Looking For Blue


Everything is waterlogged.

The little space that will yield the salad garden is fat with days of pouring.

The wheelbarrow that contains some mulch from a leftover project has pooled brown.


The bent rugosa bleeds a wet scent throughout the back yard.IMG_7551

I slap sandal-walk  through grass drenched only to see the little gardens have had their thirst quenched.

Some things have had their ruin in the rain.IMG_7545

It’s all been a bit much.


Enough already.

It is time for a little sun, a bit of drying out.

It is time to see past the gray to what I know is out there.

It is time for a bit of blue.

Yet, who am I to say it’s time for anything?

Can I command the wind and the waves?

Can I sweep away the clouds with a mere hand gesture?

Will I not be glad for the rain that waters waters waters?

How do  I know that all this drinking isn’t to make ready for another time coming?

We have known the August dust.

We have seared under the blaze of late summer.

Yet it is hard when we are hard wired for sun.

And there it is.

It is why we wither and hang low after days and days of wet and gray and bleak


It is because we weren’t meant to live there. We are hard-wired for light, for brilliance.

We are hard-wired to want the Son, to live under His glory. We are like flowers waiting to turn our faces toward Him.

Him and all His bright mercy and dazzling love and white-hot forgiveness.IMG_5293

The sky is always blue he said.

That’s what he preached the other day to let us know that even at night, even when there are clouds, the sky is still blue. We believe it because we have seen it.


Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.

Imagine never ever having seen the blue, the land that we live in is under a perpetual cloud, and yet, we believe the blue is there past all the grim and gray.

When we believe without seeing we are blessed, Jesus says.

In the mystery of things, in the economy of God’s Kingdom, there is a blessing thrust upon us when we believe in what we do not see. We turn our faces upward in anticipation anyway. We can see past the clouds to what is there, to what is about to come.

In looking for the blue we turn our faces toward the Son.


When There Is No Father’s Day Card

There is no Father’s Day card.

There is no square, no rectangle of blue and brown, no words calligraphed over sepia tones or black and white photos.

The words written between the folds are not true for everyone.

There is no card when there has been no fathering.

I used to be jealous of the shoulder-to-shoulder human clump feigning politeness as it moved collectively bumping up against the card display trying to find the perfect words and the perfect picture for the perfect dad.

I’ve wanted to tell that clump “You’re looking in the wrong place”, but that would have been unkind.

Yet, it’s the truth.

We won’t find what we’re looking for on this terra firma.

Since we are hard-wired to celebrate, so we must.

Every third Sunday in June our culture tells us to celebrate a person who, for many of us, should be celebrated.

Both a father and a mother are to be honored…we are commanded by the One Who holds us in the palm of His Hand to do that very thing.

His commands are a part of His brilliance.  He knows that honoring yields a blessing.

But what of the father…or mother…who leaves?

What of the father who forsakes the job of fathering?

What of the mother who forsakes the natural ache of mothering?

There is no card for that.

Yet the command to honor is not dependent on whether the cards lining the box store shelves ring true or not.

Honor your father and mother so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.

Millions of hearts hang heavy on a day set aside to celebrate the staying father, the present mother, because they do not know what I know.

I know the pain of relationship breaking and relationship re-building can be some of the best part of me.

I know that there is a Father who will never leave me or forsake me.

I know that abandonment is not the final word on the trajectory of my life.

I know that when I choose to honor no matter what circumstance surrounds me I live under the smile of God.

There is no card that expresses honestly what is in my heart so I don’t join the human clump jostling about the card aisle.

Instead, I celebrate the man, my terra firma father, on the day God brought him from the womb, promise breathed and promise still being fulfilled. This birth day happens to fall just days after the Hallmark invention and I receive it as a gift.

I have learned it is a gift to honor regardless of deservedness.

I’ve learned to love despite the frailties, the imperfections, the leavings.

I have learned it’s the way He has first loved me.

Hand cradling baby feet