Trust you are welcome here today. Even as I wrestle in the tension of fear of the unknown, I welcome your presence of hope and the invitation to believe that God is working all things for good even in the midst of fear and suffering.
Grief you are welcome here today, as I hold the pain of the loss of three babies this year and mourn the babies and the pregnant belly I should have been holding this holiday season. Grief, you remind me of the preciousness and gift of each of these babies we’ve lost--loving them in the face of loss is worth the pain.
Change, you are welcome here today. You stretch me, excite me but also fill me with trepidation. You alter my destination but bring new horizons to my journey and pI know I must accept you to grow.
Overwhelm, you are welcome here today. I don’t like the way you make me feel, the shallow breathing and tense body. But you remind me that my heart is big and healthy while it is not as wide or as long or as deep or as high as God’s. I do not need to be God.
Disappointment, you are welcome here today. We are familiar companions if not exactly friends. You remind me that I have always hoped and have always desired and that those things are more than okay. Those things are living.
Grateful for my 7-year-old’s artwork that is left on my pillow and under my keys, that is on our walls, and that is a constant reminder that she is *here* with us. She’s not ashamed to litter our lives with her art. And I hope she always stays that way.
Slowness, you are welcome here today. You are not the pace of the world spinning around me, but you are my pace now and I am becoming better friends with you. Finding myself thankful today for the way you heighten my senses to all that beautifully fills my little world and the space to embrace all that is hard.
Echoing Deborah above: Disappointment, thank you for reminding me to open my hands and release the life I hoped for. The dreams unfulfilled. With open and empty hands, I'm free to welcome the life that had been smothered by expectations.
Nostalgia, you are welcome here today. You hold my memories, filled with both sorrow and joy and keep me both tethered to the past, giving grace to who I was and open my heart to the future, providing space for who I will be. You are a very good friend.
Dementia, you are welcome here today (I never thought I’d say that! 🤣). You are proof that my mom and dad have lived full lives. You remind me to hunt for joy. You are teaching my entire family the gift of patience, sacrifice, and unconditional love.
Uncertainties. I welcome them only because my trust is in the Only One who promises never to leave me alone to handle all the future uncertainties the will be coming, as well as living today with the “unknowns”. I just returned home in an Uber. The driver told about a freak eye accident his father had. He may lose his vision. At the Medical Center the nurse who attended me told of her Dad who just had surgery for a tumor in his esophagus. I am hooked up to a Holter and “Mapa” blood pressure cuff for 24 hours to “map” my heart activity. What will be the result? (I have already done several other exams and still have another ECO heart exam tomorrow. So many unexpected happenings in our lives. I PREFER predictability. I prefer to plan ahead. I do not handle “surprises” well. That is, the ones that make me afraid, or even just annoy me ‘cuz they require something from me that I hadn’t counted on. So, when my knee-jerk reaction is not gracious or accepting, I am later ashamed of my lack of TRUST in our awesome gracious and loving Father who is always in control. I know this in my head : He promised to “make a way of escape” so we can bear it. But then I wrestle with this: But I don’t WANT “this”. Obviously He does. At least He has “allowed” it. For my “good”. And of course for His glory. So the journey continues. I am learning to TRUST HIS LOVE and TRUST His goodness. Like a child needs to trust his Mommy when she takes her for a vaccine shot. It hurts. But it is for my good. So -I welcome the uncertainties of this journey. God is good. Always.
Indecision, I welcome you here today. Though you tend to be my constant companion and I’d prefer another, to be honest, I have to admit you allow me to float somewhere between dreaming what could be, and committing to a path- which would make me say no to other things. You leave me dangling in a way that makes me feel anxious and wonder at the same time. I suppose you’re good for my soul, to take a moment and take stock; to see where different paths could lead…and picture myself on all of them.
