Let Love Guide

Lenten reflection for The Parish A few years ago my father suffered a fall and had deep bruising that went from his stomach to his back. The cardiologist admitted Daddy to the hospital and stopped his blood thinners. Further imaging revealed he also had a subdural hematoma, so a neurologist joined his care team. When his team of —ologists were convinced he was well enough to go home, we were so excited. Still, arriving at home didn’t mean his health journey ended. At best, Daddy was precariously stable. While he did recover, I began to truly realize how fragile my father’s health was—and really how fragile all our lives are, if we allow ourselves to admit this truth. The Lenten season begins with us declaring our own limitedness: “Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return.” Just as Advent gives us forty days to prepare for the birth of Jesus, Lent is a time to reflect on who we are in Jesus. We journey with Jesus to the cross and, if we’re brave enough, we allow ourselves to a...

We’re going on an adventure! Hello from New Zealand! The beauty and majesty of this country is breathtaking. This trip has been a dream in our hearts. In the middle of chemo, I told Scott all I wanted to do before I die is go inside a Hobbit house. God took my prayerful lament and made good. They JUST opened a fully functional, interactive house on December 1. Dream complete! We rented a car and are driving across New Zealand, from Auckland to Queenstown. We’ve toured volcanoes and enjoyed a beautiful dinner with the Māori in Rotorua, rode the sky lift up into the heavens of Ruahpeu. Next stop Wellington, Nelson, Franz Josef, and Queenstown. Grateful to God. Grateful for my parents, whose provision made this possible. Grateful for this time as a family. Grateful for the beauty of this beautiful life. Grateful for dreams come true. “Now they rode away amid songs of farewell and good speed, with their hearts ready for more adventure, and with a knowledge of the road they must follow.” Ph...

The last few months I have lived a quiet life, spending most of my time with Scott, our boys, and the Lord. Occasionally I would venture out for lunch with a friend, but often, outside of church on Sunday, I was home. It wasn't a conscious choice, but I do know it was from the Lord. There was so much healing I needed, more than I was even aware. The days seemed to run together, undulating with familiar tasks and different rhythms. God was so near as I battled loneliness and discouragement. While I longed for connection, I also felt weary - too weary to have anything to give outside my immediate circle of family and friends. For the last four+ years, I have gone from grief to grief. I have faced, felt, and lived in the darkness, and I can testify what's true in the light is true in the darkness. In the deepest shadows, God has given me incredible treasures of His deep peace, deep trust, deep love. And, He's taught me what it means to hope in Christ. My hope is not to have an...

AfterWords, written reflection on The Parish gathering from Sunday, August 20 https://parish.community/.../afterwords-pursuing-love.../ “Blessed are we who are becoming, who have lived so long in this strange state we call time that it shows. We are changing, and that's how we know we are alive. Blessed are you who see the evidence of your own becoming, the places where you are worn from so much loving. The laugh lines from jokes that made your belly ache. Crow's feet from squinting to see the stars. Stretch marks from growing babies, building muscle, enjoying delicious meals. And yes, the places that hurt. That are visibly still wounded and sore, that change how you move or how you live. Blessed are you, seeing all this as evidence of loss, yes, but also of life, because what is real is now showing through. Blessed are you who do not despise your realness. It may hurt. You may not recognize yourself in the mirror. But this is what we hoped for, right? To live and love. To be ...

  "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." - Psalm 147:3 The calendar has been barreling towards Mother’s Day. I kept checking in with myself to see what emotions arose, but honestly felt at peace with the upcoming holiday. Then Thursday came. I had a week-long migraine and was so weepy. All of a sudden the loss of my mother felt fresh and raw. I realized I had subconsciously built a fence around the grief and loss. I would peer in at the edges, but hadn’t really allowed myself to push open the gate of my grief and really take it in. I kept reminding myself it’s almost been a year. I found myself ready to just get through all the firsts. Now I wonder what I expected to find or feel at the one year mark. There will never be a finality to my grief because love is infinite and eternal. In worship, during a contemplative exercise, I imagined a banquet with Christ, prepared just for me. The table was beautifully set, adorned with fragrant flowers - gardenias, roses ...

  B log post written for The Parish If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. - Psalms 139:9–10 During Soul Care Sunday, we were led through some breath prayers, which often begin by becoming aware of your own breath. As I focused on breathing in and exhaling, two themes arose—Breath and Lament. The last four years, as I’ve journeyed through sickness, grief, the loss of my parents, and deep depression, I’ve often felt I was at the bottom of the ocean—breathless in the depths. The night my mom went on hospice, I had a vision. God played back all the events from the last few years. As the Lord played back all the suffering, I was overcome with gratitude. All these events trained and prepared me for the months to follow. The lessons God taught allowed me to walk alongside Mama in the way of the Lord. I testified to the heart and character of God, while empathizing with th...