Begin to Live

aging, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, fear, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, waiting, wisdom, wonder

Mingled in a dream that included family at the beach as well as unfamiliar children asking to play on a trampoline, I am recalling “Psalm 90”.

The Spirit of God interspersed just that in a dream that included my mama being a given a healing prognosis, “Now, you’ll have a chance to really live!”

Maybe it was the beautiful and educational sermon on Sunday on heaven.

“Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Maybe it was the call from “Aunt Boo” my mama’s sister. She talked about crocheting. Maybe I tucked away the visual of her teaching my mama, the memory of their back and to sister chatter.

Who knows? Around 3, I woke and tossed and then recited mentally, over and over, Psalm 23.

Imperfectly still, after all these years of using this chapter to calm me. For some reason, portions and not the entire Psalm linger longer than others and I drift off to sleep.

All my days have been a meandering sort of trail. A pause to consider, I’ve been in the darkness, I’ve lived in the dread, I’ve found myself off course because of conflict or circumstance.

David knew. He did too.

And so, his words aren’t ones of a perfect follower. Instead, a perfect “returner” to the place where he and God dwell together safely.

I used to believe “all the days of my life” meant the actual dwelling place of Jesus…heaven.

Again, instead…David is acknowledging and giving us permission to acknowledge the beauty we can claim as our own here…

As long as my lungs are providing me with breath and my heart is beating…I am dwelling with God, and He with me.

We are together.

I am known. I am seen.

I am invited to keep returning to rest.

Why Psalm 90 mixed in with a captivating dream of life getting another chance for my mama?

Psalm 90 is one penned by Moses.

It opens with this.

“Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There were other people in the big bright room with my mama, not just my brothers and sister. My children were there too.

Psalm 90 closes with an acknowledgement of what had not and has not been without affliction. Moses offers us his prayer back then as a promise and prayer we can choose today.

“Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil. Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children.

Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭15‬-‭17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“Favor” here meaning “beauty”.

Return to beauty today.

Embrace grace. More than you expected, the grace you’ve been shown.

The grace that you know.

Continue and believe.

Dwell in peace.

“Now you can begin to live”, the words promised to my mama in my dream.

And to us all.

Begin.

Begin again.

Where I Am

Art, birthday, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, grace, grandchildren, hope, jubilee, memoir, Motherhood, Peace, Redemption, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

I wonder if it’s a common feeling, the juxtaposition of two pursuits when you become a certain age…

A collector and cherisher of “small things” or an avid “go-after-er” of “limitless”, of all the longings of your heart you’d thought might not be for you, possibilities.

Maybe it’s both in a gentle and knowing of yourself as your Maker made you.

I bought myself two gifts yesterday on my 63rd birthday, a pear shaped candle and a bangle the rich color of jade, the same shade in the “Restoration” collection now available.

There was nothing I needed, I said with ease.

I just wanted those two things.

I came home to birthday cards and there were flower deliveries on the porch that were surprises and only found because my daughter asked “Is there something for you on the porch?”

And there sat two of the most boldly happy arrangements you can imagine, the colors complements of each other.

My son, my daughter ordered flowers, neither knowing the other hoped to brighten my day, yellow roses, lilies and sunflowers.

Patient, on my porch while I piddled around my solitary home, added touches to a canvas I’ll soon take away because they’re too contrived, too hard, not gentle; curled up with an actual book under my quilt and then moved with small and slow steps for the arrival of my daughter and her family.

For birthday swimming.

Dinner and cheesecake with cherries on top.

Later, I sat and lit the candle, knowing it wouldn’t be the same, the waxy drips changing the shape no longer to pear but possibly just a blob.

No telling.

My sister called, the last of my siblings to wish me a Happy Day and we talked past my husband going to bed.

About life, about children, about books, about hope.

About knowing we can never know how our lives or the lives of our children will unfold.

But we can know that to teach them not to expect to always know, only to confidently and gently continue on.

And we can live from that knowing for ourselves and we can carry on, enlightened by life in all the ways hard and soft.

So that we can be our truest selves…mamas, sisters, wives, friends, grandmothers, aunts and whatever our hope without limits leaves on our doorsteps.

