Stars

once upon a midnight blue
the stars came out to dance
a brilliant play of God's night light
a twinkling sort of trance

and as I gazed upon that sky
so vast and full of Him
I felt so small, I felt so loved
joy filled me to the brim

when I consider your heavens, Lord
just as the psalmist writes
what is man that you are mindful of him
my thirsty soul delights





~ April Milam

Finding the God-thread

As my mother and father prepare to move out of state, I find myself looking back at old memories a lot lately, so I've been writing...

"But examine everything carefully; 

hold fast to that which is good;" 

~ 1 Thessalonians 5:21 (NASB)
 

"Be still, and know that I am God;" 

~ Psalm 46:10a (NIV)

Our lives are like a tapestry, the threads skillfully woven together to create a unique work of art.  Among the threads we are able to see ourselves, the people that surround us everyday, and God, The Tapestry Maker, Himself.  Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”   This bold statement implies that we are unable to grow toward greater understanding of our true nature unless we take time to examine and reflect upon our life.  The writing process can help us examine ourselves more closely, allowing us to see our life tapestry and the God-thread that shapes it with faith, hope, and love. 
 
Sometimes His threads are easy to see while at other more turbulent times they are the underlying threads, naked to the human eye, prompting our doubt to ask, “Where is God?” Finding the God-Thread is about taking a deeper look at every life story we write in order to “see” God.  Perhaps He was in the ray of sunshine that brightened your dark day.  Perhaps He was in the arms of a friend that knew you really needed a hug.  Perhaps He was in the lesson you learned from a difficult experience developing your sense of perseverance and character.  Regardless of the situation, He is always there.  Faith allows us to see the God-thread of hope woven throughout each life experience.     
 
Just remember, we’re all flawed.  Everyone has darker moments. No one leaves this life unscathed. We screw up. We shame ourselves. Tragedy happens. We've all suffered physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual hurt.  And yet not every story is for public consumption. You don't get points for pulling skeletons out of the closet and rattling them in your unsuspecting readers' faces. But the main goal of the writing process is to learn. If you learned something that might help someone during difficult times, it might not hurt to share.

Sharing God Stories

“Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”

~ Frederick Buechner Now and Then: A Memoir of Vocation

I put together a class on sharing our God stories and the material focuses on the craft of writing. But finishing the class with a life's manuscript that's polished and well written is not the point. A friend of mine once said, “It's about the process, not the product.” Yes, excellence is important, and we should take pride in our work. But there's a danger in getting so focused on how perfect the finished product appears that we forget to enjoy the process that got us there. Writing is a process, a journey that allows us to disentangle and deconstruct our thoughts with a depth than mere spoken words can't provide.

They say that reading makes a better writer. I've done the reading:

Anne Lamott Bird by Bird: “Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul.”

Stephen King On Writing: “The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them -- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”

Annie Dillard The Writing Life: “Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.”

Dan Allender To Be Told: “Fasting from any nourishment, activity, involvement or pursuit—for any season—sets the stage for God to appear. Fasting is not a tool to pry wisdom out of God's hands or to force needed insight about a decision. Fasting is not a tool for gaining discipline or developing piety (whatever that might be). Instead, fasting is the bulimic act of ridding ourselves of our fullness to attune our senses to the mysteries that swirl in and around us.”

The list goes on. The library shelf of life is filled with many great authors, but at some point, you have to set the books aside long enough to start writing. I wrote a class on writing to teach others how to find their voice, because every one has a story just waiting to be shared. You were made with purpose and glory. It's time to stop hiding your light. Let it shine. You have a story that's worth telling. What are you waiting for?

So tell me, what's your story?

Pool Ponderings

I've just spent an hour in the pool at The Y, punishing my muscles. I love swimming. Ever since I was a kid, I've taken to water like a fish. Today I think I figured out why I enjoy it so much.

