Water was rising
Along with it-fear
Threatening to take
Control of the day
As it covered first
Feet, then ankles,
And knees before
Briefly pausing
At the waist-
Desperate to find
A way out of the deep
Before suffocation
Reached the chest,
I closed my eyes-
Letting go of fear
Hope began to flow
Along with it-trust
Pushing and pulling
Through the currents
Inch by inch until
My feet stood
Once again
On the shore
Greeted by the love
That never stopped
Calling my name
It has been many years since
I sat around a campfire,
Or any fire created by
Putting a flame to a branch
Once belonging to a tree
Recent fires were made from
Glass, manufactured logs, and gas
Although these provide heat
As well as beauty
Something was missing
Perhaps it was the smell
Rising from the meeting
Of flame and wood
Changing based on
The origin of the tree
Perhaps it was the sight
Of the ashes left behind
Once the fire has gone out
Reminding us of our origins
And where our bodies will return
An unquestioned reliance
Assures us one spark will
Transform the cold night air
Maybe that was the difference-
The cold night air
Actually, I think there are
Too many differences to count-
Each one offering lessons
Frailty and faithfulness in
The physical and spiritual
I grew up with a large extended family. My parents have been married for over fifty years. In my circle of family and friends, we have experienced life and death, cancer, anxiety and depression, and, of course, art, and music. I could discuss any of those things all day long.
There are other things I would rather not discuss. This week I was reminded more than once of life experiences for which I have no point of reference.
The first one involved a younger student. Before class, the teacher mentioned that the father of this child was going to prison. This friend was restless, struggling to engage and fit in. Quickly moving between over-excitement and complete stillness. I think it had been a rough day.
I had my young friend sitting right beside me during music class. When I sensed a little restlessness, I slowly patted on the back-a steady, gentle, sixty-beats-per-minute pat. It seemed to help.
After class, I found myself thinking, “How could my actions possibly help this situation for the long-term?” Yes, they might have helped at that moment. However, in the grand scheme, offered little.
The second involved an older student. This student was able to put their feelings and experiences clearly into words. Nothing could prepare me for hearing, “I was taken away from mom. I talk to her sometimes, but she really doesn’t want to see me.”
I managed a short response, “I’m sorry. You are special. I love you.”
I cannot possibly understand how this student feels. I could offer a listening ear, a kind word, and a smile. Was that enough? It certainly did not feel like it at the moment.
Thankfully, I am not the only one listening. I work in a school building, a district, and a profession with many other caring adults. Many of them listen to heart-breaking stories every day. And the collective listening and responding do have the power to make a positive impact.
No, I may not have a personal point of reference for these two students. And I know there are many other stories I have not heard. But there is strength in numbers. And tonight, I will rest in that point of reference.
Once again
A storm is raging
Emotions swirling
Like a tornado
In my head
The beginning
Indistinguishable
From the ending
Questions flood
My thoughts-
Why this?
Why now?
Why me?
But I must push
Past the questions
And just be-
Waiting-holding on
Until a tiny
Break appears
In the clouds
A split second
Ray of sunshine
Piercing the dark
Clearing my thoughts
Lighting my path
Just enough to
Observe the dust
Beginning to settle
Assurance the storm is passing
Where are you? I sense you are close But my eyes can’t see I reach out my hands Fumbling in the dark Wishing the clouds away Where are you? I ask out loud this time A little further-just listen My feet move slowly Toward the sound of your voice It grows louder with each step Suddenly, my hands touch yours No longer lost, I stand with you Under the light of the stars
The road
Once clear
Now obstructed
By unexpected
Roadblocks
Detours
Up ahead
Which way to go?
A new road
Comes into view
Along with
A new role
Not the one
Expected
Or desired-yet,
Gracefully accepted
Potholes trigger
Full stops…
But, gentle truths
Faithfully
Push forward
Erasing any
Thought of
Turning back
Moving ahead
A quiet whisper
Provides assurance-
Trust and follow
Nothing can take you
Out of my hand
Don’t turn back
This road is best
“See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.” Isaiah 49:16
I am currently re-reading an old favorite, “Hinds’ Feet on High Places” by Hannah Hurnard. I love this allegory, especially the main character, Much-Afraid. This book was first introduced to me by my precious friend, Shannon.
Read her story here. ❤ Instant Friends
A specific passage caught my eye as I read this morning.
“…while the storm still furiously raged outside, there they were, sitting around a crackling fire, warming themselves and drying their sopping garments while they drank comforting hot cocoa and satisfied their hunger. Though the uproar of the tempest without was almost deafening and the hut shuddered and shook in every blast, yet inside was nothing but peace and thanksgiving and cheerful contentment.”
What a goal. To experience that kind of inner peace, no matter the storm outside.
I once heard someone say the following regarding life and storms. At any given time…
For me, it seems finding peace is most difficult when the storm is approaching. The clouds are far off in the distance, but it’s only a matter of time before it arrives. The “calm” can be thick with tension. Questions are constant. What if, what if, what if…
The time before the storm is when my anxiety builds. And then when the storm finally arrives, it fades. I just have to push through. That is when I realize I never really had any control anyway.
Although storms cause us to question, they seldom provide answers. They are sometimes accompanied by sorrow and suffering. But I must believe that the possibility of peace exists. Even when it is hard to find.
