In the Garden of Life Grows Hope.......

“And you have put on a new self which will progress toward true knowledge the more it is renewed in the image of the creator…as the Chosen of God, then, the Holy people whom He loves, you are to be clothed in heartfelt compassion, in generosity and humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with one another, forgive each other…over all of these clothes, put on love…the perfect bond.  And, may the peace of Christ reign in your hearts….Always be thankful.” 

                                         Colossians 3: 12-15

Grateful I am that I am a picture taker, both in reality with a camera and in heart, in mind in spirit.

Grateful I am that I had a precious season of total joy watching the tulips Ian gave me for Christmas go from gift box to ground as Winter took over the foundation of our home.  Photos of the gift box….the opening of each tulip bulb bag and the official planting into the ground are all commemorated on paper.

I have always wanted pink tulips as a part of my homes décor.  I don’t know why, but I can remember even as a little girl enjoying and being slightly envious of those homes who were blanketed in the delicate beauty of tulips.

So, it was a lovely gift from Ian who remembered my love of tulips from my youth…his memory of these smallish details is amazing.  And, even more so lovely is that he would pick out, purchase and plant these brownish-golden bulbs knowing the my heart would leap and bound with excitement and anticipation of waiting for their first bloom.

He planted.  I watched and waited.

He watched me.

Our winter being unseasonably warm brought worry to my heart…I could see green peeking through the ground way before I knew it should.  Early bloom was a clear risk of early demise.

I ran down the stairs and out to our yard each early morning to see our tulips progress….first the leaves, then the stem….then baby buds.

Love love loved it!

I took photos every few days ever wanting to document God’s precious handiwork!

Little miracles happening right there in my front and side yards.

“prettiful” as Madison says.

There is something just absolutely magical when you take the time to watch God at work in your garden and in your life. 

And, those beloved tulips were not just pretty.  They were absolutely abounding with beauty.

I admired their strong stems and thick blossoms and remember telling Ian I wanted to be like that.  Strong, firm yet delicate and beautiful…not my physical presence, but my soul…..

That that was my goal as I hit 50…..to be a reflection of God in such a way that when others look at me they see not a wilting flower whose life has beat her down, but a strong and lovely flower in full bloom and reflecting His glory.

And, these beauties…three different shades of pink from demure pinkish white to bold and beautiful pink were constant reminders of my goal each morning as I tumbled out of bed, ran down the length of stairs to view them each morning.

One thing which continually puzzled me about my pink lovelies was that while some and frankly most of them were quick to grow and blossom and bloom, there were and still are several “late bloomers’ who have yet to reach their peak.

I asked Ian, “why is it that there are some buds which have not even grown tall yet?  Are they bashful?  Is their soil still too cool?  Does their location determine their bloom season?”

Ian told me that he truly didn’t know why some bloomed so boldly while others stayed home in the ground.  But, he did tell me to watch and wait and that time would show us the story of the non-blooming buds.

And, he was right.

Just one day after my and Ian’s conversation, a bizarre event of life took place.  We had a hail storm, the likes of which I have never seen in my 50 years.  I sat at my kitchen table with good friend Morgan and waited out the storm.  Hail the size of large peas pelted my home, deck and yard.  It was surreal in how quickly it came and how quickly it passed.

I told Morgan not to fear…that while it came out of nowhere, my limited experience was that it would not last long, and I was right.  Within minutes the storm brought its dark, mean-spirited hail right down and then left as quickly as it came leaving sunshine and glistening lightness in its wake.

Then it hit me.

My tulips.

Tulips can withstand a lot of things....cold ground, early spring, spring rains.

But, tulips cannot survive hard hail.

My beautiful and lovely pink tulips were not just beaten and broken by the hail.  They were destroyed.  Gone was their sweetness and perky attitude and remaining was broken green stems and torn petals.  Pink petals were scattered all over our flower bed.

It was very sad to me.  I was just beginning to enjoy them.  They were only a week old…

And, I remembered Ian telling and preparing me when he planted them that the good thing about tulips is that they are one of the most beautiful plants God makes.  They have lovely color, they are bold flowers growing tall and delicate yet their stems and leaves are strong and green.  But, he also told me that they have one life per season.  If anything were to happen to them, they were gone until the next blooming year.  In addition, he explained that while you waited all year for them to bloom, they only had a life of about two weeks…..

Two weeks?

So, of what value is it to grow them if you are only able to enjoy them two weeks?

