Blog : Give Me Grace

Grounding : The Year of Zero {Day 11}

Posted on October 23, 2014October 23, 2014 by lisha epperson

Be happy in the moment, that’s enough. Each moment is all we need, not more. – Mother Teresa

Recently the littlest lovely asked, “What’s 5 + zero?” He’s processing his understanding of numbers and the concept of zero. It’s a pretty big deal in my house now. I said, “Five.” and went on to explain how, with zero everything stays the same (in addition and subtraction anyway).

I’ve watched 4 children work this out now. Sit with the concept of nothing. Only this time, I’m thinking about the simplicity and mystery of zero. In a strange way, it feels powerful. Like I’ve happened upon a life transforming secret. It’s ancient and spiritual…something I couldn’t have learned without first suffering the brokenness of spiritual relapse.

Perhaps this is my year of zero. A rite of passage where I hold close what I have by settling into freedom from expectation. A stagnant life was never an option, and quite honestly scared the bejesus out of me. I’ve always fought words like containment, believing “I” had to “do” the work of growing. But being still and walking through a season without trying so hard might be what saves me. Indeed, the grace of zero intrigues me. For now, I see grace in being neutral. I see grace in zero.

Acknowledging this spiritual cypher is a gorgeous bowing down..a sweet surrender from trying. From the bedrock of my soul I’ll look up. The pit marks not the low point but the beginning of a rise. From nothing comes grace – the free and unmerited favor of God. And from grace…gratitude.

Zero is stillness, peace…silence. In the silence of zero I hear the faint sound of laughter. I hear my happy approaching and for now, embrace the beautiful neutrality of contentment. I lay down my will and want for more. Yield my heart to his right now provision. Render my hope to a promise of enough.

Zero is going to bed early and getting up late. Making cookies every night..if that’s what I feel. Zero is sitting for an hour or two to watch my 4-year-old sleep or maybe a nap before dinner for me – falling asleep after filling myself with the words of Barbara Brown Taylor. And zero looks like saying no. No, to the part of me that still refuses submission to His song. And no to the spirit that says it should always be winter and never spring. Always tears and little joy. My zero is grace balanced discipline.

There’s grace in demanding the equilibrium found in zero. I’m grounded by the checks and balances that promise to sustain me. In this season I will want for nothing. I will embrace my year of zero. I release this trifle of nothing, this handful of human effort and trust all the more, the work He’ll do through it. Glory is found in the abyss of my offering. And it starts with zero – here… my holy home base.

Joining The Nester for the #31Days Writing Challenge.

Give Me Grace : Grounding – on Being Loved {Day 10}

Posted on October 18, 2014November 2, 2014 by lisha epperson

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Pslam 139:5

As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds his people both now and forevermore. – Psalm 125:2

I called my mother the other day. Nearing the end of my rope, I needed grounding. A familiar voice, my matrix, my mama. I didn’t want to burden her so we talked about everything but what’s been going on with me lately. I avoided all talk of myself by focusing on the adventures of the The Lovelies.

I told her about skating and test prep. Ade’s newest alter ego and Chailah’s ballet class. We talked until I couldn’t hold it in anymore. In an exasperated rush I let go…”I’m tired.” It’s a perfect word to hide behind, suggesting more about the crazy that is parenting in NYC and less about my personal wilderness. She listened and went on to remind me I have exactly what I wanted (her way of saying “quit complaining, ain’t nobody got time for that”).

I had to suck it up…because I wasn’t being honest. For her, saying I’m tired said everything about my physical state and little about my heart – even though that’s where I’m worn the most. Still, I felt better after speaking with her. I felt the familiar I told you so and finger wag delivered with mothers wit and so much grace. I felt the comfort of her love.

And even though I didn’t have the conversation I wanted (I wasn’t ready for that), I got a healthy dose of my mothers love. I got the conversation that grounded me – encouragement to press through another season.

I am a daughter being loved by a mother.

Later that day an old friend called. And I grounded myself in the memory of our close friendship. Life has taken us on different paths and our homeschool schedules haven’t synched in a long while. The late night phone calls – equal parts encouragement and complaining sessions – have all but disappeared.

She asked me how I was doing. And out it came. “I’m tired”. She fished through the usual complaints to see my struggle and lifted my ego with the best kind of endorsement. The only kind she could offer given such limited information. In one fell swoop she blew fresh wind on the dry bones of my motherhood and offered me an opportunity.

