I was never afraid of the dark. As a little girl I loved lying in bed in a dark room watching the night sky out of my bedroom window. We lived in the country so there was no light from buildings, street lamps, or cars. Just quiet darkness.
We carry them like stones in our pockets. Throughout the day we hold them in our hands and rub the rough edges with our thumb. We pick them up without even thinking. Carry them with us where ever we go. Worries. Cares. Anxieties.
Sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if I were as willing to repent as God is to forgive. I’ve been known to carry the weight of conviction around with me a lot longer than I should.
"Promise you'll never leave me. " It's a question that's probably been asked a million times. I know I've asked it. And it has been asked of me. In sweet moments of love we may have made that promise.
The tradition of the arrow started when my first born daughters graduated from High School and continued through this weekend when my youngest walked across the stage to receive his diploma. Letting go is hard for parents. For our children's whole lives it's our responsibility to protect them, guide them, and nurture them.
I’ve always been an expert at foreboding joy. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Seeing the glass as half empty. Cynicism. When you live from a place of fear it makes it hard to trust people. Makes it hard to trust God too.
"You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," was a phrase I heard often growing up. It set the tone for how I would approach life; if you help me, I'll help you. It was meant to encourage us to do things for others that they couldn't do for themselves, but there were strings attached.
I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day. I never have been, but working in a flower shop solidified my lack of love for the day. I tend to push back against things that are cheesy or contrived, and Valentine’s Day has always felt that way to me.
We sat sipping our coffees and checking our smart phones, a sprinkling of conversation here and there. I was afraid I was going to be late, as I snuck into the back row right as Sunday school got started.
I used to be terrified of my heart. My head and I were great friends. I could research and learn and file facts away and lean on them when I didn’t know what to do or think or say. But my heart… my heart was deep water that I was scared to dive into.