I am exhausted from swimming in and out of the current. I long for a boat of bliss, to float above grief, to get out of the river.Read More
the Grandma I wrote about in this post passed away today. she was an example to me of a love that endures at a time when I needed it most.Read More
Stick figure silhouettes cling to dangling color that remains . . . dropping one by one . . . leaving them exposed, leafless . . . .
The woods betray us. We are vulnerable.
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.Read More
We have to be gentle with the hard words of Jesus.
Hating the messenger, though, is kind of part of the deal.
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.
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.
My mind replays tapes of failure when I lie in bed too long awake.
Things neglected. Things forgotten. People neglected. People forgotten.
Failure that I’m not really sure is always failure.
I really am deeply grateful for my life. But there are moments, seasons when discouragement gets the upper hand. Frankly, I’m amazed at how quickly and easily I am discouraged. I’m more fragile than I would like to think. I started out the morning feeling sorry for myself. Sorry about myself. A look in the […]Read More