REDEEMER OF DEATH

Redeemer of Death,
you can bring life.
Even after the ugliest of deaths,
in spite of the bitterest of tears,
in the face of misunderstanding,
disappointment, confusion.
You did this already
on an Easter long ago.

Redeemer of Death,
who breathed this promise:
I will "bestow on them
a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair...¨
You did this already
on an morning long ago.

Redeemer of Death,
You placed on the Messiah the Spirit
and sent Him to ¨bind up the brokenhearted¨
as part of His sacred mission.
You anointed Him for this,
equipped Him for it.
You did this already
on an evening long ago.

Redeemer of death,
you can bring Life
even after my daughter´s death,
even after my own heart was broken.
In the face of the impossibility
of beauty to be found in this ash heap.
You are doing this
on Easter...and every day.

You are the only one I know
who stands crowned:
Redeemer of Death.

THE SILVER-ROSE RAY

From the womb of the dawn

came a ray of light.

It shimmered silvery-rose

upon the dark, silhouetted horizon.

¨Wake up!¨ she whispered.

¨It´s a new day, a new time.¨

The light grew brighter and chameleoned 

into coral, red and glad orange.

The fiery ball began to rise with proud protagonism,

while the silver-rose ray of light

slipped quietly, unobtrusively, into the background.

Her short work was done.

Yet she was content.

For I had heard her.

I had seen her promise and understood:

The much-anticipated season of Light

that will crush my Darkness

Starts with noticing...

the simple silver-rose ray.

¨But the way of the right(eous) is like the early morning light.

It shines brighter and brighter until the perfect day.¨ 

Proverbs 4:18

Photo by:  Sian Monument

I'LL BE WATCHIN' YOU...

We are really not sure if Jenna can see us or not but 

we often feel like she is a part of the cloud of witnesses cheering us on.

In your moments proud

on your biggest days

when your heart is heavy

yet you rise again

when your courage spurs

others on to good

when you celebrate loudly

or quietly love

when you cross a finish line

at your life events...

I'll be watchin' you.

When you love Him well

when you pour out your heart

when you whisper prayers

or bless with your art

when you fall in love

or you graduate

when you learn something new

or new vision create

when you live victorious

and of course, when you smile...

I'll be watchin' you.

When you write that book

when you dance on that stage

when you kick that goal

or a new nation engage

when you make a new friend

or forgive one that´s old
overcome a weakness

or cover someone´s cold

when you give ´til it hurts

and you love to the end...

I´ll be watchin´you.

When you cry for me

yet persevere

when you wonder and question

 but trust Him to be near 

When you rest in love

and choose to walk forward

when you follow your call

in spite of your sorrow
when you mourn honestly
yet look for the beauty...
I´ll be watchin´ you.

When you change the world

as you live bigger than I

when you blow others away

with a legacy 10 times mine

when you see me in yourself

and it brings a smile

yet you freely live as you
embracing that unique profile 

when you make Him relevant

and bring Him to the unloved...

I´ll be watchin´ you.

When you find ¨the one¨

who´s all you´ve dreamed

when you have your babies

and they look like me :)
when you carve out your life,
live adventures & dreams

when you love your new family
yet honor your old team
When there´s the gift to be together
sharing lessons & laughter...
I´ll be watchin´ you.

When you finish each season

and live each moment

full and rich it stands to reason
you draw closer to me, to all eternity

and when your yearning grows

and your story is told

When your work is done

and the witnesses´ cheer is bold

when you finish your race

and you cross through the veil...
Well,

I´ll be watchin´ you...

and waiting for you...

and hugging you...

and introducing you...

to your new eternal friends

to your new perfect home

and bringing you to the One

who loved you first and best.

And then we will live...

really live...

...happily ever after.

Photo by:  Jan Jespersen

MISSING HIS VOICE

Oh! how I miss Your voice!
I miss hearing your secrets,
hearing your insights,
even your warnings!

