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Aslan

There are moments that I feel ancient, worn out and weathered. A battlement of bad weather and disappointment has left this little vessel of simply 25 years a little worse for wear. But, in my mind…in that tiniest truest part, I’m about 8 years old. I really delight when she surfaces. The older I get it tends to be less and less, and therefore all the more sacred and precious. Whether it be the first tinge of winter reddening my nose, the sounds of the first seasonal carol sung, or an episode of Little House on the Prairie taking me back to a small cherished space as a child. Sometimes my “little” hands can’t help but jump into rapid applause as the laughter of that small child surfaces and I see through her eyes. I feel it most this time of year, and never more as I have begun to read the beloved series…the Chronicles of Narnia.

It is hard for me to imagine in all my 25 years I have never peeled back the cover and stepped into this magical world of wonder, snow, and magic. Where talki…
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His People: Zacharias

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*I like the spelling of Zacharias opposed to Zechariah. I will be using Zacharias when talking about Elizabeth’s husband in this post.*
I often get swept up in tradition, duty, and service to God. Each of these is good, even noble. Yet, I scarcely expect God to show up, to do something that brings me to my knees; an encounter that shapes my thoughts on being faithful to God, to His faithfulness to me. I unequivocally believe that obedience to God is how we heed to His love in our lives. But obedience isn’t a duty. It is a lifestyle. It is, as my sister says, “breathing in Jesus and breathing out peace”. It leads to a holy ground encounter with God. It shifts our focus from what we can do for God, to worshipping God for who He is. This is what Zacharias learns when the presence of God shows up…
I picture Zacharias and Elizabeth as grandparent figures to their community. Even though, at the time we first meet them they have no children of their own, I envision them being a faithful and l…
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Living in a Broken Dream

She clutched nothingness by the jugular while her meager vessel cut through the shimmering glass of this placid sea. Pouring out memories of reindeer hooves, campfire songs, chilly night swims, delicious sunsets, the kiss of a sunrise, and the unexplored passion of a first kiss she attempted to stay afloat above the throe. Her leaking paper cup wasn’t fast enough; spilling more back into the shell than desired, working feverishly she didn’t even notice the shore or the silhouette…a man reaching…reaching for her…

I’ve been dealing with the lack of feeling lately. That is the best way to describe it. My safe harbor is my mind, which incidentally is also a war torn land where great battles are fought and often lost. However, I have found a safe haven amongst the mortar blasts, debris, death, and devastation…a comfortable sort of numb that allows me to contend with my hallow dreams and broken heart. Like a cracked vessel that stands in front of the light she is to reflect rather than turni…
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