Dependence (cringe, ugh), you are grudgingly welcome. Isn't the American goal of adulthood to be away and independent? To have smoothing that is just mine and not yours? But dependence has given me many gifts. A father for my boys in the form of a grandfather upstairs when my boys' dad traveled months every year, and now we are divorcing. Gifts of rest and margin, as my dad is outside right now hanging Christmas lights with my older son while I type this. Gifts of safety in numbers as my parents sat with me through my son's recent seizure, the first in years. Gifts of getting what I asked for and also what I didn't ask for but turned out to be exactly what I needed: first job after a decade of mothering but who knew that going into the office part-time and telecommuting the rest would be the just-right schedule that made me feel like a professional again. Dependence has been hard; after all, my bed is in the living room and I don't have a retreat if I need to get away from people, but dependence had surprising gifts of its own. I'll keep her until it's time to grow.
Tears you are welcome here today. Your presence in my eyes and on my cheeks tells the story of loss and love and pain and future hope of heavenly reunion. You’ve been my daily companion for the last few months and I expect you will visit me daily through this holiday season too. I welcome your ability to remind me of my great capacity to love and welcome others into my heart, even through the heartbreak of difficult goodbyes.
Childlikeness you are welcome here today. Jump right into the joyful absurd. Laugh loud, sing off-key, give out hugs like candy. Let glee be your byword. Remind yourself with each breath that these are the good old days. And watch your prayers being answered right in front of your brimming eyes.
My health: and this is sort of wonky and 2 fold. Of late I have had some health problems making some days hard. But it makes me so appreciate a good day. And knowing prayer is always available, and I resort to it, but also thank Jesus on the good days.
Maybe it’s odd to be greatfulll when my health isn’t good but it gives me peace in the comfort of god. I also contemplate the suffering on the cross my problems look minimal in the face of that. It is so humbling to realize how great the sacrifice was.
Waiting, you are welcome here today. I confess that I avoid you too often. I love the thrill of "doing" and "done." But you are showing me that rushing to activity can lead to missed opportunities and settling too soon. Your unfilled calendar invites me to look deeper, learn more, and to finally choose wisely.
Trust you are welcome here today. Even as I wrestle in the tension of fear of the unknown, I welcome your presence of hope and the invitation to believe that God is working all things for good even in the midst of fear and suffering.
Grief you are welcome here today, as I hold the pain of the loss of three babies this year and mourn the babies and the pregnant belly I should have been holding this holiday season. Grief, you remind me of the preciousness and gift of each of these babies we’ve lost--loving them in the face of loss is worth the pain.
I’m so sorry. Thank you for sharing… sending you love.
Thank you for your kindness!
That's so hard.
Change, you are welcome here today. You stretch me, excite me but also fill me with trepidation. You alter my destination but bring new horizons to my journey and pI know I must accept you to grow.
Nailed it.
Overwhelm, you are welcome here today. I don’t like the way you make me feel, the shallow breathing and tense body. But you remind me that my heart is big and healthy while it is not as wide or as long or as deep or as high as God’s. I do not need to be God.
Disappointment, you are welcome here today. We are familiar companions if not exactly friends. You remind me that I have always hoped and have always desired and that those things are more than okay. Those things are living.
Amen
"if not exactly friends." YEP. Love this.
Thanks for reminding us that writing helps.
Grateful for my 7-year-old’s artwork that is left on my pillow and under my keys, that is on our walls, and that is a constant reminder that she is *here* with us. She’s not ashamed to litter our lives with her art. And I hope she always stays that way.
I hope she always stays that way too!
What a gift 💝
Treasures to hold dear in the future.
Slowness, you are welcome here today. You are not the pace of the world spinning around me, but you are my pace now and I am becoming better friends with you. Finding myself thankful today for the way you heighten my senses to all that beautifully fills my little world and the space to embrace all that is hard.
Love this.
Humility - thank you for maturing me and helping me cope with what may seem unfair and unkind.
Beautiful.
Echoing Deborah above: Disappointment, thank you for reminding me to open my hands and release the life I hoped for. The dreams unfulfilled. With open and empty hands, I'm free to welcome the life that had been smothered by expectations.
Nostalgia, you are welcome here today. You hold my memories, filled with both sorrow and joy and keep me both tethered to the past, giving grace to who I was and open my heart to the future, providing space for who I will be. You are a very good friend.
