Six Word Fridays ~ Leap

Theses days, it seems to me,

that faith seems less like a 

leap...and more like the sun

that burns through the morning fog.

Faith doesn't send me over or

around...but like the warm, steady

morning light, faith leads me right

through life's murky, misty, mysterious days.

Black & White Wednesday: After the Storm

In my side yard stands a rough, old stone wall. It is surrounded by untended, vine-like plants and bushes. Without fail, every spring, these forgotten stems and branches yield new growth. It's really a tangled, confusing mess of different  weeds, creepers and flowering bushes. I have no idea how old the wall is or who planted what grows here...but this is my fourth spring in this house, and I've grown attached to my little jungle.

I enjoy the lilacs, the tulips and the blue bells that return every year. I've counted 13 different kinds of leaves in this 15 foot square corner of the yard. I've photographed the bare limbs in winter and the dewy leaves after a summer rain. And I adore some of these branches that find themselves covered in reddish-orange berries in the fall. Year by year, season by season, there is beauty here...an in-spite-of kind of beauty.

Beauty in spite of neglect.
Beauty in spite of disorder.
Beauty in spite of chaos.

Beauty against all odds.







It's this - this unexpected bud that emerges in spite of it's gray, dead, stiff, knotted and scraggly surroundings - this is what attaches me to this unremarkable corner of my world. I'm reminded that good and fresh can emerge in spite of evil and indifference. I'm reminded that emptiness and pain can give way to abundance and love.

In this I see the arms of the rescue worker tirelessly lifting fallen stone.
I see the body of the teacher laying atop their students.
I see the face of the child being pulled from the rubble.

There is so very much we can't explain in the world. We can plan, nurture, organize and cultivate. We can build well, live well and love well. But bad/sad/hard/horrible things still come.

So today, as I mourn with those who have lost their most precious ones...as I ask the questions that have no answers...I will also remember to hope. I will remember gratitude and kindness and community.

I will look for the beauty that emerges after the storm.

I'm linking up for Just Write at

the extraordinary ordinary 

And you can link up your

Black & White images here!

Since Friday....

 ^"The Spirit also comes to help us, weak as we are. For we do not know how we ought to pray; the Spirit himself pleads with God for us in groans that words cannot express. And God, who sees into our hearts, knows what the thought of the Spirit is; because the Spirit pleads with God on behalf of his people and in accordance with his will."

Romans 8:26-27

The only thing I could think to do on Friday evening, was to take myself to the water's edge. I watched the setting sun paint bold stripes across the twilight sky. I stood still, breathing in the frosty air and let the tears come.

I prayed.
As heaven's door was opening wide to welcome God's children home, I prayed.
Prayed, knowing that heaven's door was open...
Prayed, knowing that millions were lifting their eyes heavenward, hoping for the beyond...
Prayed, knowing that goodness was embracing those that had been taken....
Prayed, willing the heavens to send us goodness.
Send comfort and peace to those left behind.
I asked for faith. I begged for understanding and hope.
Mostly there were silent prayers. Wordless prayers.

Saturday morning, that same sun brought a new day.
Sparkling frost on the window sent chills. How would I, could I .... as a parent, greet a new day without one of my children? These are not the first parents to face this, nor would they be the last. It is so utterly unfathomable to me. As I got into my car to go meet a friend...as life went on...I knew that more of those wordless prayers were groaning and working their way heavenward.

It was later last night, as we spent an evening with my daughter, her husband and some of our dearest friends that I felt my heart begin to settle. A bit. My daughter, who loves to decorate for Christmas, has her childhood manger on a shelf in her newlywed home ... it's surrounded with light and mementos from her wedding. And I'm overcome with gratitude for the life that she's had...that she has. And pray that her future children will be safe. Children should just be safe. And I groan, and the Spirit pleads.

It was wonderful to get to play with three gorgeous children last night. Their laughter, innocence, energy and hugs began to fill up the broken open places in my heart. For me, as I'm sure is true for everyone reading here today....one of my favorite, absolutely favorite things, is to look into the eyes of a child.

As Sunday morning draws to a close, and I sit with you...in this space, searching for words...I know, as so many have written, that there really aren't any. So, I will, again, close my eyes, and offer silent prayers.

