So this is the longest I’ve been away from this space. For the past four years this blog has been a place for me to venture into the role of writer, a place of peeling back a few layers on my own heart in the hopes that it might encourage some. But like the best of blessings, my attempts at ministry to you have been just as much a ministry to me. Writing has become my own process, of sometimes frantically and sometimes begrudgingly seeking God, of trying to make sense of the world through a few words and stories.
So when life becomes so full that I can’t come visit my own space, I mourn a bit. And then there are so many bits and pieces that I don’t even know where to start again, and I wonder if any of you ever feel that, when life gets a hold of you and it’s like you’ve been snorkeling out in the ocean, and you forgot to look up for a while, and when you finally lift your head you realize that you’ve strayed far from the shore. Sometimes life is like that. We get going and we just keep our eyes moving from one thing to the next, and we forget to lift our heads up and take a breath and reorient to our own soul’s shore.
So this is an attempt to start again, because I believe that fresh starts are one of the best things about grace. I believe that the sun rising and falling is a sign of God’s faithfulness, and that he wasn’t joking when he said “his mercies are new every morning.” I believe in the verse that says “in the morning, Lord, you hear my voice. In the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.” Maybe mornings are a sacrament, an outward sign of an inward reality. Maybe mornings when the light slowly transforms the darkness is just like grace, just like God’s hands shaping our hearts. So this day has been enough, and even when I think I’ve worn grace out, it’s brand new every morning. What a gift.