I think we all have them in our lives; the people who say and do awkward things, the ones who cause us to smack our foreheads in wonder and say, “What could s/he possibly be thinking?” Often we are related or connected by law to these people.

You might be someone’s strange people.

Tomorrow many of us will sit down and pull our chairs in carefully, taking care not to knock knees with the strange person across from us. As you look up to meet his or her gaze I would encourage you to pray for eyes of compassion and mercy, eyes of grace and love, pray for eyes of gentleness and peace.

And perhaps this person will be praying the same as he or she looks back at you.

I have been reading some of my old journals, the early motherhood years. It isn’t easy, especially in the midst of Christopher’s diagnosis, when we didn’t know. Yesterday, holding the book in front of me, knowing what’s on the next page, I felt for the young woman who was writing, not knowing, hoping and praying, trying to trust, tired and scared, trying to summon courage. On one hand I feel sorry for her and then on the other I wish she could have been more mature, calmer, less afraid. But she is who she was and bottom line, she turned the page.

Throughout the years of days, there is prayer after prayer – a lot of them are the begging, white knuckly sort – not a lot of trust, but I am not ashamed. Being that girl and praying those prayers has taught me that you don’t need a lot of faith to get a hold of God. You can have more fear than trust; you can have religion confused with relationship, you can be stuck in pride and delusion, but if you call to God he will answer you.

Telling you this I can see the girl I was, writing her heart out in the darkness, on the verge of a great sorrow and loss as well as a new freedom and peace.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2006/11/843/

An order has been placed.
Money has exchanged hands.
It is a little late in the season for apples,
But one is flying its way to me.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2006/11/844/

So I was jogging around my little neighborhood in the sphere and getting a little crabby – couldn’t open someone’s page and most everyone else hasn’t updated. Started to get very crabby, approaching full on tickedness and then remembered I haven’t updated in two days and my last one was a thank you and a poem.

I get it.

Kids, it’s grey here. I am getting the feelings of face scratching desperation that are usually reserved for January and February in Michigan.

Need I remind you that it is only November?

Who benefits from grey skies. I have thought about this a lot and I can’t think of any scale that would be tipped if there were less clouds.

This might be a cry for help.