rise
I opened a text from my husband & saw a picture of our šš¤ššš” ššššš(we name our houses) engulfed. This once tiny treasure, this little slice of holy we were blessed to inhabit for five years, was being dismantled by flames to create space for a new dwelling place.
It had been a safe place away from the hustle & bustle where our boy could heal, our marriage restore, our souls revive.
Our lives had fallen apart & then, at šš¤ššš” ššššš, it fell into place. We rose as God transformed the ashes of a holy ground into a plume of sheer beauty & grace that still has us gobsmacked. When we arrived at šš¤ššš” ššššš, our life felt like drowning fire, choking like smoke, burning the eyes, & trying to steal oxygen.
We fought hard for any peace in those flames, clawing until we found a glimmer of light, & chased the silver linings like a daily methodical manna.
šāš āššššš š” ššššš ššš ššš š š”š šššššš š¦šš¢š š š¤ššš”šš š” ššš¦.
just look up
š¼š” š¤šš š”āš šššš šššššš šš š šššāš” š āššš” & š¼ š¤šš šāšššššš šš š š¦šš¢šš šššš š¤šš”ā š·šš¤šāš š š¦šššššš ššš”š šš¢š šššššš”ššš šøš . While walking her & her father back to her room, she paused at the artwork on the wall. The automatic doors šššššš & šššššš š Ņį“į“” ššššš while we waited as she smiled intently at the art. Without skipping a beat, her father lightheartedly chuckled that Źį“āį“ Źį“į“ŹÉ“į“į“ į“į“ į“É“į“į“Ź ŹÉŖs sį“ŹŹį“į“É“į“ ÉŖÉ“É¢s į“į“Źį“ Źį“į“į“į“sį“ ŹÉŖs į“ į“į“É¢Źį“į“Ź sį“į“į“į“į“į“ & į“É“į“į“Źį“į“ ŹÉŖŅį“ along the way instead of rushing from place to place.
just five minutes
š had š«ššš šš”šš šš¢šÆš š¦š¢š§š®ššš¬ could šš”šš§š š š š„š¢šš.
The year was 2012 and Ann Voskamp said I needed to walk five minutes of fresh oxygen into my cells each day(full disclosure: it was her blog post that told me-those daily blog posts coming to my phone were a lifeline). Iād been breathing through a cracked open window for two weeks in tiny snippets by that point and the idea of fresh air felt like a heap of timid amazing.