corn chips at the lunch table

Sitting at the lunch table, my 3-year put a Bugle chip on her pointer finger and said, "I have a puppet...a witch puppet."

I thought the first part of that statement was brilliant. creative. playful. 

The second part made me cringe. 

I squirmed internally trying to form adequate words to explain we do not play pretend with witches and then I heard my 4-year old speak up.

"Mordrid," he said.

Huh? What kind of name is that? 

"Mah-dwid," repeated the 3-year old as she waved her chippy witch in the air. 

Giggles ensued. And more energetic talking amongst the children concerning this Mordrid plot.

Get a grip! Decide what to say before this gets out of hand. 

And then in the frenzy of lunch-table talking, my 4-year old said, "Just say 'love' and Mordrid will be defeated."

Gut slam. 

That is stinkin' good! I mean, seriously. That could preach! Suddenly, I adored corn-chip witch puppets.  For that day, they paved the way to this...

Love is the answer. Love really does conquer all. Love really is the trump card. 

And somewhere. somehow. In that small moment, my preschooler got it....

Mordrid - 0      Love - 1

Love really does win. 

1 John 4:16

How's your joy?

That's what my husband asked me tonight...how's your joy?

He knows I struggle with that - finding joy. Keeping it around. Holding on to it. 

I am no stranger to fighting for joy. My muscles have been well-toned the last few years in the battle for even a scrap of it. But this friend of mine, joy, can be slippery and elusive.

So, after staring at him, mentally scurrying for an answer, here's what I said...

"Well, I don't know. 
I have joy more often. 
And I have it for longer these days. 
And when I lose it, I find it faster.
So that's something."

I wish I could have a different answer. One that erases any cloud of sadness, confusion, or dread. I don't. Maybe one day I will. Or maybe my answer will stay the same.

Regardless, this heart clings to the One who gives me hope that all joy will be fully restored one day.

today

sometimes i get really mad that life doles out unspeakable tragedy. here i am living life, slowly gaining footing in my own emotional mess and then the rug is pulled out by news i wasn't prepared to receive. sometimes it makes me want to hole up and shut out the world. it seems like that would hurt less. 


sometimes i can only try to sympathize and empathize for so long and the i have to STOP. because i feel suffocated under the weight of grief, sadness, confusion. 


and then i get angry because i can turn it off. walk away. try to forget. but those living the tragedy...well...they are there. stuck. continuing to dwell in grief. forced to face it second by miserable second. moment by wearying moment. their lives never the same - changed forever.


and i want to make it better. make it easier. make it right. i want to shield the hurting. cover them in comfort. hurt for them. instead of them. yet scared to feel the depth of grief myself.


sometimes things that happen don't. make. any. stinking. sense. 


and it makes me want to rage at the world. at the universe. at myself. at God. because i want something or someone to blame. i want a place to take my hurt - and their hurt - and make it heard. and healed. but without the torturous process of grief.


today, on the near-side of this grief, i am mad at nonsensical loss. i don't want to have to admit the reality of great pain. i would rather live in denial. avoid the reality. 


but i can't. 


because somewhere far south are greatly grieving friends who must face at every millisecond the truth of their personal devastation. and the very least i can do is not turn off my own hurt. the very least i can do is allow my pain for them to send me to the very heart of the God who grieves too. whose heart is good and trustworthy. 


and so i will. i will take my hurt, my pain and give it over. i will lean hard into another's sadness. and feel. really feel for them. refusing numb compassion. i will allow it to consume my thoughts for a while. to be the one prayer i pray through gritted teeth and clenched fists and an incessant shaking head. i will let my tears fall. even when i don't understand. especially because i don't understand.


i will let God be God. and be mad about it today. because the things He allows just sometimes seem wrong. and unfair. but i will praise Him for He is God. the only One fit for the job. my view from here is, well, short-sighted. limited. finite. human. small.


i will trust Him. and hurt for my friends. and for the world full of unspeakable hurt. i will keep my heart and my head in His possession. just as my life is. short or long as it might be. and i will be thankful that i can feel. even when it means i hurt.

poem birthed from experiences i might write about...sometime

exposed.
that's how i feel.
exposed.
naked while robed in regal black.

insufficient.
that's how i feel.
insufficient.
adorning doctor's robe not mine.

childish.

that's how i feel.

childish.

struggling from weight of Saul's armor.

glances. looks. 
stares that bore.
holes that feel so wide.


vulnerable.
that's how i feel.
vulnerable.
all confidence fading to doubt.

wanting.

that's how i feel.

wanting.

unsatisfied ego of men.

small.

that's how i feel.

small.

disapproving face of judgment.

glances. looks. 

stares that bore.

holes that feel so wide.