What the River Knows

I sat upon the bank atop the mossy bed.
Settling in, I watched it pass, while visions filled my head.
What tales could old man River tell? The stories he must know.
Of seasons, weather, work, and play; of people, friend or foe?

The rains of spring that fall for weeks and raise his levels high,
The welcome heat of summer sun and days of cloudless sky,
Autumn leaves that take a ride upon his steady flow,
Winter’s icy wonderland, replete with glistening snow.

Children playing at his edge beneath Mom’s watchful eye
Find wonder in his treasures as he rushes quickly by.
A fisherman in waders, hopeful for a trout,
Stands patiently awaiting as his line goes in and out.

A trout, who is no dummy, hides behind a rock.
He plans to keep on swimming, not end up in a crock.
A spotted fawn looks brightly at his reflection as he drinks.
Does he wonder how his twin anticipates his every blink?

An ancient, twisted limb dips gnarled fingers in the creek;
After years of current passing through, this old branch is getting weak.
A young man skips a stone, his brow furrowed in thought;
This time in nature helps him think—make decisions that he ought.

The river slips past the beaver lodge, pulling branches as he flows.
Up ahead, beyond the turn, the pawpaws grow and the herons pose.
The river runs all day and night under moon and stars and sun;
Although he runs and ebbs and flows, his work is never done.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. Psalm 23:2

A Tranquil and Quiet Start

On this beautiful fall Saturday morning, I’m grateful. Looking out my window, the leaves are fluttering on the trees, and some are giving up their lifelong perch and floating gently down to a ground already covered with their neighbors. The sky is blue with a wisp of white here and there, and the app on my phone promises a high of 71. The perfect autumn day! It inspired me to create a quick poem 🙂

Looking out my window, here, I feel such gladness, joy and cheer.

Leaves are falling gently down, they reach with silence, the covered ground.

Winds blow softly through the trees and dismantle the ones that are left, with ease.

A sky of open, endless blue, touched softly by a faint white hue.

A morning crisp with lingering chill yet whispering warmth that soon will fill.

Inside we are blessed with a tranquil start, the result of quiet and peaceful hearts.

A day began with prayer and the Word and assurance that our prayers are heard.

Leftover coffee, some still in the pot, smells awfully delicious, though none of its hot.

In the background, Christmas carols play, Their echo weaving through the gray.

Stirring the heart in a tender way,as autumn quietly slips away.

This day will pass as quickly as ever, no matter how slowly you choose to endeavor.

So, take a breath, take a pause, and savor all the joy it draws.

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!” – Psalm 118:24

When ‘Someday’ Becomes ‘I Did It

With God’s help and the support and encouragement from my husband, family and friends, I finally published a book. It’s a short, funny children’s book based on a poem that I wrote and posted right here, many years ago. It’s titled, “If I Were a Turkey

I’ve learned that sometimes you just need to finish something, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real. I had talked about this idea for so long that it became easy to stay in that safe space of “someday.” But there’s something deeply satisfying about crossing that line, seeing the final product, and realizing it’s yours. It’s proof that you followed through and that you can do it again.

The fear of failure can quietly hold us back from the very things God is calling us to do. Yesterday after church, I spoke with my granddaughter Cali about her lesson on Moses and the burning bush. It reminded me how God can call us in many different ways—often when we feel the most unprepared.

Granted, publishing a book isn’t anything like what Moses faced, but learning new software programs certainly wasn’t my idea of fun either. I had to figure out Canva, BookBrush, Kindle Publishing, and several other tools that were completely new to me. There were moments I felt overwhelmed and frustrated, but with prayer and encouragement, each task was slowly accomplished.

Moses had a profound fear of failure and a daunting task before him. Yet God’s response was simple and reassuring: I will be with you. Moses didn’t need to be perfect or confident; he just needed to be willing.

Each of us has been given gifts and talents by God. They are not meant to be hidden away in fear but used in faith. When we trust that He will equip us for what He asks us to do, our fear becomes smaller and His strength becomes greater.

Now go! I will be with you as you speak, and I will instruct you in what to say.” Exodus 4:12

How Love and Faith Rekindled My Creativity

My last post was back in 2021, and somewhere along the way, life took a few turns. For a while, I lost the spark for writing. The words just wouldn’t come. But here we are in 2025, and I’m back, heart full and pen in hand, ready to share new thoughts and stories.

