Blog - Women At The Well

We Weren’t Made to Walk Alone

March 4, 2021

I was followed by an assailant while walking in the woods last week. He was dark haired, had a muscular build and Spock-like ears. And four furry legs. I was twice his weight, but I’m all bark, and not much bite. I could NOT say the same for this guy.

I need you to walk with me here, because I’ve been too afraid to go walk back there. Alone.

So I was about a quarter mile in, with only the sound of squirrels and my tennis shoes crunching through leaves. Then I spotted him way up ahead, before abruptly u-turning and peeling gravel as I swiveled. I bent down and grabbed the biggest limb in reach, that happened to be attached to 50 small branches—with all their leaves.

“Ingenious,” I thought. “That’s right, I gotta make myself look even bigger than I am. Wait, that’s for bears, not big burly dogs.” Though this canine was probably named Bear—or Cujo. Then I reminded myself, “ Walk fast. Don’t run. And don’t make eye contact. I know that applies to both bears AND dogs.”

There I was, with my right arm dragging a tree behind my rear, and with my left hand, I attempted to scroll through my cell pone with a single thumb. Until I could find the name of my neighborhood bestie. But my sunglasses kept falling down from my forehead, so I was bobbing my head up and down attempting to hoop them back up, and trying not to get all tangled up in my headphone wires.

And then I did what I shouldn’t, and I couldn’t take it back. I looked behind me—to see Cujo running straight for me. I ended up doing last what I should’ve done first. I went to praying and then hollering in tongues—English, Spanish, and French, and any other language I could muster.

All while looking like a a cross between a giant porcupine and a peacock, and pecking my neck like a rooster. Strutting my tail feathers, or rather my tail branches, right off that trail.

What a sight and sound to behold.

My friend answered my call, and God answered my prayer because that wild dog never followed me out of those woods.

But can I tell you how thankful I was to have someone to call? Talk about “two being better than one—if either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)

Just minutes before, I’d run into this same friend walking, and even told her she should join me in the woods sometime. That it’s actually where I’d walk and pray for her when she was going through chemo and surgeries. It’s my sacred place. MY territory. Until fear trespassed.

She’s the same friend who’d sat in my living room the week before, swapping God stories and sharing real life fears. The kind of friend who will have your back, but also confront—any biting fears with the truth of God’s Word.

I should’ve been embarrassed to share such a scene. I was. But I shared anyway.

It’s important to be able to reach out to each other, even in the scariest and most embarrassing of circumstances. Because this faith journey isn’t meant to walk alone. We weren’t made to walk alone.

So a few days later, we walked back into those woods. TOGETHER.

And she said exactly what I’d already thought and what I’d just scribbled. “We’re taking back this territory. Today.” And we did. Inch by inch and step by step. TOGETHER.

I know this is even about more than a dog and a blog. It’s about turning to Him and to each other, not turning on each other, when fear, division, and intimidation grip the church and our nation. Divided we fall, but united we stand—TOGETHER.

When fear follows, beloved daughters lead. With perfect love. That casts out ALL fear. So that we can share in vulnerability and in confident strength. And speak TRUTH in LOVE. (1 John 4:18, Ephesians 4:15)

And two are always better than one. And that’s the truth. So let’s help each other up. I’ll take your hand if you’ll take mine. And we’ll both take His. TOGETHER.

From my heart to yours, you’re worth standing for and walking with.

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He Wrote You a Letter

February 12, 2021

I want to invite you to my Sunday school Valentine message. In my car. While driving up a mountain, talking about adultery. With my family in tow. Where’s the bulging eye emoji when I need one?

We’d left the I Spy game about 60 miles behind us, and lobbed quiz game questions back and forth. “What’s the A stand for in the classic book, The Scarlet Letter? The one the lady had to wear wherever she went?”

Then, “Mom, what’s adultery?” I gulped down half my Starbucks coffee before the other half came spewing back out of a single nostril.

I’d rather swerve and dodge this one, but either we’re teaching them, or the world’s teaching them. “So Lord, let it be You through me.” And help us not go off this cliff. My husband gripped the wheel, and I grabbed the Bible beneath my seat, packed for untimely messages just like this. “That title is way above a tween reading level, but let’s see what Jesus has to say about the topic.”

