O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, I sang as I lit the candles on my table.
I noticed the E had slipped off my peace sign. As I went to straighten it, still singing the words of that familiar Christmas carol, I thought about how the E in PEACE could represent Emmanuel.
There’s no real peace without him.
No peace in our hearts.
No peace in our relationships.
No peace in our world.
No real or lasting peace can be found anywhere else ~ O come, O come Emmanuel.
We often talk about that first Christmas and the gift we received through the babe in the manger.
The perfect gift given that no other gift could ever outdo or outshine.
Emmanuel: God with us.
As I fixed the E, I thought about how I was bringing (or not bringing) Emmanuel into my family, my relationships, my little corner of the world and beyond.
I don’t want to just receive the gift. I want to give the gift.
But I know I can’t humanly do that unless I invite the gift into my own life and not just once but everyday. O come, O come Emmanuel.
I need him here, now … right where I am.
Bob and I have conversations about this as he struggles with his health. We’ve talked about how we need Emmanuel to come daily into our situation. We have sung or just recited those words as a prayer often through the month of December… O come, O come Emmanuel. Here now. In this present moment. God with us. Emmanuel.
We’ve also examined ourselves in the days leading up to Christmas to make sure (as far as it depends on us) that we have given the gift of peace to others in our lives, offering forgiveness, asking for forgiveness and extending grace and love to others. O come, O come Emmanuel.
The broken parts of the world around us can only be mended as we carry the light into the dark. Emmanuel, the light in us leads the way.
These are the gifts that mean the most to us this year. The gifts we will give and hope to receive.
How about you? What gifts can you give to others? How can you bring Emmanuel into your life and into your relationships this Christmas? Real peace comes from the Prince of Peace. It’s that settled feeling deep in our souls that we are right with God and others.
Some gifts can only be wrapped in love and given in peace.
Me: God, I’m angry. I need help dealing with this.
God: You’re not really angry.
Me: What? You are all knowing. You see me, know the circumstances I’m facing and you’re telling me I’m not angry?
God: You don’t have to hide your feelings from me. I want you to be vulnerable and authentic.
Me: Huh? I am being vulnerable.
God: Today you finally stopped carrying this alone and brought it to me for help.
Me: Yes, I need help with this anger.
God: So why are you angry?
Me: You know how I’ve been hurt in that relationship. There’s so much that I don’t understand and after all these years of friendship to be treated like an enemy is hurtful and makes me sad. I tried to reach out to talk but she shut the door on all communication.
God: Ah, so you’re hurt and sad? Have you read Psalm 55: 12-14?
If an enemy were insulting me, I could endure it; if a foe were raising himself against me, I could hide from him. But it is you, a man like myself, my companion, my close friend, with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship as we walked with the throng at the house of God. Psalm 55: 12-14
Me: Tears flow …
God: My door is always open to you. Read Matthew 5: 3-4 and mediate on those verses for awhile.
I come before the Lord empty.
Spiritually I’m destitute. I’m not strong enough in my own strength to handle this. I need Him. I open my bible to Matthew 5: 3-4:
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
There’s no room for anger, unforgiveness or pride, not even a little wiggle room.
I humble myself, I’m truthful about who I am and what I’m feeling.
Lacking what I need, I open my hands. I’m ready to receive.
This is my vulnerable place.
My mind flashes back to when I first came to Jesus years ago. I was finally truthful with Him about who I was. That was the door to salvation.
He swung open the door and welcomed me in and here in this present moment He does the same.
That vulnerability that brings me to God comes through what the Bible refers to as lament.
Lament means: “To express sorrow, regret, or unhappiness about something.” Or: “A passionate expression of grief or sorrow.”
Jesus’ first sermon goes counter culturally to what our world says we need in order to be fulfilled and lamenting seems weak.
But God shows me, in the first beatitude, that being poor in spirit brings me blessing and that His kingdom is mine.
I read it again: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”. Matthew 5:3
That’s present tense. That means right here; right now.
Honest lament and being truthful with God is the doorway into His presence and that doorway leads to His kingdom … on earth as it is in Heaven.
I share my hurt, sorrow, confusion, grief and I am transported above this painful circumstance.