I sit and listen again but hear nothing.
The silence echoes & reverberates...
Sometimes it mocks me.
Sometimes it tells me it will always be like this from now on -
that pain & grief deafen your senses,
mess with your mind,
dull your abilities,
darken your capacity.

I hate to admit that in part it´s true...
That is many people´s experience.
But I am clear on this:
It will not always be this way!
It is a season.
And every season passes.
And every season has its beauty.

I used to hear Him easily...
Listening was my ¨go to¨ way to experience God.
His voice met me in various experiences & places;
I find myself lost without it!

Yet like a person struck suddenly deaf,
I am slowly learning to depend on other senses to a greater degree.
I am sharpening them as I learn to use them,
learning to compensate.
And I realize that I can experience God in so many ways!
He is not limited to my diminished senses
in this time of grief.
This is part of the beauty to be discovered in this season.

Certainly God is unlimited in His ability to communicate.
I am the one who is reaching out through human limitations,
through my wounded heart & senses,
asking Him to build my awareness,
asking Him to enhance my creativity in order to connect with Him.

So I open my heart -
to taste His goodness,
to touch His hem,
to smell His perfume...
soon enough I will hear Him,
Soon enough.
For now, the others are enough...
And they are beautiful.

But oh! How I miss His voice!



SOUND OF YOUR VOICE by Steven Curtis Chapman

Photo by:  Tangent Artifact

TENTATIVE PRAISE

“Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the great Lion." "Ooh" said Susan. "I'd thought he was a man. Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion"..."Safe?" said Mr Beaver ..."Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”

C.S.Lewis, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe

To my un-safe but good King....  :)

Praise comes

from trembling lips

Gratitude stumbles

from mustard-seed heart

Wisdom emerges

from a terrible, yet sacred journey

Trust is budding

from this pilgrim walk.

Tears, miles, hours, prayers

all done with Him.

He has not left me.

Yet neither He has explained Himself.

He is Love and Mystery.

The storms, mountains & valleys

are not over.

I thought they were!

But this trek still has more

break-points, look-outs, summits and precipices.

It is all mapped out in tender, yet stubborn love.

I breathe in, I breathe out,

take the next step.

I stop to take in the view

And He whispers

and smiles.

If I don´t pay attention

I will miss it!

So I pause often

To see the sacred in the terrible

to find beauty in the shadows

to embrace joy in spite of 

to kiss velvety petals.

lay on green,

listen to quiet waters.

And in those moments, praise comes 

from trembling lips...






Photo by:  Jesús Pérez Pacheco

THE SHOULDS

People think I should be in a different place -
be doing more things,
engaging & reacting,
committing & applying,
running & attending,
producing & processing...
everything in a way they imagine to be normal or right.
Maybe it´s how they think they would fare
if they were in my shoes.
How they would do it better, faster.

¨Just give me my grief!¨
I want to yell at them.
You can´t take it from me, or rush my process.
You can´t change my pain or do it for me or
impose your ways on my process.
Only I can do it.
I must walk this road alone,
in my own way.

It´s not that I want to be here.
It´s that I must be here.
And it does not mean I don´t need you.
I do need you -
loving, cheering, encouraging.
Not preaching or rescuing or pushing.

Just hold my hand.
Just be quiet.
Just be there.
Just love me in spite of this sadness,
this loneliness, tiredness, confusion, depression, fear.

I know I am hard to love right now.
I am sorry!
Please forgive me.
Please believe in me when I cannot believe in myself.
Please believe in who I will yet be,
in who I am becoming
on this road.

And please, help protect me from all the ¨shoulds¨ -
both my own & those imposed by others.



Photo by:  Connie Smith

IN THESE SHADOWS

In these shadows
I read
looking for inspiration, hoping for revelation...
but there are only words on a page.
I speak
looking for understanding, hoping for compassion...
but there is only empty advice.
I sleep
looking for sweet rest, hoping for refreshment...
but there is only restlessness & continual fatigue.
I pray
looking for light, hoping for relief...
but there is only a void.
I listen
looking for the Voice, hoping to hear it...
but there is only silence.

