everyday thoughts on eternal things
This is my hope in life and death. In pandemic quarantines, and chronic illness, and uncertainty about loved one’s health. In anxiety, and weakness, and broken bodies, and the world’s innumerable sadnesses. Jesus is still alive, even when it doesn't feel like Easter.
I’m not sure about the exact numbers, but a good portion (maybe most) of the books I’ve read for leisure in the past few years have been memoir. So many things about the form captivate me. The intersection of storytelling and deep reflection, the invitation to walk the landscape of the memory through well-crafted vignettes, …
We can do both. Weep and shout. And it’s ok if you can’t tell apart the sound of one from the other.
Easter is coming, but for now we wait. And beloved, though today we may wait, Easter is coming.
I have a piece over at Reformed Margins today that may be of help to some readers here. In it I process my absence of tears in response to recent events, and how I believe God is inviting some of us to learn to grieve.
Keeping Heart 