//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

//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

//of joy//

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//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

Wilderness Writing

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