A while back I wrote a “Liturgy for the Fog” mainly for my missionary friends in the very foggy season of transition, after going through my own very foggy transition season.
Now I wrote a Liturgy for Spring, ripe with hope and also pain.
Springtime arrives. Slowly at first and then all at once.
Green is everywhere
The blooms and pollen and flowers teaming with new life and vigor
Reminding us that year after year the cycle continues:
New birth, revival, hope.
The hope of sunshine and warmth for body and soul
The promise that the chill of pain and darkness won’t last forever
The promise that nature births hope each spring even if we cannot
The promise that God holds hope for us
Even when we cannot muster our own Read More
I wrote this piece in February, 2017 and over two years later it still rings true. I want to keep returning to my heart, keep listening to her voice, keep creating space for her to breath.
Dear Heart, Read More
I'm not very good to you sometimes. I'm not very kind and gentle. I expect you to see the worst of the world, the injustice, the suffering, the pain, in the States and in my current home, and I just expect you to keep on plugging, keep on pushing. I haven't given you very much time to process the deep pain and suffering you've seen and felt. And for that, I'm very, very sorry.
It's in the quiet days of listening to worship music, a sermon, cooking, cleaning, that I get to digest the things my soul has seen, has bore witness to. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've let other peoples thoughts and actions invalidate you. I'm sorry I haven't trusted you a lot of the time. I'm sorry I've let you trust people that have proven to not be trustworthy. That happens in this life, even when you're being careful, but I'm sorry I haven't given you the time and safe space to grieve and feel that.