As you swim, the water envelops you, resisting, reacting to every movement: push, pull, expand, contract, action, reaction. The water is with you every stroke and kick. Its presence is undeniable. What I love about it the most is the way it reminds me of God. His constant presence is as close to us as our next breath. For better or for worse, in the center of the laughter, the tears, or the mundane, He is there.

I can see the water, feel it against my skin, smell the salt and chlorine. It's tangible. God is just as tangible if we're willing to stop and breathe. His light, love, and grace envelop us. We may push away from Him or experience an irresistible pull towards Him. But He is there always.

I think I needed the comfort of that reminder, today.

“Now faith is the assurance (the confirmation, the title deed) of the things [we] hope for, being the proof of things [we] do not see and the conviction of their reality [faith perceiving as real fact what is not revealed to the senses].” Hebrews 11:1 (AMP)

a little monday poetry

"No More Boxes"

Fear and doubt make up the walls
Of my tiny little box

I am only this, I am only that
I am only as small as the box I put myself in

Light and love have no such boundaries
God has no such boundaries

Created with purpose for glory
Tear down the walls and shine

Light, love, and perseverance
Grace and freedom are mine

© April Milam 2012

How May I Help You?

I’m currently reading The 77 Habits of Highly Ineffective Christians, by Chris Fabry. I was cruising along, skimming pages, and having a good laugh here and there when I came across Habit #50, “Have All the Answers.” And suddenly the book wasn’t so funny anymore. Here’s the advice the author has to give to the ineffective Christian. 

“No matter what kind of life you lead, you will no doubt come in contact with people who are experiencing troubles and trails. And when people question their faith, it is imperative that you have all the answers.” 

“I do not mean that you should understand the biblical view of suffering. I do not mean that you should discern the bedrock theological questions of sincere people. That would be dangerous. I mean you should cultivate an attitude that you have life figured out.”  

“Never just sit and mourn with a friend; say something. Never identify with someone who is struggling. Never simply weep and admit you have the same feelings. Give verses, even out of context if you have to. Give short pithy sayings like ‘This too shall pass’. If you can quickly silence a question with a sentence, you have done a great thing, particularly if you can make it rhyme.” 

“You must also take on yourself the weight of the person’s problems and believe if you don’t have the answers he or she will fall away. If you don’t fix the person right then and there, he or she will be lost forever. In this you promote the idea that God is not sovereign, you are. This is why you must act as if you have all the answers.” 

The librarian in me wants to find all the answers, know all the answers, and be able to pass them out at a moments notice, served with a side dish of wit. I feel inadequate when I don’t have the answer. It’s as if I need the answers in order for all to be well in my own personal universe.  And the desire to share those answers is a byproduct of customer service.  If you can’t give people excellent customer service, then you’re not doing your job. 

The problem comes when this attitude flows outside of my job and into my Christianity.  After all, isn’t it more satisfying to make someone happy by giving them the all answers, then to let them lean on God, and simply be there with them as they struggle? 

"But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect." - 1 Peter 3:15

"But he said to me, my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." - 2 Corinthians 12:9

If others don't see our weaknesses, or if we don't boast in them, then how will Christ be magnified? We should be able to tell others if or when we did and still do struggle with something, but that it was in that weakness that Jesus changed us. It's His power. 

 Sometimes the smartest thing you will ever do is shut your big mouth.  Silence always speaks the loudest in any circumstance. I am always trying to fix things or create solutions to problems.  I know that when I talk with my husband about a problem  I'm dealing with, I'm not telling him because I want answers.  I'm really just looking for an ear, a shoulder, and a hug.  So why it that so hard to give others?

 

"A wise old owl sat in an oak, the more he saw, the less he spoke.  The less he spoke, the more he learned. Why can't we all be like that old bird?"                   ~ author unknown
 

Cerebral Quercus

The Assignment: Write a poem using the tree of life as inspiration.

