My dear friend,
Today the sun put a gentle arm around my shoulders and whispered true things. The wind sang with the stiff and seed-laden grasses. The sky played a long, clear note. And I was listening.
I hope that as you step into the days ahead, you can let the sun rest on your arm, tune into the sound of leaves tumbling across the street, and notice the sky. I pray you will be ready to hear what they have to say.
Today I surrendered to my limitations. I let go of a pace that I imagined for myself in grieving, and learned to be content in the slow pace God has given me. To see his pace as a gift. And I found gratitude bubbling up like a spring in the wilderness soul I carry these days.
So I pray you will be patient with yourself if you cannot enjoy things as much as you wish you could. I pray you can welcome sorrow to your table instead of trying to send it away. I hope you can welcome wisdom when she bids you be still, and be brave enough to slow down, even if only for a moment.
“Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take up my yoke and learn from me, because I am lowly and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light,” (Matthew 11:28-30 CSB).
Even one moment can be an extraordinary gift.
with joy + sorrow,