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It’s true,

I really am a sucker for shiny.

The projected kind, that is.

Those little humans, the ones over there,

thoughtlessly shooting out

the sparkly ties that find.

The contagious giddy in the fleeting standstill.

Completely undone

in the collective, unspoken cradling

of the fragile glass of now.

 

 

Originally posted 26th Dec, 2016. I can’t believe it’s been a year…

tonight, while 5 year old niece performs surgery…

on her owl backpack,

“Doctor Vanessa,

she does have blood in her wing

so she’ll be fine.

But there’s no milk

or strawberries

or blue berries.

Or furpleberries…”

“But she’s allergic to furpleberries” I remind her.

“Oh yeah, don’t give her furpleberries”.

Serious silence sinews our thoughts together.

 

“Dr Vanessa,

I took off her heart

so she won’t be sick anymore.”

 

“Why, Dr Bailee,

you’re a genius…”

 

After contemplating the important work we’ve accomplished,

eight year old niece decides we need a song. Her currently favourite song.

(If you are so inclined, please sing and dance with us):

 

 

(featured image artwork by Dr Bailee)

 

 

the book with no names

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So for those of you who don’t know, I am married to a Lutheran pastor.

I could seriously write a book about what life has been like in the last 20+ years living this reality. The thing is, if I did, I would have to kill everyone first. Because changing names wouldn’t be enough.
I jest, of course!

But, these people are dear to my heart. My husband is the pastor of five churches and our churches are small. And of course, microcosms of greater realities. There are times I have enjoyed worshipping with big congregations. The fellowship can be incredible. However, for people with anxiety issues, being welcomed into a smaller community has been an extremely healing thing for them, and we have witnessed beautiful things that literally brings tears to my eyes.

One of the highlights for me was when a very reclusive gentleman, who has some serious anxiety issues for a number of reasons, finally joined our smallest congregation. To say that it terrifies him to join a large group of people, would be a grave understatement. So to see his ongoing healing from the love in that community, has been nothing short of amazing. Last year, he called our house to wish me a happy birthday on behalf of their little church. It is hard for me to put into words what that meant to me, because I know the agony he would have gone through before he made that call. (Please don’t tell him I wrote about him, he would die! 🙂 )

I truly feel blessed I am a part of all of this. And I will always be proud to be a part of these families. Warts and all.

(And thank you WordPress, for being another “family” I have come to love.)

 

pretty sure my mouth is shoe shaped

 

so, is it my mouth

or my soul

shaped this way?

 

or is mind

in sibling rivalry

with heart?

 

vying for the approval

of discordant voices,

the lens of reality between –

cracked,

distorting blood.

 

I look at the music

pooling at my feet-

the beauty of its reflection

tearing my comprehension,

sweetly serenading me

from the red of the truth.