More Than Mended – a book title?
The Inception of a Name A friend recently asked me what I would title the book I’m currently writing. I told him I had struggled
Category: More Than Mended
He Came
Incarnation, such a big word, and we seem to hear it at Christmas more than any other time of the year. But what does it really mean? While Christmas is a time to enjoy family and friends, for many it is also a time when the absence of loved ones is acutely felt. And yet, there amid human suffering and loss, He came.
Unwept Tears
Recently, as I was cleaning up some files, I came across a post I used in August of 2012. I remembered the post and I knew pieces of it came from a journal entry I wrote a year earlier. But reading this post anew this week, I thought, “I could have written this last week!” Allowing myself to cry is still a struggle for me. I still stifle my tears and refuse to let them fall. But in this post, I find a younger version of myself speaking to my heart today and reminding me once more that tears are a gift.
A Summer Sorrow
As August arrives, I know the season. I feel the heaviness begin to settle on my heart before I know the date on the calendar. Even while the heat of a summer sun still bears down on me, I feel it in the breeze that rustles the Johnson grass with its Auburn seeded heads towering on either side of the road. And I see it as I drive past rows of bushy, green cotton, and shaded rows of tall, tasseled corn. I know the season and my heart once more remembers and grieves the long-ago loss of my comical, red-headed, inquisitive little boy. For many years I tried to ignore and minimize this grief, but there is a sweetness in the remembering.
Singing in the Dark
I step outside in the dark of predawn. Sunrise is still well over an hour away, and yet as I step out and look up in wonder at the star filled sky – a black canvas dotted with billions of pinholes of light – the music of morning plays all around me, and yet, it is still dark. I pause for just a moment to listen and wonder how the birds know that dawn is near. And how can we know when dawn is near and the heavy burdens of life will lighten – at least for a season? Perhaps like the birds, we don’t know, but I’m wondering, can we sing in the dawn even while it is still dark?
Anchored in the Waves
Several years ago, some dear friends treated our family to a trip to Galveston. I loved watching the waves roll in, I loved walking on the beach at sunset with my friend, I loved watching my children play in the waves, I loved swimming with the dolphins in the ocean.
But I hate to get my head wet. I hate the feel of water in my eyes, ears, and nose. Sometimes life too can feel like being dunked into cold water. I was reminded of this trip on a cold April morning as I was struggling to keep my head above water.
Early Blooms
One morning just after the time change, I paused as I headed to work and took a picture of my apricot tree with its pretty pink blooms set against the grey light of dawn. As I look at the tree, I think about my own life, and wonder how often I have raced ahead of the season and bloomed but failed to bear fruit. The longer I live, the more I see that life is complex. It is a long, slow, journey. This journey is what some once called the process of sanctification, and for me it has been a long, slow, growing in grace.
Inconvenient Interruptions
Not long ago an interruption to my day – an unplanned conversation that took precious time that I didn’t think I had to give – turned out to be a beautiful moment of healing old wounds. It reminded me of a book I had read and wrote about many years ago when my children were young. This passage from the book Stepping Heavenward by Elizabeth Prentiss and my recent conversation reminded me that some interruptions that momentarily inconvenience can be beautiful opportunities for growth and healing.
Facing the Dark And Finding Light
I watch the sunset and I am drawn to the wonder and awe of its elegant artistry. I want to linger in its light and hold on to its beauty; to close my eyes to the gathering dark and carry it with me through the night till light can once more be seen with my waking eyes. But eventually, I must turn and face the lengthening shadows. Sometimes grief, like the fading light of day, will settle slowly in our hearts, so how do we face the dark?
A Light for the night
Sometimes it is difficult in the middle of winter to remember the bright colors of spring, the warmth of sun on your face and bare arms, the fragrant smell of lilac and hyacinth, and the musical chatter of birds. But spring will come again, the days will get longer, and the sunshine will eventually bring warmth. Seasons pass and so do dark nights and grief. Sometimes instead of a new year resolution or goal, we must simply remind ourselves that this too shall pass.