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Hear Me: Justice and Mercy

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The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, the splendor of Carmel and Sharon; they will see the glory of the Lord, the splendor of our God.Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, “Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, he will come with vengeance; with divine retribution he will come to save you.” [Isaiah 35:1-4] Isaiah 35 has been one of my favorite chapters in the Bible since I was in high school. I have always liked the visual narrative. Life after rain. Joy after victory. Be strong my child, do not fear—your God will come. He will come justly. Don’t fear, He has heard your cry. And He will save you.  Rereading over these verses are a much needed balm to my soul. Because lately, I haven’t felt heard. And that makes me feel so empty and sometimes even a

To The Sheep Who Tried to Lead, Part I

The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught. Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place  and get some rest.” So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place.  But many who saw them leaving recognized them and ran on foot from all the towns  and got there ahead of them. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd,   he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd . So he began teaching them many things. [Mark 6:30-34] The disciples had just returned from their first commissions. They were excited, but exhausted. Jesus wanted them to have some time to rest, to spend time alone with him. So he took them across the lake to find a secluded place. But their time alone was interrupted by the people seeking Jesus. The multitudes wanted Jesus. They wanted to be near him, they wanted to b

The Challenge

I tend to do my best writing early in the morning (or when I am supposed to be cleaning the kitchen). Truth be told, I would prefer to be sleeping, but I can't sleep. I know that I will be tired tomorrow and my daughter will be full of energy. But I've been wanting to write about this all week. So, I might as well get it done when I don't have any interruptions. Such as a toddler wanting to watch Daniel Tiger on my computer. . . . It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood . . . I was talking with my mom on Sunday night and she said something that made me stop and think. Why do adults think that it is okay to express their emotions (anger, frustration, irritation, etc.) in front of their children? Most of us wouldn't consider that appropriate behavior to act in such a fashion in front of our husbands or wives—so why do we consider it to be okay for our children to experience it?  I don't really know the real answer to that, but I suppose it is because we assum

A Quiet Loss

Hazel has grown so much in the past seven months. She is officially 2.5 and her name is Hazel Annabelle—which is what she will usually say when you ask how old she is. Sometimes she will blurt out that she is three, just like her cousin Ava. Soon little sweet pea, soon you will be three. This is such a sweet and innocent age. I wish that it could last forever. We have so much fun.  But there is another part of me that wishes that our January had turned out differently. We should have been doing the final touches on the nursery. Raspberry wall color for Hazel’s side, sky blue for Owen’s. Hazel would have been running around the house pretending to be Curious George and Ernie—all the while showing Oscar the Penguin (who lives in a mailbox) all the new things in their room. There should be a crib in the corner, across from Hazel’s big girl bed. But there isn’t.    That dream was shattered on April 27, 2017—when I woke up bleeding. The nausea, weight gain and three positive pregnancy te

The Terrible Two's

I have time to blog. That is unheard of. I could talk about anything, anything at all. Hmmm.... Hazel turned 2 last month. When people hear how old she is, they immediately inform me that I have reached "the terrible two's"—then they go about their day with a sense of purpose. As if they have told me something that I didn't already know. The two's aren't terrible, not anymore terrible than the stretch between 18-23 months. The tantrums aren't more pronounced, the meltdowns aren't happening more often, the world hasn't ended yet. That isn't to say that there aren't days where terrible would be used to describe them. Those days do happen. But I don't look at the age of 2 as being terrible. It is just different. They are different because now you have a fearless 2 year-old trying to do lots of things they couldn't do before. There are going to be more bumps, bruises, scraps, scratches, and kisses on boo-boos. Learning will be hap

Emotion

I feel like my emotions are trapped. I am a mother, why can't I openly grieve for the loss? I stood there and watched another mother accept the hugs and words of condolence from members of our community for over 2 hours. Those around me were crying, but not me. I felt heartless, but my heart ached. I wanted to rush forward and wrap the mother in my arms. But I couldn't. My daughter needed me. She needed my full attention. I signed the guest book and went back to the mother's room. Maybe after the service I could hug the mother. Maybe after the service I could mourn with her.  Three hours later, my daughter and I left. The service wasn't over, but my daughter was tired and hungry. Maybe at home , I thought, maybe there I will be able to cry .  The tears still haven't flowed. Maybe tomorrow I will cry. Maybe tomorrow the emotion that I feel trapped inside me will be released. Maybe then the healing can begin. 

Devalued

Devalued. A powerful word. What if  . . . the silenced could speak? What if . . . our nation valued   the life of all, including the  unborn ? You weren't expecting that, were you? We are interesting people. Fed up with police brutality, while turning a blind eye to tragedy happening within clinics across the nation. I'm not writing this to start a debate on pro-life or pro-choice. In my opinion, abortions should be legal, but they should be few and far between. Abortions are not a convenience, you aren't dumping unwanted food into a garbage disposal. Did you know that there are approximately 42 million babies aborted worldwide per year.*  42 million future musicians, doctors, nurses, ambassadors, politicians, artists, activists, teachers, social workers, plumbers, presidents, scientists, etc.—snuffed out because their beginnings were inconvenient to their mothers.    What if . . . we allowed their hearts to beat? What if . . .  we valued all life. Beginning