Love

Sarah & Branches

Photo by Bgrace

Love Letters

What is love that is not possessive?

That seeks only to give in a way that is good, right, and fitting

Without thought of what will be returned

Without regard for loss

Without need for permanence

The desire to belong consumes us to be knit so intimately

Until we can’t tell where one begins and another ends

Where there exists such harmony in spirit

That in giving to the other we experience the full blessing of receiving

Yet our love of self so deftly taints that which could be

It becomes wildly possessive and keeps its object constrained

To protect?

Or to avoid loss

Is there a difference between the bounds of covenant and the bounds of love?

God’s love knows no bounds

He is Spirit and in Him we live and move and have our being

Can we know boundless love in Spirit?

Not if we are bound to love in return for love

His covenant to us is always extended unconditionally

Yet we are free to accept it or reject it

Do we love God unconditionally?

He ordains blessing for one and suffering for another

Grace and punishment, healing and sickness, life and death

His love manifests itself in variably perfect ways because our life is about glory to Him

He loves us enough to guide us to a place where our lives can reflect His glory

I long to learn

To love in a way that will not harm

With truth and purity and abandon

With regard only for the soul and spirit of another

Not my own gain

To be willing to move my soul into my actions

So that God’s love may be known in every breath and movement

To be willing to suffer loss, to be humbled, to face rejection

As I die to having my own needs met as payment for all that I lay down

I turn my eyes to heaven

And wait expectantly for love to fall upon me like the rain

In those moments, my love is safe,

In those moments, my love is His love.

Compiled notes from my journal 11-24-05

Love Letters Originally Posted on Deep Calls

November 19, 2006

Time For Everything

On Wood & Sand

Photo by Matt

Chains & Sand

Photo by Bgrace

Driftwood

Photo by Bgrace

Photo by Bgrace

Sand Dollar

Photo by Bgrace

Exploring

Photo by Bgrace

B in Wood Shack on Sand

Photo by Matt

*Can't wait to go back.  Matt and I will be heading to Seattle the second week in November to celebrate our Anniversary.  Counting the days AND making the days count.

The Threshing Floor

Photo by Bgrace

“But they do not know the thoughts of the Lord; they do not understand His plan, he who gathers them like sheaves to the threshing floor.” Micah 4:12

Sometimes I feel like I’ve been exiled to Babylon. I’m an Israelite saying, "God promised Jerusalem would not fall, and yet here I am—taken to a foreign land, among foreign people, and now I’ve got a whole lot of questions for God."

Did I do something wrong?
Am I here because I got lost?
Will I ever get out of here and if I do, will I get to go home?
What if home isn’t like home anymore?

I’m starting to realize that most of my questions are about me. Its so easy to be wrapped up in our own little story that we forget we are a part of well...God’s story. Maybe, just maybe there is something going on here that is a whole lot bigger than me. And maybe there’s still more ink in the pen. See, God is alive and working even in Babylon. In fact, God is known for taking the most dire situations and not just making them OK, but bringing overwhelming blessing from them.

“Rise and thresh, O Daughter of Zion, for I will give you horns of iron; I will give you hoofs of bronze and you will break to pieces many nations. You will devote their ill-gotten gains to the Lord. Their wealth to the Lord of all the earth.” Micah 4:13

In early OT times, at harvest season, wheat was reaped by a sickle or pulled out by the roots and then bound in sheaves. These sheaves or heaps of grain were carted to the threshing floor—a circular spot of hard ground. There the oxen trampled out the grain. (Smith’s Bible Dictionary)
When God calls his Daughter to the threshing floor—He’s talking about blessing, not destruction. God calls her out not to destroy, but to bring in the harvest. He likens her to the ox who goes to the place where He’s gathered all the wheat for her. And he says—I’m gonna make you really powerful in the midst of all the decadence, confusion, and chaos. You are not exiled, you are sent! You are going to stomp on the sheaves until you separate the grain from the fodder. That grain will be the Lord’s harvest.
This is written to Israel, but I believe there are personal implications here. And you know what? I really struggle with this. Because sometimes I feel more like a Babylonian than an Israelite. Or more like fodder than grain.
Why would God use me with all my junk?
And what if I don’t do it just right? I mean, I’m a big heavy ox, and what if I crush some of the grain in the process?
Then I get frustrated because I think well, if God made me to be an ox how does He expect me to tiptoe around like a ballerina?

