Skip to main content

//it’s time: a yearly reflection//



It’s time. 

It’s time to pick up the pen again

To make some space, 

sifting through a cluttered mind

To dust the cobwebs covering 

like lace woven, an intricate design


It’s time to embrace the memories 

To dig in dusty boxes, 

pulling out instead of pushing down 

To search in the nooks and crannies, 

where they are waiting to be found


It’s time to gather up all that’s happened 

To sit with boxes of this years recollections 

captured in photographs 

To remember, the countless moments 

that bring out many tears or a contagious laugh


It’s time to make room for some pondering 

To hold close those moments of sunshine 

and smiles which filled your daily life

To grieve the deep losses, hard parts 

and hours as you waited up in the night


It’s time to sort through and decide what to keep

To release and let go your expectations 

of how you thought this year would go

To receive all this year did have to offer, 

the lessons learned, and ways you did grow


It’s time to remember this year gone by

To rest in the joy of precious times 

and in the aching of those that caused pain

To be grateful for the growing 

that happened because of the heavy rain. 


It’s time celebrate all that’s come and gone

To marvel at the impressions this last year has left

To savor the lingering echos of giggles 

and all the hidden places still feeling bereft 


So take time to reminisce

write down

sort and sift through

Take hold of the treasures

lessons and the trials too


All of it’s precious, a souvenir of the recent past

And gently place it back in that dusted off box 

Where those moments will forever outlast 


It’s time to get ready as another year approaches 

To surprise you in a daily unknowing, 

still boxed up in a brand new 365 days 

To catch you off guard in the mundane 

with its unexpected ways 


It’s time. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

//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 mid...

//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 betw...

//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 com...