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//joy made full//

“Hello” the morning sun whispers.  Eyes squinting, I mutter some encouragement to myself as I urge myself to wake up.  Tea in hand, I sit down at the well weathered wooden desk. The chair, ragged with a diy kitenge chair pad made years ago, falling apart at the seams.  Waiting to be remade.  And yet, it is here where I find myself wanting to be. The light seeping through the side window of the room - casting highlights on my forest green mug of steaming tea and sending sunshine cascading along the wall before me. For a moment  I’m captivated by the words etched into its being - Joy.  In the waiting.  I sit and I reflect.  Everyone is waiting for something.  A healing.  For provision. A change in circumstance.  For direction.  An unanswered prayer.  But having joy in the waiting -  that’s harder to come by.  So, how?  If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love , just as I have kept my father’s commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you,  that my jo
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//tending//

  The canopy spread out above me, offering much needed comfort and coolness in the peek of the day. Covering like a leafy blanket, sheltering my being from the scorching rays of the afternoon sun.   I sit and I swing.  The gentle and steady creaking of a well used green hammock chair, rocking me to calm. Swaying away worries, stress and the anxious thoughts that have tried to take over the past few days. I breathe deep, reminding myself that all these lingering and uncomfortable things will one day pass.  Just probably not in the timeline I want.  The breeze refreshing, as a twittering orchestra of trills and birdsong echo across the gardens before and behind me.  I’m hemmed in.  This space has been all but forgotten until now. Three hanging pots still cling to their sturdy branches, but two of them have seen better days.  They need some tending to.  Come to think of it, I feel like those once flourishing vines in the pots, weary and worn from a lack of receiving something life giving.

//mendings of gold//

From the beginning of time, you knew my name. Like a potter, you molded me into a vessel. Every detail designed in the very being I am. Yet, I find myself now with pieces left broken. I, the formless clay once held in your hand. Your Word, says you heal the brokenhearted -  those needing to be made whole. It says you bind up every single wound. So, Mender of all brokenness found in me,  I lay mine out before you. You gather all of me up so gently, this body bruised and soul despaired. A mind so worn and and a mind so weary. Tending to every ache and deep hurt, hidden within a heart that weighs so heavy. When my prayers have not been answered  in the way or time I think it should. Or when the miraculous healing hasn’t yet come. Let my heart remain steadfast  even though my life is becoming undone. I long for you to make me completely new,  yet I’m reminded it’s your will, not mine. You take these shattered pieces of clay -  And with a golden hue painted between the lines, they are being

//in-between places//

I long to see beyond the barriers  and blockades standing in my way. Past a wilderness of tangled weeds  and leaf-lost, barren trees in an ocean of unruly overgrown green.  I can get so caught up with the circumstance or situation standing before me. I see the thorns threatening to pierce and feel myself recoil at the thought of pressing on through the jaggers.  Soon forgetting. Soon questioning.  Soon doubting.  That the path set before me is a good one.  Even when I don’t see the sunrise from the valley. Even when I can’t find a foothold on a steep climb. Even when I stumble along a rocky path.  “Come. Follow me.”  A beckoning carried by breeze,  lingering there in the remaining leaves rustling. To walk through and press on.  To push past what’s threatening my perspective.  To catch a glimpse of what’s to come.  And to settle into an undeniable understanding that He will carry me on.  Even when I’m caught in the middle of where  He is taking me and where I’ve come from. “He refreshes