It’s the eve before my 37th birthday as I write this and my husband wants to know if there is anything I want to get out and do before the new day dawns and I’m older. Any spontaneous hurrah before it’s too late? He’s teasing but he’ll do it if I ask—he’s a good guy.

And, yeah, well, there is something…but I just did it. Or better said, I just experienced it. I’ve run after enough in life. If we’re going to celebrate tonight let’s celebrate the knowing that it isn’t what I chase that I want.

I want what’s chasing me. It isn’t what’s to be done, it’s what’s being done and I find myself right-smack-happy in the middle of.

DSC_2127-2Tonight my family and I had the privilege to meet with a group of people willing to spend the last hours of their weekend talking about some real, hard, stuff. They spent the last of their free hours looking at places where people aren’t—free.

Why would they want to do that?? It’s like rain on a parade, like rain on a picnic.

Although…have you ever had a picnic in the rain? It’s pretty romantic actually.

Yeah, it’s messy but what real thing in life isn’t? It’s because it’s hard we complain but that’s just until we realize hard isn’t the end of the story.
Hard IS the permeating, staying part and oh that’s good news. It makes us who we need to be, who we want to be.
DSC_2175-2Tonight, at the beginning, our conversation was sober—however, our ending was not.

Our ending consisted of experienced and knowledgable people bearing hearts and mind before God of the universe. We asked Him for help and for understanding because something lives inside us called trust. Trust, that beacon for home—home to peace.

The truest tune through all the muck we had exposed, through all the challenge set before us…in my heart, was an anthem of hope. (Like rain falling on winter ground.) It was a realization that even in our struggle, even in our mess, even in our lack-of-trust and anger, we matter, we effect. Maybe even because of it?

I saw it in their eyes too. I heard it in their voices. I felt it in my bones. That’s how it is.

I arrived late and more empty handed than I wanted, but it didn’t matter. That’s how it is. I couldn’t have left more full.

Once again I arrived somewhere hoping to give and I can’t imagine how anyone could have left there feeling as given to as I did. That’s how it is, with God. It’s like the color of rain.

The color of rain.
The presence of rain exudes this color that the atmosphere is filled up-to-spilling with. An aching, pregnant, heavy hue. I used to feel overcome by it, daunted. Now it’s heaviness soothes me like one of my babes wrapped next to me warm, covered—comforted. That’s just how it is.

My prayer: Find me there again and again, God. Find me in the blue and grey, in my anger, and lostness and stranded on my island of self-ness. Find me. Remind me. Lead me home, home to peace. I want that beacon inside me, that light I’d never see if it wasn’t defined by the heavy, cloudy coverings, hanging, sagging down. Oh God, it’s You. It’s all You.

I love the color of rain, it’s the perfect birthday song,


Thanks for being here guys. Getting to write to you, getting to share these photos I take on adventures with my kids, it makes me happy. To those of you I know and to those of you I have never met, thank you sincerely for reading.

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