My five star hotel has heat.
My five star hotel has water – cold and hot! And water to drink and for making soup on the stove.
My five star hotel has two showers. It is a luxury to be so clean.
My five star hotel has flushable toilets and toilet paper. It is an amazing thing.
My five star hotel has food in the pantry, on the table, and in the frig.
My five star hotel has neighbors who share their water and food when we have a temporary condition of not enough.
My five star hotel has my husband who listens with love when I meltdown faster than the snow.
My five star hotel has a kitty who freaks when the couch is moved closer to the fireplace but returns to sit on my feet when routines are restored.
My five star hotel is home. Please help me remember to share and to be grateful for the bounty we have.
Over the past few days I have let the light drain out of me like a leaky oil pan.
My little duck feet have all but stopped paddling beneath the surface of what you see.
I have found myself in the weeds. The still stagnant waters surround me in a slimy film of greens. And, nothing but small broken twigs show up as something to eat.
As I see it, I have but two options: to continue longingly staring, with these eyes of self-recrimination, at the sparkling-in-the-sun river flowing on without me, or, to close my eyes and float in the shade.
With still feet and busy mind, everything screams inside of me, saying, “You had no business coming to the river. You should have stayed in the pond.”
this is where I am. I can see and admit this now, at least to myself.
This is where the currents of God and my free choice have brought me, so this is where I will be. Where I will wait and pray between the ripples of my little duck soul and striving mind.
While walking the deserted beach, I prayed, “Please forgive me, God, for wanting a loved one’s struggle to be over so that she can go on home.”
I knew it wasn’t right of me to ask this. I usually affirm that God’s got this; that God’s timing is perfect; that I can not play God or question what is between God and a soul. But sometimes I slip and ask for mercy as “I” see it—to some degree, having more to do with my pain than theirs.
Continue reading Soul in the Sand
I have finally admitted to myself that this time in our world is not so temporary of a state as to just “keep a stiff upper lip”, or to hold my breath and wait it out. I am finally being honest with myself that all of this is bigger than what my usual tools of faith and service can handle. I can no longer afford to pretend that I have “got this.” I don’t. It is time to pull out all the stops of self care.
Continue reading Pull Out All Stops
I believe this time, this very strange and terrifying time without borders or end dates, magnifies all feelings and circumstances that have been laying fallow—waiting for our attention and in care of our soul. I believe in these hours and days of isolation and stillness, what has been buried or obscured by busyness or distraction is rising—insisting to be seen. Noticed. Dealt with in resignation or protest with prayer and reaching out to others.
Continue reading Dusty Corners
Humility: discovering and honoring my limits as part of God’s design, not failure.
I am beginning to redefine humility as discovering and honoring my limits as part of God’s design, not personal failure.
Continue reading Holy Humility
Out of the corner of my eye I thought the sign said, “I’m Courageous Inside.” Cool, I thought. I stopped, and upon closer examination realized it was of course the predictable, promised “Gorgeous” hook often used when the outside of a house looks a little old, or sad. Continue reading Sign Of Love