We can be where we are because of all we’ve come from and all we now know.

We can love small things and we can believe in the limitless beauty of brave pursuits too.

Continue and believe.

You are loved.

Practicing to Hear

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, curiousity, Faith, grandchildren, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

“But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.”
‭‭John‬ ‭14‬:‭26‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I stood in the pool, one foot in shallow, the other in the slant towards deep.

An audience of one, my granddaughter putting on a performance, her very own synchronized swimming dances from the edge into the water. Again and again, with happy pirouettes, she demonstrated the newly formed lessons with commitment.

I paused in between each repetition. I noticed her noticing me as I waited with gazing eyes to sense heaven again.

To find the Holy Spirit in my backyard.

And I did. It was a minute or less.

I sought quietly and I found the breath of heaven, the sense of the Holy Spirit in my chest, the warmth of the passing for just a second breeze on my cheek.

Willing myself to a state of “distractionless”.

In the auditorium, I sort of coaxed my mind to be where I was, to not think of things to do, to wonder less about home a couple of hours away and to practice presence, to be receptive.

I repositioned myself. I set my intentions, I reset my mind from racing to attentiveness.

I wept in worship. I raised my hand, opened my heart. Not unnatural, simply unable to resist.

A woman behind me prayed in unison with the one praying. I sat when “Amen” came, my cheeks lined, rivulets.

I wiped my face and reached behind to thank her, tapped her on the leg to say “thank you”. I noticed the touch of my hand, wet and she touched my hand, received it, my gratitude.

I was away for two days, my granddaughter said two weeks. I called to ask about Saturday’s plans and quickly they were decided, I’d be going to pick her up.

We dodged the storms. I taught her to measure the distance of thunder.

We listened. She understood.

She talked on and on and I read with incessant interruptions the book she chose.

Then the storm stopped and she slept like a 14 not 4 year old girl.

I slipped out of bed for coffee and returned to read quietly, turned by mistake to the wrong date of my devotional.

“I have no home, until I am in the presence of God. This holy presence is my inward home, and until I experience it, I am a homeless wanderer, a straying sheep in a waste howling wilderness.” Anonymous 1841 “Joy & Strength”

And moved to cherish, to hold closely the reality of God’s Spirit in me. I am a seeker of solace now, of pausing long for all other things to experience God.

I completed a survey of the experience, the conference “She Speaks” for women.

I added my takeaway, my thoughtful remembrance of weeping in worship (this is not my normal), of joining hands with other women and of feeling a belonging that was without typical female comparison or judgment.

I slept softly with a girl, four years old, who dreamt something only she knows.

Thinking, I pray she continues to be receptive to what’s not earthly…for that’s where the gift is, the seeking that must be practiced.

When she was a baby we stood at the window and she gazed fixated, seeing heaven in a way I’m incapable.

It doesn’t come naturally. We must remember to long for it with intention.

The experience of the nearness of God.

Indescribable, it is.

I believe children know such a closeness.

Closeness we long to know.

Continue to seek, believing God is near.

Continue and believe.

Older Now

Abuse Survivor, anxiety, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, fear, hope, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

When my granddaughter balanced on the highest beams and danced on the lofty walls up the playground equipment, I imagined her losing her footing. I was ready to drop all my stuff and catch her. Instead, she offered joy. She shared her confidence with me.

She demonstrated faith in herself and faith in me and reminded me of God that she sees, clearly more clearly than me.

When I read about the man who was blind I can’t help but see a boy. I don’t know why.

“As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.”
‭‭John‬ ‭9‬:‭1‬-‭3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Jesus is saying exactly what he means.

As God’s Son, the “light of the world”, it was God’s plan that this man, blind from birth would have an encounter with Jesus and be healed. That he would follow the “doctor’s orders” and go to a pool called Siloam and put muddy water on his eyes.

This man, a beggar before this day, all on his own with no hope for better and no hope on the part of his parents.

He was healed and everybody thought it was impossible. So they refuted, doubted, questioned the simplicity of it.

And he told all the protesters of his sudden sight recovery that he didn’t fully understand either. He just knew he could see them.

