Broken Pitcher

Walking along the shore today, peacefully taking in the rhythmic sounds of the waves, the beauty of the brilliant gray sky, the colorful tumbled stones upon the shore... The young people ahead of me were laughing and enjoying themselves and just then a sneaky wave wrapped round my ankles. As I looked down the footprints in front of me were swept away. In an unexpected instant they were gone. And it came to me that the marks we make on this world are fleeting.   It stopped me in my tracks – I had to capture this for you, for me.   Are the marks I’m leaving lasting? Or will they fade away?   When we come to the end of our lives, don’t we want to know that we’ve made an impact in this life, one that will last after we pass? But as I look around at crumbling cliffs and waning footprints, I think of falling towers and unsinkable ships that sank…  Who was the builder of the great ship? Who the architect of the twin towers? Anything made by human hands will one da...

What a majestic scene.  The rugged hills on the horizon frame the grassy rolling vale in stark contrast. Ancient oaks stand like naked soldiers on guard amongst the boulders strewn about the valley. Their branches bear the scars of time. They’ve weathered many a storm. There is beauty in the harshness of this wintery view.  As I’m watching, a thin sliver of white appears above the hills. It grows as the angst in my heart deepens. The storm clouds are once again gathering on my horizon. Another storm is building, one we’ve been watching it form from afar and now it’s drawing close. There will be no “blindside” this time. No, we’ve been waiting and wondering about when.  And once again, I see my feelings reflected in the panorama surrounding me. It speaks the words I cannot say, it reflects truth I cannot know. It portrays the depth and breadth of the “too much” that I cannot hold, nor let go. It’s as if in His great compassion, God is says, “I see you” “I know.” He shows m...

Pondering life...  

  Memorial Day I once thought I understood the cost of freedom. I’d heard the family stories, my momma named for her uncle shot down over France, I’d been to the parades and ceremonies, could repeat great quotes, I’d seen the movies…   But then a few years ago I walked among the names – name after name after name, reaching far, even unto the horizon;  and the faces of sons and daughters and mothers and fathers – determination in their countenance, fear in their eyes, aged beyond their years.  One caught me as I walked by, gripped my heart and dragged me up close. He stared at me, wanting me to see, wanting to be known. Though his lips unable to speak it, his lifeless eyes told of the horrors he’d seen, the death he’d lived, the life he’d taken. He was just a boy, once full of life, now, full of death. He begged “Remember me.”  And through tears I vowed I would never forget him. Him without a name, an ordinary face – just one among many…  And then ...

Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure"-- for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints. [Rev 19:7-8]   We’ve all been to weddings. Everything focuses around the bride. My favorite moment is to watch the groom as he catches the first glimpse of his bride, he’s overcome by her beauty – she’s prepared herself specifically and especially for this day.   Now imagine, how does the bride of Christ prepare herself to be radiant for her beloved? Righteous deeds, good works… As I pondered this passage and how it applies to this season,  I heard “Un-becoming” . I sense that this season we are in is a cleansing period, a time of preparation.   UN   becoming who we’ve become; busy, weary, anxious, overburdened, chameleon – being who others want or expect us to be. Lost, depressed, frustrated, needy.  And ...

  What if?   What if we stopped reacting to the words of the few whose goal it is to stir up dissention? What if we ignored those who pointed fingers at others different then themselves and just loved people anyway? What if we let go of past sins and offenses of our ancestors and instead embraced each individual? What if we hated injustice, instead of hating people… Call me naive. Call me a dreamer. Call me ignorant. But what if… What if instead of being puppets yanked about by the “man behind the screen” we realized that the “few,” though loud, do not represent the whole. That those few who spew hate are evil. What if instead of believing and responding to the hate-hype we just simply turned it off.   But it’s much more than that isn’t it?   There is an evil in this world and it’s out to kill, steal and destroy us! To pit brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor, people against God…   But, what if we put the blame where the blame lies and stopped blam...