Watt's Well

Room to Be, Space to Create

Tag: inspiration

Candles upon cake

He does not manage us, to-do list us, or bullet-point us. He loves us. Is with us. And believing him feels impossible, until we do, like a miracle, like lukewarm water turning merlot red right there in the cup. And hope sprouts new, because God doesn’t give us a list. He invites us into the story.

-Emily P. Freeman, A Million Little Ways

This one has felt unusual, like a comma connecting two different ideas.  It doesn’t feel monumental nor extravagant.  But it feels like a pause, a gearing up for another long stride.

It is my birthday.  My personal New Year’s day.

This morning I sat cozily under my nap blanket with a piping hot mug fitting just right in my hands.  I read the quote above by my favorite blogger.  It grabbed me and pulled me in to listen closer.

I tend to look back over my life and compartmentalize seasons.  I shove 2-3 years in a cubby, as those years threaten to come bursting out onto the floor.  Labels hang above each square, generalizing its contents.

Its a system that fails me often, as pieces do not always stay in their proper place.

In a moment of silence this morning, with coffee as my witness.  Thankfulness sprang out of my heart and washed over my head and down to my feet.  Not the kind of washing that comes from emotional hormones or warm fuzzies, yet a washing that comes from the Spirit.

And in a brief moment all of my personal history was strung together in one note.  In one sentence. And this here, this day, feels like one glorious small comma leaving room for what is yet to be written.

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Oils blend, smearing into one another, causing art to appeal to the senses.

Last year I wondered and I desired for what was to come.  All I knew was that change was coming. But this? Different job, pursuing another degree, and regaining old ground in a new way.

Yea, you can’t make this stuff up.

I hadn’t a clue. But He had laid the colors. He took his thumb rubbed it across the canvas and smeared the scene into place.

We live one continuous journey.  All our stories worth telling.

What is He creating in your life?  And are you willing to let Him blend the pieces together in His perfect way?

He is

Me?

I am not self made.  I am uniquely designed, one of a kind.

I am who I am.

Moving from glory to glory.  Oh please, Amen! Amen!

I want to smell of Love and for that there is a cost.

I will gladly take the purging by fire.  Bring it on!  For I was built to withstand!

I will emerge even brighter, ever purer.

I am who I am because he is the great I am.

I am not self made, he brought me forth as his.

Breathed life into these working limbs.  Dreams knitted in this beating heart.

I am because he is I AM.

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Sunday’s Loop

Here we are looping back to Monday again! Who’s ready?!

Some of us are returning from a turkey stuffed vacation and others of us are continuing the norm.  Some of us are reassessing goals for the week, and reseting, hoping those goals do not get lost in hustle.

So from my life to yours…here’s a few fun things for your wind down tonight, before your wind up tomorrow.

  • My Sunday evenings are spent shamelessly eagerly awaiting 8p.  I will gladly admit I am a “oncer”. That’s right I dig my “Once upon a time”.  Heroes, villains, redemption, magic, sappy moments that sometimes make me cry. Not to mention Jennifer Morrison is a total bad ass as a savior.  You can find it from the beginning on Netflix.
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photo credits: abc

  • Audiobook (did I mention this grad school girl is loving the wonderful innovation of audiobooks) of this week and next week: Year of Yes: How to Dance it Out, Stand in the Sun and Be Your Own Person by Shonda Rhimes.I do not watch Grey’s nor any of her other shows.  But this book has got me hooked.  She is a fresh captivating writer and storyteller.  She reads the audio version and it has had me dying laughing on more than one occasion.  We might not have the same perspectives, but man I am learning a thing or two. Here is a taste through her TED talk:

  • Experiments with old things becoming new and well…just new things.  Its rare moments when I actually put down the work and books and create something out of thin air.
    I experimented for the first time with chalk and charcoal and I am digging the feel of it and how messy my fingers look after.img_2317-copy

This week, may you kick defeat in the teeth as you choose to be a hero, a good guy, a light giver.

May you dream, but may you ‘do’ in order to achieve your dreams.  After all as Shonda says dreamers end up living in other people’s basements.

May you give your self the liberty to experiment with at least one thing this week. A recipe, a dance, an art medium, or a way you spend time with your kids…doesn’t have to be elaborate, just some form of “mixing it up”. Who knows you might enjoy it.

Peace to you!

Day 11:: The middle, man!

“The middle is messy”, Brené Brown speaks of the grit of our processes, “but it’s also where the magic happens.”

