Pattern of :: a Weathered Life
Fussy, teething, desperate-to-nap babies don’t do so well at church. While she rests and restores with morning slumber, I rest and restore in quiet reflection. As I read the scriptures, snuggled up in my blue painted couch, I’m reminded of the storm that blew through our fields yesterday… And the correlation to the storms that have blown through our life in the past four years… Manly and I will celebrate four hard-earned years this October. By our third anniversary we’d been separated for a total of ten months, conceived two daughters, burying one a healthy child and watching the other hang by a thread in the hospital. We hardly knew each other though we’d lived a thousand lifetimes together. We had a choice: to either weather the storms together or run to our own shelters. There have been times when we’ve done one instead of the other. There are periods when the storm is too intense for an individual soul and it’s, therefore, best to retreat alone. But we’ve always had a heart -even in …