This time, a conversation I didn’t expect, but definitely one I needed. Our conversation that day grounded me in friendship. I was reminded of my value and worth in my community. Of how much he loves me though my friends – a holy hand-picked bunch of people who ground me in community.

I am a woman being loved by a friend.

And then I read these words…on a printout from 2004. “But I will give you expression with the pen, says The Lord, to be able to write the things that pertain to the worship of The Lord”. A prophetic word from my former pastor, words I don’t remember. Because back then, if God didn’t have anything to say about my body finally lining up to achieve a successful pregnancy – well, I wasn’t interested. Ten years later, He loves me with a letter. One I hadn’t read, one He saved ( the stack I found it in was on its way to the trash), for such a time as this. He grounded me with the surprise of his blood stained love poured out in black and white.

I am a girl being loved by her God.

Today I’m grounded in a love that extends beyond the arms of my husband and children. I’m caught in the grace of community, held in a love that’s secure. Home is a haven but he’s cast my net of love wide, extending beyond the borders of my home and the handful of city blocks I travel every day. His love seals and saves. It surrounds me. In this, He loves me well.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

♥ Continue reading “Give Me Grace : Grounding – on Being Loved {Day 10}” →

Grounding : Flashback – On Looking Back and Building Trust {Day 9}

Posted on October 14, 2014October 14, 2014 by lisha epperson

Grounding : Flashback – On Looking Back and Building Trust

Hallelujah! Thank GOD! Pray to him by name! Tell everyone you meet what he has done! Sing him songs, belt out hymns, translate his wonders into music! Honor his holy name with Hallelujahs, you who seek GOD. Live a happy life! Keep your eyes open for GOD, watch for his works; be alert for signs of his presence. Remember the world of wonders he has made, his miracles, and the verdicts he’s rendered— O seed of Abraham, his servant, O child of Jacob, his chosen. (‭Psalm‬ ‭105‬:‭1-6‬ MSG)

He’s GOD, our God, in charge of the whole earth. And he remembers, remembers his Covenant— for a thousand generations he’s been as good as his word. (‭Psalm‬ ‭105‬:‭7-8 MSG)

Then take care lest you forget the Lord, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. – Deuteronomy 6:12 ESV

Autumn is here in New York City. The inevitable change in season marks a transformation we can’t control. A golden sun teases from the east and above ground transportation hasn’t recovered from its sporadic early am schedule. It’s still dark.

Fallen leaves and crushed ginkgo fruit litter my walk across the park and I watch an older Asian couple gather the seeds in plastic bags. They come every year. Trusting God provision, they return every fall based on the promise of what He’s already done. They show up at dawn to collect the smooth, plum shaped fruit falling from the trees. They remember.

The promise of transition trails me like the scent of this strange fruit. And while I chase the light across the park, winds of change wrap me like an old scarf. I breathe it in and pull it close. Remembering.

The time is ripe for looking back. I’m taking a walk down the cavernous halls of my past. Arms stretched wide, I trace my fingertips along the scars. Deep grooves and scratches, tiny nicks and cuts brand my life with memories. If I don’t remember I’ll forget.

I think God likes to be noticed. I think it makes him angry when we don’t pay attention to the work he’s done – and dear Lord, how easy it is to forget. Remembering satisfies my deeper need to settle my heart with His provision and promise. The more I remember, the more I trust.

Yesterday’s victories get shelved like so many grade school trophies. We can choose to see them as relics of the good old days or as a vow of assurance, his promise of loyalty and trust. In looking back we see a chronicled listing of answered prayer, a record of His works. Taking a look back offers a clear view – the difference between now and then, what life looked like before we let him in. A flashback helps us trust him with the whatever may lay ahead and encourages us to believe Him in the present. Taking a look back helps us rest.

God has proven himself. Today I’m remembering a marriage birthed from a broken relationship, the children he spirited into our lives through adoption, the fulfillment of a promise in my womb. He’s healed, saved and delivered and I BELEIVE. I’m clinging to his finished work and proven past – all the good, He’s already done.

And I’m encouraged by the hard things. I’ve seen His providence sweep through to shift and rearrange my life – I’ve seen Him make things right. Some good, all for His glory. I’ve seen. In the hurt, it was well. Through tears and disappointment…it was well. Perhaps not in the moment but in the flashback I see.

While I wait I’ll ground myself by focusing on what he’s done. I’ll ground myself in His reputation – his insurance, his lifetime guarantee to be good. He’ll show up. He always does. He’ll catch me if I fall, he’ll keep my mind right. I’m flashing back to all the things that made me a believer.

