encouragement For Your Writing Soul

Jan 10, 2015 31 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

I woke up on the couch the other morning. I’ve stayed up late reading the past few nights and on this one my sweet family had covered me with a sleeping bag and turned out the lights. It was perhaps the coldest day of the year in New York and the heater in our living room wasn’t working. I’d fallen asleep lost in the words of Madeline L’Engle, warmed by the truth she shared from this quote by Anton Chekhov.

“You must once and for all give up being worried about success and failures. Don’t let that concern you. It’s your duty to go on working steadily day by day, quite quietly, to be prepared for mistakes,which are inevitable, and for failures.”

My writing soul needs to hear that.

And the timely messages from two friends on voxer “Keep writing”. “Don’t back away from it.”

I’d wanted to write but doubt does a number on me sometimes. I get quiet. Every word gets shut up behind an impenetrable shell of steel. Vaulted.

September McCarthy announced some of the session leaders for the next Raising Generations Today conference this week. I’m one of them. Seeing my face attached to a lineup of so many godly women opened the door for comparison and doubt. I struggled with feeling flawed and unworthy – with wondering if I’d meet expectations.

My writing soul got quiet. My soul gets quiet because I know the weight of words. I know how words can breathe life into a woman crushed by loss, grief….doubt. I know words have the power to reignite dreams. I know words can lead a soul to the very throne of God. My enemy knows that too.

I marinated in this space…feeling defeated. But I shouldn’t. And you shouldn’t either. Maybe that pause isn’t all bad. Behind every holy hard word is a story. And your unique experience makes you the only one to tell it. It’s His job to do the work of releasing it. He’ll do that through you. He’ll forge a path. You…do the work of being committed through quiet preparation – through prayer.

This year, as you make plans to accept invitations, ask about opportunities…put yourself out there in ways that call for increased faith – let this be encouragement for your writing soul.

The stilling of your soul is a time to get closer to God. He doesn’t give us a spirit of fear. And those feelings are all about the “no you can’t, you’ll fail. You…should be afraid.” And That’s not God. Mark the moment of silence as the beginning of a journey. God promises dreams and witty inventions. Open yourself to His creative ability. Build yourself up in His righteousness and qualifications only He can give. It’s more important than ever to discern His voice and the only way to do that is to get quiet so you can hear.

“I will climb up into my watchtower…” – Habakkuk 2:1

“Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” Luke 5:16

Jesus made it a habit to steal away with His father and the Prophet Habakkuk used wisdom when he made it his business to get alone with God. They didn’t resist but rather, invited this time of solitude.

This time around I won’t resist the setting apart for a stretch of silence. I’ll use the time to hear. To remember – to prepare for the birthing of something beautiful.

Enough talk for the night.
He is laboring in me;
I need to be silent
for a while,
worlds are forming
in my heart.
Meister Eckhart

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Posted in blogging, christianity, faith, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, Anton Chekhov, encouragement, God, Habbakuk 2:1, Luke 5:16, Madeline L'Engle, Words, writing soul

Give Me Grace : a slow walk into a new year

Jan 03, 2015 25 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. – Isaiah 43:19

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” – Lamentations 3:22-24

I can’t explain the feeling of hope that overshadows everything at the beginning of a new year. Wiping the slate clean at the end of a season of doubt feels right. Surely there’s hope, life even. It pushed through the cracks in a stable to stream the most powerful light over 2000 years ago. That same light filters through my bedroom window every morning. Soft shafts of light tickle my face, waking me up to hope. At least for that moment, every thing feels new.

Each year is marked by the completion of the earths rotation around the sun and hope…morphs into a new configuration of numbers. But it’s not an ending. It’s the glory of again. Again God positions our hearts with purpose and intention. He aligns our hearts for redemption. With hearts set to believe, we try again. We hope.

My one word for the year is slow. Think fluid, easy…thoughtful. I’m aligning myself with the unforced rhythms of grace that herald the promise of a melodious new song. I’m asking god to grant the favor of an unhurried grace. A steady stream of growth marked by a seasoned wisdom. I want a grace that’s gradual, unrushed…a lilting adagio to listen to all night.

We live in a world of lightning speed connections further ignited by subliminal voices telling us to do and be more. All the time. We receive it in hurried sound bytes that suggest we operate in performance mode all day. I want something different. I want an easy immersion in everything lovely. And I want time when life feels hard. I want to slow down enough to cry when I feel broken – and not feel bad about it. I want to stop long enough to recharge…restart.

To be clear this isn’t about a slothful season of unproductivity. It’s a time of being selective and choosing a pace that right for you. It’s a time of saying yes when His voice calls – a time for enjoying the clarity and freedom of saying no.