This year has been one of the happiest chapters of my life. In March, I married a wonderful, Christian man who has been my biggest encourager on every creative journey. He’s an artist, one who works in a fascinating medium called gyotaku. Have you heard of it? I hadn’t either, until he introduced me to this beautiful Japanese art form that captures real fish impressions in ink. It’s as peaceful as it is powerful and it’s inspired me to look at art, nature, and even storytelling in new ways.

And speaking of stories… I’m thrilled to say I’m about to publish my very first children’s book!

There’s something about rediscovering creativity after a long pause. It feels a bit like waking up from winter. The ideas start to stir again, gently at first, until you realize they’ve been there all along, just waiting for the right season.

For me, that season came with peace, prayer, and a slower pace. I stopped trying to force creativity and began to notice it again in the little things; the rhythm of morning coffee, the sound of pencil on paper, the gentle fall breeze, and the way sunlight filters through the trees, setting the autumn leaves aglow.

I realized that creativity isn’t something we lose; it just changes shape for a while. Sometimes it hides beneath the busyness, or the changes life can bring, only to return when we’re ready to see beauty again.

A dear friend once told me, years ago, that my writing wasn’t finished. She said that there would be a season for it, and not to lose heart. I spoke with her today and reminded her of those words, and how right she was. Her encouragement stayed with me, even in the quiet years, and I’m so grateful for it now.

Now, as I step into this new chapter; writing, creating, and sharing stories, I feel that spark again. It’s humbler this time, steadier, grounded in gratitude and faith.

If you’ve ever felt that your own creativity has gone quiet, take heart. It’s still there, waiting for you. Sometimes we just need a little stillness, a little grace, and maybe a nudge from someone who believes in us to bring it back to life.

I’m so grateful to be creating again; writing, learning, and sharing and even more grateful that you’re here to walk this path with me. Here’s to new beginnings, rekindled passions, and the beautiful ways God reminds us that it’s never too late to start again.

“And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.”
Philippians 1:6 (NLT)

Tap, tap, tap

Three baby robins waiting for mama to bring more food

At times, it feels like God isn’t listening, the heavens are brass, there is a wall that seemingly no amount of prayer or praise can penetrate.

Of course, I know that this is when faith comes in. This is where I am supposed to press in, to trust and wait patiently. But my human need for immediate attention cries out. Impatience prevails. Anger even rears it’s ugly head.

I was having one of these seasons recently. Well, it felt like a season but in reality, it was only a couple of days. My maternal cares for my children and other concerns were crowding out my joy. I could say I am 100% joyful all the time with never a care in the world but that would be a lie. I’ve realized that it’s okay to call on others for help and for prayer when the oppressive thoughts are wearing you out. I had felt a heaviness weighing on me and I needed relief but I couldn’t hear God, couldn’t sense His presence.

I had requested prayers from a couple of trusted women and was about to sit down and begin my days work.

Here, I must backtrack for a minute and tell you that there was a robin’s nest where three beautiful blue eggs had recently produced three hungry babies, situated in a gutter on my porch. My granddaughter and I would watch the mama bird forage for worms and bugs tirelessly all day long. She would bring them back faithfully to nourish her growing triplets.

So, as I am sitting in my office, feeling gloomy, I hear a tap, tap, tap on my window. The birds haven’t done this in a while, so I was surprised to hear it. I carefully opened my back door and the mama bird flew to the grass right off the porch and looked at me with her little head tilted. I looked around and saw the nest and the three babies scattered on the porch. They had fallen down from the gutter along with their nest and she was requesting my help to put it all back together again! That may sound unbelievable to some, but why else did she tap and then sit there and look at me that way?

Carefully, I picked up each baby with a tissue and put them back in the nest and sat it on a table near my back door. A family of doves had nested there last year, but I wasn’t sure if the robin will feel safe enough to return. She did. A few minutes later, I looked outside and she was sitting on the nest.

I walked back into the house and immediately, I felt God’s presence. I felt Him assure me that mama’s will always want to shelter their babies, but sometimes they have to get out of the way and let someone help them, like mama robin had done. I needed to once again, give my cares to Him and get out of the way. He also reminded me how much He cares for me. I felt peaceful, the heaviness lifted and I felt joy again. He answered my prayers with the help of a helpless little mama.

