* not with ink

"I don't think I believe in anything anymore," someone told me recently. "Do you?" "I do believe in some things," I said. "Like what?" "I believe in love, in giving of ourselves in ways that make us more, not less. I believe in Jesus. I believe that he really lived, really died, really came back to life. I believe that changes everything. I believe that God is everywhere, and God is always acting, and sometimes we get to join in, and contribute to redemption and healing. I believe in old wounds healing over and broken things being made whole. I believe in relationships, in giving and receiving, in letting people in bit by bit, and discovering that we change each other, that we're not meant to go it alone. I believe in creating. I believe in contributing honest and hope filled beauty to the world in whichever ways we are gifted. Doing math or science or fixing things or being a parent or painting or simply smiling at th...

Last week, one of my lovely friends sent me an email with a poem (few things make me happier), because she had been "musing about strength and how one can develop and foster her own strength etc," alongside a recent conversation we'd had.* The poem was perfectly apt, and so we talked a bit about strength, and endurance and how life always has glitches and struggles that we cannot avoid. There is only one way ahead, and we have to go there. Going where you have to go.  Doing the needful, another friend calls it. But doing it in a certain way. One that expects capacity to increase, I guess, and believes that going where you have to go is ultimately going to be GOOD. I often think about this when things are overwhelming, or something in me resists what is inevitable, unavoidable, or already chosen: do I believe that the outcome will be good? That it will be worth it? Why or why not? If I do , then how do I help myself press on? If I don't , why do I feel the nee...

All the things. I want to write about all the things. About a book I read last week called The Remains of the Day . About visiting the west coast and the mountains and some delightful friends. About the mundane days. About my summer placement at a hospital and whether I'll become a spiritual care professional. About the haircut I'm getting today. About the encouraging words from my profs this semester. About all the feelings that surprise me and overwhelm me and give me hope. About our dog named Pig. About our rooftop terrace and summer patios. I have one hour before my haircut, and the to-do list is long. Schoolwork, housework, church work, creative work - there are all kinds of things to be done. But I took the dog for a long walk anyway, down the street and across a bridge, and past a walk-a-thon, and up the hill and over another bridge, and beside the dogpark (not in it, since an incident earlier in the week), and home again. And I breathe more slow...