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Recent Posts . . .
what happens when you claim her: daughter
Her room smells of sweetness. Fruit soap, from her shower. Citrus-sugar, from the pink candle, unlit, on her dresser. She is a tangled lump, a mound of cotton comforter and sheets.The room is dark. I crack the shutters open. And still, just the beginning of sunlight, shy and rosy, peeks slow. I open the shutters wider. I invite light further in.
the bright light of our testimony
A friend asks me a question that makes me consider my story. She knows it; I've told it to her, leaving nothing out. She worries that the sharing of my story might make a person more anxious, more worried about sinning themselves.I am confused. Conflicted. No, actually . . . I am none of those things. . . I am resolved.The story of God's rescue of us is beautiful. It is what makes us beautiful.
when we feel weak and we're running - how to believe we're strong
“You are stronger than you know.”She hears the words and wants to throw them back in his face. She wants to yell, spit, run.“What do you know?” she thinks. “How can you tell me I am strong when I struggle to maintain a job, or look put together, or be the mother my kids need me to be?“She can hardly believe the response, “What defines ‘success,’ my love?”“I do. I define success. My success” she tells him. And then she runs. She doesn’t want to hear him anymore.So she runs far away, as far away as she can. Deep into the place where she’s convinced she can’t be seen. The place that is deeper and further away than any physical location on a map. It is the place in her heart, deep inside her, where she tucks herself away.“No one. Not one person can find me here,” she insists. “Not unless I want to be found.” Read More . . .
Sisters In the Circle Where Jesus Is
There you are, on the other side of the world, a sister decades younger, and we are connected. I feel your strength, even here. And in this circle, I am strengthened too.We send each other stories, emails. We explain heartbreak, words typed on blank white and sent to each other's computers thousands of miles away. We can't do this alone--hold each other close, listen to one another's story and not feel overwhelmed--without Jesus.We can't love each other well unless we choose to see Jesus in the middle of everything we say. Read More . . .
Look up, my darling, look up.
When I hear Him, this space I’m in, at this plain wooden table, this window with the cobwebs at the corner of the metal screen, this soft rumble of washing machine, this smell of wet dog near my feet, I study the room, looking for clues for what is different.
All is different? No, all is the same.