three purple hearts

  I have said for some time now that a peace which was never made cannot truly be kept. Many people are speaking these days about peacemaking and how very different it is from peacekeeping. And this statement was a part of that journey that was missing perspective for me. “I was taught that keeping quiet kept the peace… until I realized whose peace is it keeping. Oh, right. The offender's at peace, the people who don't want to deal with it at peace, and I in this little body am holding all of the war. So, l don't want to hold it anymore.” It recently came to my knowledge and understanding that someone I trusted and whose perspective I valued determined me to be too unhealthy to do what I am doing because of my physical size. It’s so easy to look at someone and know whether they are healthy or not, right? To know what they should do to “appear” as they should if they were really “healthy.” I could go on all day about the wall that exists when we prioritize perception over re...

  Peace... What a strange word, a foreign concept, and a welcome reality. I have for sometime held the belief and advocated for the truth that a peace cannot be kept which has never been made. For the first time in a long time, I am seeing the benefits of the peace that has been made; for which we have fought, grown, survived, lost, grieved... and I am also getting a glimpse of how it looks to keep it. This season, Advent has been a whole different experience. It has been interesting to see how the themes are naturally arising in life as it progresses. These are natural rhythms of grace beyond the structure that always seemed critical. Today, around our table, we will reflect on the hope we have encountered in this season, and we will speak peace into the coming week. As I prepared for this time together, I was reading about Mary's song... how it looked for her to speak about a tangible peace, a lasting peace, a concrete change in circumstances that was rewriting people's lived...

  I think that hope was spoken into existence this week in ways that I could never have imagined that it was even possible anymore. As unusual as a lego flame adorning plastic candles with "stained glass" in the background... the strangest of hopes spring to life. Phone calls, emails, work, life... today has been busy from start to finish. My littlest kid has an appointment with a doctor I trust to help me help him be healthy. My employees are gearing up to begin services that seemed unfathomable just a few short months ago. My wonderful home has Christmas spread in and around it. My biggest kid is slowly regaining some balance after med adjustments. My class is wrapping up and this certificate is halfway completed. My eyes are heavy and I feel like rest is not far off. The grief side of hope is still there. Losses are not far from my mind. Friends who are no longer. Family that has shifted dramatically. There is a deep sadness that is recognized anew in the flickering light ...

  The Christmas season has been slowly creeping into our home over the last few weeks, so Advent settled in softly this morning. Early morning conversation across the miles, a nap (because the work of healing is EXHAUSTING), and then we had family worship around our dining room table. It is another different kind of year. Each one seems to be building on the last. The culture of our home is different as we grow, physically, intellectually, emotionally, relationally, and spiritually. As we reflected together on this Sunday of hope, I took firm hold of the belief that by the end of this week, the end of this season, the end of this year... we will be looking forward with fresh eyes and a new perspective. Growth enables that, allows for that, and empowers that. I pray that you had time to notice all you have to be grateful for in this past week. And as we officially step into all that comes with the transition from fall into winter, from Thanksgiving into Christmas, from then to now.....