In the margin of my Bible I have written,

Can it really be true? I am healed?

The next chapter over, John details the story of the death of Lazarus and of the way Jesus tarried in attending to his friend.

When Mary and Martha, who were friends of Jesus, worshippers of him, came to tell him about their brother, he didn’t immediately go to see about him…he waited two days.

What was he thinking? Isn’t Lazarus dead? What is the reason you’re not hurrying to heal this man, your friend…don’t you love this whole family, Jesus?

Valid questions.

Jesus told the disciples essentially, I know what I’m doing…you will see.

“Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.”
‭‭John‬ ‭11‬:‭14‬-‭15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When Jesus saw for himself, he wept.

“Jesus wept.”
‭‭John‬ ‭11‬:‭35‬ ‭ESV‬‬

As the Son of God, he was broken over the death and yet, He knew God’s intention. This death and resurrection will be recorded. It will make a difference in the lives of others.

It will help others make sense of their own unattended to and lingering sickness of heart, mind and body.

When Jesus says “this illness (trauma, circumstance, abuse, neglect, poverty, anxiety, fear, addiction or unmet longing) will not lead to death, he’s not saying it won’t be difficult, He is saying, if you will allow me to enlighten you, to heal you.

You will be light for others.”

And that is the why, the worth, the reason for suffering.

So that we grow into who God knows we are, that we are resurrected from the lives of before.

That we live like a rescued adult, cushioned by grace.

No longer like that child with hurts, questions and or mistakes.

Joyously.

The intention of Jesus for you.

“These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.”
‭‭John‬ ‭15‬:‭11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Keep going, higher than ever and with joy and hope.

Continue and believe. You are fully known and loved, have been all along.

You will see.

About Fear

Art, Children, Children’s Books, courage, creativity, Faith, family, fear, hope, Peace, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, wisdom, wonder, writing

A conversation about fear led to a thought. The thought led to paintings, vivid and strong in color. Some softer and cheerful and others heavy with darkness and harder emotion.

“The world is so scary…it makes lots of noises.”

Anxiety, uncertainty, anger and sadness are beginning to be noticed not as secretly kept struggles, instead as realities to consider more closely with kind and committed responses.

I’m hoping to traditionally publish this book for children to remind them that the earth and heavens were made by God just as they were and this truth can be an anchor in their storms that they are never alone.

“Yours is the day, yours also the night; you have established the heavenly lights and the sun.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭74‬:‭16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

A Quilt on the Grass

Children, contentment, daughters, family, grandchildren, Peace, Redemption, sons, wonder

“Childhood is a short season.” Helen Hayes

I found a photo of my daddy today. He’s a barefooted little freckle faced boy with a perfect part in his hair.

He is grinning.

He looks like me. My children look like him. I see my grandson, Henry.

I ask myself honestly, really…do I or am I hoping it could be?

Because it’s not the honor of claiming resemblance, rather it’s the purity in the pose.

The abandonment to being a child.

Today was a grandma day. While the baby napped, I sat across from my granddaughter on opposite sofas.

Captivated by “Eleanor Wonders Why”, she laid on her tummy with legs bent and feet taking turns tap-tapping on the couch.

I sat and watched her contentment and her little lying on her tummy sort of secret dance.

I paused to remember when I’d last laid on the floor or the ground like that, a motion that says I’m in my own little world and it’s so happy here.

She caught me watching, smiled and brushed wild blonde bangs from her cheek.

And I’ve been thinking all evening of the next pretty day I shall grab my grandmother’s quilt, spread on the shaded cool grass and lie on my tummy with a book or with nothing and just think, think, think as I lift my feet up and with no time to consider, just keep doing it.

Like a child,

A child again.

Choosing Better

Abuse Survivor, Angels, Art, bravery, Children, contentment, courage, creativity, doubt, Faith, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mixed media painting, painting, patience, Peace, Redemption, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom

Countless times I’ve known “goodness by surprise”, things continued and finished and left alone to develop or fizzle actually come back around to close the circle in response to that sort of open-ended question.

…let us run with patience the race set before us. Hebrews 12:1 KJV

I lifted the kitchen window. I’m home alone and it’s a Sunday morning rainy song.