Oh God!  I cannot see you or find You!
Please reveal Yourself to me!

And if You are here in disguise,
present in ways I have not known before,
please open my eyes, my heart
to perceive, to believe.

In these shadows
help me to read words of life,
find compassion,
sleep the sleep,
see the Light,
and hear the Voice.

In these shadows
help me see past the camouflage of perceptions of God,
past the veil of sadness blinding me,
past the smoke screen of emotions dominating me,
past the illusions of who I should be...
past the veneer of how and where I think I should find You.

I don´t ask You to remove me from these shadows -
just that I can find You here among them.





Photo by:  Sundaram Ramaswamy

BROKEN STRIDE

(On differing styles & paces during grief in marriage.)

There used to be a certain comfortable pace to ¨us,¨
A togetherness of steps in this life journey.
There were, of course, out-of-step times occasionally,
But as a whole, we moved forward together in stride.

When our world crashed
and grief moved in,
our Stride was Broken.
For a while, we were both immobile
and time didn´t exist.
But as we began to move again,
everything was different;
as we began to stir,
we could see that our whole world had changed.

They told us that grief was a ¨two steps forward, three steps back¨ kind of thing.
But his forward steps were her backwards steps,
and when he was going backwards, she was moving forward.
Alignment began to elude us;
And we struggled, trying to recover our former rhythm.

The tempos were offbeat,
the gaits contrasting,
the pain distinct,
the headway disparate.
When he experienced acceleration,
she crashed.
While he rejoiced with new momentum,
she retreated to barely standing.
When she spoke of their grief articulately,
he struggled through tears to make sense to others.
When he marched or ran or on occasion raced,
she trudged, plodded or stumbled.
Sometimes he crashed -
and she lifted him up...
only to watch him catch the wind and fly off again.
Sometimes he slowed
and tried to gently carry her with him.
She travelled for a short stint -
but struggled out of his arms to walk her own necessary path.

There are two unmistakably distinct (and necessary) strides.
They are strange and scary to us both.
So the question is:
Can we be ok with this for a while?

Can we adjust to this unfamiliar divergence of paths?
Can we shoulder the loneliness of it?
Can we - for the sake of love & healing -
carry the weight of the frustrations and comparisons inherent in it?
Can we hold on to hope that we will learn a new pace -
possibly very different from the one before?

Each stride carries different scenery, experiences, relationships, emotions.
Neither stride is wrong -
but they are different.

Can we learn to find rest points together along the way
to regroup, listen & learn?
Can we respect the other person´s need for a different style and tempo?
Are we willing to take time & energy from other things to readjust?
Are we willing to live for a while with a Broken Stride?

There used to be a certain pace to ¨us,¨
A togetherness of steps in this life journey...
Our pace has changed & now there are two.
We may look awkward, we might not understand,
but we are moving -
and for now that is victory.




Photo by:  Billy Wilson

STILL A CHRISTMAS ALLELUIA*

If there is pristine white
and the exquisite, perfect scent of pine from the greens,
If there's a deliciously lit tree with jubilant colors and the perfect amount of twinkling,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there's a poignant conversation with a loved one,
or a special exchange with a dear friend.
If there is music in unexpected places that surprises & stirs you,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there's comfort & art in the food,
If there's joyful laughter and the earthy smell of cinnamon.
If there are orange crackling fires and warm sweaters,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there's deep longing & anticipation in the advent waiting,
If there are tears of remembrance at an absence,
If there are questions & hesitancy on establishing new traditions,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there is beauty in carols or decorations or in people,
If there are ribbons or stockings or thankfulness,
If there are candles and melodies and mistletoe,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there is thought & action & blessing of those in need,
If there is genuine service & sacrifice to those without,
If there is thought and prayer for those struggling, for those far away,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there is pain in a heart for another, silent tears on cheek,
If there are gestures outside of self or love outside the familiar,
If there is filling of empty places & warmth for frozen lives,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there are cards to be opened with affection,
If there are secrets & winks & loving conspiracies,
If there are yuletide books & peppermint & mugs of steaming hot chocolate,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there are children & laughter & rosy cheeks,
If there are lists & traditions & long-awaited winter break,
If there are special holly-wrapped programs & events to celebrate the season,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there is family to be picked up at the airport,
If there is love and togetherness at long last,
If there are smiles and full cups and hearts,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there is growing closeness to the Savior born,
If there is new wonder at an old, old story,
If there is joy come upon the world,
It's a Christmas Alleluia.

