Category Archives: Writing

It Is

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There are many ways to get where you’re going…..down the road or through the hedge.

One of the best things about blogging is getting the chance to put the things that are flying around in your mind into a concrete form. Writing something makes it seem more lasting.

As someone who deals with a permanently dodgy ankle, there are times when I am confronted with things I have trouble doing. I have found that focusing on the things I can do, rather than what I can’t do, is an infinitely better way to live. But sometimes circumstances or needs come up and force my attention onto the can’ts.

My sister said a very wise thing to me as she saw my struggle and guilt over my can’ts. She said, “It’s an it is. You can’t worry over something you cannot change.”

Read that again: “It’s an it is.“

Instead of ruminating endlessly of how to change my ankle and its oddities, I have been accepting it better since she said this. My completely fused ankle is a fact. Unable to be changed. Not my fault. I have been looking for accommodations, for other solutions, for ways around the problems. And not beating myself up with guilt for things I cannot change.

Yes, I realize that this is a variation of “It is what it is.” But for some reason, just hearing the words in a different way helped me to accept it.

So, little sister, thank you. This has helped more than you know.

Also, note to self…..you never know how little things you say to people can make a difference in encouraging them along their journeys. Keep encouraging, keep loving.

It is…..well with my soul.

Love, Lisa

Rise Above the Clouds

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Take a close look at this photograph taken at Silver Strand beach in Ireland. Let your gaze focus upward. The yellow flowers growing in stone, the sheep grazing above the dangerous precipice?

There are challenging situations all around the flowers and the sheep, but they have moved past them, above them, through them.

Think of an airplane approaching an angry storm, dark lightning-filled clouds. If at all possible, the plane gains altitude and flies above the clouds. It sets its path beyond or around the storm and does not fly through it.

In my life, there are many scary precipices, stony rocks, dark storm clouds. But I do not want to focus on that. I do not want to fly through them anymore. I want to rise above the clouds. I want to soar with wings like eagles. I want to fix my eyes on Jesus Christ, my Savior, my peace.

Life races by at a breakneck pace. Days turn into years at an alarming rate. I want to fly, to grow beautiful flowers, to eat delicious food. I want to laugh, to smile, to love with my whole heart, to see new things, to appreciate the old. I want to live with the best attitude that God can give me. I want to enjoy this beautiful God-given life.

Lord, let me rise above the clouds. Love, Lisa

Birds In the Shop

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There was once a pet shop that specialized in selling exotic birds from all over the world. Each was beautiful and unique in its own way.

One was flamboyant, colorful, loud, opinionated. She squawked and preened and positioned herself all day for best effect.

Another was more subdued and quieter. Muted browns and dark reds, quiet moaning coos, but still beautiful. She preferred to be left alone and remain still.

And then there was the singing bird. The one who, if she had her way, would sing all day. Not particularly colorful, but when she sang, her true beauty and uniqueness shone. The other birds became annoyed with her, and by looks and glares, they convinced her it was best to remain quiet.

All of this continued for many days, weeks, months. The tension in the shop was palpable, even though the birds all had their own unique wonderfulness.

Until one day, the shop door was propped open. A warm spring wind was present, and the shop owner wanted to feel the hope of spring on his face. He did not notice that the songbird’s cage had been left slightly ajar after the cleaning. All he saw, moments later, were the joyful tailfeathers of the singing bird as she flew away to freedom. He heard her singing voice, and he smiled.

After that day, the other birds decided they missed the singing bird, and they were kinder to each other. They let each other be who they were. All birds who were created uniquely and beautifully. And sometimes on a warm spring day, they would hear the beautiful song of their friend, the singing bird.

Upside Down

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The little girl sometimes liked being upside down, but only for a little while. She swung so high on the rope tree swing that her daddy made. Her feet would go way above her head for a moment. Feeling upside down even though she wasn’t, almost touching the oak leaves with her bare feet. But the relief of being feet planted on the solid earth, right side up, was grounding and safe.

She learned to do a head stand up against the basement wall, her head firmly set in a soft pillow. The blood rushed furiously into her pounding ears. The room looked bizarre and unsettling. She could only take a few seconds of this, and then would plummet back into right side up reality.

One day, she got up and everything was upside down in the world. Everything. The grownups talked about a virus. She didn’t really understand. She tried and tried, but she couldn’t get things right side up. People looked and sounded weird, upside down. She felt unsettled all the time, as she tried to make sense of this new world.

But then, suddenly, the thing that had caused the upside-downness, the bad virus, went away. The world tipped back the right way. She was more than happy. She was peaceful, grounded, safe, normal. She smiled, and the whole world saw that smile.

Love, Lisa

*For all the children who need normal to return.*