Slowly.
Walking down the sidewalk.
Back up to the old house.
All the myriad of days packed into that car.
Leaving from my driveway.
Never leaving from my heart.
And I sit on the porch stoop.
Rocking in the sun.
And I think back. All the times.
Snapshots in my head.
All the myriad of days packed into that car.
Leaving from my driveway.
Never leaving from my heart.
Girl stuff. And God stuff.
And smoothies in the morning.
Lives intersecting; a mama and her girl.
In the reeling and in the quiet.
Words tumbling easy.
All the myriad of days packed into that car.
Leaving from my driveway.
Never leaving from my heart.
And regrets. There are none.
Only time. A little more.
To sit on the stoop.
Count stars. Catch frogs.
And read our books.
But never in a thousand years.
When I held that baby in my arms.
Did I ever think.
I would get this old.
And she.
All the myriad of days packed into that car.
Leaving from my driveway.
Never leaving from my heart.
Ready now. Fully launched.
A city waiting. A job to do.
Though life is messy. Hearts are torn.
My job is done.
I smile.
All the myriad of days packed into that car.
Leaving from my driveway.
Never leaving from my heart.
Why did I ever start this?
Perfectionism like fingers around my neck.
Strangling me.
Screaming for one thing or another.
The wanting. In my life.
Getting a hold. Things beyond my reach.
Knowing better really.
Going round and round.
In futile attempts.
But one thing getting the attention.
Again and again.
The scream that won't die.
For the want. A life full.
And not knowing the how.
To get there.
Collaging words. Snapping beauty everywhere I go.
The hunt.
And in the hunt.
What I am learning. Even now.
Broken.
A theme in life.
With God. Myself. And others.
Fear bellowing loud.
Exploding on the page.
Daily lack showing up hungry.
Throwing off track.
Scaring. Isolating.
And me.
Running to whatever fixes.
For a while.
And it's been a theme.
In this space.
Because maybe you too.
The reminding.
And the best counseling.
Sometimes a friend.
Having already dug deep.
And in the safety. I find.
The not-giving of trite.
Or disguised contempt.
Or weary showing through.
But gently. Humbly.
The redirecting.
Reframing of the snap shots.
Of everyday life.
Because.
When we take off our mask.
In the real and the messy.
And still. Do not scare.
When judgment does not knock us over the head.
In the reality of who we are.
And the scream dying a thousand deaths.
In the gift of grace.
We stop being scared.
Stop running.
Turning around.
And really see.
A love story never more beautiful.
Jesus. Full of grace and truth.
And so.
Finding the intimacy I crave.
A life full. Of Him.
The unmasking. Gloriously liberating.
And offering it. My broken.
To a world that sometimes scorns.
Knowing all along.
It may not be enough.
Or it may be too much.
But offering it anyway.
Why did I ever start this?
Because.
Talking about the grace of God makes me come alive.
How do we live this one life well?
When others seem happy.
Successful. Beautiful even.
Community full.
And the posted pictures.
Proving our lack.
And so.
We deny.
Get busy.
Distract.
To feel good.
Tripping all over ourselves.
And others.
Demanding attention.
In a thousand little ways.
Or withdrawing into our own world.
The ache chewing us up inside.
And when the evening shadows fall.
Losing the battle.
Darkness creeping in on cat feet.
Capturing our heart. Our soul.
And we despair.
And online. The other day.
Celebrities.
Faces scarred and marred.
Through expensive surgery.
Beauty now forever gone.
What were they thinking?
We laugh; it's that incredible.
To see it in others.
So young and so beautiful. Successful.
Throwing it all away.
In the insecurity and the never-enough.
This frantic search.
But it is also very sad.
And I grieve.
Because I see it in myself.
Not for surgery.
But that longing deep.
The incessant wishing for more.
To satisfy.
But instead of God.
Filling to the full.
With empty.
So much in this life.
Breaking us.
Making us sad.
Scared even.
And so often.
The only glimmer of hope
we see through the cracks
in the sidewalk of our lives
is our feeble attempt.
For happy.
Chasing it. Running hard.
And ultimately.
Bringing despair.
Even the story of Louie Zamperini.
Filling the news cycle.
His life; in print a page-turner.
Brilliant and fearless and unbroken.
Shockingly difficult life experiences.
Survival unparalleled.
Victory. It would seem.
To endure and live strong.
But in the end.
Haunted by what he could not control.
Could not grasp.
Even Louie.
The chase. For elusive happy.
Wringing us out and tossing us aside.
Every time.
There is better.
What Louie ultimately found.
Darkness running away.
Through surrender.
Being broken after all.
The not-enough bending the knee.
To worship.
Filling to the full.
With God.
Then.
Staying awake.
To His glory surrounding.
Every day.
That's how.
He lived his one life well.
Staying awake.
