I Forgot the Life I Had

Our home has been been forged in memories, tears, laughter, sorrow, hope…and yes, even heartache. My load is heavy tonight, the sorrow is in every exhale. I hold the box too heavy to bear, and I shove it to the darkest corner that I can find. This is how I feel. My muscles ache from the load, but my arms are alive with the pain.

I shut the door to the closet I hate, the place I wish to tear from the house, but it’s the room that has to stay. I find more hard things to box up and put away. I cram, I shove, I stuff…I hide it all from view.

The closet door shuts again.

And it opens.

And it shuts.



Again and again and again.

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She Asked Where Did the Time Go

She asked, Where did the time go? So I took her to the prettiest house on the block. I opened the door and I told her to go before me. We found time in the small living room with worn blue recliners and an ugly brown couch. We saw time in the conversations that could only be heard in memories.

We saw time sitting in the six chairs that surrounded the dining table. We saw time in a marriage that was faithful and sure. We saw time in a Christmas tree that was put up and taken down so many years that we still can’t remember every Christmas holiday lived. We just know they all happened.

She asked, Where did the time go? So I took her down the hallway where there were childhood dreams and a bedroom both covered in tears and laughter. I took her to the bathroom where time became hard-working responsibility. I took her to the closets, the desks, the drawers, the coffee table, the kitchen, the laundry room, and every little corner had time stuffed in between. Time that couldn’t be touched, but somehow it could still touch us. Continue reading

She Was Mad at God

She knew the right words, of course. She had drowned in grace upon grace and known the joy of a surrendered heart. She was seeking God with her whole life

And yet there were days in which she found herself lost in a desert place. Her world cracked around her, and lakes of grace became as a mirage. The shadows fell like heavy fleece blankets in summer, and she was weighted down by the impossible. Weary, lost, and hungry, she flattened her body against the hard dust.

Her blistered hands grasped at the dirt, but her eyes could not make the tears. So her body shook for the despair, and she lay defeated face-down in the desert. She could barely admit it to herself, but she was exhausted enough to say that she was mad at God.

Not just mad, but angry.

Angry at God.  Continue reading