In A Field

We live in a fairy world where we think everything should come easily, where things stay calm, no ripples on the water, no contest we can't win, nothing we can put our hand to that doesn't turn out just right.  But this is not the truth of where we stand.  This world is hard.  Relationships are messy.  People grow old and weary or sick.  It infects each one of us.  Nothing we do can protect us from the wear of this earth.  Yet there is such beauty in this place; love and laughter, kindness and hope, joy and excitement. But I cannot have one without the other and so I dance between the two. Sometimes the steps falling into place, one emotion closely behind the other. Other times the separation of the two so vast I cannot see their connection. It's delightful and ugly in the same instance.  I carry the promise of new life in a body that daily is wearing down, the beauty of God working through the brokenness of me. All of this is for the good.  He is beau

I'm clinging to Your promise.   i won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you This can feel like walking on a beach of sharp rocks in thin sandals, every hard edge is felt underfoot.  A burden deeply rooted into who I think I am- the story I told myself to make it through.  A story full of exaggerated circumstances and victim armour I now find hard to discard.  Lies caught up in a reflex of survival, but that have no leg to stand on. The old life fortifications are being dismantled and I find there's a part of me that's fighting against it. Foolishly.  I've been duped by my own mind's eye.  What I always thought was the truth about myself was a pale shadow of the Wisdom of real, honest to goodness Truth. you'll learn to live freely and lightly About so much more than physical hunger, I am learning how to cope without reaching for a tangible, home-cooked, sugary something.  I'm learning to sit in my own discomfort, insecurity,

The heart of an eleven year old girl still beats in an adult.  Somewhere.  She's alone.  Lonely.  She feeds her to keep her quiet when her crying gets too loud.  Her heart is broken and she can't find her way to fix it again.  She thinks if she could just keep everyone around her happy, the pain will dull somewhat.  Truth is, she only loses more of herself when she edits her character and her opinion to keep life at an even keel for everyone else.  She is tired of holding up her world, while time marches on and the wound gets deeper.  Her heart is tender but she makes allowances for those whose ways are a little harder than hers.  She keeps quiet because it matters more how she appears than what comes from her heart and mind.  She loves even more to be helpful with a smart idea if the moment presents itself.  She'll replay the conversation over and over when she is the hero and does the same when she's appeared foolish.  Only it's not pleasant and tends to wear h

The five contently munch on waffles and cereal at the kitchen table as I leave and make my way uptown for a few hours. Entering the kitchen of the cafe, I find my companion already putting day old donuts and bagels onto plates. She is flying through the kitchen, stopping to say good morning and giving me a quick hug. I can never go faster than she does. The pots of coffee ready to be poured.  Our customers stand outside waiting to come in. Looking impatiently in the windows as we move through the kitchen preparing to open. Hot water is making mountains of bubbles in the plastic wash tub.  We'll wash the same cups and spoons multiple times this morning.  Refill after refill.  Bottomless cups of coffee.  The sound of the cups being filled a familiar sound even as this place has become familiar. Pouring just the right amount.  Can I have a sweetener?  Can I have a plastic bag?  Do you have any bread? Small notes are written on brightly coloured tabs of paper and passed to me thr

1977 Not all that long ago I stood at my mother's dresser shuffling through the things she left behind.  Searching for remnants of her in the small bottles of perfume, half used containers of cream, and her favourite brown leather gloves.  All things that were once so ordinary now held much wonder and charm.  I would wander into my parent's bedroom when no one else was around and look through her clothes.  Leaning in to her closet, desperate for any hint of her familiar scent, still able to hear her voice when I closed my eyes.  I spent many hours in there, sitting on her bed, looking in the mirror, crying myself weary.  Even now there seems to be just a small amount of myself left back there in that eleven year old girl.  I knew then, as I do now, that God was near.  That He would not walk away from me even when the time came that I'd try to walk away from Him.  Through the trials of my teen years to the joys that now unfold through my married life and motherhood,

There will come a time when you won't care so much what your hair looks like when you leave for a few minutes of alone time to get a prescription filled.  You won't even care that you'll wear clothes that you've slept in.  You'll find days when you won't want to do much, when just being upright in a chair will be enough.  You'll have long stretches of time when you will bask in the thankfulness of a full night's sleep only to find it will be taken from you again the following night.  You'll love to stand and watch your children sleep.  Your heart will well up with incredible love and fear all at once for who they are and what they will endure.  You'll hurt for them.  You'll cry for them.  You'll stay up at night praying for them.  It will be hard for you to wrap your head around the love you'll feel for your children and also for the increasing love you have for your husband. There will be battles that you will want to win becau