If there is joy or sorrow or a melancholy mingling of both,
If there is grief rekindled in the midst of the delight,
If there is soul in your carols, and salty tears amidst the sweet,
It´s still a Christmas Alleluia.



*Just want to acknowledge Chris Tomlin's new song of similar title "A Christmas Alleluia".

https://youtu.be/j-roVacU27M

Photo by:  Nana B. Agyei

SAUDADES* (for JENNA)

Written with big love & appreciation on the occasion of Karol's

 Masters Recital.  Karol, one of Jenna's dear Brazilian friends, generously

 dedicated her amazing performance to Jenna's memory.  (Post forthcoming on her recital!)

Saudades*...
There is no other word for our longing
for this lovely soul.

For this lover of nations,
For this allegiant, lively friend,
For this ardently devoted fan of family.
Saudades.

For the head thrown back in laughter,
For the smile that lit the room,
For the elegant, mysterious way she carried herself,
Saudades.

For the cultural (& abundant!) odysseys in the kitchen,
For the practical jokes & bets,
For the deep philosophy at night,
Saudades.

For the opinions readily shared,

For the causes & principles she believed in,

For the zealous passion that spilled out around her,

Saudades.

For the broken heart for the poor & oppressed,

For the dreams & vision to make a difference,

For the intolerance for mediocre or indifference,

Saudades.

For the silent hours over a book or journal,

For the prayers poured out with paint or ink,

For the tender strumming of strings & heart,

Saudades.

For the love of learning & discovering,

For the insight & wisdom gently offered,

For the gift of bringing out the best in those around her,

Saudades.

For the genuine, honest heart,

For the last minute running with mate in hand,

For the stunning, natural beauty she was oblivious to,

Saudades.

For the love running over for God,

For the deep & authentic relationship,

For the passionate quest & journey for Love Himself,

Saudades.

For the uncommon global citizen who lived among worlds,

For the one who was nevertheless equally rooted & grounded,

For the girl who always came back to those she loved,

Saudades.

For the one who fought to live,

For the beauty & peace in her final surrender to the Master Plan,

For the one who went back home to the One she loves,

Saudades.

Saudades...

There is no other word for our longing 

For this lovely soul.

*Saudades:  An untranslatable Portuguese word referring to the "melancholic longing or yearning...it is an evoking of a sense of loneliness and incompleteness...poignant sadness, indolent, dreaming wistfulness."                       - from blog.dictionary.com

Photo by:  Carolina Franceschini, taken in Lebanon last year

MOTHER-WINGS

For my treasures, Daniela & Jordan

How my mother-wings long to stretch out over & around them!
Protecting, insulating, harboring...
I long to be a barrier between them & life.
Perhaps because there has been so much in the last year that I have been unable to control,
that now I feel an overwhelming desire to overprotect them -
from pain, sadness, from all that goes wrong, from defeat, rejection & shaken theology.
It is not right that they experience any more pain!
Any hint of potential hurt feels almost unbearable to me.
I feel so helpless before their vulnerability, so inadequate to shield them!

I never have been the hovering type -
but that was before tragedy touched us.
That was before our hearts were broken,
before our lives were changed forever.
Now I want the future to look differently,
And their safety has taken on an inordinate priority!
I have never been as conscious of their emotional safety in all my years as a mother.