I wanted to just hit them with the “Big 10.” I’d prefer to read all of the ‘Thou shalt nots’ before loudly honking at my favorite commandment, “Honor your Mother and Father,” and then call it a day. But God took us riding through the book of John and stopping in the temple for the show down between religion and love, and facing a woman caught between law and grace.

“Buckle up buttercups, ‘cause it’s about to get good.” I read the woman’s story, and we all hung on every scandalous word:

The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group and said to Jesus,“Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him. (John 8: 3-6)

My youngest likes sound effects and visuals, and so do I. Shhhhh. Listen. Do you hear that? Neither do I. Jesus didn’t speak a word, but He said everything when He simply wrote in the dirt.

While they wanted to stone her, He reminded her of who formed her. (Gen. 2:7) She watched as dust was set free, with the Creator’s calloused fingers that went swishing and swirling though the canvas of His earth, about to give birth to her storybook ending.

And I think He wrote a love letter that made all of them stutter. Before I formed you, I knew you, I called you by name, and you are mine. (Jeremiah 1:5, Isaiah 43:1)

But they couldn’t take the hint, so He made it more personal.

But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground. (John 8: 6-8)

And then came the sound of the choir and the chorus: “Thump. Thud. Thump. Thump. Thud.” Now here comes the drums. And a bundle of men and sticks and stones dropping like they’re hot. First went the oldest, because I’m pretty sure their legal pad list of sins was the longest. Then down to the youngest, with enough details to fill up a stack of sticky notes they were sure to remember.

I think they got the point, so they all backed up. And Jesus put His pointer finger right on her heart.

At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” “No one, sir,” she said. “Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.” (John 8:9-11)

I had to pause and stop reading, but our car and His grace kept going. His beautiful grace. It’s not a greasy grace that lets every sin slide and looks away. It’s a grace with grit that sands and smooths, that wipes the smears and the tears. It’s not an eye for an eye. But it looks eye to eye and tells the truth. In an exchange that straightens her shoulders, and leaves her standing in dignity. It’s a face-to-face with a heart-to-heart. The kind that I want to receive and give.

Pick a letter. Any letter. From A to Z. We’re wearing one or the other. You know yours, and I sure know all of mine. But He’s redeeming them and righting them, all while He’s writing our endless love letters. Signed and sealed on the cross with His own scarlet and crimson.

My eyes were locked down on the pages and the words for so long, maybe just like hers, that I hadn’t bothered to look up, to see the finished color of grace and God’s redemption. It’s as white as the snow flocked trees that surrounded us. Pure white. And don’t you know that this woman wore it WELL. And so do we.

“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” (Isaiah 1:18)

My oldest smiled and my youngest said, “Momma, is there more? That was good. Keep on reading.” Oh girlfriend, is there more?! There’s way more, like 65 books more. And they all point to His love.

That’s all. And it’s everything.

Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matt. 22:37-39)

YOU are His Valentine. Be~Loved.

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Well Done, Woman!

January 26, 2021

I met a woman at a Well in South Carolina. And just like the one in the Bible, she’s worth meeting and dying for, and worth me resurrecting a blog for. Her name is Nations Myers, Director of the Potter’s House, Saluda, a non-profit serving children and families in need. And today she’s running for city council.

The first time I met her, I was running for cover, mad at God and disappointed in myself. Overnight and underwater, we had joined thousands in our Louisiana community whose homes and jobs were flooded. That was just the year before, the week of my last post, and before my keyboard locked up and my pen dried out.

We picked up the pieces, put our house back together, stuck a for sale sign in the wet ground, and landed in the Carolinas. We left reluctantly, and I didn’t go quietly. I’d yelled in the car to my husband when he first mentioned the move, “What do you MEAN, God’s telling us to move to South Carolina? He wouldn’t do that, couldn’t do that. This is the only home our girls have ever known, and it’s the last place I saw my Momma. I’m not going anywhere.”

