Another gentle noticing…

For more years than I can count I have enjoyed the art of photography. Something about trying capture a moment in time along with just the right lighting, just the right angle, just the right emotion, and just the right everything else is a challenge I not only accept, but I find inspiring. I’ve never been one who was satisfied to just “take pictures” of an event or a place. Rather, I have longed to catch and savor a moment that will never be found again. It’s a gentle noticing.

No two moments are ever the same. Just as no two smiles, no two sunsets, or no two flowers can ever be seen in exactly the same way. Even a stroll through the same park on two different days will reveal the same sights in fresh, new ways. In these days of never-ending photo storage, I’ve found myself with countless photos living in my computer or on my phone. For quite a while, I’ve wanted to put a few of the shots I’ve captured out into the world. One way of doing that is to turn them in to cards—cards that can be sent, shared, and bring joy and encouragement to others. SO – here they are, and here are the details ---

There are FOUR different sets:

**Sunrises and Sunsets

**Spring Blooms

**Beach Scenes

**Bluff Park

Four different themes to begin.  New sets coming soon.

Each set contains 5 cards and 5 envelopes.

Each set is $15.00.  

(Shipping is available for an additional charge. Local folks in Birmingham can arrange for pick-up or delivery. Cash or Venmo preferred.)

Questions: agentlenoticing@gmail.com

(Or, if you have my cell, feel free to call or shoot me a text.)

“Again at a 10”

Have you ever had a song you loved to sing repeatedly? Maybe you drove around in the car and belted out the words to the top of your lungs, or maybe you remember hiding out in your room as a teenager and turning up the music so you could sing along. Then one day a friend overhears you singing “your song” and politely informs you that you are singing the wrong lyrics. Maybe you and your friend have a good laugh at the fake lyrics you’ve been singing, but somewhere in the back of your mind, your version of the lyrics just makes more sense and feels more……real. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to sing the correct lyrics.

Recently, I was riding in the car with my niece. She loves to sing. She especially loves to hold my phone while I’m driving and pick the songs we listen to from my playlists. (I suppose it’s a good thing she doesn’t know anything about the days when we just had to listen to whatever came on the radio.) Anytime we begin the process of getting in the car to go somewhere, she immediately begins to clamor, “Can I pick the song? I wanna pick the song.” Because her big sister and big brother are learning and singing a lot of the most popular worship songs at summer camp and in chapel at school, she’s learning these songs, too.

One of her favorites right now is a song called "Gratitude” sung by Brandon Lake. I must confess, my heart melts to hear her singing about throwing up her hands in praise to God. The chorus of the song proclaims:

            “And I throw up my hands and praise you again and again

            ‘Cause all that I have is a hallelujah, hallelujah

            And I know it’s not much, but I’ve nothin’ else fit for a King,

            Except for a heart singin’, Hallelujah, hallelujah…”

 A few weeks ago we were riding in the car and she played this song over and over again. Because she’s only four, she doesn’t always get the words right. On this particular day, I was listening closely to her and just as the chorus began, she opened her mouth and sang with all her might the following words,           

“And I ‘frow’ up my hands and praise you again at a ten….”  

At first, I didn’t say anything, but when the song ended, I carefully stated the correct lyrics for her by saying, “that part I the middle says, praise you AGAIN and AGAIN.” I made sure to emphasize the use of the word “again” twice. To which she quickly responded, “I wanna sing it my way.” Well, ok! That works, too. (I’ve learned more than once, nothing good comes from arguing with a four-year-old. Also, I don’t usually correct the way my nieces and nephews say things. I rather enjoy their childlike pronunciations.)

As we continued to drive, I pondered her made up lyrics. She was singing it in the way she thought she heard it sung, much like we all do when we first hear a song. And, for her, those were the lyrics etched in her mind – “And ‘I frow’ up my hands and praise you again at a ten…”. Somehow, I think she might be on to something. What if we offered our praise to God “at a 10” – a level 10? What if we didn’t just praise him once and move on, but again and again “at a 10”. No more half-hearted praise. No more praise at a level 5 or 7, but over and over, again and again at a 10! What if we didn’t let anything hinder our praise or cause us to tamp down our praise? Which leads me to what might be the most important question --- What’s stopping me from selflessly and whole-heartedly offering my praise to God “again at a 10”? Maybe that’s a question we might all ponder.