Herein lies my struggle - the struggle  of all mothers, really -
I cannot keep them safe from everything.
Mother-wings are not enough.
Oh what a defeating thought for the mother bear inside me!

There is only one thing to do...
the thing that is always right to do...
surrender them to the One with Father-wings,
to the One who is Omni-Everything to them in all places & at all times - I cannot be that.

Help my heart at this altar place, Lord.
Help me in this surrender of my babies!
Help me to surrender the safety of their heart, their emotions, their well-being, their relationship with You, their self-confidence...
Help me in this stubborn wrestling to see them be insulated from what feels like a very big, bad world right now.
And please help me lay down my parental weapons and any illusions of control.

They really are safest in your Omni hands.
My Mother-wings are good for certain times & places -
Your Father-wings are good at all times and in all places!
Their safety is, in reality, only ever in Your control, in Your hands...
in the Shadow-Sanctuary of Your very Almighty wings.

FIX MY EYES

"Then Peter got down out of the boat,
 walked on the water and came toward Jesus.
  But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and,
 beginning to sink, cried out, " Lord, save me!"

Matthew 14:29, 30

Fix

my eyes

on the One.

Who knows, who loves, who cries.

Set

my heart 

on the immovable Rock.

Who stabilizes, secures, is unyielding.

Quiet 

my mind

on enduring Truth and Goodness.

My underpinning, my bedrock, my infrastructure.

Align 

my body

to the healing road of Life.

Sound, flourishing, wholeness.

Fix all of me, God,
on Your face.

And on Your extended hand to me.

The one stretched out across the rising waves all around me -

For You are ready to save.

I see it in Your face;
it is fixed with love on me.

Save me, O God,

from this ocean of emotions!

from tumultuous waves of fear & sadness,

from tides of regret & loss...

Calm the storm - the one inside me.

Fix 

my eyes, 

O God.

My heart, mind & body, too.

Focus all of me...on all of You.

Fix 

my eyes.

¨...let us run with perseverance the race 

marked out for us.  Let us fix our eyes

on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith...¨

Hebrews 12:1,2

Photo by:  Vagelis Kalampalikis

LOOKING FOR THE BEAUTY

¨He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted...

to comfort all who mourn...to provide for those who grieve...

bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, 

the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise

 instead of a spirit of despair. ¨ 

Isaiah 61:1-3

In the midst of this pain, Lord,

Make me attentive.

Attentive to unexpected beauty.

Help me to see it, to perceive it.

Let me be in synch

with the Spirit´s redemptive craftsmanship

against this backdrop of tragedy.

A backdrop of ugly rawness, 

painful memories & the smoldering of death.

You say You will bring beauty -

Beauty from the ashes of death,

from the ashes of mourning...

You say You can transform even that.

So let me discern, O Lord,

this promised artistry.

Let me participate in its unfolding,

delight in its telling,

take comfort in its transforming blessing.

Grace my head, O King,

with the garland of beauty.

Grace my heart & life

with restored joy,

with laughter,

with dancing and song.

Make me attentive, Lord,

to the beauty.

Photo by:  Noukka Signe

BRINGING HEAVEN DOWN

They talk to me about eternal -
that "1,000 years is like a day"
or "in the blink of an eye"
or the "thin veil" that separates us
from the wonder of heaven.

But I am here, trapped, in the temporal
and every day is an uncountable number
of blinks of an eye.
A day can feel like a 1,000 years.
And the veil may as well be the Great Wall of China.
Eternity feels so very far away.

Does is it seem unfair to be stuck here?
With loved ones & promises & perfection waiting there?
Oh to see the unknown purposes of God!

It's not that there are not promises for our here & now.
(If not, I would truly perish!)
But our heart is programmed for so much more!
Here we are just pilgrims passing through.
And right now I chaffe against this nomadic life,
this transitory sojourning with divided heart.
For ever since she left us,
I've wanted to be somewhere else like never before.

Oh Lord, give me patience for the days left to me!
Fill them with love & purpose!
And please, let my longings for heaven
transform into deepening passion
to bring the kingdom of heaven to earth.

