The Staggering Weight of Extraordinary

May 27, 2016

FROM BEFORE THE TIME we could walk, we began to feel it. Be extraordinary. Start walking. Crawling is not enough. Hurry along with it or something’s wrong. We stood, wobbled then walked. They worshiped through cameras. We walked more to the tune of ohh’s and ahh’s, to approval, a sure testament of our success. We were on our way to extraordinary. Now that we were walking, we’d better start talking. Chop, chop. The sooner the better.

It was there before we were, birthed in our conception. Then we were crawling and rolling and being passed around greeted by smiles of wonder and glee. Maybe those looks were really a warm envy, a quiet wish to somehow return to simplicity. The kind of simplicity where most of what matters is right there with you in the moment, not teasing you onward from the distant horizon.

in a depth far too deep

May 25, 2016

THERE IS NOT A SINGLE atomic attribute we possess within our humanity able to ensure security. Simply, our ultimate welfare is out of our hands. Our lives sway in the breeze of circumstance. One day we are well, the next bedridden. We tire. Our bodies succumb to sickness. Beyond that, we tangle ourselves in worry until our hearts sag heavy under the weight of life out of our reach. The phone rings and we receive disappointing news. Maybe the news concerns your position at work suddenly gone, your spouse confessing he no longer loves you, a diagnosis set to violate your child’s life. There is an unending myriad of tragedies and difficulties you could attest to. And as quickly as that we find the fragility of life, like that of a dandelion blown by the wind.

Of the Scars

March 25, 2016

If ever a time does truly exist when suffering finds glorious home in our lives, it is now. The emotion found by a heart slowed to contemplate the time finds darkness before the light. This is distance one travels during Holy Week. The believer quiets her heart to recall the suffering, the sacrifice, the sure death, and yes, death defeated and sin overcome in Jesus' resurrection. If we will see and hear beyond the pageantry, the symbols and rites, we will learn how to suffer and the joy in our joining.

I'm in the midst of slowly writing a devotional with the full intent of capturing my thoughts and experience with suffering and loss. In editing one entry in particular, I thought it fitting to share during this time leading to Easter. So I'd like to share it with you in hopes that in some way these words find good place in your heart. Maybe they bloom among your scars. Yes, that would make the writing a beautiful ministry.

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Deeper and more rattling than losing what we love or what shapes us to who we are lies the issue of security. When we suffer loss, past and future time collides with present day to pile into a mercilessly mess of life jumbled. Like ghosts searching for rest, all of the unsettled parts of who we are come to collect answers and demand attention when our lives break open. Loneliness abounds in the heart reeling in loss. As supportive friends and loved ones return to their lives and normality, the isolation in the wake of loss can grow dangerously disproportionate to the amount of strength and faith present.

A Way Home Again

January 28, 2016

I do not have great aspirations,

or concern myself with things that are beyond me.

Indeed I am composed and quiet

Psalm 131

TWENTY-EIGHT DAYS into another year now and even though my heart rose with annual hopes and expectation for changed routines as a result of talk of resolution, not much is different. One full cycle of the moon around the earth in these twenty-eight days and my heart remains churning along in the same rhythmic pattern as before.

My therapist thinks I’m cheating myself. Maybe she was wary of following my meandering thoughts hypothesize on why I feel so despondent at times. “You should give yourself a break. “ In thinking of her easier-said-than-done instruction, I believe she’s got a point. A really profound one, too.

In Order for the Dough to Rise

January 08, 2016

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . So goes that timeless line long ago penned by good ol’ Mr. Dickens. Fittingly so, I suppose. And so it was for us last year. The good worked into the bad as a just bit extra flour needed for the dough to rise just so. I could tell you the things learned; recount mistakes made in the flash of emotion and recollect the failures still hanging in memento, but that would only be the half of it, not the whole. Fact is I’m still wrapping my head around last year. I know what I’d like you to see – an ever-happy little family in the throes of an adventure, all supporting one another and singing lovely songs as we skip along down the path we’re on.

That’s the façade donned over our front door. The type of decorative door piece that alerts you to the sort of people who dwell there in the home, “Here lives a happy, well-adjusted family who’re as loving as they are kind.” Or some expansively general cuteness of the sort.

No one hangs a sign over the door of his house that says, “We’re done.”

Truth be known, last year was as difficult a year as we’ve lived through as a family. This is mostly due to the fact that we’re still blending, not yet blended. As I’m sure you know, making a family work is no easy feat. A blended family, well that’s an exponentially more difficult emotional mine field to cross.

together beneath a star

December 24, 2015

come awake, come awake

give alert witness to

the heavens smoldering

shepherd men see first

hope’s mysterious arrival

burning glory apprehended so

in a company of jealous angels

breaking celestial branches to sing

to dust grown legs and mouths

and making babies in their likeness

earthen gods helpless as they come

would you come outside to see glory in the skies?

deafen the fear mongers, kill the monsters inside

oh, the atrocities polluting our view!

the bodies bleeding.

the children dying.

the people all watch for hours:

the mortal farce unfolding on the ground and television

could we meet under a star

and grab a coffee or two

to confess our needs and fears and emptiness?

you could be whole and help me get there, too

As you join with your loved ones in celebrating this Season, may you too give witness to the heavens ablaze with the hopeful reality of Christ come. Amidst the clamor of hate and hurt and destruction coursing through society’s veins, be hopeful together with those you love. Hold tight to hope, release anxiousness and trouble, and in doing so, reflect Advent’s glory – a reality greater than what we see when we only look low.

Merry Christmas, friends! May you cause it to be the happiest in your memory.

(image: Birth of a star, licensed by CC 2.0)

Pilgrim Prayer

November 26, 2015

May ageless light ever bare

the soul's stretch for

and empty care

for such give witness to

then, when all heavens fall

to kiss the dirt when day is due

in mystery, we run

the Eternal pursues

then we will know Love

a Tuesday, or such

time's run complete

the sun needed no more

just another day, and yet

one closer to Tomorrow shore

wanderers brought in for keep

years adrift lost at sea

waging wars on you and me

innocents: we are the murdering sheep

this, that, then, there

positional language dead speak

when silent, Peace will kiss our wounds

to arouse within grace complete

let us bow our heads

may we pray

grab the hand of him next to you

and in confession say

Lord, may your Kingdom come

in me and mine, it shall be today