Dementia, you are welcome here today (I never thought I’d say that! 🤣). You are proof that my mom and dad have lived full lives. You remind me to hunt for joy. You are teaching my entire family the gift of patience, sacrifice, and unconditional love.
Uncertainties. I welcome them only because my trust is in the Only One who promises never to leave me alone to handle all the future uncertainties the will be coming, as well as living today with the “unknowns”. I just returned home in an Uber. The driver told about a freak eye accident his father had. He may lose his vision. At the Medical Center the nurse who attended me told of her Dad who just had surgery for a tumor in his esophagus. I am hooked up to a Holter and “Mapa” blood pressure cuff for 24 hours to “map” my heart activity. What will be the result? (I have already done several other exams and still have another ECO heart exam tomorrow. So many unexpected happenings in our lives. I PREFER predictability. I prefer to plan ahead. I do not handle “surprises” well. That is, the ones that make me afraid, or even just annoy me ‘cuz they require something from me that I hadn’t counted on. So, when my knee-jerk reaction is not gracious or accepting, I am later ashamed of my lack of TRUST in our awesome gracious and loving Father who is always in control. I know this in my head : He promised to “make a way of escape” so we can bear it. But then I wrestle with this: But I don’t WANT “this”. Obviously He does. At least He has “allowed” it. For my “good”. And of course for His glory. So the journey continues. I am learning to TRUST HIS LOVE and TRUST His goodness. Like a child needs to trust his Mommy when she takes her for a vaccine shot. It hurts. But it is for my good. So -I welcome the uncertainties of this journey. God is good. Always.
Indecision, I welcome you here today. Though you tend to be my constant companion and I’d prefer another, to be honest, I have to admit you allow me to float somewhere between dreaming what could be, and committing to a path- which would make me say no to other things. You leave me dangling in a way that makes me feel anxious and wonder at the same time. I suppose you’re good for my soul, to take a moment and take stock; to see where different paths could lead…and picture myself on all of them.
Dependence (cringe, ugh), you are grudgingly welcome. Isn't the American goal of adulthood to be away and independent? To have smoothing that is just mine and not yours? But dependence has given me many gifts. A father for my boys in the form of a grandfather upstairs when my boys' dad traveled months every year, and now we are divorcing. Gifts of rest and margin, as my dad is outside right now hanging Christmas lights with my older son while I type this. Gifts of safety in numbers as my parents sat with me through my son's recent seizure, the first in years. Gifts of getting what I asked for and also what I didn't ask for but turned out to be exactly what I needed: first job after a decade of mothering but who knew that going into the office part-time and telecommuting the rest would be the just-right schedule that made me feel like a professional again. Dependence has been hard; after all, my bed is in the living room and I don't have a retreat if I need to get away from people, but dependence had surprising gifts of its own. I'll keep her until it's time to grow.
Tears you are welcome here today. Your presence in my eyes and on my cheeks tells the story of loss and love and pain and future hope of heavenly reunion. You’ve been my daily companion for the last few months and I expect you will visit me daily through this holiday season too. I welcome your ability to remind me of my great capacity to love and welcome others into my heart, even through the heartbreak of difficult goodbyes.
We said the same thing. Hugs.
Hugs back.
Childlikeness you are welcome here today. Jump right into the joyful absurd. Laugh loud, sing off-key, give out hugs like candy. Let glee be your byword. Remind yourself with each breath that these are the good old days. And watch your prayers being answered right in front of your brimming eyes.
My health: and this is sort of wonky and 2 fold. Of late I have had some health problems making some days hard. But it makes me so appreciate a good day. And knowing prayer is always available, and I resort to it, but also thank Jesus on the good days.
Maybe it’s odd to be greatfulll when my health isn’t good but it gives me peace in the comfort of god. I also contemplate the suffering on the cross my problems look minimal in the face of that. It is so humbling to realize how great the sacrifice was.
Waiting, you are welcome here today. I confess that I avoid you too often. I love the thrill of "doing" and "done." But you are showing me that rushing to activity can lead to missed opportunities and settling too soon. Your unfilled calendar invites me to look deeper, learn more, and to finally choose wisely.