Immeasurable.

Let me tell you…their value to me was and is immeasurable.

I enjoyed my tulip-gifts from Ian and God.

In ways I cannot explain.  They were a symbol to me of many sweet and precious things.

So, I am sad that their life was cut short.  As I tend to them now, picking up pink petals and caring for broken stems, I am very sad.

Even the “Mama and baby tulips” which I photographed and posted to my Facebook page were not able to survive. 

But, as I cleaned out my tulip bed, I noticed something.  Those “late bloomers” remained.

Seven of them.                                                                                                                                                

Out of 36 tulips planted late December, Seven had survived and would eventually blossom and bloom and grow lovely.

I am grateful for each and every one of them.

They are God’s reminder to me that we are to be and grow and become our very best blossoms in this Garden we call life…to reflect His glory in such a way as to touch the hearts of those who witness our lives.  But, they are also His reminder to me that life and its hurts and tragedies will bear down on us in  ways in which we will die little deaths, break into little pieces, temporarily lose our hope.

But, I know as well, that He never leaves us.  Never quits on us.  Never takes away all hope.

He, in His infinite love and wisdom and compassion will send us gentle reminders that He is There with us always and forever.

And, that is what I see and will remember as I watch these hail storm survivors.

They are God’s handiwork….His reminder to me that we are to always keep the faith, always abound in joy and always find hope in Him.

And, always always find ways to be grateful.

So, I will.

Blessings,

Lesa

I Turn 50 in Three Days....

I turn 50 in three days.

5 0

Fifty

One-half a century

And, the question that comes to my mind is of what value have those years been?  If you had asked me this question a few years ago, I would have been hard-pressed to give you any kind of positive answer.  I had lost my way…allowed others to tell me my worth or lack thereof…I had forgotten to measure my worth by God’s view rather than man’s.

And, easy as it would be to blame another or others for that, I have learned that no one is to blame but me.

When you are centered around God, you, in humility know that you have great, precious, wonderful worth. 

You lose the need to force, to pull, to tug….you no longer need to gossip, critique, naysay.

When God’s view of you is seared onto your heart, you are able to fully understand your worth in a true and honest way which brings peace to your heart and joy to your soul.

I know that now.

I knew that when I was a young girl and even a young woman….innately, I knew God is love and that He loves me.  I knew that in His eyes, I was not only worthy…I saw me through His eyes….and, this is what I saw…

Lovely

Earnest

Sincere

Authentic

Sissy

Holy

Elegant

Real

Young

Lord’s (the)

Marvelous

Intelligent

Loving

Laughing

Special

Tender

Eager

Amiable

Daughter

Yeilding

Only

Unique

Natural

Grateful

Lesa Sheryl Millstead Young

I know these things to be true.  I forgot them for a season and even if I had remembered them, I would not have allowed myself to write them for fear of being thought vain or conceited or self-absorbed.  But, that was wrong –thinking.

How can we go about reflecting the Glory of God if we don’t see the value of ourselves?

How am I able to share His love with others if I am unable to love myself?

You cannot.  You cannot pour out to others what you do not have full up in yourself.

And, no one, not parent, nor spouse, nor sibling can make you love yourself.  Only God can lead you to seeing yourself worthy of such a deep thing.

And, He does so delight when we “get it”…..We Are Worthy…We Are Beautiful….We are Precious

And, the more we love ourselves, the more that love grows and grows and overfills our soul.  When our love overflows, then we are able to not only pour it out on others, but we are able to heap it up large and tall on others.

Not only on the loveable others, but on the unlovable others.

God’s love heals many a wound.  His love fills many an empty heart.

And, in the so-doing, a magical thing occurs…

We share our selves because we understand we actually have something worthy of sharing.

We share our lives because we know we make a difference.

We stoop to smile at the little child in a wheelchair; we pay to fix a cleft palate.  We adopt those who would be motherless; we nurture those who are mentally unable to survive without our help.

We open our wallets and give financially to improve the lot of the needy; we open our homes to those whose head has nowhere to rest.  We pray for the lost, the sick, the dying.

we do little sweet kindnesses. We slow down and listen to our elderly friend who just wants to share.

We do…

We give..

We share…

We love…

All in the name of God and all because He first loved us.

It is a gift, this love we are given.

It is a gift to be able to finally….finally….finally see ourselves through the eyes of the only one who truly matters.  And, to know in the viewing that we see how beautiful we truly are.

