5/365

"Yes, I am a dreamer, for a dreamer is one who can find his way by moonlight, and see the dawn before the rest of the world."  Oscar Wilde

I wake up to sewer smells in the bathroom and to smokey smells in the living room and I wonder how much my life expectancy might be lowered by the various fumes I inhale around here. And I can hear chickens and dogs and a train in the distance making morning sounds before morning sights appear. But then I go outside and turn for the view outside my front gate as I walk to work this morning and the promise of the day ahead, and I count it all grace to see the dawn before the rest of the world.

2/365

I wore today like comfortable old shoes that fit just right. I woke up before the sun and slid out of bed and over to the chair in the corner of the room and sat still to listen. I read those familiar words, faithful and true. My guy delivered a latte with a kiss. I got in the car and drove three turns and ended up with two-handed coffee and a most trusted confidant and prayers washed with sacred tears. I packed the car and hugged my girls and laughed as they goodbye'd us with a salute. We headed back to our other home, with a stop for a few groceries and an ice tea along the way. I drove into the neighborhood and beeped at a kid who returned the greetings with a two-fingered (of significance, as he is known to use just one finger...) wave. I wiped off and mopped up two weeks of dust and my house smelled like Mexican pine. I greeted our gatekeeper and greeted our workers and greeted my teammates and sat in my desk chair and made it wheeze when it lowered. I laughed with friends. We watched the sun put on a show before setting for the night and then ate together. 

This morning my reading ended,

And the commander of the Lord's army said to Joshua, “Take off your sandals from your feet, for the place where you are standing is holy.” (Joshua 5:15 ESV) 

Maybe there are days that make us fall on our face to worship, too.

1/365

"Getting old is not for sissies," she tells me as we rise. We have just finished lunch, treating me by sharing the gift card she receives from her kids every year. She celebrated her 75th birthday just a week ago. I nod my head in agreement at her wisdom while moving with hesitation, my tailbone still sore from a hard fall several weeks earlier. I think about my husband, eagerly anticipating having pins removed from his arm in just a couple of days. Certainly, we are beginning to recognize cracks in these mortal vessels.

The new year starts dreary, gray and rainy and wet. It's a good day to sit and stare out the window and reflect. Earlier in the year past, we took time to consider the almost ten years prior. On long pieces of paper spread out on heavy wooden tables, we mapped the journey. We remembered ups and downs, detours and dead ends, sharp turns and roadblocks along the way. In both ministry and in family, we have known celebrations and steep declines and struggles and tragedy, all. 

But back in March and now still, nine months later, I recognize our Creator, Redeemer, Savior God who remains faithful, firm and unwavering. The lyrics of a favorite song play in my mind-
I will build my house
Whether storm or drought
On the rock that does not move
I will set my hope
In your love, O Lord
And your faithfulness will prove
You are steadfast, steadfast
("Steadfast" by Sandra McCracken, Leslie Jordan and Josh Silverberg, with adaptations from Henri Nowen)
That is the chorus this sissy wants playing on repeat in the year ahead.