To Trust

day's regret as dark as the blackness outside this kitchen window pulls like the strengthening tide yet my mind disengages, wandering to another day, early morning, warmed by golden hues washed across soft tans and evolving blues. emerging sun hidden behind cloud captivates. cool, salty gusts from the sea whip my hair in all directions igniting freedom to let all that binds, go.


that morning.
passionately grabbing the hand of eager preschooler, we steal away from breakfast preparations, sleeping toddler, and understanding husband to experience the beauty up close. feet race over soft sand dunes, leap through thick rows of washed-up seaweed, and still in the wet, packed sand suctioning our toes beyond visibility.

daughter runs ahead splashing through shallow pools left by the tide, sending seagulls flapping into the air excitedly. heart beating wildly amidst breathtaking beauty of sun rising, waves crashing, the glory of creation...i am overcome and lift watery eyes to the heavens mouthing prayers of thanksgiving and praise, intimacy with Creator of All.

my gaze falls towards shells lining the surf and catches on a lone seagull standing in a maze of seaweed. in mind's eye, a gentle knowing pulls aside one curtain on this seascape stage unveiling mystery and deeper beauty through simplicity. seagull standing so still, patience, awaiting morning provision from our Creator's Hand. awaiting a morsel of sustenance to feast on from the vast sea spread before us both, the gull trusts.
watching and waiting in expectancy.


to trust as this seagull trusts, to patiently watch and wait expectantly for provision from the Father's Hand..to be so vulnerable yet assured..without control or evidence.
mind spins around this notion too wild and haphazard to fully embrace. taking a few steps closer to the surf, i scan the shallow depths hoping to witness the fulfillment of this gull's need, the washing ashore of plentiful, sustaining fish. nothing happens, seagull continues to watch and wait. glancing back at daughter romping about with bursts of neighing deep in the imaginings of wild horses, my eyes take in a panoramic shot down the coastline unveiling a most surprising, profound sight: seagulls lining the surf as far as these eyes could see.


a sight so precious to behold, an honor bestowed to this blessed observer.
yes, they all wait eagerly.
when clutching hand of Loving Father unfurls fingers, gently displaying today's provision, these gulls will be ready to partake of the bounty: watching and waiting in anticipation.

weeks have passed yet i keep coming back to that morning. a fresh lesson for the start of each new day.

teach me to seek You, watch for You, wait for You, and trust in You expectantly.

Sing to him, sing praise to him;
tell of all his wonderful acts.

Glory in his holy name;
let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice.

Look to the LORD and his strength;
seek his face always. 1 Chronicles 16: 9-11

in the beginning

"Momma, where does water come from?" questioning eyes of golden-haired daughter of five drink in the vastness of the sea before her.
hasty to answer, my mouth flies open ready to spill of knowledge concerning evaporation, water vapor, precipitation...mind's eye precisely recalling water cycle charts from former teaching days. yet, something catches my tongue, stops progression down that thought path.

although true, that almost-answer, i sense this to be a bigger moment of inquiry.
where does it originate, this water rolling before us?

inhaling deeply of the salted air, my eyes lift to the sky as understanding begins to fill me with a growing amazement. "From the mouth of God!" I shout over the fizzing splashes. "He spoke, His words created water, and here it is," a joyful laugh escapes us both, pondering the power of our mighty Creator exhibited through the thoughtful utterances of His mouth.

Your throne was established long ago; you are from all eternity.

The seas have lifted up, O LORD,
the seas have lifted up their voice;
the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.

Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,
mightier than the breakers of the sea—
the LORD on high is mighty.

Psalm 93:2-4

(more lessons from the sea to come...)

Revising an Incongruous Constitution

tonight i seek Him under falling water, washing away the day's soil with a heart restless to be cleansed by living water. this split-ness, duality of desires and mind being worked out through Him. as He gently guides in love and truth, Shepherd of this heart, i begin to see.

multifaceted...
no, not this word evoking images of glistening gems viewed from different angles. brilliance of design, workmanship.
no, not multifaceted as i once thought.
most accurately, double-sided...
this duality of two completely opposing thoughts battling for viability is not how He created me to exist through the every day. like double-sided tape, if one side is adhering to a specific resolve, the other is exposed and vulnerable to stick to anything that happens to come along.
tossing back and forth, my views change with emotions, hormones, differing perspectives and experiences.

yet truth illuminates the culprit aiding in these mental distractions,
emotional diversions,
settling fog.
all these things wrap into the package of self.
self-serving,
self-seeking,
self-fulfilling,
self-ruling -
my sin stares back at me.

silencing tongue, closing eyes, stilling thoughts - You remind me of words sung Sunday. words to illuminate, encapsulate and pray-

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

Shepherd of my life, i feel this heart inside prone to wander, prone to leave the One i love. Bind my wandering heart to You. take my heart and seal it. fix my eyes on You.

