Thursday, August 11, 2011

Deeper Blue

Carry me away, where the breeze of the ocean mixes with the cool crisp  mountain air. Wrap me warmly in the embrace of the arms that usher me into my dreams and softly touch me with the hands that paint the sky hues of orange and pink and purple as the sun sets, seemingly dropping off at the very edge of the sea, effortlessly, and majestically.

Whisper the words I need most to hear through the rustling of the pines, tall and mighty. As their branches entertain the feathered fair, singing their own songs of contentment for all the world to hear. Make known  just the same your own contentment, you are safe here with me.

Lead, follow or come alongside, rest assured though,  a hurried gait has no purpose as beauty is seen in the journey well documented with colorful memories, scents, and feelings and only in the mind and heart and not in a flurry of urgency. Take it in, breathe it in, and only exhale enough to make room for more. This kind of beautiful is rarest of all beauty, to be treasured moment by moment. 

Rest with me in the certainty that today has our undivided attention. That no foul or fallow thing could possible reign over us, because we have this moment, and in this moment is beauty, and hope, and laughter, and the unmistakable knowing that joy is a choice, and is chosen still.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010


A perplexing combustion of known and unknown…calamity
Straddling the weathered, white washed fences of my mind

It is its own, most formidable enemy… calamity
Perpetuating itself with fierce, relentless desire

Deeply entrenched in uncertainty…calamity
Tirelessly pursuing, and dressed in knowing pride

Fanning its own flames, fueling its own fire…calamity
Uncertainty breeds discontentment spiraling, furiously inward

The only consolation I see is consistency...calamity
It is certain that inconsistency is its own consistency

Finding comfort in this concept is…calamity
Not so unlike embracing the lesser of the evils

Where shall it finally make a home…calamity?
Worse and worst, poised on the dark and darker sides

A perplexing combustion of known and unknown…calamity
Straddling the weathered, white washed fences of my mind
Lisa Bennett 11/2010

**As a footnote, I thought I might share that this in no way reflects "my" state of mind, rather my curiosity for the word calamity. My mind started painting a picture with words, and I just started writing those words assured, my fence is up, and calamity has taken up residency quite contently on the pages of my blog...and here alone.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Adequately Pierced

Adequately pierced…
A richly colored, well shaped vessel, hand-picked and perfectly placed in the spot best suited for its contents, enough sun, but not too much, cool shade at the right time of day and visible to all who would care to appreciate its beauty, were they to take the time to look.

Filled with soil, rich in nutrients, and meant to be the environment in which the seeds planted, would grow with the fervor and intent that they were meant for.  The seeds grew to plants, and the plants bloomed their flowers, and they were beautiful…

I have been self appointed to the role of plant tender (and house sitter) while the owner of both plants and home enjoys an extended stay abroad. Over the course of time I have been at this property, I must admit there were more than a few times when I thought I MIGHT have the better deal!

I have been faithful to water the plants; it is somewhat of a therapy and a responsibility I don’t take lightly. (After all, it really is my “ONLY TASK”…the rest of it comes down to simply enjoying my stay at this beautiful retreat like estate).

I noticed this morning something I’d not noticed before, as I went about the business of watering the plants and flowers, some were doing quite well, while other’s seemed to be struggling. I admit I had observed this previously but had not put thought into it, other than to perhaps water a little longer where the plants looked tired, dry and as if they were struggling to beat their intended fate, assuming that was really all they needed.

I love to be out on the terrace, this is where I write and think, and sometimes cry. (I have taken the liberty to do so on occasion as I sense the Lord speak to me here)…but mostly, I just love the view, the beauty of grounds  and the flowers.
Today, I found myself sitting on a step, next to some of the potted flowers, within reach of many of them and was using the “soaker” selection of the hose sprayer and purposefully began soaking some of the flower pots that seemed like they needed, well…something more. Reaching each of them from where I sat, I began to ask the Lord what today might be about. I wondered out loud, if He would speak to me and bravely pondered out loud, would I even hear You if You DID speak to me?

