A Little Detour

For anyone who follows this blog, most of my writing for the next 40 something days (during the season of Lent) will be found HERE

Join me, if you like. There should also be a link to the right called StoryFormed.

-Tara

Hope

I believe it is called dramatic irony. You know, in literature when the weather seems to mimic the moods or intentions of the characters and/or plot line. I have felt this often this winter season - the environment around me seems to be screaming lessons into my heart and life.

I am beginning to feel better; recovering from my "off-ness" with a lovely upped dosage of thyroid medication. It is amazing that this little tiny gland in our bodies can affect so much. Reminds me of Paul's writing about the "lesser parts" of the body. Ahhh...but that is for a different day!

Today, I am feeling hopeful! As I walk and drive around our area right now, it looks like we are in the dead of winter. From a distance, branches on the trees are bare. Their scrawny arms outstretched, pleading for sunshine and warm weather.

However, on closer examination, there are small bumps forming along the twigs and at their tips. Small formations that are a slightly different color from the branch are beginning to appear. Buds are forming and new life is conquering this winter deadness.


This brings me hope. I look forward to the bursts of color that these buds hold now only in promise. I look forward to the new movements of God churning in me and how they will burst forth. Yes...I love new growth....I love buds....because they make me hopeful!

waiting

God of bottomless emptiness -
enter this place, this non-place

Hover over this watery abyss and speak into it.

Call forth what You see in Your mind's eye
and make it so.

Here I am - this chaotic universe
waiting for Your invasion

Form me, give me substance
for without You I exist only as dust

And I will wait - for creating worlds
does not seem to set You in a rush

Winter Storms

"You lead me beside still waters.  You restore my soul."

These words I write sitting on a log at the beach.  The hightide waves are very gently, very quietly kissing the shore.  Not a soul is here...not even the birds.  I think about how different this is from a few days ago when the waves were so turbulent, the fog so low and the wind bitter cold.

The beach shows evidence of stom and chaos.  Driftwood in the form of huge logs and branches clutters the surface of the sand.  Debris and garbage are caught in the gnarled pockets of roots and wood.  Out in the water a large system of upside down tree root gives evidence of a tumultuous landslide that stripped this massive entity from the earth and sent it tumbling to its death in the sea.

 

The tide is high so there is little room to walk, nor are there signs of life.  The usual sand dollars and shells covered by the rippling water.  Only sand and debris...

 

 

Yet the waters are quiet.  A morning haze is dissipating to reveal a rare blue sky.  And the junk on the beach gives me a reminder of the cleansing effects of winter storms.  There is a kindness in its severity - to remove the unhealthy, breaking apart, to make room for new growth.  The storms reshape the land and the beach and get it ready for spring.

  

I am this beach - being reformed by the severity of Love.  God cuts away the junk and pounds His waves at the shores of my heart.  He brings bitterness and fog.  And yet, today He grants a reprieve.  He leads me to still waters and exposes the debris.  Debris which should be a badge of shame but to which He says, "This is My doing.  It is good." 

So I will give in to the process of the wind and waves and brace myself for more storms ahead.  After all, winter is still upon me.  I know there will be much garbage to look at and haul away.  But I take heart, for the purging and cutting process is part of the Love of winter.  

(However...I really look forward to spring!)