Fall is here along with the lovely quotes that remind us of its power to show beauty in dying, magnificence in letting go, colors in endings.
But what about when the color doesn’t come?
This fall seems to be more brown than anything else. The weather this summer was certainly erratic enough to cause a loss of fall charm, and isn’t that how seasons go?
One season’s hard steals the joy from the next.
I feel this with trauma, the … continue reading
(For a more comprehensive look at my journey in 2018, see my blog post The Weight of What Happened)
Hey, five-years-ago-me,
It’s springtime again, the season of memories again, flowers blooming and sun warming and PTSD knocking again.
Like every year since, I wouldn’t need a calendar to know what time of year it is. This body of ours still reminds me, feeling the memories without even trigger, breath spontaneously shallow, thoughts swirling with potential catastrophes.
I am so … continue reading
It’s a strange thing to come back home.
For half of my life I grew up here, it was all I knew, all I’d known, and then the second half I spent in so many places.
Until God brought me back here, back to that same town as that first church, and the area that held so many memories. And so many questions.
And it’s a strange thing, to come back and it be so different, and me be … continue reading
My feet just kept taking me further and further into the deep end of the church pool.
Until I found myself a pastor’s wife ready to get out of the pool altogether.
It’s a strange thing to reach back into my mind, into those memories, and see that young girl in the pew confused and sad. And look back more recently at her as a pastor’s wife crying her eyes out as she walked back to her car in … continue reading
I thought leaving that church would be the end of it.
I left for college with naïve confidence. Being out on my own, making my own choices, this meant I was going to get church right, and church was going to be right, be what it was supposed to be in my life.
And yet a few months ago and just as many years as I spent in that first church later, I found myself triggered in pews and more … continue reading
This is where it all started.
That first church, that welcomed me as a newborn in the nursery here. Then into kids’ classes.
Baptized here, youth group here, a pianist here.
My mom the secretary, my dad head deacon, and oh so many days spent here.
Fervent prayers. Deep friendships. Beautiful music.
And the first several years of my life that was all I knew here. Or at least all I remember. The best of playing with friends, the joy … continue reading
Four years ago, spring had blossomed and Easter had been celebrated and then winter came.
That most beautiful time of seasons, little did I know, it was the end of beauty for a while, the ushering of a new beautiful season that would not be.
Spring was cut short in my life, the bitterest of my coldest seasons yet came instead, and I think I’ve always been a bit cynical of spring since.
By the time spring comes, I’m beyond … continue reading
I’m the one standing on tiptoe staring ahead into spring.
It’s been winter, and another winter season in more ways than one. It’s our first time living in a northern winter in 15 years. I’m tired of this season, tired of the cold, the dry, the hard, and my weariness is pricked by the forecast and life circumstances.
“Your life is going to be like a snow globe”, wise words from gentle friends warning of this next season we would … continue reading
How does a writer,
Pick up her pen,
When the weight just gets heavier,
The dark have no end.
The lists that are made,
Dawn journaled with sigh,
Of all the burdens weighing,
Then more added by night.
Pouring out prayers,
It’s too much Lord, see?
This is why I feel faint,
And my heart begs to breathe.
The day brings pain’s increase,
The broken break more,
The well stumble over,
The stable lay gored.
My own mind and heart,… continue reading
The dying leaves wrapped up secret life, and hidden whispers of newness was coddled in the barren land. I wrote about the concealed beauty here, the imagery here, grasping the gift of tangible hope. Dead leaves but new chicks, and blossoms in bloom that would wither too soon.
Weeks later, I arrived home from being days gone solo, spirit-rested and self-refueled, and the kids greeted me with hugs and laughter and glee. We chatted and caught up, and then … continue reading