NOVEMBER DIDN’T GO AS PLANNED.
I began the month with the intention of settling into routines.
Creating a schedule.
Leaning into the holidays with slow aplomb.
We had days off and cider recipes and
would even break out the decorations early.
But then the phone rang.
There’s something about a phone call with bad news.
It feels like you know immediately
before even the first words are uttered.
It’s something about the energy of the call
your stomach senses it
This call was to change not only our plans
My mother’s mother was gone.
Passed away, suddenly.
There’s this way that God brings us to Him. It’s so often on our knees.
But sometimes those knees are already badly bruised.
From constant use.
Is it a season?
I ask God when this season will end and I hear no answer.
I lose my daughter and my grandmother in the same year and
I wonder how a woman can survive bookend pieces of her identity just simply
But there is always an answer isn’t there?
His truth weaved through every conversation, every loss, every gain.
Through my grandmother’s things this past weekend I’ve found myself.
Passions we shared I never knew about.
Things she never told me about.
A heart string hidden from me, emerges.
Still there. Still tight.
It isn’t gone.
He speaks thoughts and love across the heart string
and those King-whispers fill the identity-void better than any world-thing could.
I have my answers.
Have you found yours?
“For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.”
–Psalm 139: 13-16Leave a Comment