When our Journey Shapes our Ministry

A stark lone tree
 looking over the city of Richmond

Lunch here at the house with a friend this week.

 She is just a few months into Widowhood-

 Midlife- with three children yet at home-

 teens all.

Solitary in figuring out the next phase of life- 

 even with helpers- still a daunting task.

 Paperwork, decisions, a new will.

It feels barren at times, 

some days raw and naked feelings.

Colorless.

Weathered paint dabbled in shade

It is like a piece of life has been peeled back and laid bare.

Trying to keep the face full of hope 

even when a day lays scraped and peeling.

For the children's sake......

Some days, it is so full, it just spills into the minutes-

 the what ifs, thinking about a different ending to this life story.

the stone labyrinth at Richmond Hill

And in a second I, myself, am taken back thirty-three years-

into the depths of my own loss- 

my first husband- and I- all of twenty-four.

Even yet....

The wrenching memories of hard paths,

unknown future,

the burden of loss.

Confusion in which way to turn,

muddled mess.

And I vividly remember,

  in the quiet of the night, a whisper echoed-

 Trust in me.

"Trust in the Lord." Psalm 37:3

And it was day by day -

this bridge building of trust-

 and each day yielded a gift-

 a layer of thanksgiving-

 that became a hint of color.

Till once again it fills my soul-

and I glimpse the world again,

 bathed in vibrant hue.

Spring primroses

The world becomes brighter.

And the joy does return.

And all of that journey

was for this day, this week,

 shaped so many years ago.

God deigned to cross our paths

so I could bring you hope, dear friend.