Reflection of Providence

Please take a moment before you read this post and read this prayer of Isaiah 61, entitled "Beautiful Ashes"  ...pray it with yourself in mind! He hugs like my Papa! It is what I think as Mr. Ray wraps his strong arms, thinned by treatment, around my waist. “You make this bearable,” he whispers as his sure frame trembles with emotion. I am emptied and filled all in one moment. As we squeeze tighter, letting tears of gratitude and sorrow wash us clean, I am fully aware of this journey. These moments stop the frenetic and settle anxiety. There are stirrings of mystery that God leads us to. His hand is ever in the hard beautiful life we all face. The season change from summer into autumn always stills the breath in my lungs. The crisp air ignites a fire in my weary bones. The changing dancing leaves are utter splendor to behold. In this season there is a pulling of the veil. The magic of this journey is always peeking around corners. The last weeks a fog has rolled ...

“When God tells you to be brave, he will make it work. It won’t be perfect. It won’t be easy. But it will be your story and your best story.” -   Annie F. Downs “She walks in grace and dignity. She laughs without fear of the future.” – Proverbs 31:25   I have a warrior heart! The women who speak my language are ones with the air of adventure about them. I love the scene in Lord of the Rings: Return of the King where Eowyn kills The Nazgul. You can see the terror and fear in her eyes. Yet, there is something deeper. She is a protector, a warrior, and her bravery is unmatched. In fantasy I live with that depth of bravery. In reality…well…I long to be brave! I really do. There are times when my timidity gets the better of me and I cow under fear. The reality is muddier than fantasy. God calls us to be brave in the midst of our den of lions, raging fires, giants, turbulent storms, high seas, and burning bushes. The beauty is He never asks us to do it alone. He ...

39  Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm. - Mark 4:39 I am comfy. There is Mint Chocolate Truffle Tea in my Clark County Public Library mug. I have my stretchy bleached brown pants, x-large t-shirt, and my hot pink fuzzy slippers on. I couldn’t wait to run the errands I had after work, eat dinner, and settle into my computer nook. There is so much to tell. My heart bleeds – open wide to this journey. I am accepting who I am. I am learning, in humility, that God has purposed me to be love, grace, and hope to those around me. If you are willing, sit back and come along with me on this journey. The dark is ominous, the waves are tempestuous – danger and wonder rolled into one, but in the distance there is a beacon: a light that cuts through the darkness… I have always felt ‘not enough’. It is a sad thing to admit, but oh so true. I have felt not pretty enough, not smart enough, n...

    “There is faith that in the midst of the setbacks, God is setting up everything for the comeback of your joy.” – Ann Voskamp It was early afternoon when I pulled the weathered journal I had been keeping since 2005 out of my suitcase. I sat on the couch to journal about the night before. Sophie came over, eager, entreating to know what I held in my hand. I began to share my journey with this beautiful leather bound journal. As I turned the pages I showed her the different things I had written: prayers to God, letters I couldn’t send, things I hadn’t shared with anyone else. She was fascinated. Sophie is a gifted writer. She weaves magic into her storytelling. She has already developed a cadence that is all hers. I cannot wait to see what she does with her writing in the future. It was a gift to share my journal with her. It was a gift to take pen to parchment. This was something I had not done in quite some time. I have just brewed a pot of Indian Shores Cof...

Everything feels abstract, as if looking into a kaleidoscope that is a bit askew. The caverns and dales of my mind can be toxic - filling a void full of illusion. I live there, amongst the bramble and waste. It is my Utopian world where I can rule. Every mistake is humorous and witty, everyone finds me fascinating, and I am always engaging, lovely, and desired. I play same scenarios over. They juxtapose the pain and hurt of rejection that I feel in the confines of my skin. So much pain drains a colorful life to grayscale. I shut down, put up walls, and close myself off. I have come to expect rejection, silently hoping for it – proving myself right. These thoughts and emotions are weights about my ankles. The tide rolls in and I sink deeper. If it were not for the beautiful amazing people on this journey with me I would have sunk deep into the mire long ago. I come from a family that deals with depression, and I know how its fog can distort beauty to ugly. I have stood by a...

UGH!!! This feeling - the air slowly seeping from the room, all inward thoughts, people looking at you through a microscope…when did I get so self-absorbed? Sometimes my skin feels too tight – thin and about to burst. I fear their might have been a misprint, a defect, in the manufacturing of me. It is in these moments, when I reach out with the desperate hope of acceptance, and am reminded of the old ways. The path I used to walk in the darkness somehow seems eerily inviting. The fear of rejection is palpable to my heart. I am easily bruised, and very good at keeping the grey purple ache hidden. I seek for intimacy before a bridge for its passing has been built. I desperately need to be accepted. Thank our gracious Lord that I am not who I once was. The things that spill from me are from genuine spaces. However, there is a wrestling that transpires. Sometimes, in the midst of an unkind glance from male eyes, or wrong words spoken, I retreat into my tortoise shell. I hide, ...

It’s the soft part of the day where the sun blurs colors in halo; all feels warm and inviting. There is a corner seat with a small round table cloaked in a crisp white table cloth. Trimmed daises sit laughing in a vase on the windowsill. An older woman with green eyes sips hazelnut coffee. A weathered journal and Bible lay open under scraps of discarded paper. She people watches, turning the claddagh ring that resides on her left ring finger. There is an older couple sitting atop a park bench. She watches the gentleman take the woman’s hand and kiss the top of her head before he leans back enjoying the daily paper. Young children fly kites in the park - barefoot. Their laughter is a cadence for life. Women and men run along the trail cutting jagged edges along the park’s circumference. It is a beautiful spring day in the halo of the sun. A secluded moment of life fully lived. There is a peace that washes over the woman sitting in a corner seat of the coffee shop, as if all ...