The faith of a child.

She says she won't be skating.

She'll sit it out.

She's never been on skates. It seems "tricky" to her.

She watches carefully, breathes in the cold air, listens to the gliding of skates, watches as smiles form on faces and laughs, yes laughs, come after falls.

But suddenly, things shift. A heart is changed.

My little girl decides she's gonna' go on faith.

She'll lace up. She'll take the risk.

There is something happening that she wants to be a part of.

My hand and hers connect. We journey together.

Faith leads her to enjoy, to laugh when she falls, to challenge herself, to grow and to walk away changed and skilled.

And today, for a brief moment, I think I finally do understand why we are told to have the faith of a child.

Reaching for the hem of his garment,

Ann

piles and piles . . .

Of little things.

Amazing, little graces that fill my day. The spices that add so much to my steps.

I wonder sometimes how God could let the tough moments roll in to my already overwhelming days.

And then, I look around and realize the real wonder lies in the way he shows up each and every moment of each and every day when I let him, when I seek him, when I ask him.

Just today, the piles and piles add up. The spices of life, the good stuff.

- rain, healing and cleansing rain

- my girls asking each other if they can be bridesmaids in the other's weddings (in, ahhh, say 20 years or so)

- an email gracing my inbox full of God's love

- planning time to get together with a friend to make jewelry (something to look forward to, he knows I need it)
- a listening ear full of wisdom

- reading Job and laughing out loud at the conversations had there

- piping hot chicken noodle soup full of yummy comfort

May you find piles everywhere, piles large enough to cover up the unplowed ground beneath them.

Reaching for the hem of his garment,

Ann

the big cross necklace.

Today, I grabbed for it. The big cross necklace. No small cross on a dainty chain will do.

It is certainly not because I want to show off to the world or because I have the strength to proclaim this faith that guides me.

No, it's because I need to feel the weight of that heavy cross tap against my heart.

I need its weight to tap stronger and more loudly than all the other forces.

Asperger's.

Physical Illness.

Mental illness.

Loss.

Sadness.

Striving.

Wishing.

I need the cross there to remind me of his promises, to knock against my heart as I continue to knock at his door.

Reaching for the hem of his garment,
Ann