I’m free to grieve. I’m free to be vulnerable. It’s ok to not be ok when I’m in His presence.
I mourn my loss. I read Matthew 5:4 again. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted”.
I am comforted, at peace and spiritually full. This is what it means to be blessed.
Since my husband, Bob, became critically ill 6 years ago, I’ve been referred to as his anchor. Mostly by his medical care teams and by his friends whom he confides in about what direction my role has taken in our marriage.
Being a caregiver to a spouse who has been hospitalized at least 12 times in 6 years with many of them being 1-4 week hospital stays has been daunting.
At the beginning of this journey, I knew that the only way that I was going to be able to fulfill my calling as Bob’s caregiver was to make sure that I took care of myself as well.
That becomes difficult when you feel the pressure to be the anchor of the family. The one who keeps the ship (so to speak) stable, secure, supported and free from floating erratically in the wind of the storm, keeping it in our safe harbor protected from invaders … or in our case, pathogens that can infiltrate the weak and vulnerable one on board.
The anchor is lifted when we have to sail to another medical procedure, treatment or check up and anchor in that harbor until it’s time to return to the safety of our home. Anchor down. Our life once again lived in our isolated stable environment. It takes its toll at times to be the support in turbulent times.
God knew long before I knew that this was going to be a difficult storm. One that would not be over quickly or easily and that Bob would be on deaths doorstep several times and I would be called upon to buoy him up and hold our ship steady. Miraculously his life has been spared time and time again and most recently when a palliative care/hospice physician released him from his care with the words, “Not time yet.” God knew and His plan prevails. How grateful I am to still have Bob here with me.
At the outset of his illness I knew that part of taking care of myself was remembering that I wasn’t capable, in my own strength, to be an anchor. It was too heavy for me. When I tried, when I became overwhelmed, I needed someone to help lighten the load. God provided everything that I needed in Jesus and through the harshness of the forces coming against us He became enough. He is still enough …
Enough to plant a deep faith in me
To show me daily what I need to add or subtract from my life to keep me in His peace
To supply the desire and strength to walk 2-3 miles most days to keep my body and mind healthy
To provide me with good nutritional choices to make balanced meals
To bring me resources to help keep my mind and emotions healthy
To give me gifts and hobbies to use and enjoy
To move in the hearts of family and friends to call or text me when I need encouragement
To show me who I can share my deepest thoughts with
To have good listeners available when I need to talk
To lead me to friends who won’t judge my words or emotions
To keep me from sharing too much so I don’t become a burden
To encourage me to share my story to help someone else
To reveal to me the good in the hard
To fill me with joy and all the other fruits of the Spirit
Enough, enough, enough…He is always enough.
And definitely enough to help me take on this assignment with grace for such a time as this. I feel deep in my soul that this is my best work. A deeply spiritual work. A job here on earth with remarkable meaning and purpose. A holy work. This job of taking care of someone who relies on me as I rely on God is truly holy work. I have to be mindful of this daily and to practice the presence of my Lord and talk to him throughout the day and not just during my designated prayer times. He is the anchor of hope and the anchor of storms.
That’s not to say Bob doesn’t rely on God. He does. I could never take that number one place in his life. Nor would he want me to. Bob has a solid faith, his soul is healthy and strong but his body is weak. Our anchor, our God, our all in all, is the one anchoring our lives in this storm.
Well hello there. It’s been 9 months since I visited the pages of this journal so I just may be typing to myself.
During the past 9 months, like the 9 months that it takes to birth a new life, something new has been developing, growing and birthing in me.
I’m not sure if that means that I will consistently write in this space again but that may happen.
I’ve been up to soul care. My soul care. Sometimes, like King David, we need to speak to our souls. I love the Psalms. The honesty of David is so refreshing. He was honest but always ended his prayers with attention directed toward God. He may have been depressed, downtrodden, running for his life at times but in his honestly he found God to always be enough. He could praise and worship the God who loved him only after pouring out his heart before him. Sometimes he had to speak directly to his soul…Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. Psalm 42:5
When Bob and I returned home after almost 11 months away for Bob’s cancer treatment and ultimate bone marrow transplant, I thought I’d pick up right where I left off. But as Bob recovered I found that I needed a period of recovery too.
