hold fast

Bolivia has had quite the impact on me, I’ve become quite the prolific kisser.  On the cheek though. Mostly. (Jokes.)  There’s the constant air kissing that is just cultural, but also, the kids at Casa de Amor have just the most kissable little faces. But for the last little while, I’ve been deliberately double kissing ™. As in, I’ll kiss them once, then sneak in a second. (Sometimes like 20, depends on cuteness, and if they need changed at that moment.) And here’s the reason. I’ve been listening to a song called “From God’s Arms, to My Arms, to Yours” . Musically, it leaves a lot to be desired as far as my tastes go, however, it is lyrically beautiful. It’s written from the viewpoint of a birthmother, and I find it compelling. It’s not a viewpoint I feel like we hear a lot, and it’s one we need to hear more often. Since I find myself with kids whose future options lie only in adoption multiple times in a week, I find myself thinking about their mums a lot. D

When I talked about getting a tattoo, and the reason for it, I got one response about half the time - I was told I didn’t need to get it. That’s true. The truth is, all of what I’m about to tell you, it’s true with or without the tattoo. But I got the tattoo anyway, and I can give you all the reasons for it (visual learner, permanency etc) but really, it’s done now - so let me just explain the reason behind it. Anchor of my soul, you sustain. When I’m in the storm, you remain, Good to me. Anchor - Beautiful Eulogy ft. Josh Garrels Most/all of you know that I was diagnosed with depression about 2.5 years ago. It was the worst time of my life, hands down. One side effect of it/the medication for it, is that my memory of a lot of it is pretty cloudy, but basically I couldn’t breathe. I had debilitating doubts, not in God so much as his love for me. I was convinced I wasn’t saved, convinced I couldn’t be. I heard about the elect, and it terrified me, because all I could th

Anchor. It's been an emblem of sorts. A symbol. A crest. Anchor. And a motto. A prayer. A noun, and a verb. Anchor. A song in my head. The cry in my heart. The only word I had. Anchor. In the midst of a storm threatening to take my very life, it was my constant plea. To let me know that I was held. That I was secure. Anchor.   And as it does, it remains. Embedded at the deepest point. Yesterday, today, forever. Anchor.