love in my jaws.

I wish that line were my own. It belongs to Steve Marino, or “Moor Hound” as he goes in the musical world.  Ferocious, but not harmful.


Well, that word has taken on new meaning to me over the past few months.  Picture a snowglobe.  Tender, little white fluffies resting gently at the bottom of a shiny dome of serenity. Then BAM and they’re everywhere. You know? Mmhmm.

“Harmful” to me used to be the heading at the top of a big long list of neatly typed aphorisms that drew straight-lined boxes around life.

I suppose my Snowflake Orthopraxy has hardly proven to match my preconcieved Typewriter Orthodoxy.

{Hullo there, by the way. I’m back after a four-something-month stretch of doubting whether or not I had anything to say. I’m still not sure. But I’ve succumbed to the temptation to give myself the benefit of the doubt. Thank you for your encouragement..}

How else to explain? Well…there’s no way to dam up a river without stopping the flow, killing the flora&fauna, robbing the bed of its treasure.  I have always wanted “Good for Me” and “Bad for Me” to be figureoutable grid of formulae that could apply to the rest of my life.  A couple more aphorisms for the list.

But rivers flow. And to calculate the river would waste my time and the river’s time.  Drawing straight lines around the ebbs and flows of a wonderfully orderly chaotic explosion of heartbeats and train whistles and fishing reels and toddlers’ giggles and weathervanes and dandelions and front porches would be tragic.

I’m not saying to ignore the lines. Heavens, no. We’re to be a people set apart. Consecration takes lines. Some lines are deep, some hurt, some put brothers on opposite sides {alas}. But I’m ever so thankful that rivers go where they go, regardless of any grid we draw over them for our atlases.

Seriously, these past five months or so have been some of the hardest months I’ve seen yet.  There’s been a lot of harm, a lot of unlovingness, and this in places least expected.

But I am more and more convinced in the overwhelmingly beautiful redemptive work of my God. He is opening up the world to me and letting me taste and see His goodness – and this in places least expected.

The winds blow, the trees grow, the rivers go. Ah, good. I think that was the way it was meant to be.


I’ve missed this. It’s been a journey.  But I’m being freed every day, every night. I’m steeping in goodness, and hopefully soon I’ll be flavorful enough again to be poured out again. “But my life it is good, and I have what I need, and sometimes the wind, and sometimes the sea, and often the rain, and slightly the sun, and often I sit still, but mostly I run.”


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