Light from the Window

Sometimes you just have to begin.

Begin again.

Begin anew.


Three years have passed: three beautiful, messy, complicated, deceptively bountiful years. Years that have yielded gifts with lessons and stories of their own to give.

And I know it’s time.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. -Ecclesiastes 3:1

So with intention and in the quiet, today I sit in front of a picture window and watch the story of three years passing by. I don’t even know how to begin to share them. How to capture each one? Where to start? Some I want to shout from the rooftops. Some I want to bury beneath my bed. Some I want to chase down with bare feet, grasp with my fingers, and ask a hundred questions. Some I want to beg for understanding and forgiveness. Some have soft voices I want to listen to until I fall asleep.

Like a mother growing large and expectant in the waiting for her baby, I have grown full with story and life to be born, shared, and understood. The tales and people and prayers that have filled my eyes and ears and heart deserve a space and place.

I think one of the best and hardest things in writing and storytelling–in making sense of your life–is letting patience have its way.

How I want to tell you about so many things today.

About a precious baby and the long, lonely weeks when I waited with every protective and fearful and faithful muscle in my body waging war in the silence.

About the year when I had my very own office for the very first time.

About how love casts out all fear.

About my most favorite TV show. And a few runners-up.

About how friendships change with the seasons, and you do, too. And how that’s ok.

About parties and favorite things.

About how I believed I could, so I did. Because God did.

About missing home so much I can’t breathe.

About thirty-three students and their parents and everything they taught this teacher.

About the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had with my husband.

About SO MANY boots.

About how family is more than pieces of paper and promises, and yet…

About how my heart was rebuilt by little hands and relentless grace.

So I know the dark stories, marked by defeat and questions, challenge and growth, and the bright and brilliant stories, full of wonder and awe, life and thanksgiving, will come in their own time.

But the truth I have come to learn is that the same light shines on the beautiful and the dark.
In the end, everything is illuminated.

You just have to remember to look out the window.

For now,

This entry was posted in l and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>