Beautiful is the Tapestry that Holds Me

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Pink and white seersucker trimmed in lace. Raised and tapered at the shoulders. Skimming the ground. Cinched at the waist. Clothed in my mother’s old robe, I putter around the kitchen as I make breakfast before the world stirs. Out-of-date and yet full-of-history, it is the robe my mother wore in the hospital as she spent her first hours holding on to my little life. The feel of the seersucker and lace edges. The sight of the pink and white. Her face glowing in love. My first moments.

Any attempts to remember those moments beyond the photos taken are merely imagination. And yet, I venture to guess the memories exist somewhere within me. Time may have locked them away. But all are not lost. Rather, every caring gesture, nurturing act, and tight embrace are threads within the tapestry knit within me. Continue reading

The Christmas Alarm

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A new frame holds an old picture on my chest of drawers. Smiles beam on their young faces. Oldest has his arms wrapped around mother and father. Youngest holds on tight to mother. Mother and daughter’s hands intertwined. The photo speaks of promise and hope. Dreams and the unknown.

TIME rushes like a racing train through a tunnel as the voice of my youngest pierces the silence. I am no longer the young daughter clinging tightly to my mother. I am now the mother.

How is it that TIME can suddenly go off like an alarm – causing me to sit up and in the haze of sleepiness, wonder where I am and how I got here? Continue reading

The White Bags and the Ones that Hold Them

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They were everywhere.  Some were held tightly to the chest as if the heart needed it close by.  Some were laying on the ground as if they were too heavy to hold. Mine was in the chair next to me.  The white plastic bag held my husband’s blue pajama pants I gave him a few Christmases ago and his Wake Forest sweatshirt.

They had been stuffed in the bag as he put on the surgical gown for his emergency appendectomy.  All that he came into the hospital with was now in that white bag.  My mind wandered past the front desk, down the hall, through the secured doors, and into the operating room where he lay on the surgical table.  A doctor himself, he was not the healer in this moment.  He was the one being healed.  And all I had of him was stuffed in a white plastic bag. Continue reading

Lessons on the Trails: In Celebration of Dad’s Birthday 2013

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Written in Celebration of Dad’s Birthday, October 2013

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Stepping out of the car, we would open all the doors and begin putting together our backpacks.  Zip-lock baggies full of weathered camping supplies distributed amongst our packs. Freeze-dried meals and small snacks divided. The tents and sleeping bags strapped on.  Dad would carry the majority of the weight while still allowing me to carry my part so that I may know the feeling of bearing the weight of life’s bare essentials.  The hours spent combing Quest Outdoors, turning over the basement in search of supplies, plotting maps, and checking the list twice led up to that moment as we strapped on our backpacks and began to walk.

Turning one last time to see the car, we would say goodbye to civilization and enter into God’s creation – where all of our plans and control faded away and we were at the mercy of the wilderness.  Like the creatures that roamed the hills, for a short time we would become those who dwelled in the wild.

I always loved the way my dad’s soul would seem to come alive underneath the canopy of trees.  Awe overtook him and he became a child again – marveling at the wonder of creation. He would identify the towering trees above us in their Latin name.  He would point out the plants.  He would anticipate the beauty that lay right around the corner.  Nature is my dad’s sacred and magical playground.  It is the place where I learned some of the most important lessons life can offer. Continue reading

Baby Boy’s Dedication

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Our words of dedication at Highland on August 28, 2013

Within these stone walls with their bursts of color, we have marked so many of life’s most sacred moments before this cloud of witnesses.  Here, I was dedicated as a baby, baptized, and ordained – and here, we were married and dedicated our first child as we entered into this journey of parenthood.  Today, it is our great honor and delight to come before you this day to dedicate our second child to God and to this beloved community. Continue reading