It’s been a few weeks since my sister’s passing. I receive phone calls daily from those loved ones who want to be reassured that I’m OK. Somedays I pour out my angst, rage, sadness, and tears. Other condolence sessions are not as verbose.
I come to the garden alone
while the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear,
the voice to me is calling.
Share your creativity and watch it multiply, blessing others, inspiring them to access their own well of holy creativity waiting to be uncovered. Where does creativity come from?
“Go now and denounce it for its wickedness stares me in the face!” Jonah 1:1-2
Have you ever been asked to do something by that still quiet voice inside of you? Maybe it was to ask forgiveness of someone. Maybe it was to go visit someone you’d slighted and been avoiding. Or maybe it was to do a job that you’d neglected.
My heart is broken with the grief in the loss of my sister, Christine, to lung cancer. So, I come to my back porch for solace.
This is my choice. What am I going to let define me: trials, accolades, sickness, or maybe societal roles?