Sitting on my back porch today, looking at those pretty woods dotted with redbud trees, I remembered a page in my journal from not quite 2 years ago that I recently stumbled upon:
This light-hearted journal page, full of little wishes uttered as weak prayers, was written at a time when our family was in transition, making decisions about a new job and a new city. The surrounding pages in that same journal are filled with a lot of fear and pain and questions, and lessons on the resolve that it actually takes to follow the scriptural command to “live at peace with all men.” Sometimes the best path to peace is a shut mouth, which makes for less spoken words but more filled-up, tear-stained journal pages.
In the middle of those messy pages, I forced myself to write down some hoped-for wishes for the future. (And now, not quite two years later, check, check, check, and check.) If you are in the middle of your own hard season, don’t be afraid to lift your head and dream a little. I know it’s scary. Draw on your courage and faith, and infuse some hope for the future into your heartache. Be brave.
Lost in Laundry 