three purple hearts

I posted this last year... and I couldn't have even begun to imagine what would be changing as we moved. Tonight, though, I very much feel the same as this post. But I wore a shirt today that says, "hope is defiant,"... and I'm holding onto that. In defiance of what seems to be coming, I believe God is love. In defiance of what things look like, I believe He is good. In defiance of all of the voices otherwise, I believe He has called me. I grieve what has come, and I hold onto what is coming. Be kind. Hold onto hope. I love you, friends.

I have this book that Sean’s grandfather gave me. It’s from 1930. Well-loved, pages creased, spine weak. And it is one of my favorite books. It’s called Songs for Courage. Written by a woman living through some very dark days, it is dedicated to “those who are walking, for a while, through the dark.” I took it to Africa with me, and have carried it and flipped through it many times when I approach a day or a task that I don't want to face. It’s a short book. Only 30 pages or so. But it often has something meaningful to remind me of. This morning was no different. It caught my eye as I was walking out the door, and I grabbed it. Looking for some courage for the task ahead, I came upon this prayer. I don’t know, anymore, where each day is leading. If I’m honest, I never did. And I will not pretend there is ease in the steady journey forward. Especially since the crowd I used to journey with now often feels like the current against which I move. “I only know that I may go Unquestionin

Last week I was in Phoenix. Part ministry, part work, part personal therapeutic time... it was a long hard week. I got home late Monday night after a long day of travel and a lot of emotions. Sean’s grandfather had been steadily declining since Wednesday, but it sounded like he had somewhat stabilized. I was going to go see him Monday night, but felt like I needed to sleep first. Bright and early Tuesday morning, I went to pick up a rental to replace the van that’s having major warranty work done and went to see Richard. He was sleeping when I arrived but looked much frailer than when I left. I sat down in his living room and worked for a while until I heard him stirring. I went in to see if he needed help getting around, and he looked up at me as if he were looking beyond… Just a few minutes later, all was quiet, and he was gone. It didn’t seem like he saw me Tuesday morning. If I had to guess, I would say he was seeing a lifetime of friendly faces welcoming him to a place we can only