I leaned to the left, and to the right, pointing my soaker in the direction of each little vessel awaiting its well deserved drink of water. I have to say that I tried to be fair all along, treating each pot of flowers with the same care and equal time under the soaker hose. But, something struck me this time that I had not noticed before…this one particular (rather thirsty looking pot of mixed plants and flowers) was filling up with water…and the water was going NO WHERE! I wondered how it was possible, and watched for a few moments only to find nothing was happening…unless we want to count the fact that I managed to fill the pot to the top with water as the “something” that happened.

I filled it, and watched, and waited, and quite honestly, found myself a bit unnerved that the water would not soak in…I was perplexed because dry soil SHOULD soak up water, right?

The next thing I knew, I had pierced my finger down into the soil…just curious I guess, and the result? Bubbles. Yep, bubbles. Under almost 2 full inches of water, was about a ¼ inch of damp soil, and then nothing but DRY, tightly packed, impenetrable dirt untouched and unscathed by the drenching I had imposed upon it. I was baffled. I poked even deeper, and met even more resistance. Interesting, I thought.

It was at the moment that I pierced my finger down into the soil to investigate what was going on deeper that something began to happen in ME.  I saw the picture the Lord was trying to speak to me the entire time I had been here, but for who knows how many, or what reasons at all, I had not heard or seen…until now.

I am this planted flower, desperately thirsty, though adequately watered.  I have done all that is within me to bloom and grow by soaking up the droplets that fell upon me, but receiving little benefit from the soaking, because the soil was packed much too tightly, and lacked the ability to bubble. Placed in the exact vessel, chosen expressly for me, a simple base, not too ornate, earthy in color, and plenty of room to grow…yet I am stifled. I tearfully asked at that moment, "what happened to me, Lord"? "How did I get to this hard, dry and dying place"?  I long for a quenching that no mist or frequent droplets could satisfy.  

I really had everything necessary to thrive…well, except the experience of being recently pierced.  In order for me to truly receive the life giving benefits of a good drenching, I needed some aeration. I need to be poked, and broken up a bit. I need to be jostled just enough that the water wouldn’t just sit atop the bed it was poured onto. And I felt, at that moment, the finger tips of God, purposefully pressing in. Not to damage or destroy, but to free up and make prepared more deeply, the soil that is necessary for me to continue to grow and flourish…perhaps not always “blooming” but when the seasons are right, most certainly, I will. I have to endure the piercing if my full potential is to be reached. I don't exist only for the benefit of "self" but to be set apart and to add beauty to the lives of others as well.

I poked a few more holes in the soil of this particular plant, and assumed it was appreciated. I was careful of the roots and the mixed plants within the soil, as not to break or damage their life source, but was sure to work my way around the soil in such a way that as it is watered each day, it would now be capable of taking in all that was poured into it. After all, I, the temporary gardener, simply want the plants to live, and flourish, bloom in season and become what they were intended to become.

I sat and stared at this silly pot of flowers, in awe of the fact that they had just taught me a lesson. Okay, I know the Lord did, but the pot and its contents were a tangible, visible portrayal and representation of you and I in the sense that we can only be what we were meant to be, and as we await the gardener’s life giving “soaker hose” to fall over us and quench a daily thirst, we must also be prepared to have the ground that surrounds us, broken up from time to time in order that we might more effectively gain from being drenched so mercifully by the master gardener.

Piercing connotes a painful experience that most do not voluntarily ascribe to. It also expresses a needful, if not necessary exercise in which we are better after having experienced the pain of the act, than the pain we endured up to the point that the piercing act occurred. 

I pondered another truth in the moments after coming to my newfound conclusion that piercing can be a good thing, and that was that those plants could not water themselves. If it were not for me or some pre-arranged watering system having been put in place, they would surely die. The were deeply rooted, and without means to adequately care, long term, for themselves. Sure, they may have some water reserves in their roots that might give them a day or two of life, but ultimately, they needed someone to come along with the life giving water necessary, willing to pour it over them, and then do the same thing again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.

I believe that I have been pierced adequately for today's soaking...have you?