So right now in your part of the world. With your family and work, your relationships and plans, your frustrations and delights. Might I invite you to join me in a quiet slowing. To consider living dreamy. Measured. Deliberate. To breathe soul deep. To linger when necessary, to flip the script on last.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Posted in christianity, faith, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, God, grace, hope, new, one word, slow

Give Me Grace : Slow

Dec 27, 2014 19 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

Slow down. Take a deep breath. What’s the hurry?
Why wear yourself out? Just what are you after anyway? – Jeremiah 2:25

Cease striving and know that I am God” Psalm 46:10

Christmas leaves in its wake an ease I find liberating. The days after, feel slow. The flip side of a whirlwind of preparation reveals a future open wide for reflection. The holy pause of contemplation. A generous helping of selah before the rush of a new year. Suddenly we have time.

A slower pace is perfectly matched for the way I’m hearing from God. Slowing down helps me see Him. When I realize He’s already here I notice Him everywhere. Sort of like my gold Honda odyssey. Since buying one a few years ago, they seem to be everywhere. I see four in a three block walk to the subway – regularly. Gold Honda Odyssey’s are apparently…a thing.

This revelation was an epiphany of sorts and one long in coming. It allowed me to relax into the season with fresh perspective. I can chill out about the to do list because I’ll find God in the middle of my dirty kitchen. He’d take that last-minute late night run to Target. Hold my hand when I feel frustrated. Nothing like a toy kitchen that takes 6 hours to assemble to help you remember the truly meditative process of slow.

Even my walk towards the chaos of Christmas was slow. My choice to “be joy”, make it happen – intentional. There were moments when I had to smile when I didn’t want to, areas of tension smoothed with a deliberate measure of grace…conversations I tried to avoid…that happened anyway. But it’s a choice. I want Him to be the river of peace I walk on.

I want to savor the season, let it linger long, simmering as it were, warm and tasty on my tongue. This season my usual 3,2,1 Jesus jump is a glide. It’s slow and thoughtful…a lyrical melding and continuous motion. It’s about finding myself adrift in quiet conversation – celebrating the flow of communion with God.

What better way to do that than to remember and reclaim family traditions that force me to slow down.

I remember outings with my godmother during the holidays. Every year she’d take us for a Christmas walk. We’d walk around our neighborhood to see holiday decorations. We’d peek in windows. We’d talk and laugh. A brisk walk during the holiday forced us to slow down. Sometimes we’d ride the subway to see the Christmas windows at Lord and Taylor. My husband has similar memories. Why haven’t we done this with our children?

Native New Yorker’s take for granted the beauty of NYC. If you stay here long enough a serious “been there done that” vibe can overtake you. That definitely happened to me. Thankfully, the arrival of LiChai and Ila put it in remission. I wanted to show them everything. Our decision to homeschool was largely influenced by where we live. LiChai and Ila grew up riding around in a double stroller hearing my “Manhattan belongs to me” mantra. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Central Park, 125th Street, Prospect Park, the Botanic Gardens…we saw and experienced it all. Regularly and on purpose.

More children meant less time. I lost a little of my zeal for all things New York. Mind you, I still loved it but I lost the drive needed to be the biggest promoter of all things New York. I never had the time. It’s a strange paradox. The busier I am the less I enjoy any of the things I’m doing. And the less productive I feel. Is it like that for you?

So living slow in New York means remembering and reclaiming all the things I love about it. Last night we relived a childhood memory and took a walk. No schedule. No appointment necessary and admission was free. Last night slow told a story. Last night I listened.

5th Avenue. Happy children. Department store windows. A cathedral. A door. A star.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Posted in christianity, faith, life, parenting, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, children, Christmas, God, last night, New York, slow

Give Me Grace : Growing Older With God

Dec 20, 2014 14 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

photo : flickr cc / juan felipe

I lift my hands in total adoration unto You – Lamar Campbell

They will still bear fruit even in old age; they will be luxuriant and green. – Psalm 92:14

I heard and believed the lie that growing older means I have to let go of all the great things I love.

It’s the kind of soul killing whisper that quietly makes its way to your marrow. You barely recognize it until you look back and wonder when you stopped…singing, serving…dancing. I’m surprised I fell for that one because the opposite is true. I’ve seen Carmen De Lavallade…I know better. I am the right age for every thing and can do…almost anything. The passionate pursuit of dreams is what keeps us alive.

♦♦♦

After lunch and before dishes on Fridays, I sit down to make phone calls. With my family planner and cell phone, a pencil and favorite mug of coffee I sat down to do the business of running a family. Dentists appointments, play dates, classes… the typical “where do we have to be and when” that’s become a weekly ritual.