An Incongruous Constitution

split.
in two.
or perhaps, more accurately, multifaceted.

opposing concepts, ideas, emotions waltz interchangeably, partners switching effortlessly.

today, this.
tomorrow, that.

yes to daily routine, weekly schedules, thinking it all through, relationships, home.
yet also to...
spontaneity, freedom from it all, a carefree me.

this landscape of emotion shifts as shadows cast on a sunny day, and You send comfort in words living.

For God's Word is solid to the core; everything he makes is sound inside and out.
Psalm 33:4 (msg)

relief floods, and i inhale a saving breath.
i am sound. inside and out.

Lord, give me peace inside this battling mind, shifting emotions. thank You for Your Word, solid to the core. send strength in this lean time.

Reach Out

From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and
he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live.

God did this so that men would

seek him

and perhaps

reach out for him

and find him,

though he is not far from each one of us.

'For in him we live and move and have our being.'

Father, having determined the time and place for my life, You give me purpose. every day, every hour i am surrounded with reasons to seek You...reach out for You...find You. teach me, prompt me, compel me to seek You first, always.

Miracle Baby

"Mommy, was I a miracle baby?" prompts preschooler over lunch.

"Yes, you were a miracle baby," i reply with a smile growing in anticipation, waiting to hear the words...

"Tell me the story."

closing eyes, i purposely dust away cluttering thoughts of partially composed emails, menu ideas, the day's schedule and make room for a focused retelling of my favorite story.

"A long time ago, doctors told me i could not have babies because my uterus is very small, too small for a baby to grow in, " I begin.

"and when i heard what the doctors said, i was very, very sad because all i ever wanted to be was a mommy. since i was younger than you, all i wanted to be when i grew up was a mommy."

"i cried for many days, weeks. cried and prayed."

a slight tightness presses against my chest, quickening breath, expanding belly twice swollen with another's heart, bones, blood, life...but now empty.

how quickly i return to that recovery bed in hospital. eyes blurred, thoughts slowed by anesthesia. surgeon forecasting a future opposed to dreams.
heart shattering.

from deep inside, a long breath escapes.
that was then.

now i gaze into the eyes of this beautiful, bright, lovely, healthy, growing little girl. girl child full of life, her name's sake. life itself. a miracle beyond understanding, beyond physical limitations. offspring from a body that should not have been able to handle the weight, volume, expansion.

i continue the story.
"during that time, God gave me hope in my heart, peace in my mind, and a song on my lips."
He laid a blanket of peace over my dreams, and they slept. for years they hibernated deep within, undisturbed.

during the spring of my 26th year, dreams awoke.
Gentle Thinker agreed, it was time.

"then one day God placed you in my belly to grow. i was so surprised, overjoyed, humbled. He chose me to be your mommy! you were growing inside me and i could feel you, begin to know you."

one day this story will expand with details a mind of four years cannot yet understand: one ovary, one fallopian tube, half a uterus, half the blood supply; inadequate placenta, drastically decreasing amniotic fluid; how her tiny body sacrificed continuing growth to save, protect her developing brain and so, so much more.

"you are a miracle. what the doctors said was impossible, God made possible. and look at you now!"

steeping in the words of her beginnings, preschooler declares, "yes! and claire is a miracle baby too!"

"yes, she is. one day we will tell her the story of being a miracle baby." sisters growing up knowing their story...how God personally authored the beginning of their lives.

i wonder if other mamas around the world pull their children close, gaze into their eyes and tell the story of being a miracle baby. for it's all so amazing, isn't it? how God personally authored the beginning of every life?


