And it never failed that during the dry years the people forgot about the rich years, and during the wet years they lost all memory of the dry years. It was always that way.~John Steinbeck (From East of Eden)

In the early morning, I like to sit in a corner of my living room. I lift the blinds, and from that vantage point where I sit, I can see the sky begin to be fill with the entrance of the day. Like liquid gold. Streams of light. The other morning, even with all the beauty, I began to lament the earth's turmoil over these last months. I felt helpless to stand up to the giant of Covid and the chaos that pummels our culture. I felt heartbroken for the world's vulnerable children. I began to journal my thoughts, and sometimes when I write, I draw sketches in my notebook. The drawings are not very good, yet sometimes they yield something I need to see. I drew a window with light pouring through it. I realized when I looked at the drawing, that a cross emerged where I made two lines to form the window panes.  

I thought to myself, I must remember what is true, even in the murky darkness. The emerging cross reminded me. Jesus promising to never leave, His constant presence an anchor and a comfort during all times. Then in my reading from Psalm 8:2 (TPT) You have built a stronghold by the songs of babies. Strength rises up with the chorus of singing children. This Kind of praise has the power to shut Satan's mouth. Childlike worship will silence the madness of those who oppose you. Then this footnote: It is amazing that perfected praises do not rise to God from the cherubim or seraphim, but from children and babies, the weakest of humanity.

How can we know which days will be the turning points?~Sarah Crossan (From Here Is The Beehive)

I asked the protagonist in the novel I'm writing, "What are you longing for?" As an author I must know the heart cry of my characters. And she did "speak" to me so that I can continue to write her story.

I longed for margin for at least a decade. A broad place in my life where I had room, space to think, to wonder, to pray, to write. I would get slivers of what I desired, yet it seemed I never entered that spacious location and stayed for more than a few days. There were things to learn. Other places to go.

It is only this week when I mused on my character's longings that I stopped to ponder my own heart's desire. Caused me to appreciate the moments I experienced turning points over that decade of days.

I am seeing more and more that we begin to learn what it is to walk by faith when we learn to spread out all that is against us: all our physical weakness, loss of mental power, spiritual inability--all that is against us inwardly and outwardly--as sails to the wind and expect them to be vehicles for the power of Christ to rest upon us. It is so simple and self-evident--but so long in the learning.~Lilias Trotter

Last week my daughter said, "I finally watched that movie you recommended to me awhile ago. Many Beautiful Things. Oh, it was so well done. I loved it." I remembered making the recommendation, and replied, "You know, I was never able to find the movie. I just heard about it and wanted to watch it."  My daughter exclaimed, "Oh, Mom, you've got to watch it; it's on YouTube now."

The movie is about the life of Lilias Trotter. She was a painter, writer and missionary to North Africa during the Victorian era. The movie reveals how a modern day woman became so enthralled with Lilias that she worked for decades to find her lost art and letters that she'd written to John Ruskin for over two decades. Ruskin, an English writer, philospher and art critic became aware of Lilias Trotter and her artistic gifting. He told her that he could promote her and create a platform for her in the art world that would lead to renown and prominence. After this offer, Lilias was thrown into a crisis of faith. She had a heart to minister and help the downtrodden, the poor and underserved. She ultimately chose to travel to Algeirs with two other women to serve the Muslim population, especially the women and children.

...all that love we humans carry makes a sweet deep sound and we fly a little.~Joy Harjo

I didn't go to Italy after all. The messiness of COVID made it unsafe and I felt too much anxiety to travel. Giovanni and I make the best of it, each of us on opposite shores. The ocean in between is part of our history, part of our marriage. I used to loathe the distance. Over the years, though, I've come to see how that broad, blue expanse can be our pathway to intimacy.

Giovanni texted me, telling me that he'd hung a photo of us on the bedroom wall at his house in Italy. The picture was taken twenty-two years ago when we'd met again after twenty-five years. (All of that story contained in my first book, An Ocean Away).We'd both bought new shoes prior to that reunion--exact replicas without the other's knowledge. Chuck Taylors. We wore them in that photo. "Remember the shoes?" I texted back. "Yes, surely," he replied.

I thought of how our paths had crossed twice in life. How we were still seeing it through with each other, despite all the differences, the cultural divide, our own individual flaws, and the rough patches that every marriage weathers.

Your problem is how you are going to spend this one and precious life you have been issued. Whether you're going to spend it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it and find out the truth about who you are.~Anne Lamott, Berkeley commencement address (From The Comfort Book by Matt Haig)

There are some authors that I will read without knowing what the book is about. Matt Haig is that author for me. He's been described as the "King of Empathy." His latest title, The Comfort Book, meets all my expectations. I've lifted several excerpts that I thought may comfort you as you move forward in these uncertain times.

~And yes, we might feel that others are judging our worth via metrics like income and follower counts and weight and chest measurements and all the rest of it, but always remember we are more than can be measured. We are life itself.

~For when you reach rock bottom: You have survived everything you have been through, and you will survive this too. Stay for the person you will become. You are more than a bad day, or week, or month, or year, or even decade. You are a future of multifarious possibility.

~Pizza: The sky isn't more beautiful if you have perfect skin. Music doesn't sound more interesting if you have a six-pack. Dogs aren't better company if you're famous. Pizza tastes good regardless of your job title. The best of life exists beyond the things we are encouraged to crave.

~Scroll your mind: Social media can be a gallery of lives you aren't living. Of diets you aren't following. Of parties you're not attending. Of vacations you're not on. Of fun you're not having. So, cut yourself a break and scroll your mind instead. Scroll your consciousness for reasons to be grateful to be you. The only fear of      missing out that matters is the fear of missing out on yourself.

~I hope this email finds you very far away from this email.