Path Across

I think this is called a three-legged dog pose in yoga. All I know is that it looked like a fun thing to do as I crossed the stream.

I feel like I’m crossing a stream, or a river, or a raging set of rapids every day. I don’t know which it will be until the day is underway. Well, sometimes I do. I can pretty much count on rapids when it’s a big day — a holiday, a birthday, a day when I know I will come face to face with my new reality. Like when I know I will be asked to talk about my kids and I refuse to leave Chandler out or gloss over the fact I am here without him…and not at all happy about it.

I’m so grateful for the rocks that help me cross, that give my feet a place to land.

Family. Friends. Nature. Scripture. And every tangible expression of God’s presence.

There will always be some kind of challenge, some body of water to cross. It could be tranquil or it could be treacherous. I am growing more and more confident that when I open myself up to help instead of intellectualizing, minimizing, or excusing, the resources come to me. The rocks appear to help me cross.

God, give me eyes to see every day the rocks you are placing in my path to get me across the water. Thank you that even in the middle of the water, there is always room to play. Amen.