More of heaven here, Lord, while we wait!
More love, more redemption, more healing,
more salvation, more freedom, more peace...
more of You, Jesus.

Until I can get to heaven, Lord,
Please help me to be one who brings heaven down.




My two realities:

Heaven is the Face by Steven Curtis Chapman

Heaven on Earth by David & Nicole Binion, Covenant Worship

Photo by: Hartwig HKD, Tree of Life

MY ALCHEMIST

"Awake, north wind, and come, south wind!  
Blow on my garden, that its fragrance may spread everywhere."

Song of Songs 4:16

Let this crushing produce
the desired sweetness,

Not bitterness.

Let the crushing press out
all that is not worthy or useful -

For the Master Alchemist is at work.

He is consumed
with creating my Life Fragrance.

There is a plan in this madness,

in this sadness.

A "beauty for ashes" kind of ending.

To unveil the Rose of roses,

the Lion of all lions -

in all His strength & loveliness.

And He has chosen one such as I.

Meanwhile, as I feel this weight,

the pressing of life in sadness & pain,

I feel the weight of purpose, too.

The purpose of sweet tears & fragrant petals,

prayers of surrender, whispered love,

all being crushed together,

mingling, running down.

The Master Alchemist is brewing

the unique Fragrance of my life into His.

Oh let it be sweet!

Let it be beautiful & intoxicating!

Like the love of this One

who has captivated me

& allured me to this desert place.

To begin again a garden,

to create fruitful vineyards,

to make beauty from ashes,

and an oil of joy for mourning.

He is my mystical, ancient, irresistible,

creative & Love-inspired Alchemist.

After all that has happened,

He is still my Beloved.

And so I trust Him, too,
as my Alchemist.

"Therefore I am now going to allure her;

I will lead her into the wilderness

and speak tenderly to her.

There I will give her back her vineyards,

and will make the Valley of Achor (Trouble),

a door of hope."

Hosea 3:14,15

Photo by:  PictureWendy

MARKED

"...let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years, 
and let them be lights...to give light on the earth."

Genesis 1:14



I am a marked woman.

It's not something that you see at a glance

or notice in a quick exchange.

It's something deeper, more profound.

Life has changed forever.
Life has marked me forever.

The well of my heart is deepening, expanding.

My mind is still actively pondering the changes,

Clarifying what they are...

and who I will become.

This journey of healing is not about

"getting better so I can get back to who I was and what I was doing"

That could never be!

No, everything has changed
 and I must change, too.

So I bring the things I am noticing and pondering

to the One who knows me and who shaped me 

and who has faithfully shepherded me so far.

He knows all about these things
And His marks on us are mysteriously lovely.

So we walk and we talk and sometimes we just sit in silence.

And I wait and receive from Him

counsel, encouragement, courage
and a deepening ability to surrender.

A surrender
to Love, to Change,

and to Who I am becoming...

I notice that there is a smile

on His lips and around His warm eyes...

And I know I must be on the right path.

The one marked for me,

the one that is marking me.
the one that has His mark.

I smile back,
Content to be a marked woman.

Your comments are welcome and encouraged.  I have tried to simplify the process so that more of you will join in!

Photo from BuzzFeed.com

WHERE DID THE LOVE GO?

Loss has left me bereft of love -

Or so it seems.

Not for her - my heart aches for her -

but of love for others.

It seems I have lost my capacity to love

And I am so distressed!

There is no energy, no passion,

no motivation, no will power.

I desire - yet cannot - comprehend my friends´ problems

or my neighbors´ chatting.

I so want to care!

But there is no room, no place to put

the concerns of anyone else...

All my love spaces, my concerned places,

my rooms of compassion, the shared sanctums of my heart,

are full of grief.

They are too full to hold more.

So I sit at coffee listening like a tomb

to my dearest of friends.

I cannot understand her sharing -

Today it is a foreign language.