Don't read too much into this.  Given that it only took me about 15 minutes to write, it's not exactly my most thought provoking piece.  But it was a  fun experiment, and the results were quirky to say the least.  Enjoy.

"Cerebral Quercus"

I sit at the base of an ancient oak that whispers at twilight,
half-light, day and night converge, a quiet breeze, crisp fall air, here my questions merge.

How did curiosity kill the cat?
And why did satisfaction bring him back like an addict that can’t get enough?
Questions haunt.  Answers nag, craving resolution.  The answer is somewhere in the tree.

So deep run the roots.  Let me be grounded.  So tall are the branches. Let me reach for the sky.
Such a commanding presence has the trunk of the tree, fully present as it weathers any weather. 
Let me be here and now, ever present, ever aware.

A single leaf falls to the ground clothed in hues of gold and red defiance.
Tumbling downward it calls out to the others, “We are Autumn.  Resistance is futile.”

I am what I am why I am.


© April Milam 2012

(Quercus is Latin for oak tree.)

A Rewrite

Some of you may recognize the first part.  Revisiting old things, this felt in need of a rewrite.

A Human Becoming

I am not a human being. 

(That would imply something stagnant.)

I am a human becoming. 

(I grow with the passing of time and circumstance.)

To be or to become, that is question.

For if I be, then I stay in my comfort zone that’s safe.

And we were made for so much more than that.

But if I become, then I grow, face my fears, my life, and know.

I am not a human being.

I am a human becoming.

Authentically, courageously, honestly, vulnerable and compassionate. 

Strength and struggle, connected by community, experience, and spirit. 

I am who I am, not a collection of suppositions.

I am not a human being.

I am a human becoming.

I live and love when it’s hard, when it hurts, when I doubt,

when it’s good, when it’s great, 

when it’s so much more than I could have imagined.

A soul that searches and struggles honestly

Inviting grace, joy, truth, and freedom in the process of human becoming.

* * *

~ by April Milam © 2006 - 2012

My Heart is Heavy

Perhaps you've heard this story before. 

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the fence.
 
The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily, gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn’t lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper.
 
The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said “you have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one.”

This weekend, a young girl from our community committed suicide because she was bullied.  She was only 12 years old.  I heard the news on Monday while I was at work.  I went home that night and hugged my daughter tightly.  Every day I tell her I love her, but I told her again. 

"Mom, I know," she assured me.

And she knows that she can talk to us about anything but I told her again. 

"Mom, I know," she told me gently again.

Some of the students decided to hold a candle lit vigil in the parking lot at the school last night.  I wasn't sure about going.  We didn't know the girl.  She went to a different school.  I wasn't sure how my daughter would react to a candle lit vigil for a stranger.  But when I picked her up from school yesterday, before I had the chance to ask her, she said, "Mom, there's a candle light vigil tonight for the girl who committed suicide, and we NEED to go."

I asked why.

"Because this is sad.  And we need to stand together."

Later that evening as we joined my parents to walk to the vigil, my mother asked her the same question, "Why did you want to go tonight?"

She told us that this was sad, and shouldn't have happened, and we needed to stand together.  She said there would be other kids at the vigil and they needed to know that they are beautiful, and they are loved, and they matter to God, and that they were created in God's image and how cool is that, and maybe if they knew that, they wouldn't think of hurting themselves when they were bullied.

From the mouths of babes...

Be careful with your words.  They're more powerful than you think.

Comfort Food

I love a warm bowl of mac and cheese, baked with leeks and covered in bread crumbs.  It's one of those perfect comfort foods, like a grilled cheese sandwich with at least two kinds of cheese, thin slices of tomatoes, and a hint of Dijon mustard.  Especially when shared with friends, good comfort food warms the heart and puts a smile on my face.  But what about books?  For me, some books are like soul soothing comfort food.  Here's my short list.

