An Unexpected Journey

The hum of the motor.  The warmth of the sun beating down.  When I look out from the front of the boat the beautiful view of the placid lake is breathtaking.  I lean over the side and dance my fingers in the spray of water coming from beneath the boat.  The view this way is nothing  spectacular.  Dark water.  Hazy spray.  Kind of like life.  When our nose is to the grind,  head down, there is often not much to see.  Perspective can be elusive.  We see just what is right in front of us.   A new school year is fast approaching. The grind.  The rushing.  The challenge to be organized.  School. Meals. Laundry. House. Sports. Work. Breathless.  Hazy.  The feeling that what’s in front of me is the most important thing- even if it’s not.   I tilt my head as I peer into the white spray of water cascading over the lake.  And then I see it.  Just a glimpse.  A glimmer.  A ...

From where I sit in my bed I can see real life all around.   The pile of dirty laundry spilling out from the laundry room into the hall.   Pictures I bought for the twin’s room lean against the wall chiding me for not managing to hang them yet.   Clean, neatly folded stacks of kid’s winter clothing waiting impatiently to be tucked into bins.   And then I close my eyes.   And I try to imagine.   What your view might be like.   Pristine water flowing over perfectly rounded rocks.   Sparkly “tiny fings” hidden like treasure among the stones just waiting for curious fingers to find them.   The patter of little feet and the rolling of laughter as children race to the water’s edge and plunge in without a care in the world.   The perfect feel of warmth as your feet dance their way into the stream… stepping effortlessly on rocks as smooth as solid silk.   Reaching for the sparkly surprises that He knew you would find.   His eyes ...

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night.  I couldn’t stop thinking about her.  The mom of four who is about to face one of the hardest days of her life.  Or the littles who cling to her and how they cannot possibly understand.  Neither do we.   But they feel and they cry.  Perhaps she lies awake tonight,  too.  Her pillow wet with tears.  The sunrise brings with it a funeral.  The light ushering in an hour that makes all of our knees tremble.  She lays her young husband to rest today. Remembering all the good and treasuring his memory and love. I can scarcely stand to think of the day I awoke to a funeral.  The day we buried my baby girl.  So I don’t and I won’t.  Not even here.  It is too painful still to let myself go back.  And perhaps not wise.  I don’t live there anymore.  There was a time when I had to grab my thoughts daily  as they reached backwards and remind them constantly...

I am thrilled to have one of my favorite people do a guest post today!  My mom is one of my dearest friends and heroes!  This is a reflection from her this week... "This morning I woke up to a magnificent Winter Wonderland! The snow blanketed everything with pristine white.  I walked outside with my morning coffee to breathe the cold, crisp air.  I was very thankful that I did not have to go anywhere. Just two days ago our family celebrated the life of my father-in-law, Bill Arnold, after his home-going a few days before.  He was a good man who loved his family, contributed greatly to our nation’s defense as an aerospace engineer working in the fields of radar and magnetics, and he grew from a rational relationship with God to a deeply personal one.  I am reminded that our life has seasons, just as nature does.  The Winter season where all the leaves have fallen, the air is frigid, and no flowers are blooming, can also have its own beaut...

The twinkling lights.  The humming of familiar tunes.  The smell of cinnamon and spices.  Late  nights of wrapping after littles are tucked in. Christmas movies in pj's with snuggles and hot chocolate.  Warm embraces of loved ones who live far away.   The things I love about Christmas float through my mind and land gently on my lips in a smile. Oh, there are hard things, too.  Loved ones who aren't here anymore.  Relationships that have changed.  The stress of spending.  The need  to meet magical expectations.   One of my littles trying to play a game she was given declares, "This isn't how I thought it would be."  Neither is most of life I find myself responding.  The words jump out of my mouth before I think.  But we can't despair.  "Keep trying and when you figure it out it will be worth it," I say.     It's in the hard that we wake up.  When entertainment and busyness and life ...

Do you ever feel like you are running a rat race?  And you just can't seem to win?  For me that looks like flying around trying to get all the lunches packed, breakfasts made, folders signed, hair fixed, barely making it and wishing I had time to do more than just pray with my kids on the way to school in the morning.  Even when I'm in a good rhythm of getting up uber early and walking and praying, I can't seem to make devotionals with the kids happen in the a.m.  At night we are trying to make sure everybody reads to us for 15 minutes each, gets a book read to them, squeezes  in a bible story and says prayers before I'm too grumpy and tired from sitting on kids beds in the dim light and trying to keep myself awake. The goals I have in my mind are so lofty.  I envision what it looks like to keep the main thing the main thing.  But then reality comes screeching in, and what I feel is it's not enough.  And when I am not paying attention, that litt...

It's gray outside today. As if the world is wearing a shroud. And in someways it's appropriate.  It used to be gray, dark and heavy in my heart.  A hidden abyss of brokenness. For so very long.  Breathing was painful and wetness never left my eyes.  I thought that stabbing heartbeat might stop.  Wished it would.   But then the sunshine broke through.  And gifts from heaven came.  To convince me I was still loved.  Not forgotten.  Four little girl gifts to be exact.  Wet kisses straight from heaven brought through lips that were new.  And I got an inkling. A wild hope.  Just the faintest scent of it.  That a resurrection might be in progress.   Slowly.  One weeping step forward at a time.  He has done it.  He has wiped the tears from my eyes.  Not Father Time.  He has nothing to offer but bitterness.  And reliving.  And wishing.  And regret.  Time does not heal ...