Each of us has to find our way through the storms. But we do not have to face them alone.
“Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by.” Psalm 57:1
Some days an attempt to write falls flat and the words just won’t come. Today started that way. Frustrated, I decided to play the piano instead.
Sitting down at the piano, I hoped a favorite hymn would put me in the right frame of mind to write. But my playing also fell flat. There were too many mistakes. The melody sounded choppy. Not very musical.
Though tempted to give up, I played the hymn one more time. When I began to play the second time, the words were suddenly present (in my head) along with the melody.
What a difference! Musically imperfect, but a clear message. And this time, playing brought a true sense of joy.
Hmmm…maybe when words won’t come, I need to hear words that are not my own.
So, today I say, “Happy Easter” with the help of English poet and clergyman, John Newton. My prayer is that Newton’s words and a familiar melody will bring you joy and hope on this Easter Sunday.
🎶Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind but now I see
Through many dangers, toils, and snares
We have already come
Was grace that brought us safe thus far
And grace will lead us home🎶
As I opened up my computer to write this morning, all I could think was, “look at that blank page.” No idea what I wanted to write about, I just knew I needed to write. And then it occurred to me all these days at home are truly blank slates. There was no advanced plan for them. Each one is faced truly not knowing what the next one will bring.
Although that is true of our daily reality, we don’t often live that way. We make our plans, plan our trips, and dream about the future. Don’t misunderstand, those are important things to do. However, they must be balanced with the acceptance that we never truly know what tomorrow holds.
Even more than future planning, these circumstances make me think of missed opportunities. For example, if a specific person comes to mind today, I am more likely to send a quick text. Three weeks ago, I might have pushed it to the back of my mind. “Oh, I will contact them tomorrow…”
Not that I am following through on every thought, but I am working on being more intentional. I’ve already experienced the payoff in some ways that may seem small. One “Hello, how are you” text yesterday resulted in a sweet phone conversation about life and changes. It also brought much-needed tears and encouragement. That conversation will stick with me for a long time.
Another experience from earlier this week also made a lasting impression. I was thinking about dropping off a small care package to a dear friend. The plan was to leave it outside her door, get back in my car, and wave from a safe distance. Even typing it, it sounds silly. I almost didn’t do it.
Thankfully, I decided not to worry about looking silly. When my friend walked out of her front door, I found myself wanting to jump out of the car, run over, and give her a hug. She even had to remind herself not to keep walking in my direction. Driving away, I fought back tears.
My takeaway? We need each other. We miss each other. And I cannot wait to once again freely embrace my family, friends, colleagues, and students. I don’t know when that will happen.
Until it does, I will keep looking at these blank slate days with faith and hope and love. And just maybe, cover that blank slate with a little kindness. ❤
“And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” I Corinthians 13: 13
I am excited to have a guest writer on my blog today, my mom. ❤
When I was a little girl, my mom loved to write poetry. Sometimes for special occasions, usually written for or about an individual. She would share them with family and friends. Her words are displayed in frames in many of her siblings’ homes. But more importantly, her words have been stored in hearts.
She has not actively written in many years, but she has consistently encouraged my writing. Our current world circumstances influenced her to write again. She was a little nervous about sharing, so now I get to encourage her. 🙂
I hope her thoughts bring you peace.🌺
Birds singing
Break of day
Tune’s different
In harmony
This day
Flower Blankets
Covering ground
Soft colors
Fragile-Beautiful
This day
Gentle breeze
Dancing leaves
New life memories
New beginnings
This day
Joyful reminders
Hope and love
Steadfastness
Break of day
This day
Great Shepherd’s hand
Gently leads
On mountains
Through valleys
This day
Stand still
Know peace
Given by God
Break of day
This day
“This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24
Dear Friends,
This past week was our Spring Break from school. One whole week to relax and do whatever I wanted. Except, it really wasn’t. Yes, I was able to relax and spend time with family. But no coffee with friends, spring clothes shopping, last-minute trips out of town, etc.
I tried not to worry about establishing a new routine or what would happen in the weeks to come. But now it’s Saturday, and a new week is almost here. It is time to think ahead just a little.
This morning it hit me what I’m going to miss the most when Monday comes-faces. I see so many faces each day. Faces help us know how a person is feeling. We can see happiness, disappointment, struggle, or excitement with one single glance.
We can also receive what we need from the face of another. If I am the one showing sadness or struggling, a smile from another person is powerful. It shows that someone else sees me and recognizes how I’m feeling.
So, although I won’t see all those faces on Monday, I will be thinking about them. Those colleagues who greet me each day. The students I greet each morning as they enter the building. Those few ornery boys who still call me grandma every time they see me. My friend who sits across the table with a cup of coffee.
As I think of those faces, I will also pray. For that is one thing I can do no matter where I am or what the circumstances. These are unsettling times with many unanswered questions. But I have faith that I will see all those faces again soon-live and in person.
Until then, I remain thankful for technology and social media. And with that thought, I will share a picture of my face from this morning. Hopefully, you will see joy and contentment amid uncertainty. And be reminded that I love you.
Take care of yourselves, sweet friends.
Kelley
“I hope to see you soon, and we will talk face to face.” 3 John 1:14
Piano Girl 