I have been a bit silent on this blog. But for good reason. I was writing a book. It’s sitting on the desk of a publisher right now, waiting for the next step in the editing process. I’m not sure when it will be published, but Lord willing, it will be sometime in 2017. So now that that’s out of the way, I have time to do some other writing.
In the meantime, this is bit of some old writing I stumbled upon, written on Christmas Eve, 2008.
Our lives are beautiful. We lurch forward, day to day, sometimes stumbling, sometimes standing, often bowed down by grief and trouble, occasionally filled with the lightness of boundless joy. Dreams are dashed, or sometimes granted beyond our wildest imaginings, and yet often we realize that our dreams, if fulfilled, would have fallen far short of what we imagined would bring us happiness. We are scarred by wounds that befall us, marked by the battles we wage in our lives each and every day. But in it all is the constant beauty of God’s loving hand, always guiding us, always lifting us up, always binding our wounds and drawing us to His loving arms. All that befalls us is transformed into our good, and when we reach that far shore, we will be welcomed with open arms, and our scars will be testament to God’s healing grace. We will wear them as a badge of honor, and say to anyone who will listen to us, “See this! This is where my Heavenly Father healed me! I was afflicted, and he tenderly cared for me. This wound here? I brought it upon myself, but Our Savior took it upon Himself, and bled for me in my stead. How glorious is His love for us, He who binds our wounds, wipes away our tears and brings joy out of sadness.”
Our lives are far richer for the sorrows that befall us, because of God’s inestimable grace and lovingkindness. Praise be to God, for His compassions fail not, and they are new every morning.
May we never be healed of the wound of living.