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A longing heart…
Advent is a season of preparation for His coming. A time of embracing the darkness, in preparation for the light. This year, I am thinking about the darker places in my life. The places of not now, and not yet. The weary waiting places, where hope has gone flat.
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Homecoming…
I think that love is more like this than the movies say. It’s jet lag and hospital waiting rooms. It’s Mom showing up each week, even when grandma doesn’t know her. It’s loading tables and clearing out the debris of life. It’s a homemade urn. It’s inside jokes, old stories, and long chuckles. I think love looks like a life lived together.
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Joy in real life…
Brene Brown says, “Joy is the most vulnerable emotion.” Maybe, that’s why I have always struggled with it. I open my heart to experience the exquisite beauty of this moment, but I know it cannot last. The sunset that paints the sky in sherbet colors of orange, gold, and lavender will soon fade to dusk. The moment of pure laughter and connection will soon shift back to living side by side. The smell of a warm baby, just out of the bath, gives way to a defiant tween. A long slow summer Sunday afternoon, too quickly turns to Monday morning. We don’t give ourselves over to joy in order to…
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Another way…
I don’t know if it is cancer or turning fifty, but these things are crystal clear to me now. I would have told you that these things mattered before, but I know them differently in this season of my life.
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Light in the darkness…
Love has not left us to navigate these dark shores alone. Under the pressing weight of loss and the devastating swirl of grief, we have found kindness and compassion.
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Six month follow up…
From this new vantage point, I can see the landscape of my life with a new eye. Life is oh so fragile from where I sit. Before now, I always imagined life would continue more or less as it had. Now, I can feel the thrum of life below the surface and recognize its value in a different way.
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A new rhythm…
There is a part of me that could pull away and isolate myself from all of this. In fact, in the weeks and months since my surgery I have to some extent. I felt like a shell of myself, walking through the daily-ness of my life, but without my heart and soul. I could feel people reaching out to me, but I could not, dared not respond.
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Grandma’s china…
I wonder how many times Grandma’s beautiful china made it out of the box over the years. I think my mom hung it on the wall in one of her houses, but I don’t remember using it very often. Even when I use it now, I get all nervous around it, afraid that it will jump out of my hands and break.
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All the words…
People sometimes say that they don’t like fiction because it isn’t real. I would respectfully disagree. Some of the most real things I’ve learned have come in the pages of a book.
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Full stop…
I have to believe life is smoothing out for a bit. But, even if there is another mountain just around the bend, I am certain that taking some time to prioritize health and wholeness will only help us with whatever comes next.