I stuck to my guns and turned the radio up before stating, “God would have to write South Carolina before my eyes, but I’m not looking and I’m not listening. Mark my words.”

But he had the last word. “Well, take a look at the car in front of us. Our headlights high beamed on the license plate ahead. “South Carolina,” it said.

I had plans, dreams, goals, and I just had new wood floors put in my house, so that wasn’t gonna work for me. We got home, and he quietly added, “What if our moving has nothing to do with us, but everything to do with our girls?” Our next generation.

I flashed back almost 30 years and saw my 5th grade self, kicking and screaming, having to move out of state. Right before meeting the cutest blond-haired, blue-eyed Louisiana boy I’d ever seen. The same one staring back at me and glancing over at our daughters.

Needless to say, a few months later, I was a smiling, pretending mess when I met Ms. Myers.

And then every week I sat at her table, volunteering to help others, but really letting God help me. Spinning on the Potter’s wheel and sipping coffee at a Well at our round table discussions. Listening to stories of faith and hearing her share dreams and vision for her community. Ones that looked like Heaven. On earth. That had nothing to do with building a platform, but everything to do with building God’s Kingdom. For our next generation.

She has a faith I’m thirsting for. We often hear it talked about, but rarely see it played out. Yet I’ve been given a front row seat to watch Nations Myers walk it out.

It inspires, but it challenges. With one Jesus-sized hug, she’ll simultaneously squeeze the Martha out and embrace the Mary within. And drown out any doubt of God’s goodness and faithfulness.

As a single mother, God used her to rescue two beautiful little girls. And today they call her Mom, and God calls them His. Both adopted by her and by Him.

Since then, I’ve jumped through a few hoops with her, and even high-jumped over some mice for her, while cleaning a widow’s house–for Him.

Pure religion, caring for the widow and the orphan, can look messy and dirty (James 1:27). But this woman at the Well will love you–and serve you–until you feel clean, and accurately identified as a beloved daughter, embraced by the Father. And renewed as a child of the King. With open arms and as an empty vessel, prepared to be filled.

And I’ve watched God fill. When I said, “How can it be done?” And then faithlessly thought, “I know what’s in our hands, it isn’t a lot, and it isn’t enough.” But her faith inspires and it challenges, and as she says, “How can God not?”

During her back-to-school drive to help area kids in need, I dropped pencils into small paper bags at the Potter’s House, wishing for more, but believing for less. Until I heard the honk and then ran to watch a big rig back up, and pour out hundreds of brand new back packs, already filled up to the zipper. I dropped the paper brown bag in my hand and watched all of her multiplied faith before me.

The same faith that sent her into schools, to wash children’s feet, before fitting every child with a pair of new shoes.

The same faith that drives through slums in the dark of Christmas eve night, dropping off toys and bikes. Where most grown men won’t go, she’s already been.

She canvased her community during the census, while I pancaked my couch during this Covid pandemic. She was ensuring that everyone was counted and finding funds for her neighbors. Making sure they knew that in God’s eyes, they count.

She doesn’t see background, or color or creed, she simply sees a neighbor in need. She’s hugging the lonely and healing the broken. Carrying the gospel, desiring to see, children get fed and women set free. Ones like you. And like me.

Here’s a Woman at the Well I can walk beside and get behind. It’s an honor and a privilege to highlight this Well woman, who may never be noticed by the world, but who has all the attention of Heaven.

And her faith is so worth sharing. “Well done, Woman. Well Done.”

Please feel free to subscribe and share. I look forward to sharing more of her back story, and maybe even your story. At the Well—where faith is better shared.

“The woman left her water jar beside the well and ran back to the village, telling everyone. “Come and see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” They came out of the town and made their way toward him (John 4:28-30 NIV).

https://m.facebook.com/ThePottersHouseSaluda/

https://thepottershousesaluda.com/contact-us

YOUR WORDS MATTER—Sharing the POWER OF WORDS and the GIFT OF FRIENDSHIP

August 11, 2016

Your words matter. Do you KNOW how MUCH your words matter and what your friendship means? Do you really know your worth? You should. But just in case you haven’t been told lately, there’s no better month than August to remind you.