“He will teach us His ways so that we may walk in his paths.” Micah 4:2

God, have patience with me...and help me to have patience with myself. I am willing to be sent. Help me to be a good ox. And lead me to the threshing floor of your choosing.

Photo by Matt

 

Originally Posted on Deep Calls

Nov. 14, 2006

 

*I have been on an assignment for a year and a half.  It has been really tough at times and I have often wanted to quit.  I wondered if there would ever be any grain to show.  But this week the harvest came.  I mean BIG--once in a lifetime BIG.  But then again, maybe this is just the beginning.  I woke up this morning and the awe had not quite worn off.  I thought about trying to write about it all, but found it too overwhelming of a task for today.  Instead, I found this old post and thought it quite perfect.  God has brought me to the place of His bidding, the place of His blessing.  The song that keeps going through my head is How Great Thou Art. 

How little I believed you at times God, but today I can bear witness, How Great Thou Art. 

A couple weeks ago I took out my Bible when I was sitting alone on the living room floor and read Psalm 104.  The first two verses turned themselves into a song.  My second song.  The last line of the song is "You are very great."  And I kept singing it over and over again, feeling the reverance in it. 

Thank you Lord, for showing me what that looks like, for allowing me to experience a glimpse of Your greatness in my life.

Ballet Lessons Part Two

Before the evening performance of the NYCB last Thursday night, Grace and I went to a pre-performance interview with Tyler Angle.  He is a Principal Dancer for the NYCB and is a wonderful dancer, but known to be especially good in partnering.  The woman who was interviewing him seemed a bit smitten with him and after cooing about how all the best ballerinas in the world were hoping he would be their partner, she asked him what he thought was the most important quality to have to be good in partnering.  "So is it strength or flexibility?" she said fairly coyly.  I found his answer incredibly refreshing and insightful.  "Actually," he responded, "It's neither of those.  I would say it is humility." 
"Really?" she said, visibly impressed.  "How so?"
He explained that when you are doing a series of steps/ lifts/ jumps etc., that you may land and find your position and be really happy with it, but the female partner may be a bit behind or ahead or over to the side, not exactly in sync with you.  So it's really an art to learn to move to her movement so that it is always seamless.  The male role in partnering is largely presenting the female.  In order to be willing to do that, you have to embrace the idea of humility.
She asked him then what he thought made a really good partnership.
Tyler was so insightful again.  He said the most important thing is for the dancer to trust him completely.  So that his female partner can move past performing the steps into complete abandon. That is the only way they can really dance together.
He went on to explain how he actually took a partnering class before he ever took a ballet class.  He was young and most of the girls were bigger than him, so he ended up having to learn to use his body correctly to perform most of the lifts, and how that was much more important than just plain muscle mass.  And he talked about empathy being incredibly important between the dancers.  Whether it's that you are sensitive because she's on point or she is understanding because you are the one lifting her, there has to be an empathy between you for what the other is dealing with. 
I was truly impressed by him, and thought that the things he had to say were so true about any kind of partnership.
The clip below features Tyler Angle in a partnering role.  It's a bit dim and is slow to start, but stick with it because the dance evolves into something really beautiful. 

