Today marks a year into my Grandpa's passing, and so I pen a memoir. To revisit the grief is to remember the mercies God had supplied in sorrow. And to remember his life is to recount God's kind grace. And I pray that this may be of some sort of solace, to those who might be in a similar place of grief. For today, too, we recall, that death no longer has final say, but Christ, the Hope of the world.
As we await the arrival of our daughter, here I pen myself a reminder of the vices of longing for motherhood, as compared to God's beautiful design. May motherhood only propel me to deeper dependence on the Father who offers sufficient grace in all times of need.
This year I have been surprised by the kindness of God through the gift of a most-sweet love. Who would have thought, especially in the midst of the pandemic? As one who has walked through a prolonged season of hiddenness, these months have rendered me in awe and gratefulness. And so here I pen my own recollection of the pain of loneliness, and the faithfulness of God, with hopes to encourage other with hearts that long.
As the decade comes to an end, penned here is my customary letter to self.
In a season of rejoicing and celebration, I pray that we may not neglect the weight of the Truth of the birth of our Lord and Savior, who left all majesty to be born in a manger. In Christ, we see God denying Himself all lavishness to lavish Himself on us. A self-giving, other-serving, sacrificial love.
(selah) then...face to face. 