Holding Up the World

Five hours separate me from my brother. Five hours and years of sparse communication. He's not a big talker and we were never close, but I love him and he loves me. Love bridges the gap in our conversations but there are five hours of travel to think about. I'm talking about traveling the state of Maine in January. Snowstorm today and tomorrow diving to record low temps and another snowstorm on Monday. Tuesday the high is -5 degrees. It's difficult to leave the house and fires unattended on a day like that. Then there's the little detail that I have been sick for the entire month.

My brother will undergo open heart surgery on Tuesday, with high risk because he also has muscular dystrophy. He lives alone and is fiercely independent but this challenge is big, even for him.

This morning, before I knew for certain about the surgery, I took five minutes to look at my collage journal. I hadn't reached for Liz's poetry book in some time. As I picked it up and flipped through, I noticed a small piece of paper tucked inside. She must have placed it between the pages before sending it my way. I pulled it out and read, "you don't have to hold up the world today." Immediately I glued it on the picture in my journal of the woman holding up the world.

After receiving the call from mom about my brother this afternoon, worry kicked in. What about his apartment and bills to be paid and food left in the fridge and ...

"You don't have to hold up the world today."

A familiar whisper skimmed across my thoughts.

You can trust Me to care for him.

Snow is gently falling outside. Tomorrow the wind will turn beauty into blizzard-like conditions once again. 

 God who holds serenity of today is shelter in the storms of tomorrow.

My shoulders feel weight shift.

 Let me let go. 

 When talking to my brother last night, he made a statement that has stayed with me.

"God's will be done."

I'm a more specific kinda gal - wanting to cover all my bases kind of pray-er. But lately God is drawing me into a new season, a place of rest and trust. Unscripted prayers will carry my heart and cover the distance of miles and obstacles.

I'm grateful that my brother has returned to the faith of his teen years and uttered those words. I can think of no better ones in this moment.

Un-Polished

Below zero temperatures have given way to  a forty degree rainy day in northern Maine. My normal routine on Monday was altered with a text from Kate canceling my usual session at the gym. We've been focusing mainly on stretching and getting blood flow to an injured shoulder. I welcomed the cancellation as I lay in bed listening to the rain pouring from the eaves.

Cup of tea ginger-peach tea in hand, I settled into my green chair with my Bible and journal and scripture memory book. A quiet Presence settled over me as I revisited promises for my family and prayed new prayers. Drawn to my visual journal I worked for an hour without interruption. 

When I look at the finished pages, I'm tempted to feel like I wasted time. Compared to art journaling or photography or my neglected writing project, the work is unpolished. Nevertheless, a sense of release accompanies the process.

The opened book lies on my art table where I can see it several times a day. 

As I type this post, I am reminded of my word - UNSCRIPTED.