It’s mid December and we need a break. My body feels sluggish. I need to move. A lot of the schedule I mentioned earlier involves time in the car. Too much time. I’ve settled into a life without movement this year. Sure, I get my yoga on from time to time but I’m thinking about making dance a regular part of my week again. Not the weekly class I teach but a class for me. Where this broken down ballerina can get back in shape and praise God in one of the most important ways He speaks. He speaks through movement, a willing vessel in the form of a human body is a glorious opportunity for God to have his say. But I’m in the dancers over 40 crew. Well over 40. A midlife baby followed by a lower back injury gave me every reason to believe it was time to stop. I’m too old..too injured…too busy. Can I get it back? That I wonder about this worries me. Am I too old? Is it really over?

I know this won’t be easy so I’ve decided to ease into my mornings with music. Maybe the music will call out my sleeping dancer. I’ll lure her with a few shoulders rolls. Tempt her with a few plies. In the narrow space between the stove and sink I’ll tease her with the luxury of a full-out port de bras. Then we’ll sit down for breakfast. My inner ballerina likes food.

This morning it’s Christmas music. I create a station on Pandora featuring Mary J. Blige. She released a beautiful Christmas cd last year, besides, what’s Christmas without a little r&b flow. Right? I’m loving the selections, Whitney Houston, Stevie Wonder, Mariah Carey. It’s good. The soulful sounds I grew up with fill a part of me that remembers block parties and corn rows, hanging out with my girlfriends after school…singing all the songs into a tape recorder. The press play kind.

About twenty minutes in the station does a shift. It’s not Christmas music but it is about Christ. It’s straight up gospel. Tasha Cobb and Fred Hammond and Israel…ohh Israel Houghton.

While I’m remembering the good time feeling of dance ministry More than Anything by Lamar Campbell begins. I’ve only heard this song a handful of times but it’s one of my favorites. The lyrics are simple. Like the genius of a middle schooler in love. Brilliant.

The melody lifts my arms… the words become my own. My heart overflows with the kind of praise that won’t keep still. My lazy dancer is ready to roar.

I lift my hands in total adoration unto You
You reign upon the throne
For You are God and God alone
Because of You my cloudy days are gone
I can sing to You this song
I just want to say that I love You more than anything

Love me in Your Arms
You were my shelter from the storm
When all my friends were gone
You were right there all along
I never knew a love like this before, Oh
I just want to say that I love You more than anything

I Love You Jesus
I worship and adore You
Just want to tell
Lord, I Love You more than anything

And my soul knows well…this….

I’m growing older but dance will never leave me. I’ll find a way to make room. He’ll offer opportunities. We’ll grow deeper and wider, and higher. I’ll grow older and better. He’ll heal. I’ll recover. I’ll mellow and ripen. I’ll pray through each sweet movement. I’ll never stop dancing.

It wasn’t long before I was interrupted by a Lovely or two. So the moment didn’t last but the feeling did. I tucked it safely away for later – when the quiet of my home would open space for quiet praise. More than anything, in that moment I wanted to dance.

That night…when everyone went to sleep…I pushed aside the legos and cars, the dolls and bey blades and made room to hear what he wanted to tell me earlier.

This is what happened, unedited, no makeup, poor sound, tiny space, almost kicked the chair…holy improvisation…you get the picture.

Growing older with Him is glorious. He promises to preserve. At any age, at every stage, surrender yourself to praise. Dance His glory.

What about you? Has growing older slowed you down? Kept you from doing some of the things you love? Do you offer praise in your physical body? Do you dance? What does praise look for you?

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

♥

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Posted in christianity, faith, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, Carmen de Lavallade, Christmas, dance, dancers over 40, God, growing older, Lamar Campbell, More Than Anythng

Give Me Grace : On the Stewardship of Words

Dec 13, 2014 16 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

photo: flickr cc/ hakan dahlstrom

These are the words in my mouth; these are what I chew on and pray. Accept them when I place them on the morning altar,O God, my Altar-Rock,God, Priest-of-My-Altar.
Psalm 19:14 The Message

I listened to a podcast by Seth Godin a few days ago. He’s what you’d call a thought leader. Thought leaders think ALL the thoughts and the most successful ones force, however gently, a private turning inward. Thought leaders make us think. To them we offer the mental universal affirmation “hmmm”. This inner amen frees us to pour truth on the page. When it’s good, powerful words help us release our own.