[1] The Psalms: When I'm feeling moody, I reach for my Bible and open up the Psalms.  Hearing King David pour his heart out to God regardless of whether he was mad, sad, or joyful, feels liberating to me.  Angry isn't a pretty emotion, but it's ok to let it out when your talking to God.  Besides, He knows what you're feeling anyway, so you may as well be honest with yourself and with your Father.  It's really a comforting thought once you let it sink in.

[2] I Come Quietly to Meet You by Amy Carmichael: Missionary to India and  founder of the Dohnavur Fellowship (a society devoted to saving neglected and ill-treated children) Amy served in India for fifty-six years, writing many books about missionary work.  In 1931, she was badly injured in a fall, which left her bedridden much of the time until her death at the age of 83. She asked that no stone be put over her grave; instead, the children she had cared for put a bird bath over it with the single inscription "Amma", which means mother in the Tamil.  Here's my favorite quote from the book:

          "This evening the clouds hung low on the mountains, so that sometimes we could hardly see the familiar peaks.  Sometimes the stars, too, were nearly all covered.  But always, just when it seemed as though the mountains were going to be quite lost in the mist, the higher peaks pushed out and, whereas the dimmer stars were veiled, the brighter ones shone through. Even supposing the clouds had wholly covered the face of the mountains, and not a star shone through the piled-up masses, the mountains would still have stood steadfast and the stars would not have ceased to shine.  I thought of this and found it very comforting, simple as it was. Our feelings do not affect God's facts.  They may blow up like clouds, and cover the eternal things...We may not see the shinning of the promises -- but they still shine!  And the strength of the hills that is His also is not for one moment less because of our weakness....Feelings come and go, like clouds.  But the 'hills' and the 'stars' abide."

[3] Rich Mullins: An Arrow Pointing to Heaven by James Bryan Smith: Published after his death, this devotional biography tells the story of an amazing man who spent his life sharing the love of Christ with others, and not just through his music.  Brennan Manning reviewed the book (along with writing the forward) by saying this, "...it is the purest echo of the gospel I have read in a long, long time."  I tend to agree with him.

I could keep going and list "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning and "The Way of the Heart" by Henri Nouwen and most anything by C.S. Lewis.  But I did say this would be a short list. 

What about you?  Which books would you choose when your soul needs a little comfort food?

Poetry for Pi

Wednesday mornings I meet with a fantastically wonderful group of people who love to read (and eat breakfast), led by the beautiful and charming Nate Loucks. At the moment we're reading Brian Mclaren's A Generous Orthodoxy.  Last week we discussed Chapter 9, "Why I Am Mystical/Poetic".  A week later, those ideas were still running loose inside.  So I put pen to paper and set them free.

"Poetry for Pi"
~ by April Milam

The mystic and the mathematician sat down for pi
To talk about logic and reason and why.

“The soul needs poetry”, the mystic insisted
“It’s math that’s madness, not me.
Mystery and wonder keep us sane.
Solving every puzzle would make me crazed.”

“You don’t appreciate logic and order”,
The mathematician insisted.
“Without it you have only chaos.
Tell me,
What good would your poetry do,
If 2 plus 2 equaled 2?”

Round and round in circles they went
Til the pi was all eaten and their arguments spent.
Then they paused for a moment,
Taking note of their place,
Both in the same room, same table, same space.

“Perhaps we can agree to disagree,”
The mathematician suggested.
“Perhaps we could even learn from each other,”
The mystic carefully ventured.

The head needs the heart,
The heart needs the head,
Two very different ideas,
Mystery and Order,
Logic and Faith,
There’s value in formula and flower.

Why I Write

I'm a slow processor.  I always have been.  Ask me what I'm feeling and I'll probably have a hard time verbalizing.  For some the subconscious whispers to the conscious through music, others through paint & canvas, for me it's writing.