Which do you think matters more

Skill or endurance?

Pursuit or acceptance?

I’m not a runner but I’ve heard pacing yourself is important.

Last night I dreamt I was running. It was a dream layered with threats and pursuit and one that ended with comfort.

Deeply personal and I guess likely will never be fully understood.

I opened my devotional to read an unknown author’s letter of encouragement to Christians during trials…words about endurance and about the things of life that entangle us and impede our ability to run the course set for us with peace and ease.

So many times, scripture seems nonsensical.

How is it humanly possible to run with patience?

I mean, isn’t the point of running to get there more quickly with faster dropping feet on the ground or pavement, of pushing past everyone else?

Or maybe the reason we run with patience is because there are no competitors in our race of life marked by our faith. It’s just us on our own pre-decided by our Maker trail.

The spirit of God invisible to others, but within and beside us.

A solitary race, an especially intense one not because of its importance, rather because of the very tender and personal reward.

Peace, often by surprise.

Peace that sometimes awes.

Run with patience the path that has been set for you alone.

Now, here’s the story of this I know.

This painting came to life after being layered and pondered many times. I’d been asked to “live paint” as an accompaniment to my artist story for a women’s event.

I was wise enough to choose the better, to not talk and paint at the same time. I’d tried that before and I decided to learn from what was not me nor easy.

So, this large piece traveled as a backdrop to my story of what had been not so easy lessons in my artist as business endeavors.

I spoke of how God was teaching me that my value was not acclaim, gallery shows, representation or sold out collections.

Rather, my value is my story of continuing.

Fast forward, I get all excited and choose this piece for a prestigious exhibit and am thrilled and a little too obviously excited when a couple decided it should be in their home…and then reconsidered.

Then, I submit “Of Lasting Value” as a part of my portfolio for an Emerging Artist Show.

Again, giddiness over the possibility of acceptance and “fame” convinced me I’d be “in”.

Not selected though and I’d actually decided not to enter this piece in a local show. I was so confident, I’d decided…well, I can’t enter it if it’s committed someplace else.

A simple decision, an afterthought led to entering it in the local show because of the tenderness of its story and it came full circle, a tearful surprise.

My husband and I entered the gallery for the opening reception and I scanned the room to find my paintings.

“There’s a ribbon on one of mine.” I said quietly, almost a whisper.

Then discovered and later heard the juror’s reason why

My painting had been selected, “Best in Show”.

Congratulatory chats continued and I told a friend, “There’s such a bigger significance to this for me.”

Later, I made a promise to myself, or I guess I should say a request of God.

Don’t let this fade, the blessing of this honor, the many layers to the story of me written by You

This affirmation clearly that I am your beloved, that I am loved by you, God.

I don’t know where the story of this painting will go from here, whether I’ll stop by the gallery to see a red dot saying she’ll be gracing someone’s home or whether she’ll be coming back to me.

I don’t know yet. I’ll be patient. I’ll keep walking with a stillness I can’t create or maintain on my own. I’ll be shepherded on this path I am on.

“He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭23‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We stopped by the gallery, my granddaughter and I. We love to decide on a “favorite”.

We had the whole space to ourselves and after she’d pointed out “my angels”, said “Hurry, hurry, look” and turned the corner to gaze long at a brilliant painting of the ocean.

A textured piece with vividly and perfectly rendered sea grass with a background of water and sunset.

And this one, she told me was her favorite because it was “shiny”.

And I told her, my little artist and watcher of all things, just how spectacular I found it to be too.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up.

And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.”
‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭12‬:‭1‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Run with patience the path made for you.

Others are watching, not following, not chasing you.

Simply watching your pursuit of peace.

Not easy but better.

Continue and believe.

Resemblance

Art, Children, confidence, contentment, courage, creativity, Faith, family, grandchildren, hope, memoir, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

Walking, exhausted and walking, I thought about a storm I must’ve missed.

Fragments on the pavement, objects fallen and scattered.

I’d been away for three days.

Fern fronds, one facing upward the other folded, wilted. Similar, of the same family

Yet, different.

