It was mid May and I was a Mom of four young kids in school. Enough said, right there, right? Only 10 am but already feel like I couldn’t go on without a cat nap. Yes, surely a cat nap would revive my May depleted soul. The warm, morning sun was shining in my bedroom so I stretched across the bed thankful for the silence.
Uggghhhh, the blogposts are starting to pour in. So many people are writing about the struggles of the holidays: the frustration, the depression, the hate, the unmet expectations. Unfortunately these feelings ring true for so many, if not all of us....
True hope is found in the midst of Christmas brokenness, not in the absence of it.
Back in the college days of my youth, I was falling deeply in love with a young man who swept me off my feet at the young age of 19. I was immature and inexperienced in love, but that makes the story a little more exciting, doesn’t it? Love was new to me. It wooed me into the captivating days of losing my appetite, forgetting responsibilities, and finding it hard to sleep without dreaming of “him”.
There he goes again! It’s been two solid weeks. I don’t know if I’m more annoyed or worried about this little guy. Don’t be mistaken, he’s not a human but rather a bird. A robin to be exact. Off and on for days he has been flying straight into my breakfast room window, beak first, making a loud knocking noise every few minutes. After a day or so of this madness and irritating distraction I decided to consult with the Audubon specialist. That would be my mama. (Even as I write this, my little robin friend is going at it. For sure, his neck must be getting sore by now!)
I'm having those New Year's thoughts that come every January . . .
- What significant things happened in 2016?
- Have I changed this past year?
- Did I have any resolutions last year?
- Did I reach the goals that I set?
- What can I do differently in 2017?
- I'm ready for a change! New beginnings!
- Will another year be filled with the same old stuff?
It was the first day of November. The colorful leaves welcomed me as I set out for a day of work. Driving, I prayed, “God, I want more. Give me life. Give me a glimpse of your kingdom here on earth.”
Easy to pray, harder to believe.
At lunchtime I drove into Homewood, a small, charming suburb of Birmingham, where I immediately felt, you guessed it, at home. The community welcomes you with open arms and seems to say, “Come on in … everybody is welcome here.” In fact there is one day a year set aside called, “We Love Homewood Day” because everyone who lives there loves it so much.
There is a place just around the bend that your heart has been searching for day and night. Nestled deep within the trees, it calls to you from the end of the road. It is a place where you long to be. A place where your soul will sing and your heart will be free. A place where you will not only find shelter but where you yourself have something to offer. A place where you feel full and satisfied as you cry out in sheer thankfulness, “This is what I was made for!”