And, what I find particularly sweet is that the more I see myself through God’s eyes, the more lovely you become.

The more precious….the more beautiful you are.

So, as I hit the “big 50”……I am grateful.

I have been to the end of myself, and in so-doing, have gotten to the beginning of God.

Fifty….it is not the beginning of my end.  It is the beginning of my new start.

A clean slate.

A deeper understanding.

A clear view….from the stained glass windows of God’s eyes, looking down on me through Jesus’ life, I see something very lovely.

I see someone very lovely.

And, her name is….

Lesa Sheryl Millstead Young

For she is God’s Girl.  God’s gift. 

She has great worth, great value.

And, standing right beside her

Is YOU

Someone very lovely, very worthy, very valuable

And, all God really asks is that we take our time here on earth, whether it be too short such as with Bethany Anderson or Beth Morris, or whether it be very lengthy such as Herschel Young or Sister Cook….

All He asks is that we recognize our time is to love…to share…to shine like the sun….and His Son.

And, to use our life to be His reflection to others.

Do my 50 years have worth and value?

I think so.

As do your years.

Celebrate each and every one! 

Blessings and much love,

Lesa

 

The HEART

Καρδιά

It is the most used muscle of the body.  The heart beats an average of 72 beats per minute, 2.5 billion beats in an average life span.

 The heart of the matter.  From Latin “Cor” the core of the issue.  The heart is referred to as being the center of whatever issue is being talked about. 

Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  We know it as the organ of love and emotion; I love you with all my heart.  God wants us to love Him with all our heart, to write His commands upon our hearts.

I knew 31 years ago Lesa had a good heart.  When she was 13, I could see her “Cor” and knew it was good.  With her 50^th birthday approaching, I see the center of decisions she makes come to life through her heart.  Her heart is still good, no better.  Is she perfect?  No, as with all of us she makes mistakes.  But she has not allowed the hardness of life to dim the glow of her heart.  At my age of 55, in many areas my heart is soft and pliable.  But in many areas I have allowed life to harden my heart.  She lovingly encourages me to think on matters as we discuss everyday life, and I vent frustrations sometimes. I trusted her heart 30 years ago; I have found her heart is even more trustworthy now.

Our kids are ornery, as all teenagers are; but like their mom, they have good hearts.  They have had a great teacher and example to follow.  I see her take life moments and turn them into teachable-heart opportunities.  And not only to her children, but her husband.

We pray at night when all of the kids are in bed and the house is locked down.  I hear Lesa pray, asking God to renew her heart. I know God must smile when He hears her request.  Hers’ is the heart God searches for; a humble heart that wants to do better and is repentive when mistakes are made.

I am grateful and thankful to KNOW where Lesa’s treasure is.  It’s easy to see.  Her treasure is in God.  Her number one desire and goal is to be “God’s Girl”.  Everything else flows from this treasure; her love for me, her children.  How she treats others, even when I would bristle and be ready to return act for act.  God’s girl is willing to try and be Jesus.

I know what a heart of gold looks like.  My hero has one.  I know what it is to be married to God’s girl, to be second in her life……I am thankful for coming in second.

I love you more than all of the 1,589,940,000 beats of my heart. 

Ian

March Madness 2012

March Madness

Today is a big day for Kentuckians.  It’s “March Madness” and our beloved C A T S are still in the “DANCE”. 

I didn’t grow up in a big sports family.  I don’t have memories of my parents and siblings and I sitting around biting nails as we wait for our favorite team to win.  I have thought back over my life and no, I don’t remember a single time of doing that for a single team.

I do remember cheering on the local teams on which my different siblings play, but March Madness was not in the library of my memories.

Not until 1984.

That was the year everything changed.

I was introduced to a family who lived and breathed basketball.  And, generally speaking, it was  not just any basketball…..it was UK basketball.

I remember one of this family’s members telling me “in our family, you are an athlete…you are either a good athlete or a bad athlete, but you ARE going to be an athlete.”

Now, I was not too overly concerned because I was a pretty serious runner at the time.  And, while I would not have really considered myself overly athletic, I did consider that I would be able to slide under the term athlete.

I am not sure I ever did.

But I did learn to “bleed blue”, spell C A T S and find the locations where UK blue items could be purchased in quantity.

To say I became immersed in the UK frenzy is an understatement.

It almost became my religion.

