Real, heartbreaking, raw truth your heart has gifted here., A piece of prayer, a modern day psalm and lamentation, and it has moved me in waves of sorrow and hope. The evil set in the hearts of humans may never be erased, however the strength of the faithful will ALWAYS overcome, no matter what happens. Standing together, I pray we will witness mountains move.
I've been so overwhelmed that I haven't been able to read half of what I saved in these post-election days. But I found your words in my inbox again this morning, and they rolled mighty like a river of justice. Thank you. Thank you.
Your words make my heart ache and heal all at once and that right there is beauty I didn’t expect today. I hear you, I see you, I ache with you and I stand with you in all of this and more. You are loved and you are such a blessing.
As always - encouraged, blessed, and challenged through your beautiful writing. And I had the bonus of clicking that Spotify link and hearing a song I'd never heard. For a few minutes, it was the soundtrack to my lament.
And now, all to quickly, I'll jump back into my inbox and lose myself in the rhythms of work, working out, and dinner with a friend - knowing that the anxiety, anger, and other emotions will gladly wait till later tonight to be dealt with. But like you, I'm thankful for the solidarity of friends who are willing to call out idols while still daring . . . to hope. (And I find my lower lip quivering as I dare to write that phrase.)
Thank you for this. Your words are dharma and a balm. Strangely, I am calm today. Yesterday was heavy, tears, grief, fear. But today, calm. It is picking up the things that could not be picked up in that moment of shock. It is remembering my beloveds, refining my commitments, and reaching toward moments of beauty, and dare I say it, joy. Through tears, I danced on Wednesday. I will dance again tomorrow.
The calm is such a gift, Kelsey, as is dancing through tears. I am calm today, too, and I think it’s because I let the feelings flow through, and got loose to my favorite music.
You put this beautifully: “reaching toward moments of beauty”—what wisdom.
I'm taking the day off to re-read the 2016 to 2019 chapters of my memoir when the Spirit of God comforted me and gave me hope. The same hope I need today.
I don't know how helpful it will be to anyone else, but the comfort I received was this: Don't fear your neighbor even if their motive is for your harm. Give away your money like there will always be more. Give away your time like it will never end. Love like there is no tomorrow.
It aches, Beloved. And you are generous with us by offering us any words. Through your words and your honesty you bring beauty to this moment. A juxtaposition that sparks wonder.
Sharifa,
Real, heartbreaking, raw truth your heart has gifted here., A piece of prayer, a modern day psalm and lamentation, and it has moved me in waves of sorrow and hope. The evil set in the hearts of humans may never be erased, however the strength of the faithful will ALWAYS overcome, no matter what happens. Standing together, I pray we will witness mountains move.
Blessings to you and MUCH LOVE,
~Wendy💜
I've been so overwhelmed that I haven't been able to read half of what I saved in these post-election days. But I found your words in my inbox again this morning, and they rolled mighty like a river of justice. Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you. Wow.
Your words make my heart ache and heal all at once and that right there is beauty I didn’t expect today. I hear you, I see you, I ache with you and I stand with you in all of this and more. You are loved and you are such a blessing.
This means so much, Trish. Thank you.
As always - encouraged, blessed, and challenged through your beautiful writing. And I had the bonus of clicking that Spotify link and hearing a song I'd never heard. For a few minutes, it was the soundtrack to my lament.
And now, all to quickly, I'll jump back into my inbox and lose myself in the rhythms of work, working out, and dinner with a friend - knowing that the anxiety, anger, and other emotions will gladly wait till later tonight to be dealt with. But like you, I'm thankful for the solidarity of friends who are willing to call out idols while still daring . . . to hope. (And I find my lower lip quivering as I dare to write that phrase.)
Big hugs.
Hope undoes me, too, Don. Your last sentence—I get that emotion that hope just draws out. Enjoy the times that anxiety and anger can wait.
Wow.
Hugs.
Hugs back.
Thank you sis!
I love you, sister.
Thank you for this. Your words are dharma and a balm. Strangely, I am calm today. Yesterday was heavy, tears, grief, fear. But today, calm. It is picking up the things that could not be picked up in that moment of shock. It is remembering my beloveds, refining my commitments, and reaching toward moments of beauty, and dare I say it, joy. Through tears, I danced on Wednesday. I will dance again tomorrow.
The calm is such a gift, Kelsey, as is dancing through tears. I am calm today, too, and I think it’s because I let the feelings flow through, and got loose to my favorite music.
You put this beautifully: “reaching toward moments of beauty”—what wisdom.
I'm taking the day off to re-read the 2016 to 2019 chapters of my memoir when the Spirit of God comforted me and gave me hope. The same hope I need today.
Oh, that’s wisdom. If you want to share any lessons, I would love to hear them.
I don't know how helpful it will be to anyone else, but the comfort I received was this: Don't fear your neighbor even if their motive is for your harm. Give away your money like there will always be more. Give away your time like it will never end. Love like there is no tomorrow.
It aches, Beloved. And you are generous with us by offering us any words. Through your words and your honesty you bring beauty to this moment. A juxtaposition that sparks wonder.
That means so much coming from you, Nya. You’ve taught me much about how destruction must come before recreation.
It aches. And we are tending to the joy and strength we send forward—another wonder.
You are brilliant, Beloved. I Love you.
I love you too.
Listening to you and praying for you and your boys, Sharifa. I'm grateful for your words, and I'm so sorry for the pain from which you wrest them.
Thank you for praying, Andrea.
What I’ve learned can’t be contained in a comment here. I need to sit with that question for a while. Gnaw on it.
But. I’m grateful for you putting in words what was rumbling around in my heart and mind.
I am grateful for you listening to me before I had words, and during, and after. You are part of the community of loved ones that I write about.
Thank you for trusting me/us with your tender, raw emotions, and for being safe for us to process ours.