I used to hate the smell of diesel fuel and the flashbacks it triggered: a dead man lying in the road covered with a few slim palm branches, the sound of Voodoo drums in the night, the look of emptiness in so many eyes.  I was in the country of Haiti for only ten days in 1995.  We traveled around the island by diesel truck; a large rusting beast.  When started, the engine would snarl, gears grinding in protest, and I wondered if the machine could get us from point ‘A’ to point ‘B’ without breaking down in the middle of nowhere.  And always, the smell of diesel saturated the air where ever we went. 

Then in the summer of 2005 I started writing.  I wrote about the whole experience; the good, the bad, the ugly, and the laughable.  I wrote until nothing else was left, and when I’d finished, I felt at peace with my memories.  I haven’t had a flashback since and the smell of diesel doesn’t bother me so much anymore.

For me, writing God stories is a means of taking those next step towards Jesus Christ and developing community as we learn to share the unique voice that God has given each of us.  But it’s also about healing and a method of discovering more about myself and about the loving Father who walks with me on this journey we call life.

Writing Fiction

Writing fiction feels like confession to me.  The more honest I'm willing to be, the better the story.  But then, if it wasn't honest and authentic, it wouldn't be worth writing in the first place.  No spoilers this time.  But thank you for the encouragement.

When the writing is hard...

I'm working at finding the right words.  Come out, come out, where ever you are.

“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them -- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a tellar but for want of an understanding ear.”  ~ Stephen King, Different Seasons

Solitude

I'm enjoying a bit of solitude this morning.  Sometimes it's nice just to breath in the silence.

“Solitude is the furnace of transformation. Without solitude we remain victims of our society and continue to be entangled in the illusions of the false self.”  - Henri Nouwen from "The Way of The Heart"

Fresh Fiction in Progress

I'm tinkering with a new story idea.  One of the main characters figures out that the "music" she's been hearing since her early childhood is simply Creation's Song.  While questioning why this revelation took so long, she writes a poem in her notebook.  I don't think she'd mind if I share it. *wink*

Creation’s Song                                                                    
                                                                    
Can you hear it?
The ancient hum of the old forest,
the sway of the harvest in the fields,
the gentle babble of the stream over smooth stones,
the choreography of fireflies on a summer night.

Can you hear it?
The rumble of the storm in the distance,
the quiet dance of falling snow,
the rhythm of ocean waves crescendo on the shore,
the symphony of the stars.

Creation sings!
Glory to God,
a vibrant expression of praise.

Creation sings!
Praise to the Lord,
a melody of joy rising within.

Creation sings!
A gracious glimpse of His glory,
for those who would stop and listen.

Shhhhh.
Can you hear it?




Psalm 96:11-13 "Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it.  Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.  Let all creation rejoice before the LORD..."

Author Unknown

Disturb us, Lord, when
We are too pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, Lord, when
with the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wilder seas
Where storms will show Your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

We ask you to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push back the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.

This we ask in the name of our Captain,
Who is Jesus Christ.

"The Prayer of Sir Francis Drake" - 1577??  I have yet to find a reliable source to confirm this.  Can you?

I Love Books

(Because a typical book list just won’t cut it, here’s a random book you can find on my bookshelf.)

Dune by Frank Herbert

I love this piece of classic science-fiction.  The desert planet Arrakis, aka Dune, is the only planet where Spice can be found.  More valuable than gold, Spice is a mind-altering substance that facilitates interplanetary travel, among other things.  Think peyote, only way cooler.   As such, whoever controls Dune controls the universe. (Insert music for dramatic effect here.)

There are two royal families constantly fighting for control of the planet: House Atreides and House Harkonnen. Paul Atreides plays the young heir usurped by the Harkonnen who forcefully take over Arrakis causing Paul and his mother, the Lady Jessica, to run hiding in the desert. Unknown to him, Paul is destined to become the planet's Messiah, a long-prophesied savior who will help the native people of Arrakis reclaim their planet.

