Skip to main content

Featured

How to have a truly happy new year.

For the first time in years, I don’t remember my New Year’s resolution from January. Usually, I write it down in my journal or on a note I stick to my mirror. There’s been many of those dog-eared sticky notes from years past. The year of contentment. Speaking life. We passed pancakes across the breakfast table on January 1st this year. “What do you want from 2018?” I can’t remember my answer. I know what I didn’t want though. I didn’t want to walk into her office and share the parts of my life I’m inclined to hide. I didn’t want to Facetime her the day after she delivered her baby that never breathed. I didn’t want to spend four months wondering how I’d walk into her house on Christmas day and see her empty chair. I didn’t want to go on another first date that led nowhere. We sit across from each other in a little coffee shop in Colorado, picking at a charcuterie board. “When I think about all of the things I have left to go through,” her voice cracks....
Post a Comment
Read more

Mid-week panic meets Sunday morning hope.

Wednesday moves in like the eye of a hurricane.

My evening plans get cancelled so I stay home, eat pasta alone. I play the harp in my living room.

The pressure builds.

Don’t get anxious.

But it builds in my chest, so thick it’s hard to breathe.

It’s one of the simplest weeks I’ve had in months, but my head is a storm of vague misgivings.

The things I am.

The things I am not.

The things I’ve done.

The things I haven’t.

My unmade bed, a sign of a rushed morning, an ignored alarm, dismissed prayer.

An unsent text to a friend, the sign of neglect.

The exaggerated comment I made, the twisted truth.

The pressure builds.

And Thursday moves in like a storm, a force that drives me to the Rock that is Higher than I.

The things He’s done.

Who He is.

And I think back to nine of us sitting in a circle in her living room. “Do you believe God is good? Do you believe He is for you?”

And I say yes. I say it until my heart knows it’s true. Until the storm in my chest meets the One who says, “Peace, be still.”


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular Posts