Author of Life, humble me with the bigness, greatness of You. for you created my daughters' inmost being; You knit them in my womb. i praise You because they are fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, i know that full well.

photo: our first miracle baby

The Evening Current

every evening as i clean up remnants from the day, regret and failure lap at my heels, tide rising. scenes of the day replay, patience lost revisited, unaccomplished lists swirl. did i play with the girls? did i love extravagantly? smile freely? give my best? forgive graciously? sacrifice my own desires for that of another?

closing eyes to the oncoming waves, i know where this current leads. to endless guilt, churning uncertainty, layers of regret...mental, emotional struggles this mama knows intimately.

so i resist, fighting the strengthening pull.

The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
His mercies never cease.
Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
therefore, I will hope in him!”

Lamentations 3:22-24 (New Living Translation)

resistance in the form of verse, God breathed.
his mercies begin afresh each morning.
over and over these words trickle down my head as cool, refreshing water amidst the swirling tides. down it flows seeping into hair, skin, bones, blood. living words infusing peace into a tattering heart.

an undercurrent of anxiety is still detectable, however. frayed edging. questions surface, testing: what of tomorrow? as evening approaches, will this episode repeat only to be quieted by a temporary salve? a sore to be reopened daily?

People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

Matthew 6:33 (The Message)

Father's hand in the form of verse gently smoothes the bumps, unties the knots, mends the tears inside this mama.

Lord, steep my life in Your reality, Your initiative, Your provisions. keep my heart focused on You. i choose to seek You first knowing that everything else will fall into place purposefully in ways that only You can fulfill. still this mama's heart.

photo: www.sxc.hu

Contemplating this Heart

Psalm 15

LORD, who may dwell in your sanctuary?
Who may live on your holy hill?

He whose walk is blameless
and who does what is righteous,
who speaks the truth from his heart

and has no slander on his tongue,
who does his neighbor no wrong
and casts no slur on his fellowman,

who despises a vile man
but honors those who fear the LORD,
who keeps his oath
even when it hurts,

who lends his money without usury
and does not accept a bribe against the innocent.
He who does these things
will never be shaken.

LORD, expose the darkest crevices of this heart with your light of truth. draw out of hiding every unrighteous rudiment to be turned over to You. create in me a heart that is pure and pleasing to You, overflowing Your love and mercy. teach me to love like You do, never to be shaken.

photo: sxc.hu

Child Likeness

for the past two days, the darker tones of gray in the sky accentuate vivid shades of green outdoors, contrast deepening. sky heavy with anticipation of rain, atmospheric labor continues as sun descends on another day.

my heart, also, is heavy. pressure in chest building, pulling attention towards its palpable weight.

i know what it is, partially.

mental words, fragments echo the speech of my preschooler from early in the week. questions uttered by an unassuming child shift the atmosphere in my heart, tilting balance, halting the predictable rotation.
during a play date, mommy compliments rebounding off stoic girl exterior pierce heart-deep when directed towards another preschooler's masterpiece. desperate self-protection masked behind innocent green-blue eyes and rosebud lips mouthing reassurances of "what about mine? my picture is pretty too, right mama? say my picture is pretty too!" her reaction finds me unprepared. searching to convey assurance, i respond with adulation like candies falling from a cracked pinata hoping she will clutch handfuls of treats to store in her emotional treasury.
i choose words as the currency of acceptance to a thirsty heart unable to be quenched by words.

for two days i ponder this experience, puzzled by the affect it has on me. what did my child need to hear to satisfy this desire for acceptance and worth? does she even know how much i love and cherish her? how can she possibly fathom my limitless love for her, never to be diminished by my love for others?

standing over bed folding laundry in the path of morning light streaming through the windows, scattered pieces of this puzzle quickly begin to shift, rotate and connect. forming picture is staggering and unexpected: there i slump, only a day before, pitying lack of eager involvement from loved ones which friends and other family members seem blessed to receive. is there something wrong with me, God? do they not want to be around me or my kids? do You really want me to go through all this alone without a loving, willing hand to guide?

piercing, stinging, digging...truth burrows deep into this devastated heart as the picture continues to develop: i am the preschooler curled over paper and crayon shavings searching parental eyes questioning, "what about me? i am worthwhile too, right Daddy? say i am worthwhile too!"

yet this query does not find Him unprepared.
He has already answered.