Linking up with Sunday Citar and Scavenger Hunt Sunday and Show off your Shot

Mary's Blog?

"But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart."

Luke 2:19

If there was anyone who knew how fully, wholly human Jesus was...it would have been his mama.
If there was anyone who knew how fully, wholly divine Jesus was...well..it would have been his mama.
From the beautiful pain of childbirth, to the brutal pain of watching him breath his last, she was right there with him.

Don't you wish Mary had written a blog?

Think about it. All the sweet, simple stories we record about our children. The ups and downs. The funny things they say. The anecdotes that add up as we watch them grow into themselves. How fascinating would it have been to have had that relationship with Jesus!?!

I imagine there were times, as the years passed, that she {almost} forgot the miraculous nature of his birth. As the day to day of life took over, and there were mouths to be fed and children to coral, he must have blended in. Fit. Been one of the family. Son, brother. I wonder, did he go through the terrible twos? Was he a cautious toddler, or a daring young boy? As the family grew, and children from the town ran and played together, did he dive in? Was he a leader of the pack or did he hang back as more of an observer? I wonder what she would have written about him?

What were those tween and teen years like? Other than running away from his parents to stay at the temple, we don't know anything about him. What does adolescence look like if you're leading a perfect, spotless life? I imagine him becoming reflective, introspective...studying the law and watching - watching those around him. Taking it all in, wrestling to understand all those around him. Somehow he would have done all this without becoming moody. Or rude. Or disrespectful. How very, very hard this must have been....as he began to see the depth of weakness in all those he loved. I had so many long, late night talks with my son during these years....I wonder how much Jesus let Mary in? Did she hear his prayers? His loud cries? His tears? Did they talk about it all? Don't you wish she had been blogging?

My daughter is 25 and my son is 22. And I'm watching them take steps into adulthood. Education, career, love, marriage...I watch them making life choices. And I think of Jesus, working along side his father during these years. Learning a trade. I watch my son leave for work - up early and home late. Exhausted. And I think of Jesus, laboring for at least a decade along side his father. Not a desk job, or a cushy job with lots of benefits and earning power. Ten years of physical, manual labor. Using his human hands to make, create, build things. THINGS. Things that had no obvious spiritual significance. What did Mary think of all this? She must have loved seeing him work along side her husband. But she knew he was so much more....so why was he silent?

As I read mom blogs. I'm brought back in time, and recall similar moments in my kids' lives. I feel happy for the children who will have this record of their young lives, and such a glimpse into their mothers' hearts. And aren't you glad we have photos and videos that help us remember? Mary's only record of Jesus' life was all that she was able to store in her heart. And though we have a beautiful letter {blog?} about Jesus' ministry years written by his Father...don't you wish we had it all? All the early years, the formative years...as seen through his mama's eyes?

I sure do. Because to me, those thirty years...before that water was turned to wine...those are the miracle years to me. Those years, when his life would have more closely resembled yours and mine...those years when he wasn't being followed, or listened to or impressing anyone...those years when he was "just" a son, a brother, a friend, a co-worker... Through all that time, he was in perfect harmony with God. And his mama got to watch it all.

Linking up with Tabitha

at Fresh Mommy Blog

photo credit

Wish

Hope whispers to us in wishes.

Two Bridges

"Faith is the pierless bridge

supporting what we see

unto the scene that we do not."

Emily Dickinson

Joining Heidi for her 

Black and White Wednesday
link up

Possibility

Our little ones ask, "Why?" NOT

to annoy us. They're just curious,

full of wonder, eager to learn.

As they get older we hear,

"Why not? Everyone else has one."

{or does it. or is going...}

Sometimes, the older we get, questions

turn into "Why not me?" Or,

why me, why now, why this...

I'd like my whys to be

full of wonder. I want to

be eager to learn and grow.

And I'd like my why nots

to be full of possibility, the

opening line for many new adventures.

Move Away?

Stay inside. Lock the doors. One
gunman caught, two at large. No
cars allowed on our street. Real
live SWAT guys and the FBI.

That was Tuesday. In my neighborhood.
A failed jewelry store robbery, a
wounded officer...uneasiness fills the air.

