A Journey of Faith Into the Unknown

Did you ever crawl into a small cave as a kid or venture into the dark woods that sat at the edge of your grandparent’s yard? Did you ever wonder when you would meet “the one?” Are you still trying to figure out your place in this world and your true calling? It’s frustrating isn’t it? The unknown. It is in these moments that we have to place our hope and trust somewhere or in someone coupled with our dreams. Often that trust is placed in the hands of a parent as a child. As adults we place our trust in man and often get our hearts cracked open because trust was misplaced. Man is fallible. My hope is that by now you have learned to place your trust in a heavenly father, Our Heavenly Father. Only He can truly lead us through the dark woods into the unknown with a spirit of peace that guides and gives comfort while we wait for the big reveal, the epiphany, the arrival into the known. That journey into the unknown takes faith.

Faith is a daily execution of one baby step after another believing in the unseen and the unknown. So for my family, we are exactly on that adventure through a dark forest without a flashlight and unable to see what is ahead. Yes, I said, “adventure” because it is all about perspective. Walking out a medical journey with my children isn’t something I ever expected. You see I have had to re-adjust my dreams for them and their future. But that re-adjustment came last after the acceptance of their new diagnosed limitations.  Accepting my children’s medical diagnosis felt like what I imagine drowning and falling off a cliff at the same time would. In that moment you are trying to suck the air into your lungs and instead you are taking in water as you feel yourself falling into an abyss of despair. I have wrestled with God quite a few times since that fateful day the doctor hurled those hateful and fatal words our way. I have been angry, self-reliant, and independent of my heavenly Father.  I have found myself standing in the middle of grief alone. I chose it.

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Pruning Tomatoes and Hearts

I remember chasing after my grandmother into the garden when I was a young girl. I would kick off my shoes in the grass at the edge of the garden, just so my feet could sink into the soft, powdery dirt my grandfather had just tilled. I would follow at the hem of my grandmother’s skirt watching it swoosh in her shadow at the tips of my bare toes.

I wanted to play in the dirt. I wanted to sift the soil through my fingers and watch the dust cloud burst up, transparent, toward the sunbeams streaming down.  But the garden wasn’t a place to play and I knew the etiquette. If you ventured inside the square half acre of strategically designed dirt rows you better be prepared to sweat. What grew inside that square fed three families and a handful of neighbors that feasted off the extra. That bounty fed us well into the winter.

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In Your Eyes

Photo by John Palmer Gregg

I have searched for poetry in every corner of the light.
I have searched it out in the shadows of evening
and in the silver reflections of moonlight.
I have orchestrated and waited for its’ arrival
Often sitting for hours, by candlelight,
Waiting for poetry to grace me with its’ voice.

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Peace

Like a river rushing furiously forth
Chasing the scarlet leaf that has just turned loose from its love
I chase you, my love.

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