For he chose me in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined me to be adopted as his daughter through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given me in the One he loves. In him I have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace that he lavished on me with all wisdom and understanding. (from Ephesians 1:4-8)

in all my raw human ugliness, He chose me as worthwhile before laying the foundation of the earth. i am accepted. chosen. predestined. redeemed. forgiven. lavished with grace.

relief and peace wash over distracted thoughts, heavy heart and bruised emotions. truth burrows deeper still, filling me with news of Father's acceptance and faithfulness: yes, i do have what i need. God's love.

time for a perspective shift. God provides willing, loving contributors in the form of elderly neighbors, childhood friends, strangers at the supermarket, phone calls at the perfect moment, a knock on the door in the hour of loneliness. His love is all around flowing through beautifully unexpected channels.

Father, forgive me for not noticing, cherishing and gratefully accepting these gifts of Your love. how amazing and unexpected are your ways! open my eyes to see You in those around me. enable me to trust in You steadily, hope unswervingly, and love extravagantly.

for the past two days, the darker tones of gray looming over my thoughts accentuate the vivid shades of green budding inside, contrast deepening. heart drinking cleansing rain, emotional labor dissipates as Son descends on another day, meeting me right where i am.

thunder rolls in the distance. rain is on its way. cleansing rain.

photo: masterpiece of preschooler, "neigh"

Significance of Design

toes of little onion bulbs all blooming in a row.
five summers ago on the day of disclosure, the tips of these toes were barely larger than yaupon berries, doll feet cradling delicately in the comparatively massive mommy palm. as time passes they elongate and curve -- formation necessary for running, climbing, leaping, galloping and cart-wheeling.

high arches, roughened soles, perennially scraped cuticles, soiled heels...these are the feet of my daughter. i marvel at their design, handcrafted by the artist of our universe.

planets orbiting, stars burning, moon reflecting, earth inhabiting, ocean tiding, whales breaching, mountains soaring, land carving, feet calibrating -- all spoken word of the sovereign designer.

how precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
how vast is the sum of them!
Psalm 139:17

significance found in the humbly insignificant: feet.

a mother's prayer for the feet of her child:
Sovereign Creator, Father of love, turn to my daughter and have mercy on her, as you always do to those who love your name. direct her footsteps according to your word; let no sin rule over her. redeem her from the oppression of men, that she may obey your precepts.

New Life

Then he said to them all: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. Luke 9:23-24 NIV

passivity, laziness, time-wasting, self-serving evenings-- all share weight on this cross i bear today. these particular sins have bubbled to the surface, illuminated by the spirit of truth, needing attention, action. today i take up this cross and follow Him. stumbling under the weight and burden of this yoke, i am eager to be free of it.

For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin— because anyone who has died has been freed from sin. Romans 6:6-7 NIV

freedom from sin! the price is high, though -- death.
yet, at this point, death will be a relief. the necessary option.
freedom through death.

hope whispers more...

If we have been united with him like this in his death, we will certainly also be united with him in his resurrection. Romans 6:5 NIV

certainly united in resurrection
death is not the end. this is certain.
death is the beginning. the beginning of renewal; a new life. life free from the weight and burden of sin.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! 2 Corinthians 5:17

so, i take up this cross of self-serving attitudes and follow Him. losing my life, bit by bit.
necessary death leads to certain resurrection.

For sin shall not be your master, because you are not under law, but under grace. Romans 6:14

and i look forward to the power of grace working, transforming this broken vessel into something beautiful, loving, selfless.

photo: symbolically celebrating "new life" through death in Christ - planting flowers

embracing the story, preparing hearts

"I'll paint these and you can paint one of the howts," plans the oldest, harboring an arm span of baked dough shapes.

"Let's only choose pieces that tell the Easter Story." i direct.

"This is a colt. We'll use him," she decisively declares, cradling a baked dough horse in her open palm.

