Though in many ways it seems longer, it was a year ago today that the Lord gave us a great gift in the form of a miracle. We know it was by the grace of God that Timothy, who was deathly sick with cerebral malaria, awoke from a coma. Our family had been at the Oregon Coast for a family reunion; Timothy had just returned from Ghana, West Africa. He was sick and getting worse by the day. After several days and medication for what was thought to be Typhoid, his condition was grave, he was so thin and frail;…
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In my drafts bucket I have a whole bunch of half-begun and mostly unfinished drafts of letters and blog entries I intended to send or post. Many never get finished. I either don’t have time or I don’t have enough of the “rest of the story” in my head to complete the work. Usually, it’s the former, not the latter. So, time takes time. I’ve said this to myself, to my children, to other women… I’ve thought this many, many times. I’ve usually thought this as a self-reminder when a situation seems to be unchanging or a problem seem to…
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I know. I’d probably grimace if one of my kids started an essay: “Stuff’s going to work out.” But, it’s on my mind today: stuff — and how it works out. But I want to begin by saying: stuff’s probably not going to work out how you thought it would — or even how you hoped it would — but, truly, in the end, stuff’s going to work out. Last year, the year you’ve heard me describe as the most sorrowful year of my life, I heard a song… it was one of two songs that so resonated with me…
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Browsing through a bunch of papers and stuff… a slip of paper… the quote: “It is in the quiet crucible of your personal private sufferings that your noblest dreams are born and Gods greatest gifts are given in compensation for what you’ve been through. –Wintley Phipps The paper is yellowed, the ink is smudged. I mull the quote over in my mind – having done so many times before, I reflect on what it’s meant to me – what it means to me today. I know it’d be real easy to just think on the first part… the crucible part…
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I smile as I look back and recall a blog entry I wrote on the 22nd of March called Springtime… seasons. At the end of that post I wrote: “… And I can truly say that God has had the sweetest surprises in store for me following some of the seemingly most barren seasons. Praise the Lord. He only does all things well. May I never take this for granted.” Additionally, in that post I included the lyrics of a song Spring Time’s Comin’ that’s surely become even more meaningful to me since that post was written — because just…
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I received such a beautiful card yesterday. It was a birthday card — but yesterday was not my birthday — well, not technically, anyway. But in a way, it was my birth-day, for twenty-five years ago yesterday I gave birth to our first daughter — third child, first daughter. As I look back, nothing and everything prepared me for that day. O, it wasn’t the gap between her birth and the birth of the son five years previous — though it was. It wasn’t that I knew I was to have a daughter — I didn’t know that; it…
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Today is not my birthday. Yesterday was not my birthday. The day before yesterday… was. Yet, I woke up yesterday expecting that it should still be my birthday – you know, treats, party hats and special treatment. I call this the birthday-princess mentality. It happens. The birthday princess mentality is kin to other princess mentalities — you know, the date-princess, the shopping-princess, the napping-princess. You get the idea. It’s as if whenever some delightful thing/event/outing happens, it ought to continue happening, I mean, I am the birthday (or whatever) princess after all. I woke up this morning to the reality…
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The lacy green leaves are slowly appearing and daffodils are beginning to bloom around the old willow tree. Isn’t it an awesome wonder: Every year, every passing season, has its marvelous reminders of the lavish mercy and everlasting kindness of the Lord. May I never take this for granted nor think it not majestic. Passing through many seasons in thirty-three years of marriage, I so hope I never again take for granted my husband’s care and thoughtful gestures. You know, it’s something we all do — take for granted things that are or have been long present with us. …
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Do you find yourself asking the “why did that happen?” question? Why in the world did that happen? Or, why did this happen to me? Or, how could this have happened? We all ask some such question from time to time. Even when we don’t mean to bring up our doubtful questioning in conversation, our comments betray us when we say something like, I don’t know how that could have happened, or some similar statement. I think we all seem as though we’re surprised when things happen — as if we’d missed something in our vigilant attempts to prevent all…
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It just dawned on me that there are a bunch of co-incidents going on right now. But it’s not surprising to me when I’m dealing with something and then I notice several other similar something’s come up around the same time. You probably notice this is true in your life… when you’re going through something you hear about or see similar things all around. I’ve been writing about CSA (childsexualabuse) for the last week or so. I feel like I might owe readers an apology — not for writing what I’ve written, but for not giving a clear ‘warning’ regarding…