For His Glory

****** Probably not my most uplifting post initially, but if you're willing to hang on to the end encouragement is possible. This notion of slow goodbyes has been swirling in my spirit for nearly two weeks. Unfortunately, this life is full of rather sad and sultry goodbyes. They take us by surprise. And by the time we see them for what they are we don't even know they've caught us in their sticky, tangled web. The frog in the boiling pot image comes to mind here. My friend, Helen, reminded me today of the small, every day goodbyes: In this dance we call life we say goodbye every day...goodbye to the morning, goodbye to our children as they head off to school, goodbye to a spouse as we go to work, and ultimately goodbye to the day itself, but the slow goodbye is the toughest because sometimes we don't even know we're in the mist of goodbye.  The parent of a child who is going through, or has gone through, high school understands a slow goodbye. The spo...

Is breathing life into the lives of others even possible? Breath of life...What does it mean? Does it even have a place in our hurried, quick-brewed, instant pot lives filled with tweetable quotes of 100 characters or less? Some might not think so, but I’m beautifully haunted by the story of Sarah that would beg to differ. Sarah's face will forever be etched in the recesses of her nurse's spirit. Their lives collided without warning as she brokenly broke through the doors of a local pregnancy center. Breathless. Her face spoke what words could not – desperation and fear. She said she didn’t have an appointment in her calmest most keep it together  voice, but her face and body screamed don’t turn me away. Please! Not you too. This is my last hope…You are my only hope. Sarah was welcomed with compassion and love. I caught a glimpse of her in the reflection of the doors as she departed. A half-smile sneaked across her face for a brief moment that whispered with humbl...