"Hmmm, ok. Is there a colt in the Easter Story?" i probe.

silence. thinking. "Yes, Jesus rode on a colt to Jerusalem," daughter quietly answers, waves of honey cascading past her shoulders. for a moment i close my eyes and offer up a silent prayer of thanksgiving for knowledge growing from scattered seeds taking root in the heart of this child .

after painting, we decide on an order to the dough shapes that will hang at the kitchen window retelling and reminding: heart, colt, heart, cross, heart, angel, cross, star.

we slide the fuchsia ribbon through the first heart. this is how the Easter story begins, with love.
For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son...John 3:16
to seek, save, serve, and restore, replacing stone with flesh.

next we thread the ribbon through the colt.
Go...and you will find a colt.... Mark 11:2
This colt "which no one has ever ridden" will carry the Messiah into his final days before the crucifixion. a humble, lowly little colt to carry the King of Kings. i pause and consider the vessels He uses; my heart leaps with hope.

another heart is added to the line. with this heart we talk about the love Jesus has for us which leads Him to die in obedience to the Father. Jesus: seeker, savior, servant, healer, teacher, sinless one took on Himself all of our shameful, disgusting, disturbing, hateful, hurtful, deadly sins that separate us from God. this plan was so magnificent, so incomprehensibly complex while simple, so absolutely fueled by love.

this brings us to the cross.
And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death— even death on a cross! Philippians 2:8
a death reserved for criminals, insurrectionists. whipped, ridiculed, pierced, nailed, hung, separated from the Father....all for us.


we string along another heart to reiterate the unprecedented, sacrificial love Jesus has for us.

next we come to the angel. this is Ava's favorite part of the story. mary, Jesus' friend, and a few other women are the first to see the empty tomb. dismayed, confused, they grasp for understanding. while standing there wondering, angels bright as lightening appear and say,
"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!" Luke 24:6
yet we do it, don't we? look for the living among the dead?
this query strikes the heart, bringing everything into startling focus:
He is not here.
Father, bring my heart into focus. help me to only search for You among the living.

a second cross is added to the line of figures. this one serves as a reminder: He is not here; he has risen!

we thread the last of our shapes: a star splashed bright with yellow. our hearts propelled into startling focus by the resurrection, we are given direction and clarity.
"I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." John 8:12
"Jesus is the light of the world!" proclaims the softened four-and-a-half-year-old heart glowing in the morning sunlight across the table from me.
Savior, shine Your light in every dark crevice of my heart. bring into the open that which is sinful and dead. strengthen me to repent and accept Your loving grace and forgiveness.

tying a knot at the end of our shapes, my eye is drawn to the fuchsia ribbon weaving through the story, connecting pieces. my heart weakens with realization. His flowing blood is a fuchsia ribbon weaving through our hearts, supplying life. this blood flows, restoring us back into relationship with Creator, Father, Love.
Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him. John 6:56
drink this blood of life. remain in Him.

kitchen window flooding with morning light, i hang the symbolic figures retelling the Easter story. a story so incomprehensibly complex while simple, so absolutely fueled by love.
my gaze drifts beyond the window to a worshipful expression of new life, rebirth: a trellis heavy with expectant yellow buds of carolina jessamine.
father, thank you for this new life, rebirth i have through Christ Jesus. i pray that my heart, also, is heavy with expectant buds fueled by the richest of soil, the flowing blood of your Son.

anointed outpouring

Six days before the Passover, Jesus arrived at Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus' honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him.

closing eyes, i run my hands across the grain of wood piled with steaming dishes serving a feast to honor our savior; feel the skimming of Martha's linen as she prepares and serves; listen to the rise and fall of male voices, clinking of platters, rustling of robes.

Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus' feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

and slowly, deliberately inhale the costly, sacrificial, purposeful, love-filled outpouring of perfume.

a spilled vile of cabbage patch perfume in childhood clutched in the dripping palm of a clumsy, growing girl. room of dolls, mini-records, rainbow splashed wall quickly filled with the sweetened water of a savored possession. a scent that lingered days, weeks, decades in the walls of memory.

i wonder how long...
the fragrance filled the house were Jesus dined?
remnants lingered in mary's hair?
scent-memory stained the nasal membranes of everyone attending the feast?

the hour was quickly approaching.
the time when Jesus would be the one to pour out a fragrant offering. the costly, sacrificial, purposeful, love-filled outpouring of blood. And the world and heavens would fill with the fragrance of the sacrifice.

Your Spirit beckons, awakening my senses. deeply, reverently i inhale.