I’d just gotten home from two days with family, the aunt like my mama, cousins, siblings, nephews, nieces.

Grandchildren.

Shown off on social media, the celebration.

It happened again.

Someone said “she’s your mini me”, referring to my granddaughter, Elizabeth.

And it prompted me to think again

About resemblance.

I have two children, a daughter and a son.

One is fair, blonde hair, blue eyes and porcelain complexion prone to freckles.

The other, dark almost coal hair, brown eyes and a more easily bronzed complexion.

Still, I’ve heard through the years.

Oh, he/she looks so much like you!

Of course, I love the assessment.

Last week, I smiled as I saw the light in the eyes of an adopted child on her birthday.

This child, brown in complexion, parented by blondes I was fortunate to meet and be a part of their story.

I saw her mama’s smile. I recognized her father’s confidence in her shoulders.

Not genetic, not inherited.

I see my granddaughter and I see the glimmer of her grandmother, “Gamma” in her eyes. I see her daddy’s expression in her confident answers. I see her cousins’ smile in hers.

I see her mama in the freckles sprinkled across her nose and in her stubborn tenacity.

I see my heart when I see hers and I also see the heart of others.

And that’s what I’ve decided about resemblance…

It’s the heart that shows and the heart that knows.

One child can be seen as the echo of so many all at the same time.

Cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, caregivers and protectors.

All of us, imparting resemblance.

It’s not the curve of the cheek, the tip of the nose, the color of the eyes or the way the lips turn above the chin.

Instead, it’s the imprint of love.

Less severe the likeness, more sweetness and nuance.

Love is the reason for the resemblance.

And resemblance is the evidence of that love.

Wildflowers, oak leaves and children.

The remnants of rhododendron.

All the same and on their own on display.

When others say my granddaughter is so much like me in her sweet little face

I know the resemblance is so far from physical and every bit

Spiritual.

The heart of me in her alongside the heart of others who love her.

A high compliment, I was once given and until now have kept secret,

“Your Bible could be in a museum one day.” D.W.

I paused in awe of his assertion, this skilled photographer who discovered me through the sketches I share from the margins of my Bible was quite convinced of this possibility.

I can only hope that if my Bible is found by someone when I’m long gone, that the gift of it finds them in the same lasting way.

That their response to God’s word catches them by surprise, that their reaction is a quiet and lasting one, a reaction that resembles mine.

On page 576 of my Crossway Journaling Bible they will find a sketch of a figure facing forward, she’s not small and her shoulders are bent in either thought or simply aged posture. Her hands are cupped in front of her and cascading behind her is a flow like a river that curves and grows larger.

She is pouring out all that’s within her, joy.

“With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭12‬:‭3‬ ‭ESV‬‬

She is giving to others what she has gone searching for, drawn up from deep wells.

I pray I resemble her.

That I focus less on the outer aging, conflicted and overly burdened by activity me and that I consider the gifting inside me, not my gifts, talents, words or physical abilities.

Instead, I hope my life is a resemblance of joy.

Babies are born and bystanders ooh and ah as they decide who the nose, the eyes, the hands are from like a fun little challenging trivia game.

What matters less is who they resemble and more the ones God puts around them to contribute to the best of our ability what joys and gifts and graces deep within us that we embody and get to give them.

When someone says “ELB” looks like me, I smile because I know in that moment caught in a photo it’s not at all that we resemble.

Rather, it’s that the person who caught the moment on film also captured my joy and it was joy, not looks that were mirrored in a toddlers face.

Who resembles you?

Who do you resemble?

Years from now, a grandchild may flip through the thin pages of my Bible and I hope they find a drawing in the margin and say sort of quietly to themselves.

That’s me. That looks like me in that same story.

And rest in their hearts in this,

“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord himself, is my strength and my defense; he has become my salvation.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭12‬:‭2‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Who resembles you?

Walking Thoughts

Abuse Survivor, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, grace, grandchildren, hope, memoir, mercy, obedience, Redemption, rest, Trust, Vulnerability, walking, wisdom, wonder

“Endurance is not a desperate hanging on but a traveling from strength to strength.” Eugene Peterson

Why am I less moved by the sky, the clouds fluffed or swept like a feather?

