from an article originally posted October 16, 2014…
Last night I served my community group grilled cheese and tomato soup. But the feast was the heart sharing, the safe place, the time together. Time spent being a safe place for each other. Sharing the strength and weakness of our lives. We spoke in simple terms. Asked simple heart questions, and laughed and pondered how might we love one another better.
from an article originally posted September 25, 2014…
We crowded our table with families that are partnering with us in life, in brokenness, in limping together to the gospel and looking to our dear Jesus together. Last night we all braved hard, shared burdens, admitted to the struggles we have faced and by God’s amazing grace come through. We shared the edges and the fog within which we all still struggle. We ended in prayer, and by the end my spine and my hip were screaming in such pain I had to leave the room. Tears were coming on their own as the pain was so great.
from an article originally posted September 9, 2014…
The news today wasn’t great. It was devastating, but we are not without options. I will give details when we are ready. But today, we have today. So I walk into it seeking goodness.... And guess what? It’s there. Today, I could move. I could spend my energy cooking for my loves, my friends, my people. I could cry a big ugly cry, and my deepest grief was heard. I could cry out my brokenness, and I could cook.
from an article originally posted August 9, 2014…
Some days all the edges of this world feel too oppressive. The headlines of the day are heartbreaking. I can barely stomach the titles. I hurt, my heart hurts so desperately for pain in this world I cannot comprehend. I’m too weak to even look. Ann Voskamp calls us to pray. My prayers are broken and limp. The familiar, Help, oh, help dear Jesus.
from an article originally posted July 3, 2014...
I’m limping along trying to figure out the right time to take my new chemo and the right combination of drugs to help the pain of my cancer that is pressing in on nerves in my back and on my hip, as well as managing the side effects of my chemo. It’s a dance, a freaking ugly dance. One day I have the steps right, the next day I’m dancing with a puke bucket in my purse—lovely. This week has been uniquely tough because I have realized this is my dance forever. Well, until this drug stops working and another harder drug will replace this one.