My brain defensively blocks her out,

subconsciously setting a protective limit for me.

I fight against it & try to refocus -

But I have no memory of what she just said.

I am undone by my own guilt & dysfunction -

I want to engage...but cannot.

Later I am in the stands at my son´s soccer game,

surrounded by other parents who happily chat.

I am overwhelmed by their loudness,

by their superficial talk.

It reverberates in my head like a migraine.

I say enough to let them know I´m there

But not enough to engage or truly ¨be present."

This outing exhausts me.

What is wrong?

I try to get out, for instinctively I know I need to.

Yet it takes a colossal effort to enter in.

I am painfully aware 

Of the inadequacies of my heart,

of my own impotence to wrap my arms around any more

than what they already carry.

Oh to be able to bear the burden of love!

Oh that love would be weightless!

Oh to find joy in listening intently!

Or laughing loudly or chatting with friendliness!

Some friends say I must be
"kind to myself, patient"
But today I am impatient with my weariness!
Impatient with my frailty around others.
I don't care or don't want to care or can't care
because of this emotional love-depletion.
I find myself just trying to survive the day.

Oh! Author of love!

Please hasten the day

when my heart,

carved up by grief & then healing,
has slowly drained some of its sadness,

& expanded in its capacity to give again...

To love again,

to care again,
naturally & unfeigned.

Love will be back -

sweeter & deeper than before.

The Love Author Himself whispers to me:
"Be kind & patient with yourself as I am.
I am with you & am guiding your journey.
You are on schedule."

I breathe a sigh of relief.
I am human.
I will love again.

Where did the love go?

It´s just very busy holding me for a little while -

it will soon be back.

Photo by:  Kiz BadArt Team

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THE SILENCE

Sometimes there are no words...

Just silence.

Or tears.

Time has stopped &

the world around you 

is muffled, dream-like.

You see things, people

and hear them -

but not really.

You want to wake up,

to shake off your trance,

Yet there is a certain safety here.

So you stay in the fog

and wait for words.

You struggle to come up with something that

even comes close to expressing 

the profound chaos of emotion inside.

At times, you don't even struggle

for there are certainly no words for This.

for This Reality that exploded into your world
 & crushed you,

& broke your heart.

For This,
there is only silence

and tears.

Some days I really want words & I painfully piece some together.

Some days other people want words from me & I am sadly mute.

I cannot explain this coming and going of expression

Any more than I can explain or predict

the surging & retreating rhythms of grief.

Please be patient with me

and find an ok-ness with this reality.

Because for This,

there is only silence

and tears.

Photo by:  Ozge Gurer Vatandas, Silence

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HOLDING QUESTIONS (LESSONS FROM A DRAGONFLY)

I am holding questions -
and my arms are weary.
My mind is tired & perplexed at their weight,
my heart is heavy at the lack of resolution.

There have been questions written silently in a journal,
questions shouted to the sea,
questions with tears over coffee with a friend,
And questions of bewilderment in the intimacy of my family.

There have been questions of concern & curiosity,
questions of philosophy & theology,
questions of fear & doubt,
And questions from shock & incredulity.

There have been questions, too, of reverence & remembrance,
of assurance & love,
of beauty & faithfulness,
And all those answers are YES.  Yes and Amen.
These are the ones that anchor me.

But there are so many that will not fit in the Answered Pile...
There are no logical categories for so many of them in my human mind.
I cannot comprehend the ¨higher ways¨ and I sigh in my longing to do just that.
I am frustrated by my humanity, by my dual (duel??) earthly-spiritual realities.
I live in this place but have glimpses of another,
I am trapped in an earthly body,
Yet see that there are answers beyond me.

Oh to have explanations!
An interpretation of these sad losses & events
To justify the unjustifiable, to respond to the unrespondable
To bring closure to the unclosable...
These are flitting about me like dragonflies near a river,
They hover nearby with the sun glittering on their translucent wings,
thinking, pondering in the sun.
They are both beautiful & mysterious.
Suddenly, they are gone, off to another rock further ahead, upstream!
It seems they are making headway somehow, they have a destination.
And they are using the wind under their wings to lift them up
and take them upstream, against the current,
where they will sit & ponder again under sunlit glintings of truth.

