Confession is good for the soul, don’t you think? There is so much healing that comes with speaking something out loud, bringing a struggle into the light, admitting that I am helpless and hurting. It’s scary to be so vulnerable with others, admitting to them who I really am, how I fail or wrestle, but when I am met well in community, the safety and encouragement I find there can be deeply redemptive; I need others to act out Christ’s love to me and remind me of the gospel, reminding me of who I am in Jesus when I have forgotten. We all do! We need friends who will sing us our life song when we’ve forgotten the tune.
from an article originally posted July 2, 2014...
Jesus loved our family bigger than we could have ever imagined when someone made this once in a lifetime trip possible for our family. We had no idea when we said yes what huge grace we were saying yes to for our family. Months ago when this opportunity came to us, we saw what a gift to our children this time in the mountains would be. The generous offer came and we simply walked through a door knowing there was a blessing on the other side and life to be captured with our children.
Sometimes you meet someone, and you feel like you’ve known them all your life, which gives you deep joy of connection, but there is also sadness because you regret the time that you’ve missed with them. That’s how I felt when I met Marcia. She was living in Colorado Springs temporarily, and my time with her was short, but I recognized her right away as a kindred spirit, as Anne Shirley would say. Our friendship began when she agreed to lead my women’s group in a time of sharing our stories and praying for each other through StoryRopes™. This was a beautiful time for my group, but a particularly healing time for me, and as I got to know Marcia, I got to know her heart for loving women.
from an article originally posted June 30, 2014...
Yesterday I took a picture of one handful of pills I have to take in a day—one of the endless handfuls of pills. I took the picture and cried hot tears. I sent the text to my sister and dear friend waving the white surrender flag admitting to my limitations. Last week was a dream of joy with my family. But behind the scenes I was stomaching a new treatment, struggling to cover pain, and pushing through impossible limitations to live, simply live with my people. Every need was attended to—food, cleaning, children—and I was simply swallowing the new pills. I remember one sweet ride I simply told the wrangler I felt droopy and needed to sit on the back of my horse and let him quietly carry me to a new overlook. Words were too hard. Riding up hill after hill hoping the pills could destroy the cancer that is trying to destroy me.
Confession: I struggle believing that God is benevolent. As a little girl, I suspected that God wasn’t really paying attention to me, but then after my parents died when I was 20, I decided that God was out to get me—he downright disliked me. Losing my parents was enough to convince me that the prosperity gospel wasn’t true; my parents were good Christians and good people, but they still died. I was a good girl and did everything right, going to a Christian college and refraining from drinking and smoking. Oh, sure, I wasn’t perfect, but I believed the praise songs we sang in chapel and even if I didn’t love-love Jesus, I certainly wanted to love him. Yet my parents still died.