Surely, there are times when we are better at offering our praise than others, but is there a time that God is more praiseworthy than others? I’m gonna go with “no” on that one. What’s hindering us from giving God all our praise---again at a 10?  Certainly, something to ponder.  

And maybe singing the wrong lyrics isn’t such a bad idea after all.

Songwriters: Benjamin William Hastings / Michael Brandon Lake / Dante Bowe

Gratitude lyrics © Bethel Music Publishing, Shout! Music Publishing Australia, Bethel Worship Publishing, Maverick City Publishing, Maverick City Publishing Worldwide, Brandon Lake Music

I need…

“It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” Deuteronomy 31:8 (ESV)

If you come here very often, it won’t take long to see that I learn a lot of valuable lessons from children—particularly my nieces and nephews. Today they range in age from 4—13. (I say, today, because sometimes I blink and a whole year has passed making me feel like I should never blink again.)

Recently, the four-year-old was not feeling well. She has started back to preschool after a summer hiatus, and I suspect the germ factory lurking in most preschools has been busy attacking unsuspecting and innocent little children with every virus and creepy crud it can muster. Since she was sick, she was home from school for a couple of days. After getting her settled and snuggled into a comfy spot, the conversation below took place between her and her daddy (my brother).

Her: “Daddy, I’m going to just rest.”

Daddy: “Okay, sweet girl.”

Her: “If I need you, can I come get you?”

Daddy: “Yes, baby. Please do.”

Her: “Ok, because I’m probably going to need you.”

Haven’t we all found ourselves in situations where we just know from the start, we are going to need someone to help us get through whatever we are facing? From the very outset, the task, the problem, the illness, the grief, the pain feels like more than we are going to be able to manage on our own. Yet, often in our efforts to be self-sufficient and appear strong and “all put together” (whatever that means), we put on our best “overcomer” face and try to plow through the mountain on our own—only to realize it’s too much for us, too much to conquer alone, too much to get our head around, just too much.

What if we learned to acknowledge our weaknesses to ourselves and others and put our needs into actual words for others to hear? My personal experience has taught me that we may not necessarily know or be able to understand our needs at the beginning of a hurdle or even in a difficult moment or day. (My niece surely didn’t know what she might need in the moment.) Maybe we can’t articulate exactly what would be helpful or provide a step-by-step guide for “How to help me survive this crisis.” But what if somewhere on the front end of the hurdle we could gather our people or maybe just our person, and say something like, “If I need you can I come get you, because I’m probably going to need you.”

Asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It doesn’t make you a failure. If anything, it demonstrates your courage. It’s a way of putting your people on alert that you will likely need them sometime soon. It’s also a way of letting your people know if they see you struggling to keep it all together, they may just need to show up and be present. Remember – you already said, “I’m probably going to need you.” You laid the groundwork and made them aware of what was likely to come. The same is true on the flip side when we are the ones that need to show up for others. Pay attention. Don’t wait to be asked. Just show up. Because they are probably going to need you!

I can’t help but think of how faithful our God is to be to present whenever and wherever we have a need. God is always near—always closer than our breath. Could we state our need and invite God and our people into whatever lies before us – a mountain to be climbed, a raging river to be crossed, an uncertain path to be forged. I’m reminded of a song (that happens a lot with me) sung by Matt Maher:

LORD, I NEED YOU

Lord, I come, I confess
Bowing here, I find my rest
Without You, I fall apart
You're the one that guides my heart

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour, I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You.

May honest words such as these be our prayer today.

Amen

Songwriters: Matt Maher / Daniel Carson / Jesse Reeves / Kristian Paul Stanfill / Christy L. Nockels

Lord, I Need You lyrics © Sweater Weather Music, Worshiptogether.com Songs, Sixsteps Music, Thankyou Music Ltd., Valley Of Songs Music

A gentle noticing…

A few years ago, just after the world shut down in response to the COVID-19 pandemic, I found myself spending an inordinate amount of time on my back patio. It was the one place (at the time) I could “go” to get out of the house and not worry about COVID.  In hind’s sight, I’m pretty sure it’s how I survived the isolation of that season of life. Every morning I’d wake up before the sun rose, gather up all my “necessities”, and make my way to the patio. To be clear, necessities included things like a mug of coffee, my Bible, a journal, usually a candle, whatever book I was reading, and my computer for when it was time to begin the workday. By the end of the day, it would often take multiple trips just to get everything back inside.