Some people might think this story is for the birds, but I don’t care. God has used his creation and creatures and stranger things than that to make me see the light before. The point is, He cares. We still forget it sometimes, but it doesn’t change the fact.

Blessings,
Lisa

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. Luke 12:6-7

Desperate

Jesus, You were spit on, ridiculed, beaten, called a drunkard, a glutton and a liar. You were betrayed by many including those close to you. You beheld the hatred, the depravity, the gross reality of the state of the human heart. You were hung on a cross between ungodly men, mocked and provoked.

Yet you died for those who had committed these sins against you. You gave your life so that these and many millions after them might have hope, a chance at salvation, and eternal life.

Yes, you were disgusted by the religious leaders, yet so merciful that your love changed Saul to Paul. You got angry, even turned over tables, but never committed sin.

You witnessed the atrocities man is capable of, you heard our pathetic excuses, you saw our doubt and unbelief.

Yet, you died for us.

You knew there would be more of us, generation after generation of self-righteous, flesh-gratifying, self-loving, immoral humans, born into sin.

Yet, you willingly went the way of the Cross.

Your love is unfathomable, your mercy undeserved, your long suffering immeasurable and your grace, ever amazing.

I want to love like you do; to see hearts, instead of hands; to see possibility instead of reality, to see hope instead of despair and life instead of death.

Oh, to truly be your hands and feet, all the time. This is my prayer. I know that kind of love is impossile without Your love, without Your spirit dwelling in me. Teach me, show me, mold me. Forgive me my pride and arrogance, my detestable desire to be right at all costs, any bitterness or hatred towards people who I disagree with. Humble me and break my heart for what breaks yours.

For You are the only hope and my faith is in You always.

One step forward

IMG-7349Outside this morning, I remember being on my knees, in the dirt, pulling weeds.  I felt the slight pull from my incision site as I shifted positions and I was reminded how far I have come in just a few short weeks.  Mind you, as they passed, they felt like long grueling weeks.  Overwhelmed with thankfulness that I am over the worst of it, I sat back in the grass, listened to the birdsong and reflected.

I remember taking that first hesitant step.  It almost brought me to my knees, but I took it.  And, you don’t take one step without anticipating taking another and another.  That is how it’s been; a few more each day, less pain as the steps increase and healing is progressing.

As I reflect on my recent healing journey, I can’t help but see the parallels in emotional and spiritual healing.  We get wounded and we can either take steps toward healing or let fear of further pain stop us in our tracks, immobilizing us.  If we stay that way long enough, body and soul begin to atrophy.  

We often try to shelter ourselves from the unknown, behind our walls of fear keeping us from stepping into the blessed light of healing.

I’m limping now, but I’m moving.  The walk isn’t pretty, but it’s forward.  My steps are sometimes tentative, but step by step I am leaving this pain behind.  

The physical wound is healing, there isn’t as much fear of it splitting open again.  New, strong skin is weaving a covering over what was once a gaping wound.  I’ve covered it some, especially in the beginning for protection, but I’ve also let the sun shine on it.  Importantly, I haven’t touched it.  You can’t keep touching a wound, and expect it to heal.

Now that I am edging closer to full recovery, my progress is greater every day.  I don’t talk about it as much.  I have shed the crutches and the scooter.  It’s all quickly transforming into a memory, albeit one I have learned much from.

So, I think about what I have learned and the main points are three-fold; I need others to help me when I’m at my weakest and I must let them, empathy for others who have gone through something similar and understanding about this particular struggle.  Going forward, if I am wise, I will remember the lesson and encourage others.

Of course, above I have been speaking of my recent foot surgery, but as usual, if you keep your heart open, God will open your eyes and impart knowledge of deeper things through your struggles.

If you are going through any kind of pain, be it emotional, spiritual or physical, just take a step; one small baby step toward recovery and healing.  God will meet you where you are if you will let Him.

Blessings, 

Lisa

 

“Go back?” he thought. “No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!” So up he got, and trotted along with his little sword held in front of him and one hand feeling the wall, and his heart all of a patter and a pitter.” 
― J.R.R. Tolkien

Mid-Winter Musings

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It’s that time of year when many of the trees are bare except for a few stragglers; dried out crunchy leaves that shiver in the wind but seem to cling ever so tightly to the only home they have ever known.