And, that was something with which I struggled.   Really struggled.

But, as I sit here today writing this, I have to confess to a changed perspective.

I realize now that most of my CAT fans and other major sports fans use their sport as a tool…a source of commonality to foster camaraderie between them and their friends and acquaintances.

Just a fancy way of saying, “sports are the glue which binds them in friendship with others”.

Yes, I do know many sports “Catfanatics” who love “Catlanta” and all things blue and white…and, some are frankly “over the top”,

But, as I think about most of my sports friends, they are some of the most good and Godly people I know.  They love their basketball hard and serious.  They can quote UK basketball stats as simply as they can say the alphabet.  They know the players names, numbers and barbers.

And, they have great passion.

Many of these same people parlay their love of sports on others as a way of bringing them into the fold of their friendship.

You see, once you be-friend someone, really embrace them into your life and into the things for which you have passion, then is your real opportunity to share your faith.

And, many of my UK friends do just that.

Along with their Cats Paws, they take time to Prayer Pause.

Next to their game strategizing is their care planning.

These same people who can whip up a pre-basketball/football feast are the same ones who can prepare an elegant baby shower, memorial dinner or youth banquet.

And, as I started making a list of my favorite athletic fans, I realized something.

Every single one of them was a person I would consider a strong Christian.

Amazing.

Not just a bench warming, pew warming person/family but a bold, strong warrior for God.

These are the people who you call at 2am in a crisis, who kneel beside you when your child is sick or your parent is dying.  These most beloved athletes do love their sports…..especially their CATS or Cardinals, but you know what I realized?

They love their God even more.

And, they use sports as a way of giving honor to Him.

They use their couches, their leather chairs and their tvs to invite others to come to know HIM as they come to know them.

To these friends, even better than a “slam dunk” on the court of basketball is a full dunk in the baptistery at the front of our church.

Better than the choir of C A T S at Rupp or C A R D S at the Yumm Center are the cheers you hear over one new baptism into Christ.

Standing Ovations are amazing to these people….who raise hands with each goal and each Immersion.

Many many people have come to know our Lord who would not have otherwise if not for my friend’s love of sports.

Many are now Christians with their own favorite team because one of these special folks invited them to a “pre-game” party which led to a post-game devotional, teen activity or prayer service.

These people have it figured out.

You sometimes have to meet people where they are in life….

On the court, in the field, at the theater.  In the school, in the hospital, at the foot of a grave. 

And, you have to share the Good News of our God in a way which others who don’t know him can understand.  That may mean, you don the blue and white or red and black or whatever other your favorite team may wear.

And, you share.

You share laughter, foot stomping, yelling at the Refs.  You share wings, a spot on the sofa and friendship.

And, more importantly, you share HIM.

And, I cannot help but believe that that “Great COACH in the heavens” looks down upon us, his sports fanatical children and smiles…..

Because He, even better than us, sees the impact on a human heart which a healthy love of sports can make.

Isn’t He who said, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith”  I Timothy 4:7

I believe with all of my heart that these same “Cat-fanatics” will do just as this verse says…..

They will fight the good fight of life, they will finish their race…and, they will keep the faith with the same love of God, with the same deep-seated passion that they demonstrate with their favorite team.

“Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training.  They do it to get a crown that will not last; but WE do it to get a crown that will last forever.  Therefore….do not run like a man (woman) running aimlessly; do not fight like a man/woman beating in the air”  I Corinthians 9:24-27

“Seek first His kingdom and righteousness.”  Matthew 6:33

I don’t know what Heaven will be like.

I don’t know if there will be an Arena for Cat fans and a separate Arena for Card fans.  I don’t know if we will all fill one arena and will become common fans.  I don’t even know if ….gasp….we will not even have sports for which to be a fan of.

So, as we cheer on our fans, this week and in the future…..let’s do it with great Fanfare!

Let’s do it with our whole hearts.

Let’s do it with a purpose.

Let’s get a “W” for the only team which really matters.

Team God!

Blessings,

Lesa

804 Days

804

2 years, 2 months and 13 days

The number of days we have my boys living in our home as full-time high school students.

Not enough.

So much to cover with them before the 804 days are up.

Do they know how to wash their clothes, balance their check book, fill out an application?  Do they know their social security number by memory or their Mama’s birthday?  Will they be able to fill up their car with gas and buy clothes which fit and are a good “deal”?

