Reflection of Providence

As Rachael reached up to take my hand, tiny fingers wrapping around my finger, I realized I would never have this moment again. My throat closes with the prick of this bittersweet memory. The yellow-bellied sun sinking into the blue horizon turned to flame while soft waves played their melodic tune on white shores. My eyes beheld too much translucent beauty. I was overwhelmed with the sensations. I truly felt a part of the divine – the veil had dropped & I got a glimpse of how God must see things. So it was with most of the trip in Florida. I was aware, thankful, hope & joy – filled! Daily life has sucked out some of the luster of those two weeks. I have allowed it to beat me about the brow a bit. But, those memories still haunt. They play deeply on the cords of my heart, grasping & holding fast to what really matters. I have worked with the Scalf Family for five years. I have helped raise the three youngest children. I have been given the deep privilege of be...

    As I sit, metaphorical pen to parchment, my fingers tremble. I struggle to share my story. I have had deep hurt, and to tell it, it has to be the whole, not the part…   I grew up in a comfortable middle class family. My grandparents lived next door. We celebrated birthdays & holidays with an air of magic. Church every Sunday morning/night & Wednesday’s too – for good measure. What no one saw was the house was made of paper, flame caught, consumed in heat to ash, the underbelly surfaced. I had a parent that fought with depression & addiction (still does). I had another parent that was there, but absent. There was little conversation about the shadows in our family. They were swept under the rug or locked in the closet – out of site out of mind. This was when I first learned to draw the shades over my heart; pulling deeper within myself & withdrawing from the pain. I still struggle, as Sara Groves says, “to keep my heart open like the ...

  “Shall we receive good from God and not receive sorrow as well?” – Job 2:10 “It’s ridiculous how much joy a moment can hold.” – Ann Voskamp   I think back on a defined moment in this journey when my heart felt glad and there were no trappings of the sorrow that bleed in a life that has ever risked living fully. I think and I grow silent. My eyes close and I focus on filling my lungs with air, until the burn, and exhaling slowly letting go of the small stuff which can overwhelmingly be big stuff. My mind clears and I see my “Papa” through shadowed curtain. He is building an early morning fire. His ball cap snug on balding head. I’m all soft and warm. I hear birds sing in the morning. I should shrug off the patchwork memories and greet the day as a gift, but I hold. Still. Watching. “Papa” building sparks to flame – coaxing embers to bleed hot over dry wood. The smell of campfire smoke is rich and heady. It intoxicates, wrapping around my soul preserving inno...

The soft stirring flutters deep within the corner of my parched soul - a waking feeling as if I have been in a deep sleep for some 30 years. The morning sunlight drips through stoic trees as the gentle wind tickles their tender leaves. The sound rushes quickly & quietly into my ears, filling my body with a tingle of sensation. My eyes blur & focus - catching small fragments of light & color. I have been waiting; seemingly forcing my eyes to keep shut. It as if I have been spiraling further into the darkness of slumber by the shear force of my will; fear has kept me bound in this six feet of space! But, re-birth takes time. It takes falling into the black, trusting that sure strong hands will catch me - trusting that this journey is dangerous & worth it! I stretch my stiff limbs, cautiously testing the strength of my legs... first one foot then the other. Steadily. I stand &, though my legs are shaky, I hold. I survey the canopy above. The light dancing o...

Lord of Grace & Mercy: Thank you that repentance means “I am found”! You find me like a coin swept under the couch – dusting, polishing, & refining me until I am made new. You are the gifted artist orchestrating a masterpiece with precise hands. You understand & know the finished product you are making. Your love is not for my benefit. Your glory is manifest by your heartbeat for me. In your fullness – presence completely & uniquely intrinsic upon itself – you chose to need me & to love me. Oh, Sweet Jesus, how you do. “You asked for a loving God: you have one. The great spirit you so lightly invoked, the ‘lord of terrible aspect’ is present: not a senile benevolence that drowsily wishes you to be happy in your own way, not the cold philanthropy of a   conscientious magistrate, nor the care of a host who feels responsible for the comfort of his guests, but the consuming fire Himself, the Love that made the worlds, persistent as the artist’s love for his ...

    I am road weary. I fear this is going to be the norm for a while – possibly forever. I must have lived 1,000 years in a five mile radius. It seems I have lived void of experience and adventure, yet I am painfully old. There is also a fog on my heart, possibly my soul. It is clouding my vision and I feel confused. I cannot put my finger on it. I am uncertain of the ugly sin in my heart. I know the blackness resides and I justify its presence with a warm inviting kiss. Confusion; it haunts and it bleeds in my being. I know God is not a God of confusion, so it must be me? Guilt is a weighty thing. Conviction and instruction are easier yokes to bear. I tried today…In my power…Ever in my power…Never ending…confounding… in my power! Heart racing…mind numb…Jesus, they see the faker. Trying too hard…be quiet…don’t speak…need to look good. God, thank you! Thank you for honesty. Thank you for using the heart of women. Thank you for the questions and whether I rece...

“My ego is like a fortress. I have built its walls stone by stone to hold out the invasion of the love of God. But I have stayed here long enough. There is light over the barriers. O my God… I let go of the past, I withdraw my grasping hand from the future and in the great silence of this moment, I alertly rest my soul.” – Howard Thurman *sigh* Overcompensation *sigh* I so often overcompensate for my inadequacy. I am not sure the plight of man, but I think this is the plight of a woman. Where the idea of perfection originated I do not know, but as a woman I latch onto it with desperation, and feel deeply weary when I cannot obtain the goal. The last few months God has clearly brought my heart around to the fact that I do not have it all together and I never will. Yet, the old tapes play in the background and the need for self-preservation often wins out. Wednesdays are always busy, run around days. I am picking up a child from therapy, a child from preschool, & a child ...