Because August is officially Friendship month! And friendship is everything to me. It’s why the SONshine Box was created (if you don’t know about it, then check it out here). And friendship is also the foundation of Women at the Well—where faith is better shared.

I don’t think it’s coincidental that just this month I experienced how valuable our words can be to a friend—or even to a stranger who quickly becomes a friend.

Recently I sat at a large round table at a weekend women’s conference. We were all dressed in our best, and maybe some of us were hiding our mess under well-worn smiles. Even trying to cover up laugh lines and creases that hinted of late-night cries.

But many bravely cracked through facades and broke unspoken codes, sharing hopes and dreams with complete strangers. Inviting vulnerability and authenticity to pull up a seat, so we could shake our pom poms of kind words to spur each other on.

On the last day, the one with the brightest smile and the loudest laugh quietly leaned over to say, “I just want to thank you for your smile and kind words yesterday.”

I looked at her like my little girl looks up at me when I use words that are as big as her hair bows and way beyond her vocabulary. And like my little one, I sat there dumbfounded, but delighted.

I fumbled for words like I do when I hurriedly search for my keys—that are in my hand. Or for my glasses—that are on my head.

And then it was as if God was sitting there with us, sliding His Kingdom keys across the table and placing a vase full of beautiful flowers before us. I selected sweet sentences that would leave a lasting scent, offered petals of love, and spoke key words that couldn’t be mine.

“How could I NOT smile at you?” I asked. “You’re SO loving and encouraging to others.” Then her eyes whispered hidden hurts as she spoke, “But if you only knew what was going on inside of me.”

I gently, yet firmly, responded, “Well, you need to know that you’re the sound of clapping hands and the feel of a warm hug to those around you. God loves you so much.”

Her face lit up, but then she paused in disbelief before finally catching up to the truth. I caught a glisten of a tear and a glimmer of hope in her blue eyes as she said, “Will you write that down for me?”

I grinned the answer and found my pen far quicker than I ever find my keys. And even before the session concluded, she asked me again, “Did you write them down?”

She gave me a “thank you” smile as I slid His words across the table, but kept the priceless moment as a parting gift to me.

You can see why it’s SO important that we celebrate each other. With our words and our worth.

SO I’m celebrating YOU and the GIFT OF WORDS AND FRIENDSHIP with a giveaway. You’ll get a chance to win a friendship gift basket at the end of the month.

But in the meantime, share this post with a special friend, or friends, to tell them that their words matter and that their friendship means the world to you.

Go ahead. If any of the statements below apply, slide this note across the virtual table to them. Just to say THANK YOU. Here goes.

DEAR FRIEND, THANK YOU:

For words of love and encouragement.

For spending time with me and investing your belief in me.

For connecting your heart to mine.

For your availability and meaningful conversations, the audible ones, and the ones quietly typed out.

For sharing memories and capturing moments with me.

For celebrating me, standing up for me, and cheering me on. (Thank you just as much for being willing to sit down with me when I couldn’t get up.)

For showing me the pure love and kindness of a friend.

For just being YOU.

And AGAIN, THANK YOU for the power of your words—keep saying them. And for prayers I may never even know about—keep praying them.

Enter to win the Friendship Gift Basket.

Friendship Month Giveaway

And if you’re new here, and if we’re not already, LET’S BE FRIENDS!

I’d love for you to subscribe to the blog, Like us on Facebook, and share us with YOUR friends. Now enter to win a Friendship gift basket, filled with some of my favorite goodies we’d share during a girlfriend outing. We’d surely share faith stories over coffee (or I’d forgive you if you ordered tea), and talk about the books we’re reading, the blessings we’re journaling, and then I’d listen for your “Yes!” when I asked if you had time to stroll through my favorites—Hobby Lobby and Charming Charlie’s (so we could get our creativity and our bling on).

(Includes the pink journal in the picture, Starbucks, Hobby Lobby, and Charming Charlie’s $10.00 gift cards, and books by my favorite authors who are FRIENDS. *$100.00 value in all, but priceless time well spent.)

HAPPY FRIENDSHIP MONTH!

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