For so many months I ran 90 miles an hour without thinking much about what I/we were going through. I had to stay strong, above collapsing, taking care of Bob, arranging hospital and doctor appointments, organizing the dozens of medications that he needed, making sure he received the correct doses at the right time, administering medications through IV’s, keeping everything sterile, watching him helpless; limp with barely being able to lift his head off of his pillow most days and feeling helpless when I couldn’t take his discomfort away.
Not much changed after we got home. I was on high alert as Bob struggled with more setbacks and serious hospitalizations. Go, go go… that’s what I did without much thinking, without much down time except praying and asking God to supply what I needed to keep going at that crazy pace. I knew that I couldn’t get sick and that put more pressure on me. There were times when I would think: I feel sick. What was that pain? Oh no, I can’t get sick. Bob needs me. Sometimes my thoughts were irrational. Stress will do that.
Bob’s doctors told us that it wasn’t going to be easy but we didn’t fully grasp the full scope of it until we got to the other side and looked back.
As Bob recovered and could do more for himself again, I found I remained on high alert not able to relax nor could I find lasting inner peace and quiet that I often experienced during the months away. There was more peace during the hardest places because I was being carried…carried by the Lord even when I couldn’t feel it. It’s obvious now in hindsight.
Many people run through life at high speed so they don’t have to face the truth about themselves or the thorny, painful, hurtful areas of life. They know if they slow down they would have to come face to face with themselves, their fears and anxiety. Running from the pain seems easier so they continue running in the wrong direction. Trying to quench their thirst for God with counterfeit gods doesn’t bring lasting peace. It’s just a bandage but won’t reach or heal the deep wounds of life.
What brings peace is being honest with ourselves, with God, facing our fears, hurts and surrendering them to God. Then we can slow down and live at peace, because we’re no longer running away but toward the one who cares for us like a good father.
I’m by nature a quiet, reflective type. It’s always been easy for me to unwind. I always thrived on peace, quiet, and by being alone but the running to care for Bob, living for so long on high alert, in the flight or fright syndrome — not by choice but by necessity — I became accustomed to that lifestyle. The hypervigilance that I lived for so long left me jumpy, waiting for the next crisis to respond to when I didn’t have to do that anymore. It served me well for many months but began to hurt me when I couldn’t let it go after the necessity to live that way was gone.
I needed to face my fear, anxiety, claim it, speak it out loud, tell God about it and then surrender it all to him. So I have been in process of letting go of the lifestyle I lived for so long and allowing a peaceful, quiet life to be birthed in me again.
That’s where I am. I haven’t been gone just facing myself, those deepest fears, anxiety, realizing it’s okay to rest now. Jesus says: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) It’s been good for me to rest in Christ.
Healing comes in different ways. Bob is in a complete molecular remission and I am healing emotionally.
Here’s a great song that speaks to me right now. You may like it too. Sometimes we just need to speak to our soul like King David did…
It’s all good, because like the lyrics by Casting Crowns says … “Oh my soul you are not alone. There’s a place for fear to face the God you know. One more day he will make a way. Let him show you how you can lay this down. Cause you’re not alone.”
We are handing in the keys to our temporary home tomorrow. After almost 11 months, this place is no longer needed.
The most intense part of my husband’s Leukemia treatments are behind us.
We spent 3 weeks at our real home this month and returned here this week for Bob’s check-up and biopsy. He’s still in remission and we are going home for good now only to return for periodic cancer checks.
As I walk through the rooms of this small apartment packing up the last of our belongings, I can’t help but think back on all that’s happened here. There were many days of uncertainty. Many lonely nights for me as Bob spent days, weeks, months of his own lonely days and nights in the hospital for treatment.
There were dressing changes, IV magnesium and antibiotic infusions done here and long periods of time when all Bob could do was sleep in this space that we called home. And all I could do was feel helpless — with only a prayer in my heart — as I watched him go through his suffering. There were several emergency trips to the hospital after the bone marrow transplant, because of infections, virus’, graft vs host rashes, low blood pressure and a fall that ended up with a stitched forehead. Then there were the re-admittance to the hospital times, because those side effects and illnesses became serious.
