What does it mean to bless the Lord at all times? What does a life of constant praise look like? How do I turn towards Jesus in my desperation and not simply turn away in fear and anguish? How do I trust when the story continues to crumble my hopes and dreams? How do I raise my face? How? I just do.... Because I know Jesus is trustworthy when the story is without pain as well as when it includes devastation.
from an article originally published June 20, 2014...
There is such tenderness in the broken places. I feel uniquely blessed when I’m witness to the truth of the heart of another unclothed, open, vulnerable. It’s the most beautiful, most stunning in life. Sharing the tears of another is the greatest joy I have known in my life. When someone reveals a hidden shame or brokenness, I feel witness to the miracle of grace seeping into the hard cracks of living in fear and shame.
from an article originally posted June 18, 2014...
I ran away for a minute with my boyfriend. We met friends, we attended meetings, we dinnered, lunched, breakfasted, and just enjoyed people. I struggled with energy, but I often pushed past my limits for the joy of the moment and being with friends that we rarely get to see. I cried in laughter, cried in heartbreak, and sat in silence hearing from the heart of those I love, those that are hurting themselves. A silence that is feasting on hearing from the heart of another—hearing the real story. Oh those honest moments are filled with such grace. So many of us often meet with children rumbling around. These were sacred adult moments of honesty without need to veil any words in any way to protect the young. No, these were honest, safe moments. Beautiful, beautiful moments.
from an article originally posted June 16, 2014...
Yesterday, my dear Blythe wrote me a letter. A paper and pencil, put on a stamp, beautiful handwritten letter. It was a gift. A beautiful gift. When I saw the letter in the mailbox, I knew I was holding a treasure. I was tired, deeply tired from my hard week. I quietly took my letter up to my bedroom, hid under the covers, and opened my treasure. I cried. I cried and cried.
from an article originally posted on June 12, 2014…
Each day presents us all with a mixed bag to carry, to face, to let go of, and to deal with. We all struggle with our bags. Jesus says a lot about letting him carry it for us, but we all stink at that, don’t we? We may pretend to hand it over, but do we really? My bag is my own idea of how I want each moment to be lived; then these horrible life-stealing events happen and mess up my plans.
