But in our mundane or pain, we are also invited to put that aside and worship Him. To delight in who He is all on His own outside of His presence in our lives.
O Come let us adore Him.
“In this life you will have trouble, but fear not, I have overcome the world.”
This world and the part we play in it is beautiful. Yes, there is brokenness, but I want to look for the beauty of our redemption in it. The Lord has made all things new, even as He is in the process of making us new.
Join me in looking for the beauty in life through thoughts and poems. I am so glad you are here.
But in our mundane or pain, we are also invited to put that aside and worship Him. To delight in who He is all on His own outside of His presence in our lives.
O Come let us adore Him.
God wastes nothing. No hardship is endured without purpose. No pain alleviates without bringing with it deeper faith. No generous gift comes without deeply compassionate intent.
Waiting is holy work and a holy calling. It requires endurance. A constant supply of fuel for the journey. Measured breaths to fill your lungs like a runner in a marathon.
I always reach for words like a security blanket
To add substance and certainty to what often feels fragile
But maybe I don’t have them
Not because I lost them but because I wasn’t given them
For a long time I misunderstood the Christmas season. The anticipation felt like it was for the festivities itself.
When leaves drop to the ground
Do they think they are falling or flying/
How beautiful that they flutter in the wind
And dance all the way to the ground
Our ideal place was once in a garden
A beautiful and perfect place
And then there was another garden
One that was cloaked in sorrow
A place of waiting and contending
The thing about loss is that experiencing one does not really make the next one easier to manage. They all are different and significant.
Sometimes suffering and trial disorients us
We wander from home
From where we belong
We set up camp in desolate places where the enemy lives
Autumn is falling leaves, and apples, and sadness
It smells like cider on the stove. bales of hay, and melancholy
The memories are bitter and sweet and nostalgic