Dancing With Shadows

Sunset on Cayuga

Photo by Brgrace

A deep ache presses forth

From this sore and tender core

It scrapes the lining of my soul

A rising, voiceless cry echoes

To the one who pulls me

By the reins of my pain

To his blood-sweated cheek

And we move through the darkness as one

Lamenting the cost of coming undone

We dance in the dirge of the slow-setting sun

Praying Father, Your will alone be done

Deep Calls
March 16,2008

After the Rain, Ballet Lessons Part 1

I wish I could find the whole ballet for you, unfortunately, you will have to go see it.  I did manage to find a few clips for you to see, though it isn't the same as being there.  When Wendy Whelan and Craig Hall danced the pas de deux (they are not the dancers pictured above) you could have heard a pin drop among the hundreds of people watching.  Everyone was mesmerized.
Earlier in the afternoon, Grace and I had the priviledge of hearing Christopher Wheeldon talk about choreographing this piece.  At the time, he had just separated from his partner of 7 years, who was also one of the two dancers he created this piece on.  He said that it just sort of flowed out of him--and that perhaps it was a good-bye. The first time he saw the piece with music and in costume (same as first clip), they were all in a rehearsal room, and some of the other company members had quietly joined to watch.  He said he looked over at them as they watched the pair, and they were crying.  He joked that he wasn't sure if they hated it or loved it.  But really then he knew he had created something very special.
I appreciated his transparency.  He was acknowledging that talent is only part of what makes art. There are times when our experiences, our emotions, our thoughts--our deepest selves are deeply touched and out of that place can come a creative expression that moves itself out from our soul and into a piece that we never could have formed any other way.  I find something sacred about the human experience in that.  His piece was one of the highest expressions of beauty I have ever witnessed.  The only thing above that in the creative process, is a work of worship--when we create beauty in sync, in a partnership with the Creator.
I wonder what it would be like to see Wheeldon choreograph that kind of a work.
It's definitely a ballet I'd like to see.

For more pics of our trip see The B Girls Blog

Favorite Things #4

Road Trips

Photo by Bgrace

As I was telling Dad yesterday, I don't know if it's the MK still in my blood or what, but I do love to go places.  It's a bit more complicated with the girls, but worth the effort.  

We're headed to Saratoga.  Well, first to Grandma and Grandpa Bruckner's in Geneva.  Then Grace and I are going to Saratoga tomorrow.  At the end of last dance season I could tell Grace was losing a little motivation.  I don't ever want to be one of those mothers who pressure their child into becoming something.  But I do understand the idea that I want Grace to not give up on something because she doesn't have perseverance.  So I prayed about it for a while and as I thought about it, I realized that Grace has never actually seen professional dancers.  I decided to try to give her a little dose of inspiration.  I asked her teacher where I should take her to give her a really good experience and her question was, "How far are you willing to travel?"  

"Anywhere!" was my enthusiastic response.  

"Than go to NY," she said.  

Soooooo, we found out the the NYC Ballet's summer home is  in Saratoga, only a couple hours North of where the Grandparents are.  Em and Sarah are so excited about hanging out with them (not so much into sitting through the long performances in silence) while Grace and I have a M/D date.  We got tickets to hear Christopher Wheeldon talk and then we see a full matinee performance.  Then we'll have a couple hours to check out Saratoga before the evening performance (all different from the afternoon performance).  So Grace is going to get a huge dose of arguably the world's best ballet.  And my goal is to cry through the entire 4 hours of beautiful. 

We scored great seats for all the performances--all for less than two tickets to JM. 

Ask me how excited I am.  No seriously, ask me...

Thank you Matt--for putting oil in the van and writing out directions for me since you know I hate bothering with maps.  And thank you for not begrudging us an adventure while you have to stay and work.

Luke 15:11-32

Photo by Bgrace

I know a story of two brothers:

The older and the younger

One who stayed, one who left

And the One who loved them both.

It was never about choosing between them

Like one would choose orange over green

Like one might choose the sunset over the sunrise.

Love isn't about choosing what we want:

Like one sister over another

Or one friend over another

Or one church over another

Love is about choosing God's will.

Sometimes God calls us to choose what makes the most sense.