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Flight of the Tender Footed

Carefree, resilient, unscathed by dimension
Leaping, boundless, unknown intention

Dreaming, determined, drawn in by laughter
Dancing, rhythm, joy ever after

Open, relentless, purposed by harmony
Swirling, swaying, embracing destiny

Tender, compassionate, tried by fire
Barefoot, flitting, moving desire

Lisa M.  Bennett 8-2010

Sunday, August 8, 2010


There is a sky that is not “our” sky, which covers me tonight
Where once stars hung in ideal align, glowing softest light

Now boasts a blanket of midnight blue, and sparks that never die
Tis here upon a grassy knoll, where I gaze up as I lie

Searching for familiar, rather found the skies gave birth
A brand new sky, my very own, Twas heaven’s view from earth  

There was a time, while embraced, I’d peer up in the dark
And see the sky that was our sky, its contrast ever stark
Pressed against me, breathing softly, longing-don’t let go
But only in the quietness of my heart’s secret hoping so

Twas there, that first I saw “our sky” in majestic splendor
And then I wished upon a star, for all that stars could render

Had then I knew what I should wish, I’d opted for my own
My perfect sky, with twinkling stars, countless, brightly shown

As quickly as a night sky fades, it seemed that so shall you
But I'll not fret, though breathless still, I've quite a splendid view

Never clearer, nor more serene this new night sky of mine
Take with you "ours", I have my own and truly, it's divine
Lisa Bennett (c) 8-2010

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Life's Symphony

I'll not forget, no not ever, the faintest warmth of your breath on my neck or the trickle of chills down my spine as the entirety of my being came alive simultaneously to your drawing me in. Nor will I forget the sound, ever soft as it was, of you sighing as you pulled me close seemingly daring yourself, not to let go. Beautiful moments, never a one planned, forever etched into the safe keeping of my memory.

I'll not forget, no not ever, the unspoken moments of complete contentment between us when words were not necessary, and practically mutually forbidden in those most precious of moments when saying nothing at all said everything necessary. Nor will I forget how you looked into my eyes and I into yours and without a single word spoken, uncontrollable laughter spilt out from the core of our beings. Such moments were meant for us and us alone, we simply understood that. We’d laugh until we cried, grasping just enough breath to fuel the next burst of laughter until we were exhausted and sighed one last collective sigh.

I'll not forget, no not ever, the revelation of “you”…that moment when you “got” that “I get you” and that maybe for the first time ever, you recognized that being known so fully, though it petrified you, equally so, freed you to be exactly who you are, holding nothing back. Nor will I forget the the smile in your eyes as peace conquered fear and you began to embrace change. Time alone was the compelling factor, as fear was a burden you were so ready to surrender and peace relentlessly knocked at the door of your soul until you let it in.

I'll not forget, no not ever, the countless conversations of “deeper things” of life. When honoring your truth was as important to me as speaking my own, no matter what that truth was. Accepting our differences was practically an epic occasion that we both found exhilarating and beautiful for the simple fact that it appeared neither had an agenda to change the other and our only expectations of each other were for truth and genuineness. Nor will I forget the light in your eyes and the excitement in your voice as you slowly began to see yourself the way I, and others already do.

I'll not forget, no not ever, saying goodnight with both a sense of satisfaction for the time we had together, feeling confident that we wasted little of it, and a sense of sadness for the time we would now be apart even only to sleep. Nor will I forget the hope of each new day, the bidding of a “good morning” and the anticipation of what that day would unfold before me knowing that you were a part of it whether in person or in thought.

I'll not forget, no not ever, as certain coolness sank over us and new silence began to creep in, a most unmistakable blaring kind of silence, began to make itself known. Nor will I forget the unsettled disappointment of recognizing that I was all too familiar with this kind of quieted state, the kind that seemed to confound everything I had known with you to that point.

I'll not forget, no not ever, wrestling with each revelation and turning tide as the dynamics of who we were individually changed for the better, as we became truer to ourselves yet collectively, indifference began to replace a sense of wonderment and joint contentedness. Nor will I forget questioning my heart’s ability to hold on and fight for something so rarely experienced by anyone, let alone us, or if letting go to “holding on” was going to once again, be required of me.

I'll not forget, no not ever, the many days and nights, seeking for my Lord to speak, to reveal to me what it was that He required of me in this, though once practically attainable, now seemingly implausible state of being. Nor will I forget the moment that He met me here, and reminded me that holding on, or letting go, mattered little in the grander scheme. It wasn’t so much about the warmth of your breath, the strength of your touch, the uncontainable laughter or conversations we shared as much as it was about the one who gave us those moments to learn, to grow, to experience such things and take them with us on this journey we call life.

