Noticing, Day 24 (and Five Minute Friday): dare

How should I presume to write about daring on a day which I have spent almost entirely in being afraid?


Oh, I’ve done lots of things today, but woven through all of it is the stripe of fear: fear of disappointing other people, fear of not being enough, not being good enough, not accomplishing enough, fear because of the past and fear for the future.

In short, y’all, I was afraid.

“Fear not,” He says; “I am with you.
“Be not dismayed for I am your God.
I will strengthen you . . . help you . . . uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

He tells me to be anxious for nothing, and yet I let anxiety ache along my spine, wore it as weights on my limbs all day, and looked out through it at so many gifts I might have noticed.


And He says that I am to cast all my anxieties on Him, because He cares for me. But I didn’t.

It was a long day, a day without daring. Yet He showered me with grace in the love of my loved ones.

So that here, at the end of it, Christ is my hope. I have been afraid, but I’m on my way to His table. He makes me able, makes me brave to come to Him, to be healed.


Today I join Kate Motaung and her Five Minute Friday writers to write on her prompt, Dare. The button above will take you to her site, where you can read more and join in.

©2014 by Stacy Nott

Noticing, Day 23: counting graces

and cotton

and cotton

Today I noticed the wonderfulness of a two-days-old baby squirming and sleeping in my arms: long expected, but only so recently visible, new and perfect and so very loved.

I noticed the way a student twirled a finger in his curly hair, so that he seemed like a much younger boy than he is, looking shyly out from under thick eyelashes.

I noticed the flavor and scent of cinnamon-orange tea. It really does smell like Big Red gum, but, while the idea of a steaming hot cup of liquid Big Red isn’t all that appealing, this tea is delightful.

I noticed how God can take a day when there is not enough of me and fill in all the holes, complete the incompleteness, make of it something beautiful.

Which reminded that He does that every day, I just don’t always feel how much I need it.

Which reminded me to thank Him.


©2014 by Stacy Nott

Noticing, Day 22: working backwards

Today I noticed how the sweetgums and poison ivies are taking their habitual lead in donning autumn attire, flaming out from among their more reticent deciduous neighbors.

Virginia creeper, too, apparently.

Virginia creeper, too, apparently.

Is this a case, I wonder, of God giving more honor to those that lack honor?

Whether it is or no, each fall I’m stunned by this glory of what is being brought to an end. (How much more, then, will what is permanent have glory?)

And as I think of that, I’m reminded of this quote from C. S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which I noticed a Facebook friend sharing earlier this week: ” . . . when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead . . . Death itself would start working backwards.”

Every time I read that last bit, I get excited. Jesus Christ was killed in our — the traitors’ — stead, fulfilling and yet overturning the age-old order of things, reversing the death-sentence under which we once walked and granting the glory of permanent life as adopted children of God to all who believe in Him.

I notice that this is more glorious than the sweetgums.


©2014 by Stacy Nott

Noticing, Day 21: doing

Today I notice that NOTHING I do is EVER perfect.

1. That isn’t the sort of thing I’ve been trying to notice this month.

2. That isn’t new information.

He calls me to let go of my doings and rest . . . .

He calls me to let go of my doings and rest . . . .

But, y’all, I’m not perfect, and I don’t do perfect things. I misspelled a word on a literature test study guide — not just any word, one of the words in the title of a poem; and not just misspelled, but put a completely wrong word — and accidentally included a quote from our last exam on the test I gave today.

And I know it has something to do with the fact that I took too much time off from carefully preparing this past week, but it also has something to do with the fact that I’m generally flawed and fallen. So that even though I’d like to project and feel that I’m a thoroughly put-together teacher, an example in all my ways and materials, I’m not permitted to do that. Because it isn’t true.

I’m a doer. I always have been. No matter how much you tell me that it isn’t about what I do at all, that ultimately I CAN’T do enough or do well enough, no matter how much I try to believe you, there’s a corner of my soul that continues to be sure that my doings are what give me value, that my doings define me.

That, friends, is idolatry. Because it isn’t my doings at all; it is all Christ. I am valuable because He values me. While my doings only ever earn me death, His doing on my behalf gives me life and defines me. When I put my doings in the primary place, I put them in the place of Christ. Another doing that deserves death.

And so He reminds me: NOTHING I do is EVER perfect. He doesn’t do it to hurt me; He does it to drive me to Himself. This is grace. He calls me to let go of my doings and rest in what He has done.

Because even though I can’t do perfect things, the perfect God loves me. Because even though my doings are never enough, never good enough, He defines me as precious — not because of my doings, but because of Himself.

This God, His way is perfect and His all words prove true. 

I notice, and rejoice.


©2014 by Stacy Nott

Noticing, Day 20: but He did

This is a sprig of a beautyberry bush, genus Callicarpa, species americana.

beautyberry 2

I’ve decided that October is the perfect month for noticing, because it seems that everything is lovely in October.

Whenever I start noticing the colors of this world I get to inhabit, I think of a line from a Sandi Patty song on one of my childhood cassette tapes:

He could have made it black and white, and we’d have never known.

Think of it: God didn’t have to make colors. Even in black and white He could have dazzled us with lights and textures:


He didn’t have to give us eyes at all. He didn’t have to equip our skin with sensitive nerves to know the difference between pine bark and a baby’s skin, to recognize where a breeze blows and where the sun bakes. He didn’t have to fill the world with music and tune our ears to catch it. There was no requirement that we should taste food or smell flowers. But we do.

If He had chosen to make us senseless blobs in a dark, bland, silent world, we wouldn’t have known the difference. But instead, our days are crowned with glory and honor as we walk through a creation which screams His majestic name.

And, surely, this glory is more than we deserve: a more-than-sufficient gift for a less-than-sufficient people whose sins cause creation to groan in bondage to futility. Surely, there was no need that He should give us more than the glory allotted in the here-and-now. He didn’t have to become one of us, didn’t have to clothe Himself in our sins, didn’t have to die on our behalf. But He did it, rising victorious from the death which would have held us, securing glory for our hereafter as well as for our now.

Is He who made the beautyberry mindful of us? Oh, yes; yes, He is.


©2014 by Stacy Nott

Day 19: rest

Today I noticed how luxuriantly long minutes can be, spent beside a campfire on a sunny afternoon.

I noticed white flowers with purple middles.


I noticed knee-high corn volunteering in the fields where the corn stubble was plowed under a few weeks ago.

I noticed little boys racing one another after church: the likely victor lost the race in order not to lose his pants, demonstrating the necessity of having priorities and sticking to them.

I noticed kind faces, and pleasant greetings, and the wonderfulness of coming home when you can feel the weariness settling all along your spine.

I noticed that it is good to rest, and was grateful because we can rest: He has done for us all our works.

noticing©2014 by Stacy Nott

Noticing, Day 18: boys

Today, my brothers had a paintball game in the woods around my house. They used to do this fairly frequently, but it has become a rare occurrence.

these are paintballs

these are paintballs

Fourteen boys [men] of various ages and sizes assembled with all the trappings of war: masks and guns and ammo and camo shirts and brave boasts.

I noticed how familiar it all was, how at home I feel among the brothers and their friends and the war-trappings and the tales of glory gained.

They came up from the battle sweaty and covered in paint, displaying welts and scratches, beaming with the excitement of it.

And though my part was only to watch, the excitement was catching.

I noticed — not for the first time — how glad I am to be the sister of brothers.


©2014 by Stacy Nott