The shows host mentioned his new book What To Do When its Your Turn and my wheels started to spin. I haven’t read the book. He’s such a thought leader, I don’t have to. The title alone has me thinking about the God honoring weight and responsibility of words, particularly as a blogger. Now more than ever, its time to steward our words well.

As bloggers, we’ve essentially given ourselves permission to take the mike. In that respect It’s my turn. It’s yours too. I also read this by Mel Schroeder. Her thoughtful reflection on blogging and platforms expanded my musing. So I’m thinking about what I say and why. I’m wondering how I can do better.

If given a platform, what would I say? How can I use this space to cultivate a spirit of authenticity and grace. Truth and hope. Can I do that and still have time for life with my real, right now, in my face family and community?

I’ll start at the beginning. What is my message?

My blog began as an infertility journal. After surviving a 14 year battle with infertility I felt lead to encourage other women. Opportunities opened to share my story in many ways. I’ve known our story, our miracle was not our own, that God would use it for His glory…in His time. I’m not surprised. It’s a good story. Our lives, when given to God, are unique manifestations of His word in action. We are living epistles. Testimonies of grace. He uses each life to tell a story. His.

Knowing that, what is my life saying now?

Writing on a consistent basis is a spiritual process. A discipline of the heart where God shows us his best work. The work he does in us. He changes and transforms, rearranges and molds. You and I my friend, in our right now glory, are miracles. And He’s telling His story through us. So I’m listening. I’m paying attention.

In the past 2 years I’ve shared many of the stories that defined my life. The ways God changed me through his word, the hard lessons and life experiences I’ve learned in His laboratory. But writing is revelation. It’s seeing and growing. Writing is illumination. Writing is knowing.

And this is what I’ve discovered.

My writing isn’t only about infertility. God’s called me to other conversations. As a woman of color blogging in a predominantly white Christian community? Absolutely – I’ve got something to say about race. A vision for change based on his love compels me to speak.

So here it is – I’ve got half a lifetime of days circling the sun in brown skin under my belt. I graduated from the school of infertility. All this has earned me a degree in faith…a masters in waiting. I earned a phd in hope. And here…in the online communities God’s placed me in… I’m going for a teaching certificate in grace. I think that’s my where my message is. If I have anything to say it’s about keeping a dream alive. It’s about perseverance, it’s about love.

I’m not done here. I’ve sat with this question for a few days and know I’ll chew on it for a while. But let’s turn this around for you.

You have a platform to be your best God honoring self. What’s your message? Share your thoughts on stewarding well, these God-given words.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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Posted in blogging, christianity, faith, life, uncategorized - Tagged God, platform, seth godin, stewardship, what to do when it's your turn, Words

Posts in category Give Me Grace

Give Me Grace : Open {for The Church Door Series}

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Give Me Grace : Tuning in, Taking Notice

Take notice – He’s turning the soil, renewing the field of your spirit…planting new seeds. All the time.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Give Me Grace : The Power of A Single Story…Yours

Celebrate the power of a single story. Tell your story again.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Give Me Grace : En Route

She’s en route

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Give Me Grace : Wanderings of a Daughter

I am her daughter.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Give Me Grace : Encouragement For Your Writing Soul

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Give Me Grace : a slow walk into a new year

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Give Me Grace : Slow

What better way to do that than to remember and reclaim family traditions that force me to slow down.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Give Me Grace : Growing Older With God

I heard and believed the lie that growing older means I have to let go of all the great things I love.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Give Me Grace : On the Stewardship of Words

These are the words in my mouth; these are what I chew on and pray. Accept them when I place them on the morning altar,O God, my Altar-Rock,God, Priest-of-My-Altar.
Psalm 19:14 The Message

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Let’s Stay in Touch

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Posts in category Give Me Grace

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Take notice – He’s turning the soil, renewing the field of your spirit…planting new seeds. All the time.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Celebrate the power of a single story. Tell your story again.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

She’s en route

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

I am her daughter.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

What better way to do that than to remember and reclaim family traditions that force me to slow down.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

I heard and believed the lie that growing older means I have to let go of all the great things I love.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

These are the words in my mouth; these are what I chew on and pray. Accept them when I place them on the morning altar,O God, my Altar-Rock,God, Priest-of-My-Altar. Psalm 19:14 The Message

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Let’s Stay in Touch

Categories

#GiveMeGrace Wordsmith of the Week

Free for Subscribers!

Archives

on twitter NOW!

looking for something?

Affiliates

I’m a Community Leader at (in)courage!

e-book

featured here

These are the words in my mouth; these are what I chew on and pray. Accept them when I place them on the morning altar,O God, my Altar-Rock,God, Priest-of-My-Altar.
Psalm 19:14 The Message