Saturday, April 3

i have been to
two funerals in
three weeks.

all young men.

one mother,
gently putting her
fingers on her son's head,
humbly saying...

Your will be done.

.and their "babies".

watch the butterflies.
paint stars on your children's
foreheads. laugh loud. trace
the shimmering breeze
as it blows through
your hair.


there are sorrows
that will shake our joy
and spew pain into the
dust. grinding it into the
mud of ugly hopelessness.

look at the beauty
of the small, giggling
child. tickle. hug often.
jump rope and feel the world's
music in all the trees.

oh, this glorious God.
He plants rich soil with
giant flowers pushing through
the sod.

He promises joy
to come
in the seemingling hopelessness
of searing pain and loss.

when we believe we'll never
laugh again, God promises
we will. the sun ALWAYS
rises again.

life is a journey.
on the screen.
periods of loss and
joy and hurt and celebration.

life is NOT a constant
dance routine. it is hard-nosed,
and the vigilance of the enemy
can make us feel like a
desert. scorned. perishing.

long ago,
on a dark, cold night,
a Baby was born. different
from all others. grew to be a
man. and LOVE was His alliance.

scorned way beyond our what we
will ever endure or grasp. what a
Man. a glorious life doing the work
of His Father.

out of hate,
a cross was hewn.
and Jesus nailed to it.
stripped. whipped. until he

this was all about our Lord.
broken for us. bruised. and three
days later, He arose, and EVERYTHING
was done to redeem us of our fragility and pain.


do you know how sweet
freedom is? we're all
broken. all sinners.
pass the Cup. drink.
let holiness be our song.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Ann,
    It's Diana, of the Quiche. :) I just wanted to send you my love, wish you a Happy Easter, know I was thinking of you. xoxo
    (how are our children so old??!)