Buttercups in Bloom

It requires someone to extend a warm welcome as the guest enters.  Thinking through the process from the front door, to the seat and following through when they leave. To name tag or not. To pronoun or not. What language are we using; visitor or guest. Does one envelope the stranger more than the other? A serving list that has to be current.  Finally..... Greeters at the door. Those of us leading and shepherding live in the bubble that all of those things are the hard work.  We see it from an process perspective because we are the ones standing up front, keeping all the balls in the air and wanting to create a warm atmosphere that settles people from the beginning.  Yet.... Being the stranger entering a foreign land requires a search clicking through pages of information What time do they start?  What is the mission of the community of faith? What's the dress code? How far away is it from my home? Is there true diversity represented in the Body of Christ? If a d...

It came like thunder in the night leaving us shaken and uncertain. We hunkered down to weather the storm but were swept away without direction. Disoriented and broken  with the world swirling and passing us by.  The eye of the storm held us tight and battered us with shards of glass leaving us in cycle of fight and flight. A planting took place. The heat gave way to cooler days. The leaves that were once green and provided shade were released leaving the place and our soul barren. Tears flowed. Exhaustion settled into our beings. Laughter and lightness rose in gentleness as remembering took place. The weight that could not be lifted became bearable. More tears were released. The sun rose without question. The moon waved from beyond.  The storm released its grip. Our feet felt the safety of holy ground.  I am not the same. Yet, I am the same. The thunder has turned to a sunrise  and the pain now a quiet echo. The brown, broken leaves  have given way to lush,...

It began in loss. It gave way to turning inward. The fog lifted and we could see the beauty in the forrest.  The trials became a new trail that revived our spirits.  Closure unfolded in surprises. Love echoed from the years gone by. Holiness was encapsulated in the faces of those who have shaped us. Quiet love fed us without question. Back porch days laid the rock of revival. Music rose like a sweet symphony in the darkness. Envelopes filled with words that soothed the soul. In grief there was new life.  Dinners filled with our favorite things. Connection were laughter rises with ease,                    where hugs are given freely                    where you know the miles may separate you but the love will travel with you. Glasses raised and moments captured.  A catch in your throat for the kindness. Loss has led to new life. Heartache has been woven into healing. W...