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God’s Gifted Trail.
Sometimes things are not explainable. We scratch our heads till our brains are sore, yet we don’t get it—and we may never understand. Sometimes the Lord simply blesses us with a gift that just can’t fit into a package making sense. And so, all we can do is smile, and tell the story.
I’m a storyteller.
Here’s my story.
A Traditional Approach?
For those of us who have lost loved ones, a sure-fire way to trigger yourself into a pit of despair is to blindly face old traditions without a plan. Tradition, to many struggling with grief and loss, is a word coated with emotion of various kinds. Wrapped with hooks, barbs, harpoons, and Velcro, there’s rarely any escape when facing holiday traditions. The soul already hurting has little chance against what “always was.” There’s bound to be some sort of damage—it’s Christmas week. It’s a war zone out there.
Trust me. I know.
Irony? At Christmas?
Frederick Douglass once said: “At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed.” I suppose he may be right. For in my mission to feed the hungry soul today, I can only think of the irony at hand.
It’s Christmas time. And many are struggling.
The Beauty of a Mourning Flower
The old adage that April showers bring May flowers fills our minds with the preconceived notion that the only time of year to see color is in the spring. I strongly disagree.
It has already started. A vast array—splashes of bright pigment that enhances the sight of every direction you turn—I’ve often supposed more flowers by number are fall-bloomers. Just take a walk and you will see wildflowers popping out of everywhere. Roadsides, hillsides, grasslands, parks, they might be smaller in size than springtime counterparts, but are they any less uplifting to the spirit?