Reflection of Providence

Raise your voices; Make a beautiful noise to the Eternal, All the Earth. Serve the Eternal gladly; Enter into His presence singing songs of joy! Know this: the Eternal One Himself is the True God. He is the One who made us; We have not made ourselves; We are His people, like sheep grazing In His fields. Go through His gates, giving thanks; Walk through His courts, giving praise. Offer Him your gratitude and praise His holy name. Because the Eternal is good, His loyal love and mercy will never end, And His truth will last throughout all generations. (Psalm 100 – The Voice) It was a perfect moment held together by crimson, threaded through three distinct souls. The rich color of the evening-glow would be remembered in halo, as if memory took a picture and aged it with all the beauty and grace a moment can contain… Life is a road where joy and sorrow meet. We bend our knee and bleed our souls before our God – just and tender...

Writing, for me, is cathartic. So, I tend to write on topics where I struggle, instead of my strengths. While old tapes can still play in my head, for the most part, I have a very good view of myself. I know my worth in God and my value in my friends and family’s lives. Yet, that horribly teased little girl full of brokenness and no self-worth still dwell within me. I hold her fragile frame in the palm of my hand, blowing life into thinned lungs, whispering: “Oh my love, you are the loveliest! Just wait, wait my dear, we are going to do beautiful things. Your life will be filled with people you love. You will be loved and feel loved. Don’t give up my child – hold on!” … I sat with the plate of cookies, placing one whole confection in my mouth at a time. The fevered relish of another binge was intoxicating. Inevitably, in the moments after I would feel loathsome and desperately attempt to separate soul from skin; shamefaced. This was a new development – binge eating. My sca...

After the salt of a good cry scrubs away a bit of the sorrow one draws a deep breath that stutters and stops, as if lungs burned hot from spewing ache gage what the breath of life might do. Oh, the strength it takes to uncurl atrophied limbs, rolling shoulders, raising one’s head. The sun animates sinew and muscle, drawing growth from frozen sod. The weary sojourner fights eye contact. After all, the depth of soul found just behind irises, searching, can bring a grown man to his knees. Yet, those that choose to really search will find brokenness and healing in every eye they meet. Reflective, on how sharp edges are softened. Kindness is not a simple word. If we draw kindness in the lines of consideration – careful not to cause inconvenience or hurt to others - what depth of shoes would we walk in? Remembering, narrative in motion, moving pictures unfurling from life’s reel: The smell of wood smoke takes me back. I am all of eight years of age: chubby, skinny legged, ...

“He will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove the disgrace of his people from all the earth. The Lord has spoken.” – Isaiah 25:8 The room dark, ushered sacred serenity – pregnant with quiet exquisiteness… I had met the woman lying in bed while she filled empty cups of broken souls. She was like a woman at a well pouring life into earthen vessels. Otherworldly, she spoke soft, a dignified cadence upon her lips. In my more than three years at the Hope Lodge I had not met an individual quite like her. She was dying. Yet, she held no resentment, no bitter anger. I watched her give comfort to those who came to offer theirs. Her soft voice singing, “It’s okay. It will be okay.” I’ll be honest, I wanted to curl up in bed with her, tuck my head in the cleft of her chin, wrap my arms around her and sing – sing songs of worship in Jesus’s blood, amazing grace, heaven, and victory. Our sweet Patient Navigator, Melani...

Amy found a video I had posted of Steven when I still worked for the Scalf’s. I had forgotten about that day. We had done an experiment with food coloring, vinegar, and baking soda. A bit overstimulated Steven took the level of fun up a notch. It was as equally beautiful as it was messy. I remember, even at the time, I  didn't  think that it was extreme. It was, well, just Steven. I like the struggle. I might not exactly enjoy the moment to moment battle, but the struggle is life preserving. What I do not like is to feel numb. The numbing fills me with utter dread. It turns me to a pillar of salt. Animated limbs, automatic motion; like a zombie whose sole purpose is to consume. And consume I have; copious amounts of food, television, thoughts, books, work. Yet, I have kept Him one arm’s length away. My job at the Hope Lodge is a ministry, there is no other way one could do the job I do. Yet, it has become a consuming centrifugal force pulling me away from my true...

Oh the sweet lessons of God! There are moments that stagger. I am undone at how our precious Jesus continually displays His inestimable character and wondrous heartbeat for His children. There is a crucial difference in living and serving if a dream does not become reality and laughing at the thought of God providing a blessing beyond, what you deem, your zenith. I am more careful and cautious in my reverence of His will over my life. I am learning to carve out hallowed spaces and kneel barefoot on holy ground before Him. The lesson He taught has ushered me into a season of rejoicing. I wish we were all sitting around the campfire at this moment. I would love to share this story amidst wood smoke, roasted marshmallows, and amber glow. The stories we could weave and spin. I have a feeling there would be great rejoicing over what God is doing in our lives. In fact, as I type, a thought came to mind – share your ‘campfire story’. If you blog about it make sure that you tag me so I...