lift: how life’s small mercies encourage our hearts

June 1, 2023June 1, 2023 / Joy Lenton / Leave a comment

It’s the smallest things of life that can make or break our days. **Mini mercies and moments of grace.** An unexpected visit, call, text, email or snail mail, perhaps. A bouquet of flowers. A delicious meal we eat. A friend to greet. A great book to read. A new place to see.

A cup of aromatic coffee or a pot of tea to savour. Photos of our family to take and share. A loved one to hug and hold. Music and sounds which delight or give us pause for thought. And the pleasure of enjoying nature’s abundance outdoors.

Having M.E and chronic illness has taught me not to despise the tiny, mundane things of life. When I yield to my body’s need to rest and pause, I often get a soul lift when I slow down.

God’s presence seems closer. Prayer arises spontaneously. Creative ideas begin to emerge. Life’s small mercies bless me enormously.

Birdsong reaches to the depths of my soul because each throaty call is a reminder to stay in joy, to live this life by keeping the flame of hope alive.

It doesn’t take much to sense a heavenly touch. Life’s little things become magnified as we pay greater attention to them.

Lifted

I attempt to dust my bedroom,
just the easier parts I can 
reach, of course, but it leaves 
me exhausted, so I acquiesce,
rest on the bed. And I hear—
a susurration of traffic 

sounds, a background hum
interrupted by an intermittent 
trill of bright birdsong—
sharp, sweet, soft, solo, duet,
each one knowing their place 
in the divine orchestra.

It’s a river rolling through
my head, leaping like salmon
into my thoughts. I am stirred,
calmed, inspired, touched
to the core by the beauty
of it all. Such a simple

activity that rarely ceases
during summer or spring,
but it has the power
to lift our lives higher,
to add meaning to everything.
© joylenton

“A birdsong can even, for a moment, make the whole world into a sky within us, because we feel that the bird does not distinguish between its heart and the world’s.” — Rainer Maria Rilke

If you’d like to hear what some common British birds sound like when they’re singing, this little video will give you a clue. I learnt a few things from it, too!

Are you in a season of needing to slow? Seeking to recover a measure of strength, energy and health after a setback, perhaps? I would love to hear what helps lift and encourage your soul. Feel free to share below. Unsure what M.E is or how it affects people? This article will help. 😉❤️💜 Xx

wintering: hibernation for body and soul maintenance

February 2, 2023January 30, 2023 / Joy Lenton / 13 Comments

Wintering 

I am wintering 
soul-deep, as I face 
my shadow self

who is seen best
in cold relief,
and coax her out 
of her hiding place

as I bring her
now into the light
of mercy and grace. 

I am wintering 
with hibernation 
my companion and friend
because there is

no spring to celebrate 
yet until I have rested 
myself and yielded to hope’s

whispers, to silence and stillness,
like a stunted amaryllis. 

I am wintering 
with a sigh of familiarity 
for this is my seasonal 

need, which is essential 
for body and soul
survival, recuperation, 

pausing and thinking space, 
for continued maintenance.
© joylenton

Friend, you are forgiven for thinking I’d vanished from this little home on the internet. Because you’d be correct, even though it wasn’t planned.

Worsening health, increased pain, a family bereavement and deep-bone weariness threw me into a prolonged season of hibernation and rest. One I didn’t ask for or expect.

And I’m still there. Not quite ready to bounce back into blogging or be consistently present yet. I need healing. I need grace. I need recovery more than I need to write.

But every now and then God grants me a slither of strength, a slight lessening of stiffness and pain, a smidgen of inspiration to write something.

That’s when I might pop up to share a poem with you here. But while I’m absent? Well then, I keep you in my heart, my thoughts, and prayers.

Much love until we meet here again…. Xx 💜😉❤️

poured out: when you feel permanently exhausted due to having ME

October 26, 2022 / Joy Lenton / 12 Comments

Dear Reader/Friend, as you might have noticed, I’m not as active here as I used to be, partly due to my husband’s own health decline and recent surgery which required me to try to step up and attempt to plug the gap while he’s been incapacitated for a period.