I'll not forget, no not ever, the very moment I understood this truth. As though I’d walked into a dark room, stumbling and searching along the wall for the light switch, when at once the Lord steps into the room and for the mere fact that He is light I am now relieved, not only of the uncertainty of darkness, but that I see clearly now what was before me. Nor will I forget the great sense of peace I had as I faced a new truth with acceptance. Though our paths had crossed and were meant to do just that, they would do so for but a moment and then the time had come for them to cross again, only now, in differing directions, toward new experiences and opportunities.

I'll not forget, no not ever, the moment we met, and my life forever changed. Through many experiences in a relatively short period of time, I learned some great lessons, I’d not have learned about myself any other way. Nor will I forget this very moment, as it plays out in my heart and mind a grand symphony marked by words being put to paper and I am boldly transformed as the harmony of “letting go” fades in the distance and the melody of new beginnings and great anticipation for all I have yet to experience in life overshadows any sorrow or uncertainty of the past.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Moments With a Coward.

I have but a moment, only this one instant, marked by the tick of the clock...
With what shall I fill it, or how shall I spend it or with whom shall I invest it?

That is the thought that woke me in the middle of the night, and after writing it down and falling back to sleep...was the first thing I thought the instant I awoke this morning. Quite overwhelms me.

I spent most of the weekend with a friend that I have come to appreciate for all sorts of reasons from spontaneous laughter, roller coaster cohort, *bumble bee lovah, top-down road trips with the music blaring to something so surreal as contentment in complete silence. Were I to single out probably the most significant aspect of our friendship it would probably have to be the mere fact that I am allowed to think deeper, say things that might not always make sense, (without a LOT of explaining) process all kinds of inner quandaries audibly and in return, I am usually challenged by being asked a very simple yet profound question as a follow up to my expounded thought...WHY? *I doubt my friend realizes how great this question has always been for me.

I know it probably sounds like a really silly and simple question...yet, I am always compelled to answer, having first to think even deeper and equally important, I am given the privilege of exploring my own heart and mind a little further by a patient friend, who listens, and is usually right there with me in thought and wonder.

Recently, my friend found a video, a REMARKABLE video that you can see here: After watching this...SEVERAL times, I did what any wise woman would do, I "Googled" Francis Chan. I found out more and more about him and have begun to really enjoy a refreshing and passionate view of a man who is CRAZY in LOVE with Jesus! This inspired me to buy his book Crazy Love and I have to eyes are WIDE open and my heart has been eternally altered. Call it pierce, stirred, what ever!  All I know is that I have no excuse for living a life that is anything less than sold out for Christ, for believing Him for ALL that I need, for every remaining moment of my existence, and a growing sense of urgency and deeply stirred passion to act on THIS MOMENT...not soley for "my sake", rather for the sake of the work of the Cross. For His sake. For YOUR sake! 

I am not writing this as any sort of "promotional feed" for Pastor Chan...He has the Lord for that, and I'd say it has gone well for him thus far. (Talk about the ultimate marketing rep!) The information I've shared is simply to give you an understanding of how something as simple as a shared video clip can truly inspire someone...someone who wants MORE. Who desires a deeper more authentic relationship with the Lord, with others, and even with herself. 

Sometimes, we get caught up in believing that in order to make a difference, we have to be profound to be inspirational, or wealthy to meet a need, or wise to teach our peers. I say, you can do something as simple as share a video you ran across or be willing to share the one commodity that really isn't a commodity at all. TIME. You could be a listener, a question asker, a wonderer, a friend...and make a life altering change in the life of someone..."Just like that". (Snapping fingers).  It is about being courageous in a world of cowardly moments lived out by cowardly people who simply fail to ask something as simple as "why". It might even be more about embracing the a human "DOING" and not just a human "being". I'm the coward...but I am learning!

My thoughts are POURING out onto this virtual paper and there are no signs of slowing! I fear another novel could take root where a simple blog post was meant to appear, so I will break this down into several posts so it is more manageable. The only way to eat an elephant? ONE BITE AT A TIME! 

I can’t wait to share more about what the Lord is teaching me! For today, as I was reminded by another dear friend…simply be near to God. Being in the center of His will is simply about being available, aware, and open to His leading…and, as I am learning, revelation and revolution come from a place so sweet as this!

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