Grace-period

I have been having a tough time lately.  Too many commitments.  Too many interests.  Too much depending on me.  Too much going on in general.  And I am worn out! I know that  the world doesn't depend on me, not really.  It just feels like it at times.  Like if I let one thing go, let one person down, the world will have some kind of earthquake.  Or at least my boss might. Either way, it is a lonely path.  The burden is too great.  One of the things that helps when I am feeling so alone and so tired is to look for tracks of His grace.  It is our little game.  When I feel this empty, His ravens always show up.  This has been one of those weeks, but I was worried He might have gotten tired of playing. Surely I was mature enough to trust Him without those reassurances.  But I am not.  I am just a child playing peek-a-boo with my Father, and just a tad worried that when I uncover my eyes...

Disclaimer: While Sacred Scraps may become a series, know that any commentary is not that of a scholar but simply me gleaning meaningful scraps of the Sacred. I like to read the weird books of the Bible sometimes.  Sure, we hear from Genesis and the Psalms and the gospels and the letters of Paul all the time, but there are some books that seem neglected.  Leviticus is interesting just because it gets a bad rap for being boring.  The prophets are cool because we never hear them, it seems, except at the major holy days of Easter and Christmas.  Either way, today, as I whined about not feeling like I have any direction to write, my husband suggested that I just read a bit.  So I ended up in Ezra.  Really?  I didn't even know who Ezra was other than I thought he was a prophet.  In reality, he was a writer that tells the story of the rebuilding of the temple after it had been destroyed and the people had been captured and taken away. H...

I like to write. I like words. I like the way they seem to fall into place on the page, the way they come together to form stories as witnesses to events, feelings, journeys. Until they don't. I have stories and blog posts that are incomplete because the words fall off...the stream dries up...the time runs out... But for me, writing is like deep breaths.  It is easier to live.  It clears my head.  It clarifies my path. So why is it so dang difficult to find the time or the motivation? Is it the fact that the pups have to be outside digging holes so that I can have a few minutes to write?  Is it because I miss my netbook so much, the freedom that it afforded me to write anywhere?  Maybe.  Or maybe it is just busyness. I hide in busyness. You can't hold it against me that we cannot get together for coffee because my calendar is booked out 3 weeks.  You can't blame me for not having time when I am doing good things, r...

Ok, so what if this series was always on Mondays?  Now we have the NFL on Sunday, Monday, Thursday and even some Saturdays.  I am just gonna go with it. Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.   Ecclesiastes 4:9-12   The message on Sunday was simplistic enough. Nothing fancy. No smoke or mirrors. Just a text and a bit of commentary from the speaker.  His treatment of the topic was understated, but, for me, this topic is nothing short of a lifeline. Nope. Not talking about the salvific work of Jesus on the cross. We are talking about a strand of three. Friendships. Community. Never walkin...