And there were times when I looked up and asked, “Where are you God?” There were times when Bob cried out, in familiar to us words,…”My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”
And that’s when Christ identified with us. That’s when His presence became more real. That’s when His compassion flowed into our hearts and uplifted our spirits.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. 2 Corinthians 1: 3-5
And that’s when suffering becomes a gift.
So we leave this place changed. We are forever changed and forever grateful knowing that God won’t waste our pain and grateful for this apartment that so often became our holy ground even in the middle of the not so wonderful times.
God doesn’t waste a second of our suffering. There’s purpose in everything and the hardest of times, those times of trouble prune away the unnecessary to make room for the necessary.
“We are looking forward to the end of this storm, this winter that we are in. We are looking forward to seeing all the signs of spring and new life…The crocus’ poking up from beneath the snow, the sun shining brighter, the patches of snow disappearing and the grass greening.
We are looking forward to spring with the hope of being home where we can live out what the medical staff is calling our new normal.”
As spring and the promise of new life arrived, we received the results of Bob’s spinal fluid and bone marrow biopsies, CANCER FREE! Two of the most beautiful words that we’ve ever heard!
Through the sovereignty of God and our son, Scott, agreeing to God’s plan through his bone marrow donation, Bob received a second chance at life; a rebirth so to speak.
After 8 months in this medical community, we thought by now we could make plans to return home but Bob is fighting an intestinal infection. The transplant knocked down his immune system so it will be an uphill climb for a year from the date of his transplant. The complete recovery process, at times, is grueling. What would be a minor illness for you or me, becomes serious for Bob.
What we have learned through this experience, right from the beginning, is that we never know what tomorrow may bring so we must hold tight to the ONE who holds tomorrow in His hands.
In the middle of our own medical odyssey, my dad had a heart attack and a stroke and is recovering nearby.
We’re a little battle fatigued but remain hopeful.
Our hope lies in the one who holds tomorrow in His hands and those hands are holding both of the special men in my life…my husband and my father.
I wrote a poem years ago that I completely forgot about until I received a letter in the mail recently. The letter came from a mission publication stating that they were going to publish my poem. It was an unexpected surprise. A gift of God’s timing. Here are those words:
Rejoice and Be Glad
Springtime brings new energy
And all nature is refreshed;
The veil of winter lifted,
Feeling by the sun, to be caressed.
The earth begins to come alive
As presenting a new song
And all that is within us
Begins to sing along.
God paints the earth with greenery
And colors every flower,
Showcasing birds against blue skies
With a demonstration of His power.
Somewhere deep within the heart
There’s a joy we can’t contain;
Surrounded by spring’s newness,
Hope and happiness remain.
Skipping to the beat of spring
Floods the soul with peace.
After the wilderness of winter,
God brings us sweet relief.
God is bringing us sweet relief slowly from our winter wilderness. What was buried beneath the winter of our souls, is emerging stronger, resilient, joyful and thankful.
Many of you have been part of this second chance at life for Bob — especially through your prayers — and for that we are thankful. We are thankful to God and to all of you. And now we wait in hope for God to clear up Bob’s infection and make his recovery complete.
“It is not the ‘ministry’ you could have ever anticipated or chosen but we are confident in God’s ability to help you live it out!” (from a dear pastor and his wife)
I pondered those words as winter released its grip.
I think God gifts us with creativity to help us cope through the messy parts of life. I find that my photography is a way to count my blessings. I capture most of my photographs indoors now. I keep snapping and pondering…
It’s been 2 months today since I posted here but I haven’t been stagnant. What have I been doing? Besides taking care of my husband, through his cancer and transplant journey, and finding stillness in my photography, I’ve been praying the Lord’s prayer. Everyday. Often several times a day and finding power to live out this ‘ministry’. My prayer, the words that I learned as a child, take on new meaning and perspective these days:
Our Father who art in Heaven
( You are my Father. A good and gracious Father. A Father that I can approach with the truth about my feelings, even weep and find comfort when I need it the most).