Other times what makes no sense at all, at least from a human perspective.

Sometimes God calls us to celebrate what we have.

Other times He asks us wait.

Choosing the will of God is about dying to self.

Its about choosing the life He calls us to live.

"You are always with me and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life, he was lost and has been found."

Originally Posted 11-3-06

Deep Calls

Reading...

I started a project I've been meaning to work on for a while.  When I first started blogging, I wasn't taking pictures.  So I wanted to go back through my writings that I posted on my first blog, Deep Calls, and use photos of my own with my writings.  I'd like to make an album out of it.  Anyways, it means that I've been going through my earlier writings.  I don't know about you, but when I read earlier pieces it's very natural to remember a lot of the things I felt when I wrote them.  Those feelings have been lingering a bit. 
I love my earlier writings.  I still believe that they reflect truth and light and grace.  When I wrote them, I wasn't so sure.  I remember feeling so much fear and shame and confusion about everything that was happening to me. I don't look at myself that way anymore--that is the grace of God.
The truth is, I was confused, because I didn't realize that God could speak to me like He was.  That was hard on so many levels but that wasn't the awful part.  The awful part was that I didn't think I could ever tell anyone because I believed that the world would think I was crazy and the church would think I was demon possessed.  Unfortunately, more often than not, I was right.  The most horrific part of it all was my fear.  I was so afraid to believe God, even though deep down I did anyway, even when I didn't admit it to myself.
As I thought about that time in my life, I felt very sad.  I'm so sad I was afraid to trust God and to trust myself to hear God and to know His voice.  I'm so sad that I believed I couldn't trust the Spirit of God to reveal Himself to me personally.  I'm sad that I believed that I needed someone important to believe it for me first before I could accept it as truth.  I'm sad that shame and guilt and fear had so much power over me in the midst of my confusion.  I'm sad that I allowed people to convince me for so long that it was likely that the only reason that I was experiencing what I was is that there was something wrong with me--something wrong in my heart, in my motives, in my mind, in my desires, or that I was cursed or possessed, or just plain crazy.
I'm sad that it was so much harder to see truth than it should have been. 
I'm sad that I didn't understand that there was something right about what was happening to me.  I think there are probably a lot more people like me out there who are afraid of what's right with them, and terrified of what people might think.  For good reason.  And I'm sad that there are so few people who are really willing to listen.  So few people willing to be changed by what they hear.  I'm sad that it took me so long to rest in my belief.
It makes me sad to remember the pain out of which those writings came.  But I am also aware that if it were not for the pain most of them would never have been written. 
Again I am reminded, the cross is the blessing. 
So since I've been rereading some of the old stuff, I thought maybe you would like to. 
I'll post a few of my favorites over the next few days.
B

