Tuesday, September 20, 2011

5. Your Hand in Mine

I don’t know that I’ve ever sensed the subduing effect I felt as you ever so intentionally slipped your fingers in between each of mine, piecing me back together.

It wasn’t like the first time as we surveyed the sunset and watched the tide ebb and flow, your fingers accidentally brushing mine, then more and more daringly, no longer unintended. I was so painfully aware of each gentle graze that I swore I could feel each grain of sand fall between the cracks of my fingers back to the earth where they belonged; where we belong, your hand in mine. 

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

4. Memorial

I’ve wondered lately about the way we memorialize the things we lose, in light of the tenth anniversary of the attack on the World Trade Centers and the opening of the massive memorial at ground zero.

It got me thinking about how I cope with the things I’ve lost. The mementos I’ve kept to remind me forever of all the things that have been ripped out of my life sooner than I was ready. Should they be laden in bronze for the world to see, or should I be resting in the knowledge that His mercies are new each morning?