Three and a half years ago, my husband, John, had a stroke. It left him a little less able to do what he had done before, and year after year we are “outwardly wasting away.” When I look to the future, I don’t know what’s coming. I desire to know the Lord. I tell him about my concerns and circumstances and share my joys with him. As I’ve learned, he desires to share himself with me. He wants to pour out his heart to me in his Word and through his Spirit.
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It is deeply healing to know that the circumstances that threatened to distort our stories are the very places where God’s glory was planted within us. His presence closes our wounds, gives us the ability to forgive, and allows us to fully grieve losses. These things remain part of our story, but how we tell it is reframed to reflect the goodness that God brings through each chapter.
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Forgetting is easier now than ever as aging kicks in, and I forget what I did yesterday. However, when I clean out a closet or go through attic boxes or the garage cupboards, I'm sure to find some long-forgotten “treasure” that will swoosh me back to a moment that evokes pleasant (or maybe not so pleasant) memories.
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Christmas morning...
The cold gray San Joaquin Valley fog seemed to close in around me as I drove. The morning had already been filled with experiences and circumstances that left me feeling as cold and gray on the inside as the fog appeared on the outside. My thoughts replayed the phone conversations, the people I loved and cared about, the hurts and struggles.
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Glorious sunlight rose over the mountains, illuminating thunderous waterfalls lining Yosemite Valley. Early in the morning, before the crowds arrived, I sat in the meadow. My ears soaked in the sounds of birdsong. My eyes witnessed gravity pulling water down granite walls. My awe-struck soul marveled at God’s creativity and sustaining power.
It had been a week. My dad passed away and four days later my dear friend, Jan, also passed. Grief paralyzed me. I needed to get out. I mean, I needed to get outside. Hence, the trip to Yosemite.
As God sustains the mighty waterflow, he is sustaining us, even when we feel crushed under the weight of schedules, responsibilities, and grief. Life feels foggy sometimes. We feel overwhelmed and under-qualified to lead lives worth of the call of Christ. During those days, where do we turn? Where does our help come from? Who can we trust?
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Yesterday I unexpectedly found myself by a lone bench on an empty oceanfront. A boat was just off the shore, solitary but securely anchored in the sea. I ached with the unexpected beauty, the symbolic solitude of the boat. I felt like this boat. Alone, aching, but securely anchored. As I stood there, I thought about the last two months and how a crisis can set off a whole new cycle of grief and loss.
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