Their wings look too frail to carry heavy burdens.
But they know how to use the breeze.
They innately know their next stop, the next step.
They are unhurried, peaceful.
Yet they progress - against the current & in the face of dangers.

I am holding questions as they seem to -
And hope that in my frailty there will also be beauty,
for the questions are worthy.
Some are frustratingly rhetorical, unanswerable this side of heaven.
And so I try to lay these down in the Mystery Pile -
and to be ok with that.
To be ok with a God who breathes mystery, who is mystery,
who doesn´t necessarily love mystery in a superior, look-down-on-you kind of way -
but who requires mystery to be who he is & orchestrate what he does.
Because simply put, if there were no mystery, He would not be God.
And if there were no God, there would be no life for me, no meaning.

So I hold my questions
on dragonfly wings
on this path of life.
I anchor myself in the answered ones.
And I carry the mysterious ones in a heart
that trusts the Love, the Purpose and yes, even the Mystery, of God.






Photo by: hjhipster

THE WINTER OF GRIEF

" It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth; you made both summer and winter.¨

Psalm 74:17

The winter of grief pierces my heart.  The bitter cold has made bones of the trees outside.  They stand naked, vulnerable, frozen in their dormant posture.  They seem much like me in their waiting, in their defenseless exposure, in their inability to move.  They have been reduced to attitudes of  essential survival.

My heart goes down early with the sun (how soon the darkness comes in winter!) and withdraws in loneliness.  It instinctively searches for warmth & quiet in its hibernated state.  It is a serious season, a seemingly unending one and its barrenness stretches out before me.

Yet in spite of the cold, there is a certain beauty - pristine snow and its painting of the winter wonderlandscape, glowing indoor fires, hoodies & hot chocolate, flannels & fleece, cinnamon candles & music floating like the flakes themselves - all a juxtaposed part of this season.  There is the hope of the evergreen, the uniqueness of each snowflake, the fun of snow sports, the warmth of family, the sweet dreams of sugarplums and even the early crocuses with their promises of spring.

But my grief is desolate & raw right now in winter. I cocoon up against the flurries of sadness, the wind chill of depression and the bleakness of the wasteland of energy & passion.  I observe the beauty of this season from afar, like a tourist, yet I am restless & yearning for another.

Where I live now there is no snow in winter, just the cold.  Last week the almond trees blossomed.  They are always the first and most eager for spring.  But they brought false hopes; two days ago another northern chill swept over the country in defiant response.  My heart ran again for cover.

I reflect, somewhat bemused, on the fact that the southern hemisphere of the world is in summer - maybe I am just in the wrong place!  And those countries along the equator who have no winter at all... do they not have a ¨winter¨ in their grief there?  I seriously consider moving...but I´m pretty sure the winter of my grief would stubbornly refuse to leave me until it´s time is done.  It clings to me with chilling yet intentional purpose.

My soul yearns for warmth, sunshine, the soft-hued colors & fresh air of life-giving spring.  I long for its promises, its breath and spirit.  I long to come outside, out of my hiding, out of my cocooning, out of the sadness of loss.  I know I have a long journey in front of me but I just want to turn this corner into tender, verdant spring.  To move, grow and progress.

Oh may I be persevering during this winter of grief!  It will not last forever and there is purpose in it just like all the seasons.  Help me to understand that in this apparent dormancy, there is growth and life; it is just not as evident.  Things are hibernating, resting, preparing for the surge of growth & life that is to come.  Let me walk this one out faithfully, one day at a time.  There will soon be a thawing, a warming, the songbirds will return and the flowering will begin...  

¨Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him.  

As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains,

like the spring rains that water the earth.¨

Hosea 6:3  

Photo by:  blmiers2