Brothers

The Room in the Girl

Photo by Bgrace

I wrote a piece the other day about the things I don't think I could live without.  At the top of my list was light and color.  It wasn't a very good piece, but the idea keeps swirling through my thoughts.  Especially when I stop and think about this room the Lord is giving me.
What I mean when I say "the Lord is giving it to me" is that He is opening up the blessing in it to me.  We can get a lot of things.  We can take them, we can buy them, we can make them, we can receive them.   But when we've been given something by God, there is just this enormous gift in it simply because it is an outpouring of His love to us.  The fact that He is bestowing it as a gift is the gift in itself.
Sometimes that comes in the simplest things.  I'm not fasting right now, and it's funny how at times I feel so blessed by my cup of coffee with real sugar and cream--because I feel like He wants me to have it.  Yesterday, throughout the entire day, I felt these little blessings in their fullness.  Things that so often could have just happened and not even shown up on the radar screen of importance gave me so much joy.  I needed to take Grace to dance and wasn't looking forward to the long car ride back alone.  So I decided to take Sam with me.  I just felt so blessed by his company.  Then I almost cried when I saw Grace's dance teacher because she just has this anointing upon her that I can sense--to teach dance--and I don't even know a thing about where she is with God.  I felt the fullness of God's gift to Grace in giving her such a perfect teacher.  Last night I laid down with Sarah to help her fall asleep and she was all arms and elbows.  But I noticed how she loved to make shadow puppets on the wall in the glow of her nightlight. She was so cute!  Then she fell asleep with her little arms across my chest and I was in heaven. But only because God was opening up the blessing to me as a gift and my spirit was receptive.  I was able to fully enter into it.
Sigh. It's why I can't go to the John Mayer concert this month.  I mean--there should be absolutely no reason I couldn't go.  I can afford to go if I am responsible with my finances.  Matt said he would go with me.  Jean said she would take me.  It 's close by.  The Lord has used him to bless me so much (and yes, I realize the guy's a mess--so don't preach at me).  But I KNOW that I am not to go, and even though I would love to, I wouldn't enjoy it, it wouldn't bless me, and I would know that it wasn't a gift from God.
Discerning what is and what is not from God, and what He is giving to us or asking us to give away is such an important learning process.  It is often so hard because it touches us in our most vulnerable places. We must be willing to give up and give away--He so wants us to be generous and willing to sacrifice.  But God also wants to bless His children and for us not to receive what He is giving is an affront to Him.  It is a distortion of our understanding of what it means to be in a loving relationship with a God who owns everything and wants to bless us with Himself and His creation.  I'm beginning to understand that God wants to entrust those things which are dear to His heart to those who will care for them and appreciate the blessings wrapped within it.  My heart aches over the process--and no, I don't always get it right.  If you only knew how strenuous it is for me sometimes to receive because I want to know it is not coming from my flesh. 
But then I can turn around and completely blow it on something stupid that I neglect to consult God about and wait for clarity.  I'm so grateful that He is patient with me...and still chooses to continue to bless me.  Of course the greatest blessing is always to give away.  But sometimes there are seasons.  And we need to trust Him to lead us both in our giving and receiving...and in our waiting to give and receive.  It takes humility to receive.  I am learning to trust the desires He places in my heart and ask Him to purify them and to meet them in a way that I know that I know that I know is Him.
And this room!  How can I tell you about it so that you will understand?  The light is like the most important thing. The morning sun shines in so bright.  And the colors.  And the floor...