Also woven into the story are a “religious” group called The Bene Gesserit, a sisterhood whose members train their bodies and minds through years of physical and mental conditioning in order to achieve superhuman abilities which they use for political posturing, among other things.  The empath in me (more on that another time) loved these characters and the idea that your mind is capable of much when properly focused.  My favorite quote from the book is “the litany against fear” used by the Bene Gesserit to focus their minds and calm themselves in the mist of chaos and/or impending danger.

“I must not fear.  Fear is the mind-killer.  Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.  I will face my fear.  I will permit it to pass over me and through me.  And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.  Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.  Only I will remain.”

It reminds me of 2 Timothy 1:7.  “For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.”

What can I say?  The control freak in me is attracted to the idea of power.  Keeping in mind, however, that with great power, comes great responsibility.  Quoting Spiderman?  Really, April?  Nope.  Voltaire said it first, circa 1832, proving once again that there is nothing new under the sun.

Old Poetry

I was digging through my computer archives when I ran across this old poem.  It's funny how our lives go through seasons.  Healing is a work in progress. 


"Two Halves"
~ by April Milam

Two halves resided
In the heart of one.
One half was free
The other was numb.

I once had a heart
that had two halves. 
One half I gave to God,
saying, "Take me as I am. 
Well, not really all,
just this part of me,
the half I'm willing
to let you see."

Either selfishness
or lack of trust
had me hiding the other half
in a box.
I locked it up tight
wrapped it in chains
determined that no one would see
the ugliness I hid in my heart
and I threw away the key.

But the numbness, you see
would not be contained
by the box and all of its chains.
Slowly it spread
to both halves of my heart
until all I had left was my pain.

That terrible ache
would wake me at night
with nightmares of heavy stones
that pinned me down
as I lost my breath
fearful at hearing
my own cracking bones.

With tears in my eyes
I prayed, "Dear Lord,
I come to you, just as I am.
Take the good.  Take the ugly.
Take all of my heart.
Lord, please make me whole again."

And He threw off the chains
and He unlocked the box
exposing darkness to light.
And the weight that was crushing me
disappeared
as the Son chased away night.

He took both pieces
of my broken heart.
He made it whole and complete.
And with mended heart
I stood by His side
and I knew
I was finally free.

Winter Blues

I know, it's been ages, years even.  Time to break the silence.  Maybe we should start over again.

Hi, my name is April and I suffer from winter depression.  I hate the way it feels, the way it twists my emotions into a cold numbing mess.  You see, I'm a bit of a control freak.  (More on that another time.)  If I can't control my surroundings, I still feel the need to control my emotions.  Call it Spock's Dilema, if you will.  A Human mother, a Vulcan father, Spock often wrestled with the puzzle of logic versus emotion.  It's not that I want to be logical all the time.  Emotions are a perfectly good and healthy thing.  It's finding a balance.  Nope, if I'm honest, that's not it.  It's being in control of both that I wrestle with.  After all, having it all together is what being humans all about, right?  Haha.  Can you hear the sarcasm dripping?

But, back to the winter depression.  Some of you have heard this story before.  A few winters back, I was sitting at my computer sorting through my digital photos when I stumbled across the flower macros I'd taken the previous summer.  The colors, the textures, the light, they all put a smile on my face.  Next I picked up my Bible for a little QT with the Creator of all those beautiful blooms.  The two activities combined, put me in such a good mood, I opened my photo editing program, pasted a verse I'd just read onto one of the flower pics and saved the image to my desktop.  Staring at the image, I thought,"Mom would like this."  So I emailed her a copy.  She called me shortly afterward and said, "April, you've got to share this."  And just like that, Desktop Blooms was born.

Now each Monday during the winter months, I send out a new image with a scripture or a prayer.  The image above was sent out this morning.  Let me know if you'd like to be added to the mailing list.

So, is that the end of my winter blues?  No.  It's a work in progress.  But by sharing my story and not being afraid to show my scars, I'm learning to enjoy the journey.