Hallowed by thy name
(You are worthy to receive all my praise. You are high and exalted and I worship you and thank you for allowing me to grieve my way to acceptance. I praise you for understanding me from the inside out).
Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven
(May your will be done here in this place (here on earth) where Bob and I live. Thy will be done. In releasing my life to your will, it frees me — frees me to give thanks, and leads me to acceptance and in thanksgiving and accepting your will I am surprised by JOY).
Give us this day our daily bread
(Daily bread. We have enough to eat. Thank you. But we need more. Give us what we need today…peace, patience, endurance, stamina, faith, hope, love, comfort…Give us yourself! You are the bread of life and in receiving you we receive life. Abundant life comes by living in your presence. As my brother, Jim, said to me, “The Lord doesn’t just provide what we need He is what we need”. And, Lord, you are enough).
And forgive us our sins
(Forgive me for the sin of fear, despair, or looking back on life as it once was…that life that we left. Bob’s illness took us out of our comfort zone and we found that comfort zone lacking in many ways. It’s only in the valley, the trials, the storms that we experience the truth about our Christian faith and what it truly means to follow you. We understand more fully what you meant when you said:
“If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple”. (Luke 14:26)
Even our own families and the familiar can become idols. We have given up a lot, left family, home, possessions, Bob’s health, friends, church, and now we’re living in a medical bubble in a strange city. At times it feels or seems like we’ve given up everything …and as hard as that is…it is also freeing).
As we forgive those who sin against us
(Sometimes it hurts when those we thought would be there for us are not or cannot. Is that a sin against us? I’ve tried to sort that out, Lord. When our hope lies in what others do or don’t do, it robs us of peace and joy. Many do not understand the weight we carry. Forgive them for they know not what this is or what it’s like. Until we walk in another person’s shoes, we cannot fully grasp the truth. It is the same for me; for us. I acknowledge that I don’t always understand what others are going through. We need to forgive one another! That frees us to love).
And lead us not into temptation
(Lord, help us not to look at life through our earthly eyes. Keep our focus crystal clear through our Spiritual eyes. That first step toward sin often comes through what we see and perceive that we need. Keep our eyes holy).
But deliver us from evil
( Lift us out from under the weight of the evil one. Remove his activity in our life and let us not fall into his trap of believing that you are not able to heal. You can and still do and we rest in our prayers for Bob’s healing. Let us not be lured into self-pity, bitterness over circumstances or lack of trust in your plan and purpose. We trust and believe in your sovereignty).
For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen!
(And may our lives and all we do and go through point to you. May you receive glory). Amen.
This place so far from home, the one we live in close to the hospital some may call isolation but we call it holy ground.
It’s a new normal. A place stripped of most of our possessions but here in the quiet we have found God to be more than enough.
His presence is often experienced the most in our deep nights of the soul.
We are experiencing Him in new and profound ways.
That’s a gift.
Cancer. My husband’s cancer has caused us to go deeper with God, to experience His peace that passes all understanding more frequently. Especially in times of fear when we feel lost and alone and cry out to Him. It may not happen immediately but He always lets us know that He hasn’t abandoned us.
We will never be the same. You can’t go through something like this and ever come out on the other side of it the same as you entered into it.
Often God’s mercies are wrapped in unexpected ways.
Look at Jesus. Away in a manger no crib for a bed…
Who would have thought God would wrap His most precious gift of love, grace and mercy in swaddling cloths?
Who would have thought God Himself would come to earth in such a lowly, humble way?
Truth is His most precious gifts often come wrapped that way. In ways that we would never expect. His gifts are perfect and right on time.
We prayed for 4 months that a bone marrow donor would be found for my husband.
Many have prayed. Perhaps you prayed too.
The news came that a donor could not be found through the registry.
More chemo. More waiting. More praying. More hoping.
Then the miracle came.
Our oldest son, Scott, tested as over half a match.
Not perfect but good enough.
It’s good enough for a haploidentical bone marrow transplant.
These types of transplants have been done successfully at the University Research Hospital where the transplant will be done. All transplants come with benefits and risks. It’s not easy by any means but we trust God with the outcome.
On January 6 my husband will enter the hospital. His immune system will be suppressed through more chemotherapy and radiation.