Honestly for me the middle is often times frustrating.

As I sat on the dock tonight, drinking a beer, and brain dumping on to my journal pages, I noticed the dock needed some work.  My mind wandered over thoughts of pressure washing it, building a new bench table, staining the dock.  Of course, I realistically reeled my thoughts in.  I am just a renter.  Then I recalled shamelessly, the countless other projects I have yet to finish.

Once upon a time, that dock was not there.  All there was in that space was marsh and open water.  No rusty worn out bench, no place to tie off a crab pot, no lights, no piles to hammock from.  The dock did not appear out of nowhere.  One day nonexistent, then next inviting to be ventured out on.

There was a middle.

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Building a dock is quite the undertaking.  You are placing piles into ewwy gooey pluff mud.  This alone takes the right machinery and for most people, the right skilled technician. Then there is the carpentry behind each and every board, the electrical behind the switches and the lights, and the list goes on.  Even before any of this, there has to be approval from the “gods of the local tidal ways”.

Sounds perfectly straight forward.  Easy. One days planning, one days work. Absolutely not!

Sounds a lot like most of my seasons.  There is work.  There are zigzag patterns I walk.  I hit obstacles.  I want to give up, but the vision keeps pushing me forward.

As you and I wrestle in this season, may we remember the middle is messy. May we take a step outside our situation for just long enough to see that there were other seasons.  We entered and left those seasons, but between the beginning and the end there was an emotionally charged middle.

If we can get that perspective the frustration, the negativity, or whatever else we may be experiencing is transformed into forward moving hope.

May we have the strength and courage to walk out the middle with confidence, faith, and security.

He is good.  He is for us.  He will deliver us.  He is waiting for us to ask: “God what are you doing right here in this moment”.

Day 9:: The wolves

I stumbled upon this neat little video this evening.  It was a subtle reminder to me and felt it fit well here on Day 9.

 

What we “feed” is what we reflect.

What struck me the most is that which we try to ward off and wage war against often times increases.  There is something to be said about letting things go.  For me, the art of letting go often entails an honest confession before a very understanding Father. What about you?

My we deal the rest of the week with each wolf appropriately, so that we may gain a greater awareness of ourselves.

 

Day 8:: To see the shells

Seeing the pictures of sharks teeth and beautiful shells littered on the beach in the wake of the storm has encouraged me to make it my goal to walk barefoot on the shore this week in search of treasures.

Barefoot Honest, unrestricted, open, feeling.

Sounds inviting to me.  I had a moment today…not a melt down moment…not a heroic moment…more like a tender moment.  A barefoot moment.

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In worship, I burst through the fog swirling in my head.  In honest worship, that kind that comes from your gut.  Worship that pulled me to a higher plane, to see above my current state.

Barefoot. 

All I know is that with that moment, I realized my feet have been cramped in my shoes for too many days.

Time to kick of the shoes and take a slow “walk”.  My particular walk involved sitting indian-style on the floor, eyes closed, soaking up His goodness.

“Not enough time” can be a wicked lie.  When all it takes sometimes is a few minutes to get this heart aligned and for peace to sink where anxiety had a foothold.

Barefoot.

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I am unearthing a couple practices to help me live more moments barefoot.  One that you might find interesting as well is Centering Prayer.  What practices are helpful for you to reflect and center yourself?

 

Day 2: On Fire

 

Everything inside you knows there’s more than what you’ve heard.  So much more than empty conversations filled with empty words

– Switchfoot “On Fire”

This song is stuck there in my head and in my heart.  So I pay attention.

Picture this with me: You walk up to a long knotted wooden counter, bartender says, “Well? What will it be?”.  Your eyes scan shelf after shelf of the thousands of labels on bottles, some reading: Shoes and More, Booze and Xanex, Busy and Distracted, Netflix and ChillAnxious and OverworkedComparison and Hustle.  An ache, an angst, a nagging that  will not let you be.  What bottle will drown it out for the time being?

For mercy sake, no bar actually exists. But our aches are real.  Our attempts to fill the voids are played out.

I’m here to whisper to you, to me: There is more.

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There is One who satisfies every longing.  One who looks at the hungry and feeds them.

Even if you know the One, and you think you’ve explore all there is to explore about him.  There is more.

For those who hear the simple whispers, be encouraged in all you face.  May you turn towards the fire and enter in.

For it is in the fire that overtime all else falls away.  Gold is put in the fire, but will not be consumed.  It will be made pure.  In all its purity, we can watch it gloriously reflect the fire from which it came.

