from an article originally posted May 19, 2014...

Over the past couple of days, I have been rereading my manuscript. I have had about a month break, so it has been good to return to the pages of The Hardest Peace. I have not been reading it in order—there are some chapters I am not ready to read. But I have been returning to the pages and praying that God would use my feeble words for his glory. I have been praying that God would use the story he has grown in me to meet the story of those who choose to look upon the pages of this book.

In the words of my writing, I hear a quiet longing that grows to screaming by the end of the book: Show me your goodness in this hard, Jesus, Show Me Your Goodness In This Hard, Jesus, SHOW ME YOUR GOODNESS IN THIS HARD, JESUS!!! Meet me, Meet Me, MEET ME! Help me, Help Me, HELP ME. AND PLEASE, OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE, OH PLEASE ,MEET MY LOVES. LOVE THEM! The deep longing of my heart to see the grace, to trust the giver of my days, and to share that goodness with another. The grace in meeting another in messy and telling them about the lover of my soul. My neighbor, my friend, my child, my family—help me spend it all, withhold nothing. Jesus help me let go of self-preservation to embrace something better. Grace met in the mess.

In it all there is a longing—a deep longing for the grace to receive what is coming. My quiet longing is to remain—remain and look upon the developing story of my people. Some days the words are hard to pray. I struggle looking upon my history to embrace hope for the future. But I hear my little girl voice whispering to my good Father, Can’t I play just a minute longer? I haven’t heard His answer yet, but I know his countenance is a smiling one of a Father that loves, Loves, LOVES. And today, that is enough. I am comforted that he knows my longing. A Daddy that tells a sad child that it’s time to leave the party does it with a gentle heart knowing the joy the party grew in the child. But the loving Father knows exactly when it’s time to go. I trust my good Daddy in heaven. I may want to throw a fit in going, but I trust him. I trust him. I trust him. And guess what? He loves me, fit and all.