Do they have a favorite Bible verse to carry them on their days’ journeys?  Will they remember to write home?

Can they iron?  Can they cook?  Do they know to treat every single girl they ever date like “china in the cabinet”?

Do they know where their Bible is?  Do they know how and do they pray?

Are they prepared?  Will they be ready?  

I sat tonight in the car awaiting the ending of football practice for Kenton and baseball practice for Johnson.  I sat at the peak of both fields and thanked God for the blessings of my children.  They have been the harbingers of great joy and some sorrow.  More the former than the latter.  Thank you,  God.

There is something about watching your sons exert themselves on a ball field with their peers at the set of the sun which brings prayer to a mother’s lips. 

And memories….precious, sweet memories.

I remember trying so hard to get pregnant with my boys.  It was an expensive endeavor in many different ways.  It was costly to our bank account, our emotions and my physical body.  I remember finally being pregnant and daily walking around the track at Southern Hills Methodist Church in Lexington, KY and praying.  Praying for their lives.  Praying for their spiritual growth, their physical well-being, their hearts.

I was such a grateful woman.

I am still a grateful woman.

My children, they are not perfect.  But, they are the very best of their Dad and me.

And, while they distress me at times as teenagers are “wont” to do to their parents, I believe they have great hearts.

I have faith in them.

I believe with all of my heart that at the end of the day, they will remember whose child they really are.

His.

I believe this because I claim His promise that if we pray with faith that He will answer our prayers.  Will it always be easy? No

Will it always be neat and tidy?  No

Will I want to give up? Yes

Will I feel like a failure?  Yes yes

Am I a Mom who believes their children can do no wrong?  Absolutely not.  I know they are wrong-doers. 

But, I do not give in to that thought.

Because I have faith.  I know that they are never alone.  I believe that the many, many prayers Ian and I pray on their behalf, their grand parents, their Aunts and Uncles…their friends parents and probably many of you.

I believe these prayers will be answered.

And, I believe when the times comes, that yes, they will be “ready”…maybe not fully blown ready, but age appropriate ready.

And so, tonight, as I sat alone and watched my sons tackle their friends and kick dust as the sun set, I made a commitment.

If I am sincere.

If I really believe that our prayers, my prayers make a difference in the lives of my own three children, then why would I not cover their friends in prayer as well?

I mean, I have prayed for all of their friends at one time or another as we mothers have shared our worries and concerns, hurts and joys.

So, I started looking.

I looked to my right…the football field.  I saw Ethan and Vanmeter and Clay and Bradley.  I looked to the left and saw Scott and Thomas and Chase.  I saw Tanner B. and Bo and Luke.  

Fields full of the faces of boys I have grown to love.  Years of spending time coming to know them and their parents.  Know them in ways you get to know people with whom you share a lot of time.

And so, I got out my pen and paper and started making a list. 

I wrote down their names one by one….

And, I prayed.

And, I committed to praying often.

I believe in the power of prayer.  I believe in the power of praying for my children and I am committed to believing in the power of  praying for my children’s’ friends.

I have 804 more days.

I want to see how long my list can grow as I add names….

Duncan, Devon, Tanner F., Patrick, Connor, Kivo, D’Love, Kevin….

Lucas, Patrick, Nick, Elliott, Zack, Joey, Malik, Brian, William….

And, even more exciting to me is to knowing that I don’t even have to know what to pray for each of these boys….HE knows what they need.

But, I believe that there is something precious when you lift up a child in this way.

So, I will….for at least the next 804 days.

Join me?

Blessings,

Lesa

S.  There are a few Coaches I'll be adding as well:) 

What Do I Really Count Dear

I am humbled by this question….”What do I really count dear?”……

At first pass, I am likely to respond “the kindness, genuine affection and tenderness of my husband; the sweetness, liveliness and joy of my children; the faithful and abiding love of my parents”….and on and on…those intangible “feelings” brought to my heart, my spirit by the out reaching of others in my life.  They are dear to me in ways words cannot express.  Like water to the flowers and sun to their growth, I hold dear the hearts of those who choose to love me…just as I am.

But, I am learning.

Ever, always, constantly the student, learning…..

And, the learning comes with work….reconsideration….willingness to admit I know very little and what I do know, is not always what God would have me to know..

I am learning that God requires Abandonment….to Him

What does that even mean? 

I look…

Abandon….”to leave someone or something behind; to leave for reason of safety without the intention of returning soon; to renounce.”