On Januray 13, Scott’s bone marrow will be harvested and given to Bob through an IV.
My husband, Bob, will receive the gift of life through the son that he gave life to. The son we gave birth to is giving his father a second chance at life.
Who would have thought that the answer; the gift would come through our son?
We celebrate the most precious gift ever given in Jesus this month, the one who has given us life eternal.
And we receive with grateful hearts His precious gift of mercy wrapped in the most unexpected way through our son, Scott and we thank our son for his most special offering. Certainly it’s the best gift that he’s ever given his dad for Christmas.
We are going to have a Merry Christmas knowing that our God knows what He is doing and although a perfect donor match could not be found He is going to give Bob a perfect transplant.
( The photo was taken of an angel adorning our beautiful European Cyprus Tree. Both the tree and ornaments were sent to us by some dear friends)
It’s early. I woke before dawn and watched daylight break through the darkness. I glance at the cup my dear friend, Nancy, sent to me and read the prayer printed on it.
“May God grant you courage, and through His grace provide the peace that lies in knowing He’s always at your side.”
More than ever I need to know this. We, my husband and I, need to know this.
My friend sent two different but special mugs. One for me and one for Bob.
The other mug says:
FAITH, is being sure of what we hope for. Hebrews 11:1
Our hope is in the Lord. Our hope is knowing that He will give us strength and courage to walk through this valley. And as the prayer on the cup says…and through His grace provide the peace that lies in knowing He’s always at our side.
Bob went to sleep with those words on his lips last night: “I believe.”
There have been bursts of glory knowing God is near as His overwhelming presence carries us. It’s actually more than knowing it. We’re experiencing it.
We arrived here in this place, 170 miles and three hours away from our home, at the end of August.
It is the beginning of December now and we are still here in our home away from home. In this apartment 2 miles away from the hospital where Bob is being treated for Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, we are living our new normal.
Bob spent 34 days in the hospital during his induction treatment. Now he is having his treatments out patient as we wait for news about a stem cell/bone marrow transplant.
A donor match hasn’t been found.
We’re running against time and soon the transplant team will be making a decision to do either an umbilical cord blood transplant or use a 1/2 match from a family member in an attempt to save Bob’s life.
Chemotherapy alone will not keep the aggressive fast growing cancer in remission.
Without the quick decisions and chemotherapy program that Bob’s doctors designed for him, he may not be here today.
We were whisked away within days to begin his treatment. They didn’t waste any time.
Bob is in remission receiving chemo to keep it there until a transplant can be done.
A couple of weeks ago, we found flowers on the doorstep of the apartment where we’re living. A gift from our friends, Tom and Bonnie. I clipped and arranged them, put them in a vase and they have been giving us many days of joy.
As we look around at the gifts and cards that so many friends have sent we’re overwhelmed with gratitude.
My sister and her husband have been coming at least once a week. Dave stays with Bob and Judy takes me out for a while. My other sister, Diane and her husband Andy visit and Diane meets Judy and me for lunch often.
The doctors and nurses ask me, “What are you doing to take care of yourself?” It’s easy to forget that if I don’t take care of myself, I won’t be able to care for Bob.
My sisters have been lifesavers for me, rescuers who won’t let me slip into depression or neglect my emotional or mental health.
Our sons; our daughter-in-law ~ ~ they’re like life-saving medicine to our hearts.
My brothers, my parents, many friends ~ their cards, their calls, their texts, their visits, their prayers are bathing us with hope and courage. We have an army of prayer warriors standing with us in prayer.
We arrived here in the summer…
Saw the beauty of autumn come…
then slowly slip away…
and stood amazed at the winter wonderland of our first snowfall…
Through the seasons of change and waiting, we are refreshed by the love and prayers of so many people.
In the fights of life, people can be conduits of great joy and deep refreshment. Margaret Feinberg
There are many friends and family members fighting this fight with us.
Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the Lord’s people. Philemon 1:7
(All photos were taken by me in or near our home away from home. I believe God has given us the ability to find and create beauty in the middle of this messy often painful world. I hang tight to Him and to His promises and will continue my search for beauty through my lens)