The days can get overcast, over-long and over-dreary if you let them.  The beautiful colors of fall have disappeared and at first glance, we are left with a monotonous, almost colorless picture.

Oh, but if we look a little deeper, we may catch the flamboyant male cardinal, a mighty splash of red against a mass of drab, dry branches.  Or, we could admire the gentle descent of a pristine snowflake, falling, falling, falling.

One of the things that I find to love about winter is knowing that it’s hiding something beautiful in it’s depths.

Inside the sturdy tree bark, underneath the frozen ground, change is lurking.  Just when it looks like all is dead and cold, the chilly curtain of winter will close and colorful spring will arrive dancing, with all of it’s change and hustle and bustle.

I always say that God used seasons because we are such fickle creatures.  We get bored entirely too quickly.  As soon as spring arrives, we will pine for summer.

If you know me at all, you know that glorious fall is my favorite season of all, but I continue to enjoy the beauty in all of them.

Such is life…We have to learn to find the beauty in the seasons of our lives as well.  Hold fast, spring is coming!

 

While the earth remains, seed time and harvest, summer and winter, day and night shall not cease.  Genesis 8:22

Restful Saturday at home

treeThere is something so deliciously satisfying about an afternoon nap; joyous partly due to the sheer infrequency you get to enjoy the pleasure.  There you are, adrift on the ocean of peaceful slumber so sweet, languidly waking, body warm beneath a cozy blanket.  Equally wonderful is slowly coming alive to the sounds of a fire and family; book pages turning, quiet conversation, a soft snore from someone enjoying the same wondrous pleasure;

Lazily peering over your publication of choice, admiring those whom you love, the scent of holiday baking and lunch left overs hovering in the air.  Relishing these all too rare moments, living in them, appreciating them.  Thankful that in this moment, there is no rush, no deadline and nothing on social media worthy of stealing this time of hushed leisure.

Time is ticking, hurriedly rushing forward to the next hour.  May we cherish restful times like these and the cherished ones we share them with.  It’s too easy to squander our time with loved ones during the holidays as we get caught up in the hustle and bustle.  We should strive to truly “be there” in every shared moment.

Happy December 1st,
Blessings,

Lisa

“Mommy, be my safe”

IMG-1434When my eldest was around 3 years old, she began to express her fears or concerns with her own original phrase that I thought was just precious.

When we found ourselves in situations where there appeared to be a cause for concern, she would nestle her tiny little body up close to mine and quietly say, “Mommy, be my safe.”  She meant, protect me and shelter me until the threat has passed.  It could be stormy weather or a creepy noise, or that stranger in the grocery store who got a little too close for comfort.

Whatever the peril, she trusted that I would save her from it.  Wrapped around mommy’s legs, with one sticky little hand in mine, she could be at peace.

Yesterday afternoon as the sky darkened, it started to thunder and the wind was bending the tree branches and lightning cracked across the sky.  We went from sunshine to eerie skies, with the promise of a good storm.  My youngest granddaughter came over to me and buried her little head in my lap and then looked up with her big blue eyes and said, “Nana, what noise?”  She’s always said that when she hears a noise that upsets her.  We have always speculated that all the time spent in the NICU and the strange noises might have affected her in some way, so we are always quick to reassure her that all is well.

Her cuteness reminded me of my daughter’s cuteness years before and I smiled thinking of the all the times that we have cried out for help from our Father.   What do our cries for help sound like to Him?  Are there times He thinks we are “cute”?  Do our petitions ever bring a smile to His face because of the way we phrase them?  I think so.

The storms of life roll through without warning, we are exposed to traumatic things all day on whatever type of media we choose, there is so much noise.  Noise, by definition,  is “a sound that is loud or unpleasant that causes a disturbance”.  Yes, there is much noise in our world.

Thankfully, like my daughter and granddaughter, I have a safe haven, a place where I can run to find peace and comfort.  I can cry out to God, “What noise?!?!”  As He stills and comforts my spirit with His still small voice, I can lean in and say, “Be my safe.”  And, He will, every time.

Mitch Teemley

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