You and I too will reflect the fires from which we came.  There will be stories told because we, hungry for more, stepped into the flames.  Others may see their reflection in our stories.  Enough bravery will rise up for them to step into their fires.

And you’re on fire when He’s near you
You’re on fire when He speaks
You’re on fire, burning at these mysteries

-Switchfoot “On Fire”

May you and I lean into the fire as we look to the One who invites. Come see, there is more!

 

31 days:: Day 1 Reflections

Scroll down for Day 1!

Or to check out the other days just click the link below.  I am adding each day to the list as I go.

Day 2:: On Fire

Day 3:: The Ups of Downs

Day 4-7:: Aftermath

Day 8:: To see the shells

Day 9:: The wolves

Day 10:: Off for reflection 🙂

Day 11:: The middle, man!

Day 12-13:: Dimly

Day 14:: Sunday’s Loop

Day 15-16:: A mirror like no other

Day 17-18:: Lowcountry Lights

Day 19-20:: Break for fall

Day 21-22:: The unruly discipline

Day 23-25:: Prayer from the table

Day 26-27:: Fiery boots

Day 28-29:: Simply impactful

31 That’s a wrap!

Here I go again, attempting with thousands of others on the internet to write consecutively for 31 days on the same topic.

This go around will be interesting for sure. Grad student, busy body keeping clients happy, ministry school student.  The roles can be a bit overwhelming at times.  But at my core what are the burning desires?  The roles that if I were to not fulfill, a piece of me would be in angst.  These roles are birthed out of a relationship with the one who is Love.  Writer, Artist, Revivalist, Daughter, Sister.

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In an attempt to feed (and hopefully you can do the same) the inner spinnings of my spirit, here is space for you and I to explore for 31 days, Reflections.  I’m more than thrilled! I hope you will join me on this journey.

We take a look back to remember, to learn, to restore.  We reflect.  In the deepest parts of us we have mirrors hidden within our souls covered by dusty blankets.  What are these mirrors meant to reflect?  We look upon the waters of a vast lake and we see the heavens kiss the earth as clouds dance upon the ripples.  It is but a mere reflection.

What is in your heart and soul spinning around waiting to be revealed?

Maybe, you too, would like to take up the challenge and write for 31 days. Click on the link to discover resources and helpful tips.  You have until Oct 5th to link up with people from all over who are taking up the challenge.

Blessings!

Hanging High

Sometimes you just hang hammocks. And only sometimes do you fall.

I remember being at my Precious MawMaw’s house when I was five or six. I was out in the big yard with the lone peach tree and the tall pines. My clever MawMaw had gotten someone to tie up a simple rope hammock between two of the pines most likely in hopes her grandbabies would enjoy it. This particular summer day I was outside with my bleach-blonde-chubby-cheeked brother and my Aunt Donna, my mama’s younger cousin. I was timid at first to get on the hammock, I was scared I might loose my balance and flip over, just like that one dreadful encounter with the tire swing. Seeing my timidity, Aunt Donna sat down to encourage me to join her. Since the hammock held her, I bravely joined her. No sooner had I sat down than my butt was sore from hitting the sandy root ridden earth. A bit petrified but all the same consoled by my aunt’s “ole poor thing” followed by her big hearty laugh, “You alright!” we brushed ourselves off. And no lie it was laughed about the rest of the day.
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The other night, I was hanging what I like to call “fancy hammocks” with my baby brother. And no sooner than we thought we were smart as we could be for our damn good engineering, we were humbled. I lay flat on my behind laughing so hard my belly hurt. I didn’t know whether to get up off the porch floor or just lay there for a bit, fearing I might possibly had broken or injured something. I quickly realized falling at my age is a bit different than falling at five. I was sore for a week. However, I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time, and was happy to have a story between me and my baby brother.

Moral of the story: Quit hanging hammocks it ends up in a sore ass. NO, wrong! Because let’s just be honest, there is the kid in all of us that wants the sensation of flying or of floating- to conquer gravity, to be brave enough to let our feet leave the ground. So moral of the story: keep hanging hammocks.

Don’t give up when your ass hits the floor. After a big hearty laugh (possibly preceding a good cry), get back up! Invest in people again, love again, aim for a goal again, take a risk again, just hang another hammock. It’s worth the experience because nothing is ever wasted.

Yesterday I hung a slightly tangled hammock over the water. I let you know how it pans out 🙂

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