Sometimes nobody else is tearing down what we are trying to build. Sometimes it happens through the stories we create about what is happening around us. Before long, we are no longer responding to what actually happened. We are responding to the story we made up about what happened.
I want to write to you the way I would talk to you if we were sitting on my mom's deck, having an amazing cup of coffee (or tea) together and looking out over more trees than you could ever count. I was up at her place last week, worn out and quiet, and I found myself doing something a little silly. I was looking at the forest and debating with God about which tree I liked more, the oak or the pine
While we were in Hawaii, I spent a lot of time collecting shells. The first shell I found was beautiful — whole, large, complete. But for the next couple of hours, almost everything I found was broken pieces. And as always, in full transparency… I was getting frustrated.