Saturday, July 30, 2016

Hope Carried

Today, I stood.  In a room that could have been dark sorrowful dreary.  Instead, hope flickered and fanned into a brilliant blaze.

In a week where tragedy rocked our tight knit community, hope held tighter.  Glimpses all around.   As young people spontaneously gather to pray, uplift, cry and hold one another.   As friends call and reach out and stand together.  Even when we don't understand, hope surfaces.

Hope is the sweetest of incense that permeates death's nasty stench.  

In my own walk, down the dusty road that brought me to my knees.  Hope came.  A hug.  A prayer for my family.  Flowers delivered to my door.  The list goes on.

In all honesty, we all hit times where hope hibernates.  Alluding our grasp as we focus all our strength to cling. Because hope was never meant to be held alone.  Hope was meant to be carried.  

Carried into the hospitals of those sick with pain.  Carried into prisons where the world of sin has seemingly won.  Carried to a friends house with sticky cinnamon rolls.  Carried into a memorial where no one understands.  Hope was meant to be carried.

I witnessed it today.  The tears came for all of us.  At one point, my tears burst fast and furious.  Hope was there in the arms of a friend and a hug.  One that has walked my path.   One of my hope carriers.  

Hope carriers.  Find them.  Your life craves them.  You need them.  The ones that infuse hope into any situation.  The ones who can listen and understand and breath hope with a simple sigh.  

Hope carriers.  Be one.  The lives around you crave them.  They need you.  The ones that carry hope into a dark situation regardless of the ick that may splatter on you.  The ones who refuse to stay in the safe place and march into the battle side by side with you.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick ... but hope carried brings life like no other. 

"Oh, may the God of hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your believing lives, filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, will brim over with hope!" (Romans 14:13 the message)

Brim over with hope.  Splash it.  Spill it.  Slosh it.  All over everyone's lives, regardless of the circumstances that swirl.  Because hope was meant to be carried, together.  
I have been silent this week.  But today as hope filled my heart, I put pen to words and wrote.  That the lives of these precious ones would spill hope into all of ours.

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Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Tattered capes


Dear Single Brave Mom,

I love you.  I looked up to you as you raised your children alone.  In heart wrenching honesty,  I never wanted to be you.  

I prayed for you.  I admired your strength and courage.  In my worst nightmares, I never dreamed of walking in your footsteps.

You were my hero, but I didn't want to wear your tattered cape.

I scribble tonight.  Pen on paper.  My heart spilling all over the place.  Trying to catch every drop with syllables.  

Brave moms, we talked together and prayed.  We barbecued in my backyard and our children played.  You held me as my heart ached and the tears refused to stop.  You took my hand as I began the same journey.  You were there.  Holding me up.  

We talk about heroes and legends in our society.  But you never stand in the spotlight.  Silently, day by day, you raise your children in a less than ideal world.  You pull the all nighters, every night.  You wipe little tears and hide your own.

Thank you.  Thank you for loving me when I had no idea what you walked through on a daily basis.  Thank you for forgiving my ignorance.  Thank you for opening your hearts and homes when I needed tears.  Thank you for being you in the midst of the ridiculous expectations hurled at you. every.  single.  day.  

Your strength encourages me.  I can.  
Your grit nudges me forward.  I can do this.  
Your hope infuses me.  I can do this with joy.

To all single brave moms, including my own that raised me seated in a wheelchair.  thank you.  Because of you, I can walk this road bravely with my head held high.  Tattered cape and all.

Friday, July 15, 2016

Tears of Splash

I sit here.  No words.

This place is where I have come to splash joy.  To share the goodness of my God.

From the mission field as a family, I began this journey.  Wading into this blog to give Him the glory.  Back home in the United States.  Fostering our little princesses.  Raising our little precious family.

Splashing His glory.  Proclaiming His goodness.

Tonight, I have to splash.  You see, sometimes life hits hard. But in the hard, bring to your knees times, I will stand and proclaim that He is good.

I don't understand.  I don't have to.

Maybe that is where the real joy comes from.  The real glory.  When your heart is shattered and you wake up with the unthinkable becoming your reality.  When your worst nightmare unfolds before your eyes.  To refuse to bow to the storm.  To refuse to let go of the promises God has given you.  To refuse to walk in anything but victory.

In the midst of it all, I choose to shout it loud.  My God is good.  He is faithful through all generations.  His love never fails.

I dip in this place again, not for you sweet reader.  But for me.  And maybe just maybe, tears can make splashes of their own.

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Shards of Broken

My God is good.  No. Matter. What.

It's easy to believe when life glistens streaming brilliantly through the perfect window pane.  When the window pane smashes into thousands of shards and you stand in the midst of broken.  Will you still believe?  No. Matter. What.

Scooping up pieces of broken.  Feebly trying to put the pieces back together.  Slivered glass makes your fingers bleed.  When the situation completely shattered mocks you as you stand.  Will you still believe? No. Matter. What.

I whisper this to myself today as I kneel in the midst of broken.  Broken beyond what I could ever comprehend.   There is nothing I can do.  Nothing in my own strength.  When all you can cry out  "We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you" (2 Chron 20:12)   Will you still believe?  No. Matter. What.

Standing in the midst of broken.  Keeping your eyes on Him.  Setting down the broken shards and lifting your hands in praise.  Believing He is good. No. Matter. What.

My God, He's not in the window life smashing business.  And when you stand in the midst of the broken, He stands with you.  When you scoop up the glass shards and bleed because you try to put all the pieces back together on your own, He heals you.  When you have nothing left and the tears run dry, He strengthens you.  When you have no idea where to step, He leads you.  When you simply crumple, He holds you.

The thief comes to steal, kill, destroy, and shatter.  Jesus came to give us life, beautiful amazing, beyond what we could ever ask or imagine life.   Even in the midst of this broken.  I will believe.  My God is good.  No. Matter.  What.

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Your Story Through Mine


The stories shout loud.  Encourage.  Build up.  But the final chapters were always written before the story published. 

What if?  What if someone walking  through the darkest time of her life.  Walking, clinging, crying out, holding on for dear life to her Jesus, wrote.  Picked up a pen and bravely shared the story before the final chapter came into existence.  In the middle of the ick, the vomit of the enemy all over her life.  A woman choosing to dance in the victory now ... but not seeing it with her own eyes, yet.

Craziness.  Transparency.  Messy faith.  

Can God pour out His glory through anything?  Can I splash others with how God is carrying, lifting, providing, filling in the midst of the all that surrounds me?  Can His story unfolding in my life, bring peace to another drifting in a storm of their own?

Some may call it absurd.  To open up my life wide.  Before the hope I cling to becomes reality.  If my story reflects HIs glory before the final chapter is written.  If realness enables just one person to cling to His promises, stand strong, let nothing move them ... 

Breathe deep Sarah.  Pick up your pen.  Crack open the book.  Abba, author of life, lavish Your love and write Your story through mine.