I didn’t know how serious to abandon something was.

I do now.  I have done this abandoning at different times in my life.  But, the abandoning I have done is not the abandoning of which God speaks….

I know this as well because I abandoned within human definition, not God’s. 

The more I come to know Him and His ways, the more I come to know that God would have us hold fast in faith and trust that He will carry us, cover us, counter for us….contain us.  He will protect us, provide for us, hold fast to us in our abandonment to Him.

The more I study Him and hold hands with Him through my life, the more I realize through Him all things are possible….and that any abandoning we must to should be To Him….

He may provide avenues to follow Him which we do not understand…creative, hard, simple, generous paths.  He may provide avenues which are hard, painful, which we think we cannot survive.

But, while God calls us to abandon ourselves to Him, HE never abandons us.

I know this is His truth to us.

While God will allow us choice, and decision, and free will; He never falters in His compassion, carry, strength to pull us to Him.

If we but ask.

If we but seek.

If we but trust.

I have a dear friend, Russ, who has pretty consistently hugged me and said, “Lesa…everything happens for a reason.”

Again and again…tender words.  I think now, what he was encouraging me to understand is that no matter what I go through in my life;   it is not in vain.  There is a purpose.  His words kept me looking “up” to God rather than down on myself.  And, in the so-doing, that has made the difference.

As God is wont to do, He illuminates things to us through time..and, as I move further and further away from times past and more and more into times future, I am seeing things more clearly…as the fog of pain and anguish is melted into nothingness and my heart peeks out, my thoughts come clear, my soul is replenished, things, thoughts become more understood.

Nothing in my life is without purpose.

Holy purpose.

Not to simply “get me through”  but to grow me into.

To God, I matter.  You matter.  We matter.

We are not simply here to exist.  We are here to give glory.

To Him.

Not because God needs our glory.  But, because WE need to be a vessel of glorifying Him.  Without that, our life is one big struggle without purpose or aim.

BUT, with that…our life takes on a holy dimension which gives purpose and authenticity….

That is why Russ speaks truth…even the bad, even the sad, even the painful has purpose.

I see the truth of that….my friend loses a precious daughter perhaps to make all of us appreciate the power of God and the shortness of life; my brother in Christ suffers mental illness perhaps to draw out tenderness and compassion from those of us to know him so that we can more fully understand the heart wrenching  gentleness of God.

When I was a children’s minister, I remember telling a friend, Jackie, “Since I have been working for the church, I have noticed that there is so much pain in life.” 

I will never forget her sage reply….”Lesa…there is no new amount of pain in life.  The volume is no greater.  The difference is that you now are in a position to see more clearly God working in your own life and in others.”

Powerful.

I had been shielded, protected, held back from the understanding.  Likely because in my sheltered existence, I could not fathom how to deal with the pain in life.

But,  would come to fathom such.

And, as God is likely to do, He has allowed me in the sharing of this new understanding and I am forever grateful.  Not grateful for the experiences which brought me here, but grateful for the growth in my heart of understanding, insight and compassion.

Grateful that at least I know now that I know nothing…..and that any small amount I might come to understand is solely due to God’s mercy on my life brought on by His desire to teach me, by His desire to draw me close…to never give up on me…to always have hope in me.

He tells me very clearly, “But if from there you seek your God, you will find Him if you seek Him with all of your heart and with all of your soul.”  “When you are in distress and all these things have happened to you, then in later days you will return to the Lord your God and obey Him.  For the Lord your God; he will not abandon or destroy you or forget the covenant with your ancestors, which He confirmed to them by oath.”

The peace, the hope, the joy which comes from knowing that while I may not have it all figured out yet…this Abandonment to Him I am asked to give

The more I abandon myself to Him….the more he stands fast in not abandoning me.

Blessings,

Lesa

I Am a Praying Woman

I am a praying woman.

Perhaps because I was a praying girl.

Possibly because I was surrounded by prayer warriors.

I love prayer.

I love the power of prayer.

I have been praying for as long as I can remember.  Talking to God.  Talking with God.

Talking, whispering, crying, singing…..with God.

My first memory of “organized” prayer was with my Great Granny Sadie Belle….

“Jesus tender shepherd hear me,

  Bless the little children tonight

  In the darkness be thou near me

  Keep me safe until the early morning light”

I can still feel her wrinkled and spindly hands folding my plump young ones together in prayer…I don’t remember her face so much, but I do remember her voice whispering this prayer with me.  I might have been four or five.  I had a little night light shaped like a book which I always thought was a Bible. 

