A Celebration of Joyful Sorrow

“So...is your joy back?” her far away voice asks me over the phone. Silence. I blink. And blink again. “Well, is your joy back, or what?” my dear friend persists. “Ummm...not sure how to answer that. I guess so?” “If you don’t know, your joy probably isn’t back,” she concludes succinctly. Perhaps I have lost my joy. Nearly five years ago on a frigid Wisconsin day I stared at the back of my husband’s head as he walked calmly from the sterile, cold courtroom. Five years since God did not perceivably step in and change a hardened heart. Reeling from the blow of this inconceivable divorce from my once youth-pastoring, Bible-believing, God-fearing husband, I couldn’t see the forest for the trees

Blinded By THE Light

Quiet house. Dark house. Empty house. Broken house. Impending storms both within myself and out in the humid, rain-smelling, Wisconsin evening. I sprawl on the couch un-showered, uncaring, unmoving; still as the night surrounding me. The upstairs closet is painfully empty. His dresser drawers still barren even six months after our divorce. I won't accept. I won't move on. I won't believe that this is my "normal" life. My desperate heart cries out to God in silent screams that run perpetually through my chaotic mind. How did this happen? Why me? What can I do to fix this? Who am I God? Help me, please help me. My tears literally soak my couch Lord, how long will you turn your back on me? How

Let's Stop Striving and Celebrate!

Does anyone remember those humongous, gigantic, colossal TV's from the 1980s? The kind that sat on the floor and had big huge, knobs on the front? (I'm aging myself here, I realize that...) As an adventurous and stubborn toddler, my favorite "game" to "play" with my parents was one of volume control. Meandering casually over to the TV set, I gazed over my shoulder at my mom as if to say, "Gonna stop me?!" Raised eyebrows and a dramatic pause as I grabbed the volume knob in my chubby little hand and threatened her with an imminent increase. "No, no, no," my mom would stay sternly, as she shook her pointer finger at me three times. "No, no, no," I would repeat in the same tone. And then sudden

To the Resolution Resistant: One Great Goal

I've always been intimidated by the start of a new year... The expectation to be better, achieve more, set overarching goals, and generally step up my game makes me wonder what was so bad about what I was doing yesterday? I fear that friends and colleagues will ask the dreaded question: "Did you make any New Years' Resolutions??" In my mind, I will grapple with what sounds appropriate to whomever has posed this question and respond generically because the truth is: I NEVER make New Years' Resolutions for fear that I won't accomplish what I've set out to do. How will I measure if I've been successful? How will I know what goals to pick? How can I ensure that my goals are God's goals? In the