Death days

July 9.

It seems appropriate that my last post was about piles of stones, because I woke up today realizing I do have them.  I do have ebeneezers floating around to remind me of the ways I’ve been delivered.  My piles of stones are dates on the calendar.  Dates that remind me of faithfulness. Dates that remind me that when the bottom falls out and you fear the free fall, another ledge will catch you somewhere in the dark.

Stones to remember

Tell your kids about ME.  Put these stones here, where they will see them.  And when they ask: ‘what are these rocks? Why do we have this big pile of stones here?’  Then speak. Tell them of the day I parted the waters so you – all 40,000 of you – could be free. Could walk toward rest.  Tell them the story of that day so that would know who their God is.  

I read that story in Joshua this morning and I keep thinking about how terribly vulnerable it must feel to have a pile of rocks laying around that likely represent one of the most sacred days of your life.   That anyone could see and ask about at any time.

Next 20 days of Advent | And not being believed.

Boy. I tell you what, today’s Advent really took it out of me.  If you’re receiving the daily emails, you might have noticed today’s was a tad delayed.

Today was the hardest one so far, but not in a bad way.  Sometimes a sense of responsibility and the weight of words settles over me and I can’t shake the sense that – this one – this one I want to get right.  This truth is too precious to me to share flippantly.

I don’t know what to say.  I am out of words.  I am humbled, amazed, stunned, leveled by our God who has come to us in the dark of night.

The Miraculous in the Messy

I wrote an Advent devotional once before.  I still remember the feeling as my fingers flew over the keyboard. It was pages of some of the finest writing I’d ever done; heart and soul left on the page.  I was so confident God was in it, that when the feedback came, it took me a beat for to understand what I was hearing.

“It’s too…depressing.”

His words echoed in my mind all day long, until they finally solidified into a simple fear and a question that haunted me for little while too long:  Oh shit.  Is it just me?  Am I the only one who thinks this whole think is kind of a cluster?  

July 9.

Today is the seventh July 9th since the July 9th that I flew from Italy to London.  I touched down, and drove to our destination, and turned my phone onto the wifi and heard the soft ping of the message letting me know it was finished.  He was gone.

I sat in a room by myself for a few moments, and heard strange sounds coming out of me that were sobs I supposed, but felt fake.  And then I got up quietly and left the 15+ women I was leading on a mission trip to get on a train to get to my sister’s house.  I sat in the fading rain, waiting for her to pick me up from the station, my heart hollow and numb and absently watched as the clouds parted and the light and mist turned into a rainbow.