Going deep with Court

  Recently, it had felt very hard to do just about anything. I think this is because I feel like my safe place, my home base if you will, is not safe. I don’t think I even realized that it was my safe place. They often sneak up on me. Just about every time I get truly snuggled down into one of my safe places I start hearing the Lord’s gentle whispers asking me to come away with Him. For we serve a jealous God you see and He wants to be our one and true safe place.  For me this has looked like many things, but usually it’s people. I often find that when I start investing too much emotional energy in another person that it is not long before something goes wrong somehow.   This time it turned out to be something else. Im that it turned out to be an actual place. I’m not trying to be cryptic but this story is not mine alone to tell, and quite frankly there has already been too much miscommunication.  So I am fasting and retreating into silence for a period. I don’t know...

  I buried a man in a field tonight.   He was a precious man of God whose family opted to do a home funeral.    When I heard earlier today that he had died my first thought was: well shoot, that wasn’t what I meant when I asked You to end his suffering. You see I wanted the big miracle. The miraculous healing and restoring. Maybe sometimes this is the best way for that to happen though.  I would say most of the forty some people there had also not actually buried someone before. The hosts sure had as they had everything ready, and they had given our family the task of escorting two of the elderly women in the community.  The women stayed in the van when we got to the graveside and I asked if they wanted me to get them a flower to pray over. So when the girl came by to pass out flowers, and I sheepishly motioned to the three I already had, I felt the need to explain they were not all mine. ‘So? I might grab three if there are enough?’ The girl replied. (If o...

  I once read a book titled Blow the Shofar, or it had that phrase in the title I think. There was no shofar. I waited. I can’t remember what it was about, but I seem to have a vague notion that it was some kind of weird romance story maybe.  Anyway. I have a shofar now. A dear friend gifted it to me and at first I could hardly blow it, and for a moment there I panicked that whatever skill you have to have to whistle was needed for this. I cannot whistle. Lately though I have discovered that it is less blowing and more just, well, spitting. This, I can do.  Just about once a night I have stepped out into my backyard and blown my shofar. My husband usually giggles and steps out on the front porch. Pray for my neighbors. We also have a mess of chickens and a duck, but we live in an unincorporated part of a sort-of country county so, well, yeah pray for them to get good rest I guess.  I have this sense sometimes, that I just need to blow it. I have reached the point of ...