filters for our words, part two

Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, FSA/OWI Collection, LC-USF33-012252-M2

This forum is so immediate. Not like the “old days” when reaching an audience of more than a couple of friends was a very big deal and took time.

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a light between here and there

Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, FSA/OWI Collection, [reproduction number,LC-USF34-032090-D

I wonder how long we will live along this dark highway. . . in the dailyness of nurturing, guiding, growing, of learning to be faithful in small things.

Because sometimes, I wrestle with the limits of my little light.

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when I fear I have lost my flavor

Sometimes, discouragement knocks hard on your door and it takes everything in you not to invite it in to share a giant piece of chocolate cake.

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blessings for healing: mercy

Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, FSA/OWI Collection, LC-USW3-015397-D

Dave thought the camellia was the bush I was referring to when I said, “That bush is ugly, and now I can see it through the bedroom window.”

Unfortunately, we have three bedroom windows . . .

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blessings for the broken part four

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. . .
When did we buy the lie that happiness is the means to happiness?
That what feels good is right and what is painful is wrong?
Hungry is not comfort. Thirsty is not pleasure.

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blessings for the broken, part two

Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, FSA/OWI Collection, LC-USF34-041923-E

We used to wear our grief.
Black for a day, a month, a season, a year . . .
To show loss.
To let the world around us know we carried sorrow.
Appearance had meaning.

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silent alarms

I’ve run into our past again. Not just once, but repeatedly. I want to write about these meetings, but I wrestle with the words for days and weeks until I choke them out. It’s funny, isn’t it? How something innocently trips a wire and sets off alarms no one hears but you. Someone must hear […]

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dreams of gold

Every time the summer Olympics roll around, I’m reminded of what I am not. I’m fairly certain my parents knew early on that I was not destined to be a great gymnast. I wasn’t graceful, or bouncy or fearless — or athletic — at all. Like all little girls in 1976, I’d been mesmerized by […]

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