coming up on three years…

Well Abraham, it’s been about three years now. Three years of Bedouin camps and bumpy camel rides. I remember the first time we met, at the shepherd’s midnight fire. It’s funny how Bethlehem was the door to time travel. It makes sense, considering who we met there.

I must confess, I haven’t always enjoyed the pace. I’ve been tired and frustrated and lost, not to mention the lack of general hygiene. And your lead camel seems to save all his spit for whenever I pass. The whole thing just isn’t sanitary. But I think you’ve saved my sanity in many ways. I’m glad you’re here. At least we’ve been lost together.

I’m pretty sure I’m not ready to go home yet. It’s not really my choice, and I don’t know where home is yet either. So I hope you don’t mind me tagging along a bit farther.

~lg

love

love bears all things
believes all things
hopes all things
endures all things
love never fails

There is no more beautiful truth than this. This is God’s love, meant to be given to us through human hands. This is the love that bears my burden of imperfection, believes I am worthwhile, hopes that the morning will be better, endures through the night, never fails me. I am thankful my husband enacts this ancient poetry, giving words wheels.

1 John 3:18

~lg

freedom

Freedom falls like an August wind before the thunderstorm, charging the atmosphere with the electricity of hope. Hope that the deluge will descend in the splendid violence of overburdened precipitates, releasing waves of sound that drown the whimpering city. Freedom falls in the force of flood – close your eyes and let it take you.

~lg

Own Me

– Ginny Owens

Got a stack of books so I could learn how to live
Many are left half read, covered by the cobwebs on my shelf
And I got a list of laws growing longer everyday
And if I keep plugging away, maybe one day I’ll perfect myself

Oh but all of my labour seems to be in vain
And all of my laws just cause me more pain
So I fall before you in all of my shame
Ready and willing to be changed

Own me, take all that I am
And heal me, with the blood of the Lamb
Mold me, with your gracious hand
Break me till I’m only yours
Own me

Oh you call me daughter, and you take my blame
And you run to meet me when I cry out your name
So I fall before you in all of my shame
Lord I am willing to be changed

Own me, take all that I am
And heal me, with the blood of the Lamb
Mold me, by your gracious hand
Break me till I’m only yours
Own me

doubt

Abraham, how could you? How could you follow a God who seems to laugh in your face by turning promise to torture? Did doubt scream protests and tear its clothes inside your head? Sure, it turned out for you. The lesson, we are told, is about trust. Just trust and it will all be ok. But I’m not so sure what will happen to me. I’m afraid to walk the path of self-denial, three days to the top of the hill, heaping kindling upon what I welcomed as a gift. I have my old swiss army knife, heavy in my pocket. Is it big enough? Will I have to use it? I doubt there are rams in these parts, much less angels. Abraham, will you carry me home if I have to come back alone?

~lg