When I Consider Awe

I had a different idea for this post. But this afternoon I am overwhelmed, in a good way, with particulars, and all I can do is be full of them, type them up for you:

“On the bad days, I feel weak and I feel lost to it, like I’ve fallen through a hole in the ice and I’m sinking.

But then, some mornings, I wake up and I know the truth: I am strong.

I live in Viking country, and I come from Prairie people, and I am a survivor. I walked in my insulated boots through my own Mad Season, and the love of God makes me enough.” 

“I have known all these years since that you can never run all the way to the end and lay your hand up against awe. I have grieved this.” But sometimes it feels like you can, and that feeling is oh so special, close, spectacular that just the sensation is more than enough.


“An arrow of geese”

“I am of terra”

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

It all feels a little silly now that I’ve typed it. But it’s all I can say to sum up the now, and I’m going to go back to reading the beautiful, and I’m going to keep up the astonishment because it’s not a chore, it’s a life of awe, and I’m entering the house, and I will live awestruck because that is how I am whole.

January 23 Joy Dare: 3 Gifts Found in Christ
1. His closer-than-ever nearness, his almost tangible embrace mid-grief (at least in my experience)
2. The way that pain remains but joy becomes greater
3. The way he steps into our now, walks along with us on whatever path we’re on – path to destruction or path to life – and smiles, holds, and we’re near him again


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