As I grew older, I remember the powerful, booming voice of others who prayed for, with and around me…

My Daddy…he prayed with strong affirmation that he believed God would answer him.  He prayed in a very committed and disciplined way as if his family depended on it…and, they did and do

My Mama…she prayed and prayed and prayed.  I have seen her smile in prayer, weep in prayer and be still in prayer.  She is the greatest prayer warrior I know.

My siblings…they have prayed in turn taking, in moments of not wanting to and at the front of the communion table.  They have prayed for marriages, babies and one another.
My children....they have prayed when they could barely say words...precious baby worded prayers, sweet young adult prayers which have melted my heart.
My husband...intimate, knowing prayers from one who sees the worst and best in me and loves me all the same; who reminds me that God loves to hear me pray....who prays with me in return.

Friends of mine have knelt with me at the front of our church (Thanks Tracy C), and at My School (thanks Patty R and many others).

We have had our church elders over and asked them to pray with us and for us and our children.

We have had our physicians pray over our babies prior to child birth and after child birth (Thanks, Dr. Hager)

I can remember praying with my friends when we were little…amazing, now that I think about it…our praying together at age 6 and 7.  It was just something we did.  Debbie, Janet and I played “church” and prayed.

I can remember praying with boyfriends prior to eating dinner on our dates.  I was telling my daughter the other day that the majority of the boys I dated were even of my same church affiliation.  I don’t remember thinking of doing that on purpose, but I did like a guy who prayed.  Even in college, several of the young men I dated were from my church background and all of them seemed to be pray-ers.  Those who were not, for some reason, learned to.

I can remember praying with my sister-friends during devotionals, ladies’ retreats, play-group times together.

I cannot imagine a life without prayer.

But, I have lived a season of life when I knew not for what to pray.

While I am a praying person, it does not always come easy to me.

I think that is because when praying you really need to speak from your heart.  I don’t know about your heart, but my own is not always lovely and beautiful as it should be.

Sometimes, when I pray….the ugliness in me comes out from my center and straight toward God.  My pettiness, ugliness, sinfulness comes flowing right along with my tears and frustrations.

I love the movie, “Eat, Pray, Love” with Julia Roberts.  The part where she gets on her knees and says,
“Hello God, it’s me….I need your help. …..please just tell me what to do and I will do it”…..tears flowing down her face.  She is new to prayer….but prays just the same…..in belief that He will answer.

I have prayed with confidence.  I have prayed in fear.

I have prayed for things such as wisdom and patience and then ducked knowing that the answers were likely to be painful.

I have prayed for children in years of infertility.

I have prayed for a second chance in times of mistakes.

I have prayed for clarity in seasons of absolutely cloud-covered thinking.

I have prayed with “brave hope” that my baby would live.

I have prayed with hope that my marriage would survive.

I have prayed to be submissive, compliant, obedient.

I have prayed to be strong.

I have prayed for 8 hours straight as a part of marriage counseling.

I have prayed for words to explain my life’s decision.

I have prayed for my babies.

I have prayed on my knees, on my feet and on my face. I have prayed in the shower (easy to hide the tears) and as I jogged.  I have prayed in the car, on the plane and in the elevator.

Prayer time at the foot of my baby’s crib was a common occurrence….little fingers wound around mine.

P R A Y without ceasing makes sense to me.

I don’t pray because I am such a great, Godly woman.

I pray because I could not survive otherwise.

I so relate to Paul in Romans when he says, “ I do not understand what I do.  For what I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate, I do.  And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good.  As it is, it is no longer myself who do it, but it is sin living in me.  For I know that good itself does not dwell in me….for I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.  For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do – this I keep on doing.”

I pray because I fear what I would be like if I did not.

I pray because I know life without prayer would not be live-able.

I pray because I believe God will answer my mother’s prayers for my children.

I pray because even when I am tired, scared, hurt, and broken, I believe God hears me.

And, in His hearing…..my prayerful heart understands that prayer is all about making God real in our lives.  It is our way of having a conversation with our “Father” who really is the only one who can help us, hold us, love us.

And, in the folding of my hands, I am given hope….that that which I cannot do alone, I can do with God….

And, my direct link…my text message…my Facebook message is going to be heard by Him

Through my prayers.

Blessings,

Lesa