Holy Week: Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday: The Last Supper. The foot-washing. The wounds of the heart are an underground cemetery of seemingly lifeless things. There lies our secret shames, internal struggles, deepest pains, open wounds, wells of pride and legions of anxieties. On this Maundy Thursday, I think of my wounds. On this Maundy Thursday, I think of myContinue reading “Holy Week: Maundy Thursday”

Unshed Tears of a Military Child

“I can see them. As we read books together before bedtime, I see them. I see the side of her mouth trembling a little, just like her dad’s does, keeping it all in because in this world,  STRONG is what we teach. As we read, I go over the day in my mind: The 3 times she broke outContinue reading “Unshed Tears of a Military Child”

Christmas: The Promise of Rest

Advent: I  was talking to a dear friend of mine. This friend, like me, LOVES the Christmas season.  Yet, this year, my friend is experiencing more gloom than joy, more weariness than hustle and bustle, and more frustration than Christmas cheer. All around, the world turns mad with hurriedness. A party here, a church eventContinue reading “Christmas: The Promise of Rest”

“What would you do if no one ever heard you? Would you keep singing your song?  What if you sang BECAUSE the only person you want to hear your lilting voice is God’s searching ears?   That, my friend, is the best reason of all.”

Yielding Up My Wounds (2017 Journal entry)

I know you, He says. You are not hidden from me. You turn to false loves, but they cannot cure you. They cannot heal your wounds. Seek me. Return and repent (vv. 3, 14-15, my paraphrase). The past two years have reaped of bleeding wounds. Even worse, they were old wounds. To put it plainly, it was likeContinue reading “Yielding Up My Wounds (2017 Journal entry)”

In The Using (a journal entry from 2017)

In the dark, quiet morning, I rose before anyone else. I slowly walked into the kitchen, careful to not turn on any lights along the way. I lit a few candles and proceeded to make my French-pressed morning coffee, and I stood at the counter. There, I slowly began to awaken, with forced movements andContinue reading “In The Using (a journal entry from 2017)”