There are rhythms all around us sending us messages. The power goes out. The water tank is empty. The internet hasn’t worked in days. The car breaks down. The baby just wants to be held. In those moments there is a very critical choice that will make or break my day; will I listen to the rhythms or try to create my own? Read the rest of this post on the Taking Route Blog.
“If there was ever a meeting of broken-equals, redeemed and renewed partners and assured futures, this was the meeting.”
It was a redemptive day for me as my family and friends pooled their joy in a celebration of the hope of Jesus Christ. I think everyone was astounded at what the Lord can do with so little in such a short amount of time, but no one was as astounded as me.
There he was, towering over the crowd. Short blonde hair. My heart leaped into my stomach the moment our eyes met. I knew he was my husband, but I had no idea how it would ever happen. We were both such a mess.
I love tradition, symbolism and meaning. They help me feel tethered and give me purpose. It was only fitting that my wedding would be full of the past as we celebrated the present, looking forward to the future.
I forgot about the coming of Our Savior and Easter and Good Friday in the busyness of nothing.
The importance of embracing our stories is a concept emerging in mainstream culture, but the first place I ever read or heard about the role of story in our lives was in this book by Madeline L’Engle written in the 1990s.
I have a theory: you can recover from all kinds of calamities, mistakes, misjudgments, losses, and heartaches as long as you are able to walk out from under the cloud of shame into the redeeming light of day.
I had been carrying that precious cross of promise around with me the whole time. I never lost it or my faith; the Lord was keeping them both safe.
Faith has to co-exist with doubt. Faith is born at the delta of doubt.
In reality, none of us are in control. We can only create the semblance of control.
In my own life, I watched my plans and hopes catch fire, incinerating to the ground. At the beginning of 2015, I stood in a desolate, burned forest with no idea where to turn next and the Lord slowly led me out of the smoky haze.
Forgiveness is hard. I wanted to have my day in court, my vengeance in this life. Instead, I folded the card and tied a ribbon around it and attached it to a hot pink balloon. I did this ten more times, then I went to bed.
But when you come to the end of your rope and realize that you can't save yourself, you must turn to the one who saves and redeems through the most unorthodox means: like finding in a fog, going from weak to strong, sink to float, let go to receive, sacrifice to save.