I am alive. I’m trying to let that sink in. I inherited the unfinished sketchbook of a beloved art professor who passed away last spring. Flipping through the pages this morning, I see how alike we are in our interactions with the blank pages–line drawings, quotation marks surrounding deep theological ideas and questions, to-do lists,…
Yesterday I learned that a dear friend is dying. There is no time to visit. No time to wrap up loose ends. This news just rips it all back open–that wound that I thought was nearly healed. The blow from my fall where I realized that death is actually a part of the human story….
The perfect beauty of this morning actually hurts me. As I steal a quiet hour in my little garden with a cup of coffee, the world saturated in green, trees in bloom, birdsong, the first signs of new life coming up in my raised beds… My heart aches. The unabashed brilliance of life. It stings….
After a long day ofrealizing I am human–Meeting and failing to meetneeds that rise likeGreat ocean wavesand fall and break andpull everything underwith a force that coulddrown you.How insignificant I seem,standing in their wake–looking out fromthe blistering shoreto where the golden horizondrops off the edge of the world.You could never swim there if you tried….