Like many of you, I wish I was physically distancing on one of my favorite beaches on this Monday morning.  My usual walk includes grabbing a washed up piece of driftwood to carve in the sand.  
Each year, I begin with a beach retreat; I memorialize the new year with a guiding word, etched in the sand and my heart. This year in particular, I’ve added an extra word for this season: spur. 
I love that word, especially in the verb form; to urge, to encourage, to dig in your spur. 
Now, I’m no horsewoman, but I think gentle spurs are best used to reinforce cues for your horse to move forward.
So on this new week of pandemic loneliness, fear, uncertainty, I choose to spur...to dig in and gently encourage. My list of recipients grows; how about yours?

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Hebrews 10:24

Tonight, I was bumped and oh boy, did I spill. What I normally would have received as an unfortunate glitch, I, instead, became unglued. Tears spilled everywhere and I just wanted to bury my head in my husband’s chest. A lot like 9/11 when Rob was stuck in the air, he’s not here to make all this better.
Social media, heck, media of any kind, has crippled me today.  What I thought would be helpful, because I’m a fact person, is just too suffocating. I’m weary of the “first worldness” and weak attempts to cover up and assert control over our fear.  I’ve lost my grace tonight and I dearly want to regain it. It’s time to unplug and run into the Father’s arms. I desperately need Him; I just wish I could literally feel Him. 

Who doesn’t love Vincent van Gogh’s paintings? I think everyone recognizes 

“The Starry Night” with it’s broad strokes. 

I bet you’ve never seen his work named Italian Woman. I love all the short strokes in her quilt and the painting’s border. 

Maybe you would like to pick up your colorful markers or crayons and make your own masterpiece. You could use short, thick strokes to make something completely different. 

Then, have Mom or Dad take a picture to send me. 

Hugs!  Everyone is an artist. 🎨

We are all in a waiting room

COVID-19...pandemic...social distancing...words
that were new to many of us just a few weeks ago. 
Some of us have found ourselves physically alone and a lot of parents are probably wishing they could trade places for even a few minutes. 
My head hurts with information overload; my body already aches for human touch and honestly, from underlying stress. 
We are in a waiting room, all of us! 
I’ve been here three other times in the past six years and I’m still standing. Actually, I’ve grown a little taller and a lot stronger. 
Yesterday, I allowed myself one day of paralysis. (Well, except for performing some surgery on my refrigerator.)
Today, Operation Waiting Room is in full motion. 

Breathe-inhale hope, exhale “what if.”
Pray-at all times, including when I wash my hands. I have posted lists above each faucet. 
Move-short breaks to walk, bike and dance off stress and anxiety.  
Music-something new, something old; turn up the volume, lower it to a whisper.  
Read-escape with a good book, sink my soul into the Word. 
Serve-erase the temptation to make this about me.  
Scratch-in the dark. Finding something meaningful in which I can pour my uneasy self.  I write when I cannot process uncertainty; my friend gardens. 

You will have your own arsenal, but have one!  
I want to write more about my list in separate posts, but I want to close with two thoughts. 
First, I sense a time of revival. People are talking with God more often, people are searching, Easter people are stepping up to this crisis. If we quiet our souls and listen, we’ll hear from Him. What a Lenten period. 
Secondly, I will allow only a few minutes a day for sulking. No more! When Rob and I received the fatal news of pancreatic cancer we allowed ourselves only one pity party a day. We realized we were given the gift of precious time; we used it to speak love and encouragement into one another. Best advice ever given us!

This has pretty much been home for the last couple of weeks. Up for short visits with grandkids and I attempted church yesterday. For someone who has her hand in many pots, this has been a radical pace. 
Thoughts race through my mind; I just haven’t the energy to capture them on paper. Perhaps, some words are just best laid up in the heart. Life can become pretty self-absorbed from this view; I don’t always trust that perspective. 
This too shall pass.