But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected,"Why wasn't this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a years' wages." He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.

yet the timing and means are difficult to grasp.

excuse me, Lord, you are approaching this matter all wrong. as we see it with our limited, one-dimension earthly vision, the plan should be that You save Israel by restoring the kingdom to the Jews. have you noticed the oppression, lack of favor, unfair governmental practices? or have you been too busy dining with sinners, healing on the Sabbath, teaching multitudes? i can think of a million more profitable things You should be doing besides hanging there, dying, spilling blood that is much more useful inside your body keeping you alive.

"Leave her alone, " Jesus replied. "It was intended, that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me." John 12: 1-8

it was intended.

mary worshiped through a ceremonial outpouring of perfume.
Jesus worshiped through obedience with the outpouring of blood.
both costly, one immeasurably.
both sacrificial, one ultimately.
both purposeful, one restores life.
both love-filled, one endures forever.

Lord, stain this heart with the scent-memory of your costly, sacrificial, purposeful, love-filled outpouring of blood. teach me to be extravagantly worshipful in the time I have with You.

one year, four days

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

one year, four days.

despite my passive attempt to prolong what is to come, the time not only arrived but is now four days past. how can a mother describe the complex emotions towards the impending arrival of her child's first birthday? of course there is great joy and contentment in assurance of her baby's health, growth and development. after all, days of spit-up smeared shirts, leaking diapers, leaking breasts and sleepless nights are pushed back into the recesses of foggy memories. yet there is sadness, a longing for what is gone: sweet, milky baby breath; warm, peppery scent of her head; cradling a sleeping newborn. if i linger in this vain, sorrow for what is passing by too quickly casts a shadow over me.

instead i strain a little harder, squinting through the fog beyond this bitter-sweet moment to a time when motherhood was a dream greater than weddings, husbands, houses. crossing over into adulthood, that dream was dashed upon the rocks by crashing, volatile waves. heart heavy with grief, eyes swollen and burning from weeks of sorrow, hands empty. i remember You pulling me close, embracing my broken heart, broken dreams and whispering Your faithfulness into my ear, thoughts, heart, spirit. clinging to Your promises with desperate grip, my heart steeped in Your words until they infused blood and bone. You gave a gift to fill my hands, soothe my burning eyes, and lighten my heavy heart. hope. hope for what was unseen, by all accounts impossible. You turned my sorrow into hope, anxiety into peace. what was meant for destruction, death of dreams, you conceived in my heart a faith and trust to grow, mature.

seven years of hope and peace passed.

a cry rung out in the warm June sky. the cry of hope, peace, faith and trust birthed in spirit and in flesh. tears flowed from a mother's eyes in awe of experiencing Your touch and faithfulness. blessings continued. three years later You brought forth miraculous life once more. an inheritance.

here we are one year, four days later. this heart of one multiplied into a house of four.

prosperity. hope. a future.

humbly, i bow in adoration and gratitude of Your character.

meditating on mark 4:35-41

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.
Mark 4:39

when the moment arrives, it doesn't sneak up like a tip-toeing child or the soft splatter of rain drops. no, much more forceful, invasive. a furious storm swells with waves crashing, confronting mortality on a fishing boat at sea. yes, that is how the moment arrives. unexpectedly, fearfully, sending us into a panic without a plan. what now - ride the turbulent waves, jump ship and tread water....
did i hear that someone is sleeping through this calamity? how could that be possible!
wake! arise and see that death is clawing at our boat! certainly we will not survive this chaotic experience. do you not care?

i humbly confess with a heart that comes so short, this is my reaction - God, can you see this turmoil i am experiencing? are you slumbering through my agony? do you not care?

crashing waves, devastating winds, rising waters test the foundation. what do i grasp for, cling to with whitening knuckles - my ability, intelligence, resources, relationships, possessions? all had their time of reign, idolatry.

yet my soul aches and stirs with truth.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
Proverbs 3:5

maybe this will help...i will do that next...then i will try....
emptying meager assets like contents of an overturned purse. God responds, "Quiet! Be still!" focus averts from problems, fear, the doom of possibilities and stills. quiet. peace. why was that not my first response when anxiety arose? i cry out, "Father!" and He answers, always. His character is security wooing my trust. regardless of what i can reason through or understand, He is.

crashing waves, devastating winds, rising waters test this foundation and find it secure, unscathed.

He is.