I remember reading a few years back about how to create a sacred space for prayer or as a private sanctuary.  One person suggested taking everything out of the room and leaving it empty for a while--then only putting back in what the Lord led you to--one thing at a time.  I really loved that idea.  I wanted to get everything out and just have the yellow walls and my blue rug in the middle of the floor.  The idea of the empty space was so appealing to me.  I wanted to know that everything I put back in the room was a blessing from God for that space.  That it was what HE wanted.
My husband was not exactly too keen on the idea.  (Especially since the Bruckner clan is going to descend upon us this weekend.)  I did get all the seating out but the couch--we couldn't fit it through the doors of the basement.   (My two chairs aren't painted or reupholstered yet.)  And the bookshelves and the rock cabinet stayed, but I felt good about those being in the room.  Both the books and the rocks carry a lot of meaning to me, so I knew they belonged.  There's something about the black wood of the cabinets that speaks of authority to me--like the robe of a judge.  Everything was off the walls and I positioned the couch against the long wall and we put up white blinds we had in the basement on the windows.  I kept my black fleur de lis curtain rods but took down the curtains.  I found a beautiful fleur de lis fabric and a godly woman who sews for others as her ministry who will make them for me when the Lord (and Matt) tells me I can buy the fabric. The only other thing in the room was the new blue oriental rug on the floor.  It has traces of green and red and gold in it.  Oh I love sitting in the empty yellow room with the newly painted white ceiling.  We kept lamps in the room since there is no overhead lighting, but I prefer to sit in the dark with just the moonlight or a candle lit on the floor. (I ignore the couch.)  I think I would be happy to leave the room that way--but I know that slowly the Lord will fill it.  And it will be even more wonderful.
Sam has decided this room is his new home.  I think he's a little worried that since I took everything out of it he has to protect what's left, make sure it doesn't disappear (especially his couch).  I was a little uncertain about him being in the room all the time--wondered if he needed to find a new place to hang out, and as I thought the thought, I heard the Lord say to me, "I like Sam."  So that settled that. 
And then yesterday, in the midst of all my insecurity about it all--she came.  I think the Lord had perfectly planned her to come yesterday.  We purchased her on the trip to Bermuda, but I like to think of it more that she chose us.  (But that is another story.)  I can't look at her without seeing sanctuary and healing.  She's so beautiful and I feel so blessed that God has given us this painting.   I believe He gave it to us, and I don't think I would want it unless it was from Him.  But since it is, I cherish it as a very precious treasure, and as a reminder of what He can offer through us to others.
Last night though, as I sat with her on the floor I realized that I wasn't ready to give out sanctuary and healing like she could.  I desperately needed it myself.  So I sat with her, feeling the gentle gift of sanctuary and healing only the Lord can offer, and I know that every time I pause in front of her, I will hope that He will teach me how to help others find it in Him, and help to be a conduit of it from Him.     
I so want to become who He wants me to.  I so want to desire what He desires me to.  It's funny--I ache for land. But in my flesh--if you would ask me if I could live anywhere--have any kind of house I wanted, in any place in the world I would without hesitation say, "A house with big windows and a big porch looking out onto a secluded beach, with cliffs and rocks to the sides." No brainer. I wouldn't need another earthly thing. Maybe not even food.
But that's not what I ache for in my spirit. I know that if the Lord gave me money I would buy land here--hills and valleys and quiet and sanctuary and we would grow gardens and build a chapel and invite the women and children who need sanctuary and healing to come and walk with the butterflies. That is what I ache for. I believe that is the desire God has placed in my heart and someday I hope to see Him fulfill it. 
He is a God who empties our misplaced desires, then places His desires in our hearts, and meets those desires when and how He chooses--opening up the blessing in it all that truly fulfills.  It is only then that the gift is not the gift, but in actuality it is a part of the Giver--that is the only reason it satisfies. 
God, please show us your faithfulness in doing this work in the room in all of our hearts. 
Amen