If I could move away, would
I? And if violence is often
random, then there's no where to
run to, right? This is home.

And fear is not invited in.
Even if it knocks loudly or
permeates the cracks of my foundation.
I'll choose faith over fear as
I move through each extraordinary day.

Undiscoverd

To myself I am only a child playing on the beach,

while vast oceans of truth lie undiscovered before me.

- Isaac Newton



Someone I hadn't seen in quite a while (and who I hardly know) looked at me yesterday and said, "And your mom said you turned 50! Well, don't you know, it's all down hill now." Wink, wink.

Well, I refuse to head down whatever hill she's winking about! And not because I feel the need to rebel against the passing of time or botox away my little wrinkles...but because there is so much to learn and to discover! I'm still learning things about myself, for goodness sake! And after me, there's the whole rest of the world! So I'll choose to live each day I'm given as a new beginning and to keep pursuing truth and love and faith and the many vast, vast oceans that lie undiscovered before me.

Really, the nerve of some people.

Doubt's Twin

Doubt is a pain too lonely to know

that faith is his twin brother.

                                                                                                Khalil Gibran

I came across this quote several weeks ago ~ and the more I think about it, the more layers I seem to discover. Three of the thoughts I've had about it are:

ONE

Feel it or not, faith is so close...as close as a twin brother can be! When we're clouded by doubt, faith (or seeing the positive) can feel so far, so illusive. Perhaps it's right there for the taking.

TWO

Doubt isolates. Faith includes. How often do we sit alone with our doubts and fears. Thinking we're the only one. Don't we learn over and over that opening up brings reassurance. Brings understanding. And clarity.

THREE

I'm learning to embrace doubt. And there's something about the way this quote is worded that encourages me on this quest. Exploring our doubts. Asking questions. Accepting the uncertain. Perhaps doubt is there, not to wallow in, but to lead us to a stronger relationship with his twin...

FAITH

Joy's Calling

{the Mary Engelbreit calendar that hangs in my kitchen}

Worry - Don't you steal our joy!
Fear - You can't have any either.
Debt - We'll fight you. Scram. Skedaddle!
Fatigue - Don't you trip us up.
Stress - You can't keep us down.
Hate - We'll never let you near!
Change - Don't think you scare us.
Loss - You're tougher, but not unbeatable.
Insecurity - We'll ignore your lying tongue.

Joy, we hear you. We hear
you in gentle whispers. We hear
you shouting from the roof tops!
You're in the eyes of those
We love; in their hugs and
their smiles and their stories.
You're in the sky and on
the breeze. Through each sunrise, sunset,
cloud, raindrop, flower, creature, breath and
season you reach out to us.

Joy abounds in each great accomplishment;
bursts forth from every small kindness.
Joy, we're listening, grasping. Please don't
ever, ever give up on us.

Doc

"These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up."                                                                                                                   Deuteronomy 6:6-7

My grandfather was the first man of faith I ever knew. This is one of my all time favorite photos ~ Doc sharing a moment with my baby brother. He was such a gentle man. I remember (of all things) climbing on his lap while he clipped my fingernails. He also taught me how to wrap presents ~ something I love to do! One Christmas when he was at our house for the holidays I had my first real conversation with anyone about God. I was sitting at the bottom of the basement stairs and he was watching my brother play with hot wheels. The conversation began because of a Christmas tree ornament...

We only had one "religious" ornament. And, while my parents took us to church, I'd never felt from them the same sense of  "knowing something" that I felt from my Grandfather that day. In his gentle way, he answered my questions and asked a few of his own. Planting seeds of faith in my heart ~ that he would not live to see grow, but that...indeed...took root and grew. The quote from Deuteronomy reminds me of him....just a conversation while playing hot wheels. Principles held, shared, passed on. I cherish that little ornament that prompted that conversation, and one of my few truly treasured possessions, is his wedding ring.

A reminder of where I came from and what was passed on to me.

I long to leave my kids a connection to their history. To give them a sense of their story.

So we walk, talk and wrestle together with our own faith and how best to live and love those around us.

And I scrapbook.  So, in case I've forgotten to say anything it'll be in a book somewhere. And photos like the one of their uncle and great grandfather won't end up lost in a box in the attic!