Out walking yesterday, I wondered.

Just a few years ago I was moved by gnarly branches on an old pecan tree, scattered white blooms on the asphalt trail or maybe a solitary leaf dried so completely by the sun it glistened metallic.

Noticing God, I called this.

Why so hurried in an irritable way now?

A daily habit that over time seems to be sort of furious?

Walking too fast, too angrily hurry, hurry, hurrying to some better destination.

Better days?

The place with no remnants of pandemic.

The better place, the place with no residue or remembrance of what happened or who or what didn’t come through.

Couldn’t be counted on.

On Wednesday, my path crossed a Target shopper leaving. Her phone on her cheek, she passed me, quick as a rabbit and I overheard her tell somebody “what the Republicans did today!”

And I wondered, when did we ever in our lives finish up a midweek shopping trip and urgently report to someone what a Republican did today?

A woman, about my age, distressed on a pretty day about the government.

We are different now.

I am learning.

Learning still. I can embrace a thought that now makes my response to trauma make more sense.

I can befriend these surprising revelations.

I can toss them over in my mind and see the value in finally beginning to understand my own tender heart and behaviors.

I can allow truth to make sense.

Today, the sky was striated pink and to the right rested the remnant of moon, a crescent.

I couldn’t look away.

It kept getting better.

Too splendid to capture in a photo, I stood solid footed and I watched.

Unhurried, only noticing.

Noticing God again.

Maybe that’s what obedience is and not some frenetic race to keep on, keep on, keep on.

Maybe obedience is noticing splendor, noticing God.

Knowing that where you are in this very never to be repeated moment.

You are loved.

Continue and believe.

Pass it on, this slow walk called noticing.

“And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Walking this way again.

Noticing.

You are loved.

It’s my hope that you know this.

Always Peace

Angels, Art, bravery, Children, courage, daughters, Faith, family, grief, love, memoir, Motherhood, Peace, Prayer, tragedy, Vulnerability, waiting, wisdom, wonder

We talked about ferns, pansies, mums, babies, children and prayer. I’d waited until past 8 to call, afraid she may not answer.

We talked about sunshine and husbands. We talked about my art and hers and we decided that we would “share a booth” in a “show” this Spring.

I found the obituary earlier.

My cousin, her daughter died unexpectedly 42 years ago.

I walked around with the reality of that all day long and with the question of whether to call, whether it would be something she’d like.

My aunt, I describe her beauty and I always think of Grace, the princess. Her voice is slow and draws gentle circles as she talks about peace, about flowers, about family.

She chooses acceptance, she goes after peace. She knows peace is her friend.

I had a reason to call her. All the pretty pansies and ferns froze over Christmas and the brittle evidence of a hard and unwelcome death were left on my daughter’s porch.

All the brown leaves and blackened blooms would have to be thrown into the woods.

“What should she start over with?” I asked my “Aunt Boo”.

“Ferns and if you can find some that aren’t all stringy and overgrown, some more pansies. If it gets freezing hard and cold, just drape a towel over them and let ‘em stay warm.”

Then she thanked me for calling as if she knew it wasn’t something I knew I was up to.

She told me it helps to talk to me.

Unexpectedly adding the memory of the last time she saw her daughter on New Year’s Day at the convenience store out by Zaxby’s.

And that was all, leaving me wanting to hear more about that day and yet, knowing that knowing more doesn’t make it better.

Knowing rarely brings peace in unknowable things. Instead, an embrace of accepting that thing or things we cannot always understand always does.

Acceptance brings peace.

Knowing more doesn’t make it better.

Today, I’ll look for ferns, asparagus hopefully. The bright green prickly fronds that seem delicate are actually thick and strong.

Feathery and fragile and yet, they endure as long as they have sunlight, water and necessary protection from the frigid cold.

I’ll share my aunt’s advice with my daughter and add it to my treasure trove of her sweet lessons for my living.

Peace, today I shall go in peace. Stay with it.

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;

the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.”
‭‭Numbers‬ ‭6‬:‭24‬-‭26‬ ‭ESV‬‬

This one’s for you, my precious Aunt Boo.

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