29 June 2010

Thankfulnesses

Remembering to give thanks today.

Thankful that/for . . .

11. This life is not the end
12. Cloudy days and drizzle that fogs the eyes without actually getting anything wet.
13. Stories that sweep you away.
14. Soft light sweeping in through the window.
15. Others have walked this road of life and found peace and balance.
16. Friends who say, "Let me know what's going on."
17. Unexpected friends.
18. Purple pens.
19. How she almost rolls over.
20. Slow, steady days.

21 June 2010

Giving thanks

May I never forget that there's no place so dark that light doesn't shine through somewhere. Today I'm tired, but I still give thanks (for) . . .

1. Little hands reaching for my face.
2. The daddy who loves her, so very much.
3. Parenthood as an object lesson, teaching me that gentleness and faithfulness aren't characteristics of the weak.
4. Water reviving droopy leaves.
5. Strength that comes day by day.
6. Sparkly green bangles.
7. 750 words
8. The stories still bumping around in my head, someday to be written.
9. Giggles that erupt from my baby's belly.
10. Her special, wake-up smile.

16 June 2010

When the Night is Long

It's been a long time.

And it might be a long time before I'm here again.

I want to offer some sort of explanation for where I've been and why I haven't been here. The truth is,  every moment of the last 5 or 6 months has been so full and there's been so little time for synthesis and reflection that I don't have much commentary to offer on life, the universe, or anything.

The last months have felt like what I call and, " . . . and then" story. It's one of those times when, just as you feel like it might let up and you might get a breather, something else happens. And then something else happens. And then . . . and then . . . and then . . . and you have to catch your breath between laps because there's always something else.

Dave looked up at me the other day and said, "I feel like I've been tired since November," and, honestly, that's the truth. One.thing.after.another. Without time for air, let alone contemplation or reflection or much more than falling forward into the next step and hoping we land on a stepping stone and aren't swept away by the river.

When Dave said that, I told him that the only way I was going to make it to the end of the year was one day at a time. Sometimes one hour at a time. Sometimes one breath.

There are bad days. There are good days. On the whole, I don't think 2010 is going to be a year that I care to repeat any time soon. But we will prevail, because we have a God who doesn't get tired. He's never tempted to put us down and not pick us up again because his arms are tired, and he doesn't try to soothe us just so he can go get some rest already. Instead, he watches through the nights, these long, long nights, so we can take what rest we can.

And then he brings the morning.

He is the morning.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.