Wednesday, September 17, 2014

What that mirror tells me

Capturing beauty through a lens.
Collaging words about grace.

But truth.

Coming first.

Showing up.

Whether I like it or not.

And putting up the mirror.
To my soul.  To my futile attempts.
At being something good.
The living well.

And what that mirror tells me.

This truth.

Well.  Here it is.

That I am deeply flawed.
Irreparably damaged.
Beyond repair.  It's called sin.
And I don't like it.

But it is the truth.

And this world full of.
Broken.  Miserable. 
Shocking heartbreak.
Disappointment.  Decay.
And we blame God.

For.  Well.  Everything.

And then.  On occasion.
Watching transfixed.  Something beautiful.
Stirring my soul. Heart full.

But not for long.

Because the things of life destroy.
And disappointment runs deep.

And I can't fix it. 

Because it is I who is broken.
And sin has marred everything good.
And continues to destroy.

And myself.
Clinging to shreds of self-worth.
Hanging on for dear life.
This ride.  Life.

Leaving me exhausted.  Weary.
In my attempts to be happy.

When all along.
I've been thrown a life line.

Holy God came down to rescue.

And when we see it is our ugly.
Having pierced the flesh.
And He hung.  For hours.
And the heavens convulsed.
And the day stood still.

In shock.  
The enormity of this rescue.

I hang my head.

For I cannot imagine.
What He suffered.  Endured.
On that tree.

This Jesus.  Holy God.

Laying aside glory. 

So we can live free. 
And my deeply flawed covered.
By His sacrifice.

Dying.  And then living again.

Spilling grace all over our lives.

And rolling around in it.
Like a cat in the sunshine.
This grace so good.

But never to forget.

The price.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Morning disheveled

I want to live a life with passion.

To wake up and embrace.
Having had trouble sleeping for the thrill of it all.
For the chasing of beauty.
Another new day.

To breathe in the morning and rejoice in the new.
All quiet and tip-toeing out of the dark.
Shimmering awake with the summer sun.

Filling the senses.

And I breathe it all in.
Grateful.  And calmed.

Morning routine.  Summer disheveled.
Padding out to the garden.
Coffee in hand.  
The cacophony of birdsong.  Cicadas. 
Cone flowers starting to bend.
Their long limbs heavy.

All part of the mystery.  The beauty.
Of summer.  Soon turning to fall.

And what do I do?
I am asked all the time.

With the passion.  In the desperate.


Not destined to dazzle.
Not how I am made.

Made to love simple.
The wild and the beautiful. This ordinary.
Hot tea and good books and conversation.
Morning routine and authentic lives.
Serendipity showing up.
Color and texture and pattern.
Nature spilling gorgeous all over our lives.

And snapping the picture.
To remember.  Reinforce.

Glorious extravagant creation.
What I see.
In the morning sweet.

The promise.

Of more to come.

This beauty written.
All over our lives.

And I breathe it all in.
Grateful.  And calmed.

Because.  It softens our sadness.
Bringing joy to our day.
Connecting the dots with grace.
Of lives living frazzled.  Tempestuous.
And us.  Unsure and wanting.

But wait.  There is more.
Because beauty.

Just a signature.
For Grace. 

Amazing Grace.

And then.  Falling like rain.

And I laugh.
When my heart may be almost bursting.
For the sheer joy. 

Of chasing beauty.

Desperately.  Passionately.

In the sweet summer morning.

And in the evening rain.


Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Nets under bridges


Heard in the news today.
Cities build nets under bridges.

For those jumping.  Those in despair.
Depression digging deep with darkness.

And we grieve.
And we will miss you, Mr. Williams.

And we are sorry.  No net could catch you.
And keep you safe.

Knowing now.  As we do.
Behind that handsome smile.

Brilliant comedy. Outrageous creativity.
Spilling all over our lives.
The gift of impromptu.  Genius even.
Handing out laughter with ease. 
And we. 
Laughing with you and loving you.
And embracing carpe diem shouting loud.

Believing it even. 

And even though you told us.
We didn't really listen.

That you suffered.

And while tributes pouring in.

Being reminded.

That for you.  Deep down.  All along.  
Despair and pain throbbing loud.
Beneath the humor.  The talent.  The smile.

And that may yet be your greatest legacy.

To show us.

Not enough to build nets under bridges.

We need each other.
In the raw and in the ugly.
When the pain churns heavy.

Because.  No one really wants to do this.

And so I thank you, Mr. Williams.
For the laughter.  But also.
For the honesty.
Amidst star struck and funny.
And all this world has to offer.

Telling the truth.  Always.
Through your life and even now.

About darkness and despair consuming.
That dark vortex of depression.
In order to validate.  The pain.  In others.
And helping to remove the stigma.

Society judging.

And hanging nets under bridges.

When what is needed is so much more.

The being there with someone.
Validation and love.
Empathy and compassion.
The courage to speak out.
To get help.  To help others.

God knows. 
Life is hard.  On so many levels.
And we struggle.

And He.
Offering unfathomable love.
And scandalous grace.
To rescue our weary souls.

And even that.  Sometimes.
Not enough to stop the sickness.
But His arms ready to catch us.

Better than nets.  Under bridges.