Brave, Anyway

Tag: hope

  • A New Year

    A New Year

    My word for 2026 is commitment. Unlike 2025 when I struggled to hear a word, this one came to me months ago. Seemingly a follow-up or wrap-up of things that have been on my heart for a few years now. 

    This year’s word is specifically about the commitments God makes to us. Commitments we can rely on, should rely on, and need to rely on. Relying on them takes faith and obedience, and what’s on my heart is that in the months ahead will be fulfillment of some of the commitments He placed in my heart and reminded me of in dark moments.

    I’m unusually excited heading into this year. Even though there are some stressful things lingering around, I find myself suddenly joyful throughout each day. Noticing small things, noticing big things, in the quiet and in the noise.

    I’ve discovered and am obsessed with mashups of Stayin’ Alive.

    I’m enjoying Lysa Terkeurst’s 40 Days Through the Bible and the questions she poses each day.

    I’ve even delved into house tasks I typically push off and groan about (why are new toilets so expensive?!), and checking all sorts of things off my list.

    I am expectant. And I really have no idea why, other than I just feel it.

    And I am happy. Silly and giddy happy.

    Loving a new painting of the Appalachians that I picked up.

    Adopting a new guideline for Breaking News and teenage antics: on a scale of 50 Cent to Jesus, how should I respond to this?

    Snapping pictures of a bathroom sign that said Wash your hands: Jesus and germs are everywhere you go.

    I’ve been trying to talk myself out of being expectant, and the word commitment. I guess maybe because I want to have realistic expectations and not be disappointed.

    But then this morning I was up early and headed to a workshop. It was 60 degrees and fog hung low over the fields on my drive up country roads. An eagle caught my eye to the left. He flew over me, then in front of me, and then stayed about 100 feet ahead of me for a good 10 minutes of my ride. Having to fly slower than he normally would. Flying lower than he normally would. Seemingly wanting me to follow him. Showing me the way. Or maybe reassuring me I’m on the right path.

    That’s when I decided I was going to write down that I am expecting. The 2026 chapter is going to be called prayers answered.

  • All Saints Day

    All Saints Day

    All Saints Day always scared me as a child. The sound of each bell tolling as names were solemnly read aloud.

    Death was scarier then, in the fire and brimstone of 1980s end-of-the-world preaching about the wide path that leads to destruction and billboards that asked me where I would go if I died tonight. As a teenager and young adult it sometimes felt like I would never be good enough to get into heaven.

    Today I’m thankful for age and life experience, which bring understanding and perspective. And also peace. God loves us. Nothing we do can change that, no matter how badly we might behave. We all sin, and we can’t let ourselves be tricked into thinking God doesn’t love us. And we can’t let those things convince us we aren’t good enough – good enough to be saved, good enough to be a light for Him, good enough to fulfill a purpose.

    As a child I thought the 12 disciples and all the Bible greats were super holy people. What a relief to realize that they were ordinary people. People with jobs and families. People who did some sketchy things. People like us.

    One of my favorite scriptures is in Hebrews, describing the great cloud of witnesses – the saints – that surrounds us. The New English Translation is my favorite: Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, we must get rid of every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and run with endurance the race set out for us.

    In the last couple of years, this scripture has started meaning more as I think about those who’ve gone on to heaven. Who are in my great cloud of witnesses. All Saints Day is about remembering those who have passed, but also those who have influenced our faith. Like my Dad who prayed with us and for us every day. My grandparents and Aunt and Uncles who set examples for me, encouraging love for church and service and learning. Cameron, an unexpected blessing who loved so big and felt things so deeply.

    They’ve shaped my faith, my laughter, my forgiveness, my politics, my love. My hope, my will, my strength, my courage, my empathy. My eternity.

    The Saints corner in my sitting room. Hats, uniforms and pictures of some of my saints, some in heaven now and some still here in this life.
  • Purple Lilies

    Purple Lilies

    Lilies.

    My favorite flower.

    When the girls were little and we first moved into this house, lilies were planted with the shrubbery that surrounds the house.

    Yellow. Pink. White. Purple. Orange.

    Calla. Day. Easter. Tiger.

    In spring 2018, I pulled them all up.

    Years passed. Five years, to be exact. No lilies.

    Until last year, 2023, when some of them reappeared at the end of May.

    Just the purple ones.

    Ella and I wondered…how? Is it a sign of something?

    Among other things, lilies symbolize wonder and respect for things beyond the everyday world. Also sympathy, beauty, and rebirth.

    Are they a message from one or all of the Dads we lost last year?

    The lilies are back again. Just beginning to bloom, and just the purple ones.

    Yesterday as I noticed, and snapped a couple photos, a dragonfly landed on me and then hovered around.

    In some cultures, dragonflies are viewed as the actual soul or spirit of a loved one who has come back to see them. They are also symbols of spiritual awakening, rebirth, and immortality.

    A comforting message. A big hug. A symbol of hope. Prayers answered.

  • Easter People

    Every Good Friday, and actually on all my dark days, my favorite words of Pope John Paul II always come to mind.

    Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.

    More simply, sometimes our Sunday is just 48 hours away.

  • Promise in Lenten Ashes

    I know today’s ashes are about reflection and repentance, but I have been weary in these recent days and working hard to shift my focus back to my word for 2021: promise.

    Every promise spoken over me.

    Every promise spoken into my heart.

    All of God’s promises.

    Promises that I am certain will come to pass, even though it doesn’t feel like it today.

    And so although it’s not a Lenten message, today I am thankful for the visual reminder of Isaiah 61:3 that Audrey and Ella and I are wearing on our foreheads – God creates beauty from ashes.