La Dama de las Mariposas

She's here...

Breaking Points

What breaks us can often be the simple, the unexpected, perhaps seemingly random occurrences that cross our paths. 
I haven't cried in a long time.  That may not be unusual for some people, but for me it is a bit abnormal.  I usually get weepy at the slightest excuse and my heart is generally very tender.  I started to notice recently.  It's not that I am not sentimental.  But even when I watched the end of Toy Story 3 and was very touched, I wasn't reaching for a tissue like I usually would.  I realized then I had slipped a bit into numbness. 
The past couple weeks I've been carrying a mild level of anger around.  It kept rising to the surface in the little things that normally wouldn't upset me so much.  I kept blaming it on different surface events but I knew what was underneath it all.  The problem was, I couldn't do anything about it.  God kept showing me something I didn't want to see.  I acknowledged it and wanted to move on.  There was nothing I could do about it, nothing I could do to change it in anyway.  But He kept saying it to me over and over.  And I got to the point of extreme frustration with Him.  "What do you want with me?  Why do you keep drawing my attention to something so incredibly painful?  Why do you keep showing me?" 
So this afternoon I finally had it out with him.  Matt took the girls to the pool for a bit, and I stayed back thinking my legs were in need of a shave before I joined him.  But there it was, right in my chest.  So finally, in exasperation, I sat alone on my living room floor with Sam pacing around me because he wasn't sure what was happening, and I began to pray in my prayer language.  And the Holy Spirit began to lead my human spirit into the place of the pain.  Deeply into it.  And I wept.  Like I haven't wept in a long time.  Then I realized that God wanted my heart to feel what He had been telling me, not just acknowledge His words, and for some reason I wasn't able to do that on my own.  I needed to feel the pain before He could heal it. 
As I felt the pain it was as if a jar of ointment broke open inside of me and absorbed all the pain.  I sat in peace in a sort of wonder (and Sam settled down) and the thought that came to my mind was this...I have no idea what that was really about, but I know that the Holy Spirit is the Counselor.  And I will continue to entrust myself into His hands.  It's so amazing to me how He knows exactly where to touch me to open me up, and He knows exactly how to lead me toward healing.  Certainly I would have chosen to walk away from the pain, not toward it.  And He knows how to keep His finger on it until we break.  It reminded me of something that happened a few years ago.  I had forgotten about it, but the other day I was reading through my journals looking for something I had written, and I came upon it.  It's a story about Matt, and how God broke him open in tenderness toward his daughters. I wrote it in my journal almost exactly two years ago, and I thought maybe I would share it with you today. 
Matt had taken the girls over to the pool while I fixed dinner.  I told him dinner would be ready at 5:30 and specifically asked him not to be late. The pool is just across the parking lot at the back of our house.  At 5:40 Matt wasn't home, so I went out on the back deck to call him.  I could see him walking around the grass field inside the pool grounds.  I called over to him and motioned him to come home.  He looked at me a little strangely, but nodded.  A couple of minutes later he and the kids were walking across the parking lot and I went over to meet them.  Matt was visibly upset and started shaking his head.  He saw me coming toward him and said, "Don't even look at me."
"Why?" I asked wondering if I had done something to upset him. 
"Don't look at me or I'm going to cry," he answered. 
I asked him if something had happened and he nodded.  He was in a daze, like there were all these intangibles that he just couldn't get a handle on, something bigger going on that he just couldn't quite discern, and he kept saying over and over again, "I don't know why I'm so upset about this."  He kept trying to rationalize it. "It must be my anxiety.  I don't know why this is affecting me like this." 
So, still not understanding what was going on, I brought everyone inside and gave the girls something to do. 
Matt sat on the couch and was literally shaking.  He told me then that a little 10 year old girl had lost her necklace and locket at the pool.  She had taken the whole day off from school to look for it.  Her dad's ashes were in it.  Matt broke then and cried and I started to cry with him, feeling his pain for her.  He said, "If that were my little girl, I would like someone to help her find it." 
He held me for the longest time and I said, "I know, I know." I felt the Spirit of God working in it all.
We sat for about 10 minutes, he kept looking at me, and asking me why he was so upset, like I could explain it to him.  I just shook my head.  All I knew, is that in that tender place in His soul the Lord was doing important work.  And I knew that my daughters were deeply loved by their father. 
Matt went over later and looked for that locket.  He walked the entire field.  He never found it.  But I was glad he cared enough to keep looking.  My guess is, the Spirit of God walked with him.
I think I need to go find me a box of tissues.

The Dive

I've found the short end of the long pane of light

on the boards of my pale wooden floor

The blue in the sky is hopeful today

The sun shines yellow with warmth

My feet on the edge of bright reflection

My thoughts pondering the cross in the clouds

Stark white, straight, it hangs upside down

I creep precariously close to the ledge of light

Taking in the sky's inverted sacrifice

I wonder if it foreshadows my fall

Headlong into sight

Really

When you're really in pain, you lie on the floor.
There's something about how hard it is that feels right.

When you're really in the dark you light a candle.
Then look out the window at the stars in the night.

When you're really alone you curl up with the dog.
Lay your head on his side, feel his chest rise and fall.

When you're really cold you pull the blanket off the couch.
Covers your shoulders, gives you something to hold.

When you're really apart you listen to the saddest songs.
They dull the sharp edges of a broken heart,
Even if it's just for a little while.

My new favorite song

Favorite Things #3

Cherry Picking

Photo by Bgrace

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