I ate my meals outside, read books outside, did my work outside, made phone calls outside, learned a few new skills, and more. My patio table became my desk, and my entire back yard was my office. As the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months, I slowly realized how much more I was noticing and how many more of the sounds of nature I was hearing. I began to identify all the different birds in my backyard and because I was out there nearly every day, I could practically see the daily growth of the grass, the greening of the leaves, the blooming of the flowers, and the changing of colors all around me. I remember thinking to myself, this happens all the time—every day, and I don’t always notice, but in these days of being home day after day, I noticed. It was a gentle noticing—and that’s when I began to really love that phrase. For me, it’s a way of noticing with care, self-reflection, and an openness to what God might desire to say in the moment.

I became so acquainted with the stillness and the silence of the patio and the backyard, I began to crave the stillness and solitude of the experience even more. (I should note here – this wasn’t my first experience with the spiritual practices of silence and solitude. However, the whole world seemed quieter, slower, and much more still considering the pandemic. Even the traffic was almost non-existent.)

On one particular morning, I was out quite early sipping my coffee and talking to God. After a few moments, a bright red cardinal came to perch on the fence post about 4-5 feet from where I was sitting. I froze, not wanting to scare the bird away. I sat there, motionless, for what seemed like an eternity. I didn’t move my hands. I didn’t turn my head. I didn’t take a drink of coffee, and I tried my best not to blink my eyes. I knew if I could be perfectly still, the cardinal would likely continue to sit and allow me to see him—to notice the beautiful red hue of his feathers, to observe the tiny details of his eyes and feet. At some point, the bird flew away—probably to go find something to eat or maybe to gather material suitable for nest building.

Once the bird flew away, I remember feeling like the words of Psalm 46:10 had come alive for me, as if I had seen it in action. I’ve loved this verse for many years, but on this day, I saw with my eyes firsthand the reality of what truly “being still” can offer us. The Psalmist states, “Be still and know that I am God” (ESV). It’s essentially a cause and effect statement—“If you can be still, then you will know that I am God.” It’s only in the being still that we can actually hear, see, or maybe I should say… gently notice the presence and work of God around us.

My efforts and offerings here in this space will be an attempt to share what I am gently noticing. It may be something from nature, something I’m learning, something I’m pondering, a story from scripture I’m sitting with, or just what’s stirring in my own soul. Whatever it may be, know that I am seeking to be still and know where and how God is moving, leading, or speaking in the midst of it all. Know that you are invited to come along on the journey—to do your own gentle noticing or simply notice from your perspective what I’m seeing at the time.

And so it begins…

For several years I’ve had a small plaque hanging on the wall of my office that reads, “Every long journey begins with a single step”. It’s a reminder to me that no matter what lies ahead, whether it’s something I want to do or something I would rather not do—it has to start by taking at least one small step in the right direction. And then, it seems that once I’ve taken that first step the next step doesn’t seem quite so difficult.

I have always loved a journey. I’m a big believer that the journey is most always more significant than the destination. Whether you call it a journey, a travel experience, or even a spiritual pilgrimage, it’s the idea of beginning at one point and through ups and downs, hills and valleys, and joys and sorrows, somehow you end up at a completely different place—literally and/or figuratively. Some journeys are a little more predictable than others. Sometimes the destination is pretty clear, while other times every step of the way is a mystery or an adventure waiting to be discovered.

This experience (launching a website, a product, and a blog) falls into the latter category for me. It’s a journey I’ve longed to begin for some time, but one with no clear destination in site. For me, that adds to the anticipation and excitement, so we’ll watch together and see where it leads.

For now, I’ll say I’m excited to begin this new venture. I hope and pray this will be a place to share stories, insights, treasures, and discoveries from my own journey of faith. I look forward to where it leads and what we may learn together, and I look forward to sharing this journey with anyone who wants to pack a bag and come along.

(In addition to some writing, I’m beginning with a product available for purchase. Be sure to check out the “Shop” tab to learn more about how you and your family can take a “Journey to Easter” together.)