Imperfect Purpose

View of a couch from the arm towards a worn out seat.

I sit on my corner of a broken down couch

and ponder the state of the world.

Beauty and bitterness

Love and hate

coexist together as swirled

strands of a common theme

of humankind and human-unkind.


Yet somehow continuing

the timeless pursuit of meaning.

The world, the couch, and I share a fate

of maintained utility amid brokenness.


With purpose.

Hopefully good for something.


Haven for Healing

Angry Birds bandages, Neosporin, and an arm sling.

I once belonged to a church whose vision statement declared it existed to “share the joy of knowing Jesus” and it was a “haven for healing and a training center for ministry.”

I felt and was quick to share the joy of knowing Jesus and I actively participated in the training for ministry, but the “haven for healing” part did not resonate with me as something I personally needed. For me, it represented my hope that others who needed healing would feel welcome among us.

That was then.

Now I am the one in need of a haven for healing.

I believe in God.

I trust God.

But I have lost faith and trust in the church.

My heart is wounded and in need of healing, but the place I would normally look to as a haven for healing is, in this case, the source of the injury.

I know in my heart I need and want to stay connected with a community of believers, a community of Christians who experience the joy of knowing Jesus and the drive to share that joy with others; who thirst for continued study, growth, and training for ministry.

But what do I do when connection with a community of believers, a community of Christians, is the source of the hurt and pain?

Back then, I was one offering joy and healing; now, I am one seeking it.

I seek a haven for healing.

I know there are people in communities of faith ready to offer that haven – even people within my current one – but I am still feeling off balance and – frankly – more than a little burned. I am not yet ready to trust again.

I am struggling with trusting anyone – even well-meaning people – with my broken heart.

I seek a haven for healing.

I hope and pray I find a way to place trust in a church community again, but for now my focus is on God – in whom I do still have faith and trust.

The journey continues.

Psalm 121

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
from where will my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
He who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time on and forevermore.


Psalm 23: 1-3

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
for his name’s sake.


Psalm 51: 10-12

Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and put a new and right spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from your presence,
and do not take your holy spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and sustain in me a willing spirit.


Psalm 147: 3

He heals the brokenhearted,
and binds up their wounds.

Atomic Haiku

ShadowsAtomic bombs here

And some atomic bombs there

Which nut will fire first?


Americans love

And North Koreans love, too

Why harm the people?


Donald and Jong-un

Do not speak for the people

Let’s lock them both up.

Eclipse the Shadow

It was a thumb.

In the movie Apollo 13, Jim Lovell holds his thumb up in front of his face and blocks out the moon. As he moves his thumb back and forth, the moon disappears, reappears, and disappears again.

A trick of perspective let his little thumb seem to cover up the bigger moon.

Screen shot from Apollo 13 - Jim Lovell holds his thumb up to block out the moon.

I thought of that scene this past week as people across the nation stopped what they were doing to witness that same moon make the sun disappear.

The sun didn’t really disappear of course.

It was there all along…the moon only temporarily blocked our view of the sun…just as Jim Lovell’s thumb only temporarily blocked his view of the moon.

A trick of perspective let the moon seem to cover up the bigger sun.

NASA Screen shot of Solar Eclipse August 21, 2017.

The solar eclipse was a beautiful and amazing trick of perspective, and…

…and, it was reassuring.

In recent posts I’ve shared my struggle to remain positive and optimistic. I am sad/angry/disgusted/discouraged with the way things are going on many fronts – global, national, local, and personal.

It’s as if my normally optimistic self is being eclipsed by worry’s weight, hate’s heartache, and the devil’s despair.

The shadow is deep and dark; at times terrifyingly total.

So I am holding tight to the lesson of the solar eclipse:

The shadow is temporary.

My optimistic self is still here…somewhere…behind the shadow.

NASA Screen shot of Solar Eclipse August 21, 2017.

The psalm of the eclipse proclaims it:

The shadow cannot, will not, remain.

NASA Screen shot of Solar Eclipse August 21, 2017.

The light will break through – first around the edges and then with amazing power.

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine

Let it shine, shine, shine

Let it shine!

Out there in the dark

I’m gonna let it shine

Out there in the dark

I’m gonna let it shine

Out there in the dark

I’m gonna let it shine

Let it shine, shine, shine

Let it shine!

NASA Screen shot of Solar Eclipse August 21, 2017.

Pessimistic Pollyanna

Refrigerator magnets spell out "I just can not."

It’s not pretty.

It’s not at all pretty when a glass-half-full Pollyanna hits the reinforced concrete barrier of disappointment with the world and the overall state of things.

It’s gruesome.

I don’t want to look.

I try to avert my eyes, but I can’t escape it.

I am that Pollyanna.

I’ve hit that wall.


I’m overwhelmed at the degree of the hatred-of-other, apathy-toward-neighbor, and acceptance-of-lies unleashed in the world.


I’ve lost faith in and respect for our nation’s leaders.

I’ve lost belief in the ability of our state’s leaders to work for the common good.

I’ve lost trust in the spiritual maturity or accountability of my pastor.


So here I am.

Overwhelmed and lost.

I’m feeling anger, grief, despair, and – sometimes – fatigue and numb lethargy.

It’s taking its toll.

My blood pressure feels like it’s up, I think I may be getting an ulcer, and I can’t sleep.


The wall.

It’s been hit.


If it were just me, I believe I would withdraw from the world, curl up into an introverted ball, and tell the world to go you-know-where.


But, of course, it’s not just me.

We’re in this together.


Our – my! – inactions / actions affect others.

We – I! – can’t give up.

We can’t give in to anger, grief, despair, fatigue, and numb lethargy.


I’m still not quite sure how to proceed.

But I will try.

I have to pick up my battered and stunned self from the ground at the foot of the wall and seek a way over, around, or through it.

The Pollyanna in me, buried deep as she is, whispers to keep seeking the way.

Refrigerator magnets spell out "I just can not but will."

Wake-Up Call

Phone alert states, "Emergency Alert - Tornado Warning in this area til 8:00 PM EDT. Take shelter now. Check local media. - NWS."

You don’t need a wake-up call 

When you can’t sleep at night.

Eyes wide open.

Nothing feels right.

My cell phone shrieked, “Tornado Warning. Take shelter now.”

We gathered the dog and headed to a storage area in our basement – just in case.

We don’t get many tornados around here, so this was unusual and a bit scary.

They say it’s safest to be away from windows, but then you have no line of sight to see what is or isn’t coming. You have to rely on others to tell you when it’s safe to come out.

The weather warning expired and we emerged from the basement.

Fast forward to 3 a.m.

The rain and wind are gone, but I’m awake and on edge.

My cell phone sits in silence on the nightstand…no alerts and warnings, and it’s way too soon for the alarm clock to sound.

But my mind is shrieking, “The world is out of whack. Take action now.”

For this warning, it does no good to hide in the basement.

We need to open every single window and shine light on all the facts.

We need to creep out of our safe zones and track what’s happening with our own eyes and ears.

This is not a drill.

And we don’t need a wake-up call when we can’t sleep at night.

Oh My God

A black square with tiny print, reading, "God help us."

Oh My God!

The President of the United States is a boorish bully who has bragged about getting away with sexual assault; a state just elected a politician who physically assaulted a reporter the night before the election; our nation is on the brink of kicking the legs out from under the elderly, ill, disabled, and poor; and white evangelical Christians celebrate that this all reflects their “dream” leadership team.


Where are you??

Thy kingdom does not look ANYTHING like this alternate universe that’s come.

Please, God, deliver us from evil.