While I grabbed the ornaments out of our pantry, I couldn’t believe that Christmastime was already here. Already here! But I didn’t feel disappointment. While this year couldn’t have possibly gone more crazy or wild, it was life. And it was full. And it was covered everywhere by God.
Full of God not because I earnestly sought Him, but because I was forced to fall flat on my face and recognize Him. My heart was grossly independent and full of pride. With my face in the dirt during springtime, I found God as my Rest. I had to grow again…in little green sprouts. I had to let go of all my self-constructed walls and battle plans, and fall into the shadow of God’s wings. Continue reading “Healing & Hope for Your Christmas”
I listen to the rain, pitter-patter. I drink the eggnog. I see the stockings just bought for our very first Christmas. I sit by the lighted tree with those handmade ornaments and all the memories we have already made. Our first dog jumps into the chair with me, to squeeze in beside me.
And I think of moments long-gone. “Oh, it’s only a year ago,” I think to myself. But a year ago? That is long-gone. I can never get it back. I can never live it again. That’s what makes time sweet. That’s what makes it painful.
Before you proposed, you asked me where I wanted it to happen. And when I was a girl, I had dreamed of it taking place in the wide expanse of the desert. But the older I got, and the more I knew you—the sooner my mind changed.
I didn’t want to make more memories at a home where I grew up. I wanted to make a permanent memory somewhere that you loved, somewhere that meant something to you. I wanted to go to your favorite place, a childhood adventure, a spot where I could make an imprint that would start our history together. Continue reading “The First Imprint | 12.23.14”
Sometimes, I think it has to be big to be hurting.
Sometimes, I think it has to be deep to be aching.
But many times it’s not big or deep.
It just is.
Sometimes, a difficult trial is just an assortment of “small” pangs.
After all, there’s nothing especially tragic or heart-rending about the ordinary. But in the ordinary, I fall into the little potholes and valleys–and though I quickly move through them, they were still traveled. Continue reading “Cracked Edges | Choosing Joy”