While waiting for the next thing, ground yourself in the gifts he’s already given. Flashback on the love he’s already shown. Then trust Him.

Joining The Nester for the #31Days Writing Challenge

Catch up on earlier posts in the series here :

31 Days of Grounding : Remembering Who and Whose You Are

Give Me Grace : Grounding – He Speaks : On Paying Attention {Day 8}

Posted on October 11, 2014November 2, 2014 by lisha epperson

For God speaks once, yes twice, yet man perceives it not. Job 33:14

God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” – C.S. Lewis

Images swirl through my mind. I want answers from God but my usual pressing in feels dry. The closer I get the less I hear. I don’t hear words. And I’m not sure if I want to see what’s staring me in the face. Life, in my right now world, is like my favorite roller coaster. It’s thrilling and lovely… and scary. I want to raise my arms and scream – allow myself the beautiful abandon of a person of faith but reconsider and play it safe. I’ll stay strapped in and ready myself for a white knuckle ride. This is a season or waiting…of holding on.

As much as I believe there’s a message in all things, right now, I’m struggling to hear him. His words are tangled in a melody that keeps me connected to Him and each day I waken to the same lilting tune. It’s mournful and soft and I know it’s birthed from the cup of tears he’s collected these past few months. He speaks. But I’m not paying attention.

And then something like this will happen….he’ll tell me a story.

I pushed past her to make the connection from the express train. She stood in the door way, immovable. Her back to me, I hopped in the car doing the NYC subway shove. Everyone knows it and its allowed, but I didn’t feel good about it. Especially when I turned around and saw her.

I recognized the familiar golden lion logo of her gently used Anne Klein bag. Resting between the crook of her arm and her wrist the bag hung stiff and uncomfortable – like it wanted to stay away from the dry stub that used to be her right hand. I wanted to hear her story. She wore thrift store designer duds – fashion from years past. Gucci, before Tom Ford and classic vintage Ann Taylor worn with old school Nikes – black of course. She’d pushed her short Afro under a trendy cap and gracefully held her neck high. She looked tired – her face lined with memories, stories of things she may never tell. She’s the new face of homelessness I see in the city. I wanted to hear her story – starting with the two over-sized garbage bags at her feet – everything she probably cared for, and the hand – I wanted to hear about that too. I thought it ironic she stood under a sign advertising a new health insurance plan – “Who Will Care For You?”

No words were exchanged. She shared her story in a moment of eye contact. Our eyes met and I listened. The quiet between us, a powerful word.

Watching her, really seeing her – helped me hear God. He does that. Let’s me experience His presence through a story. He pulls me in with a glance, the glint of gold from a purse. I know everything and nothing about a woman I’ve never met. I hear him.

For now? silence. I’m reminded of the sound of waiting. For sure there are seasons of riotous unrest marked by days, weeks even years of in your face rantings for change…NOW. But sometimes we’re asked to say nothing while waiting. I’m in the queue marked quiet. I’ll be silent.

He speaks…in arrows from a pulpit shot straight at the center of my heart. He speaks in snippets of conversation I hear from my children, the wise word wisdom of friends who love me. He speaks in heart revelation. The inner voice I’ve come to know as Christ’s alone. He speaks in the marsh. He is wind in wildflowers, a blood-red moon. The breeze that carries autumn leaves to the ground.

He speaks in silent confirmation. Let’s call it peace. It’s not likely he’ll offer a marching band, no tumbling cheerleaders or mystical, theatrical experience. If you’re looking for the lighting bolt, where the heavens separate to reveal a legion of angels carrying a scroll bearing your name …well, that probably won’t happen. When I pay attention, the messages he sends are no less powerful. I hear him here… here , here and here. I listen for him in nature, in movement and music. In dreams and visions.

And when I can’t hear him. I set my heart to find hope in His word. It’s a love letter and map. A compass and promise. It tells me He speaks.

He speaks through story….yours, mine…hers.

Today I heard him in this song.
These words from one of my children – “you say you won’t get mad at me mama, but I know you will” – ouch
And this word from Priscilla Shirer

Ground yourself in this…He’s talking. Are you listening?

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

Grounding : Flashback – On Looking Back and Building Trust

31 Days of Grounding : Remembering Who and Whose You Are

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace Continue reading “Give Me Grace : Grounding – He Speaks : On Paying Attention {Day 8}” →