Grace-period

When my heart is heavy, when my spirit is anxious, I like to look at trees. There is something about the gentle rocking of treetops as the breeze caresses them that makes me think of God.  It is a very basic lesson from long ago.  The Holy Spirit moves and though we cannot see Him, we can see the evidence of Him.  This reminder of that lesson, as I watch the wind rustle the leaves, always calms me.  I remember that I am not alone, despite what it looks like.  I remember that He is moving if I watch for the evidence.  I remember that I am His.  Today, I am grateful that I look up.  It has been one of those difficult days. As I sat across the table from my friend, she unemotionally asked, "You know you guys are doing suicide watch, right?" I knew that was part of this meeting.  I knew it was the reason that I texted her prayers and little quips....to test the line, to see if she was still there.  But something about it being so pl...

The answers aren't so easy.  I wish they were. I wish I could tell you the recipe to get better, to feel better, to live better. I wish I had the easy words, the magic wand, the trail of bread crumbs. But I don't. I can tell you that I wasn't looking for anything different, but He found me anyway. I can tell you that until He spoke to me, my heart was stone.  I can tell you that until He breathed life into me, I was just going through the motions. I can tell you that when I stopped trying and fighting and scrapping by, He did for me what I couldn't-healed my brokenness without leaving scars, gave me hope for my future, washed me clean with grace. I don't know why. I don't really know how. I do know that there is more than enough, for you.  I don't know the answers, but I know the One who does. And know that I pray for you to know Him...everyday...every time you cry...every time it feels too much. I cannot do much. But that I can. And I will until...until I d...

I remember when I was very young, probably 7 or 8 years old, and I knew that I was a writer.  Well, probably before then.  When I was 5 years old, I drew a story, since I didn't know enough words , about my 3 year old sister peeing in our toy box.  Ok, so maybe I was actually tattling in hieroglyphics.  Same difference.  Writers write to express something.  Sometimes that thing is tattling. One day, an adult told me that the best writers wrote what they knew.  Apparently I had a little arrogant type A personality in me even then.  Instead of looking at what I already knew, I prayed.  I prayed that God would give me lots of experiences, and lots of different types of experiences.  How foolish!  But, that is me, even at 8 years old.  Long before I heard the adage: Be careful what you pray for.  No.  I have a wonderfully entertaining and joyful life.  I have friends on many ...

I like to pretend that I don't need too much.  If you make dinner, I will eat what you serve, though later you may find that I wince if it moos or clucks, as a few friends have.  If you have a preference, I probably won't.  But I don't want you to know that I rely on you, either. Perhaps it is some old instinct to keep me safe.  It doesn't really matter.  What matters is that I know it is a lie and I don't know what to do about it. I don't want to need to be part of a community, but I need mirrors and cheerleaders and safe places.  I don't want to rely on you, to be an imposition on you, but I am needy-for encouragement and for guidance.  More people wished me a happy birthday today than the total of the years that I have been alive.  Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised.  I am a friendly and helpful enough person.  Though in reality, it is more simple: I am not that old!  But I do wonder, why ...

It has been weeks now.  Weeks since this infection has taken hold in my spirit.  Weeks since I started the treatment recommended by others.  Weeks that have been pelting me with the darkness. Children born into addiction who bear their own children into it Generations lost to learned helplessness and reliance on handouts Abuse and degradation by others that steals hope and innocence Corruption and lies of government Name calling and hurting each other because main stream media tells us we should Abortions, murders really, of viable babies by monstrous humans who are proud of what they did "Natural" disasters Death of babies, barely known Christian pastors imprisoned overseas while immigrants kill citizens here Suicide in the county jail of a young man Death of baby by his mother after she tries to flush him and then leaves him in a trashcan At first I curled into a ball, numb.  How could God allow this to happen?  Why would he allow us to sin a...