Showing posts from June, 2014


We don't know how some days, like our purses, get so stuffed, so overwhelming, so messy, so unorganized, so unplanned, so not how we want them to look. But their contents snatches our breath at the overflowing and unmanageable, exhausting and exasperating. Sighs surface and heads bow as heavy hands relinquish to a draining heart.

Days that turn us inside out and upside down, we just can't carry them anymore; the baggage consumes us. The dump we cling to, the chaotic clutter, has to be dumped to find what we are searching for. We have to refuse the refuse that deposits in the middle of our days, the work spaces, the heart crevasses. Because there is a consumption that occurs from the inside out.  It is the separated soul suffocated in the abyss.  

There I was on the highway trying to drive to St. Louis while searching through my purse for the item I was certain I possessed. It must have  settled deep down in my purse, unable to be seen or felt. And deep down don't my frustrat…

EACH. SINGLE. PART. of this weekend

My thirty-two hour visit home was a weekend snap chat of sharing life. With set aside schedules,  the text of our lives stilled space at a resting heart's rate where the soul's private oases became the basis of chatter. Indulging day dream talk of dreams suspended and bucket list chases as the sun reigned down and the wind danced  leaves above our heads. Mom's dream to sky dive was as high priced as dad's dream to continue to drive.  Walking the parkway the way we each share life with each other: ahead, behind, beside, quiet, and close. Blowing to cool home-made pot pies while we fanned the flames of  wishes and words. Oohing over the gooey cake and buttering the jokes thick. Searching and finding the owl in Carondelet park as we do the wisdom from our days: expecting and deliberate.  And then when life's end is discussed while sitting in the middle of these days, the mind's tunnels envision that   each.    single.    part.    of.     life.  should.    be.    h…


I would suppose over the last year  my mantra or big pursuit has had to do with this verse:  The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.  I came that they may have life and have it more abundantly (John 10:10)
If we were meant to have life abundant then  I challenged God to show me how to pursue this life.
When my heart exhaustion started sighing, “I don’t need this,”  I thought there had to be something that I was missing.
Metaphorically, my purse was a miniature life, and it surely appeared abundant. Like my life, it was crammed full, compartmentalized, and  organized to make the days easier. There were days of triple bags: purse, work bag, gym bag.
Is my purse a metaphor for my pursuit of God?
The clutter I cling to in my purse every day resembles my life.
Lists:  My notepad actually reads to do now or later. These lists are the immediate needs to meet the demands of my family, my home, my church, my job, my activities versus those that could possibly wait.  They are my desires …


PART 1: How the idea began!
I was asked to speak before a group of Christian women by a dear wise woman whose genuine pursuit of God I have admired for years. Her confidence in my words undid me as I found myself at a loss for what to impart to women wiser, smarter, and more clear headed than I might currently be. 
When she texted me, she said I could just give one of my lessons I spoke at church from Ann Voskamp’s 1000 Gifts. But the funny true story is that if you speak that into your phone it comes out Ann’s Vodka Camp.  I teased her that I was immediately comforted by the fact that I would be speaking at a place that people might not remember my name or thoughts.  It surely lifted the burden.     Days later, I moaned to another friend that I didn't feel I had any expertise to share.  Who am I that I should be speaking to others?  I ramble thoughts about words and events in life that make me think “Hmmm” here on this blog domain. It is mine alone and given with open invitation f…