Quarantine journals: April 23

I’ve always love the number three.

Three sons.

The three best things of my whole entire life.

If you know anything

about me

it’s that I adore my Dad and he is

a carpenter.

He spent the time

and helped

my three sons

make these bluebird houses a few years back.

My part of the job was to find poles to mount them.

And I failed.

At least for a time.

But

THIS TIME.

Quarantine. Social distancing. Ruminating over past and present and things to come.

Somehow it all makes me want to finish

everything.

And so I found these precious birdhouses

my dad

and my boys

made with their own hands.

And finally we mounted them and we are grateful and

we wait.

The bluebirds will come.

New life will come.

Healing and hope and seasons and gatherings and community and

LIFE

will come again.

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great your faithfulness!

Lamentations 3:22-23 TMV

Quarantine journals: April 9

432,596 confirmed cases

14,831 deaths

24,245 recovered

*****

I took a walk

around the yard this morning.

Birds sounded louder.

Flowers looked brighter.

The grass glowed emerald

despite the hail that beat it down

hard last night.

How impossible it has been to look up and around and

outside the hyper focused panic of this pandemic,

where mercy reigns

and grace reins in

my wobbly heart.

Last night I sang and sang and sang until

I finally started to believe the words that

We are surrounded

by more than the monster before us. Rather,

we are held

fast by Him.

“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed…” 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 (ESV)

Quarantine journals: April 5

312,245 cases

8,503 deaths

15,021 recovered

*****

I remember

the Sunday school teacher handing out branches,

thick, green leaves rustling like crinoline as we

held back our glee about going to Big Church and

singing and waving for the grown ups

HOSANNA!

How long ago this was, how long ago it seems

we went to church at all.

How hard to find a way to praise this day

when the worst is coming.

Is this how Jesus felt inside as the palm branches waved

in Jerusalem? He knew

His doom awaited.

But still He rode.

Because He also knew the way the story ends.

And so we sing

hosanna

in small voices that tremble.

hosanna.

hosanna.

hosanna.

“So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, crying out, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!””
‭‭John‬ ‭12:13‬ ‭ESV‬‬