But the biggest factor is a slump in my own health, with a worsening of the M.E symptoms especially. It’s been accompanied by increasing flare ups of the arthritis, fibromyalgia and Ehlers Danlos syndrome symptoms I also struggle with.

ME feels like having a permanent kind of flu virus. A body and mind going on strike because they’re swiftly overwhelmed and exhausted by life. When your legs feel as if they’re trying to walk on sand and your head’s full of cotton wool as well.

This hasn’t been written to try to elicit your sympathy but to help raise awareness of ME. Because so many people are either dismissive of it or are suffering in silence that I can’t help but try to convey a smidgen of what it’s like to live with it.

I hope the poem below (previously shared on the Chronic Joy Ministry blog) provides an insight. And that the details I share about the DecodeME study I’m involved with might stir your interest or prompt a prayer, perhaps.

Poured out

I am spoonless
any energy I've had
it's all used up
poured out drop by precious drop
on life's simple, basic tasks

so I must rest
retreat to a darkened room
crawl into bed
and let my body relax
hope my mind switches off

too much white noise
issuing from my thoughts
like buzzing bees
unable to be at peace
blinded to their destiny

my heart aches
with this inactivity
I feel frustrated
because it's enforced on me
because time just slips away

pain infiltrates
as spasms seize my joints
acting like needles
piercing with intensity 
I want it to go away


life swims past
it’s lost in a brain-fogged blur 
a cinema reel
screening inactivity
in a life lived with M.E 

I feel worthless
but God draws near, whispers
hope to my heart 
we’re not judged on our worth
it’s decided at the Cross

what matters most
is how we live and we love
how we yield to God
surrendering our hearts 
and giving help to others

for you and me
our soul's productivity
will be evident
measured by increments
and how our life is spent
© joylenton

DecodeME study info

If you’re 16 years old and over and reside in the UK, you are invited to take part in DecodeME, the world’s biggest ME/CFS study.

It will collect information from tens of thousands of people with ME/CFS and analyse DNA to see whether the disease is partly genetic and if so, help pinpoint what causes it – which is the path to finding treatments.

The first step is to take the DecodeME questionnaire and then you may also be asked to provide a saliva sample. They can be done from the comfort of your home. I’ve submitted both myself.

Your experience matters. Future treatment and research are reliant on it. Please help if you can or pass the link below on to someone you know who has ME and fits the criteria above. You can take part at www.decodeme.org.uk

Let’s get serious about getting to the bare bones of what causes ME, a seriously damaging autoimmune disorder of the neuroendocrine system, because it plagues lives, steals livelihoods and has been greatly misunderstood. Thank you! 😉💜

wave: seeking to stay buoyant in life’s choppy waters

July 30, 2020July 29, 2020 / Joy Lenton / 6 Comments

“Who is like you, Lord God Almighty? You, Lord, are mighty, and your faithfulness surrounds you. You rule over the surging sea; when its waves mount up, you still them.” — Psalm 89:8-9 NIV

Each summer I yearn to go to the coast, inhale the ozone and watch waves rise, foam and fall. It would be such a soothing sight, calming and restorative to my soul. Who wouldn’t want to sit, observe (people-watch) and breathe in the view or swim and be cradled by lapping water and get wet through? Even a virtual non-swimmer like me relishes such thoughts.

Sadly, the limitations of having M.E and chronic illness, including impaired mobility, hypersensitivity to light, a pain-filled, uncooperative body that doesn’t cope well with exertion, humidity or heat, coupled with travel-induced fatigue, and Raynaud’s Syndrome causing shivers and blanching at the slightest sea breeze, make it rather problematical for me now.

Instead, I remember times past, decades ago, when I was able to enjoy watching waves without those restrictions. We spent several hot summer days on the local beaches, getting sand in our sandwiches, paddling or swimming in the sea, playing games with the children, and marvelling at our suntanned faces and limbs. Now I muse on waves as a poet might do because they have such great symbolism too.

The wave we need

We are paddling furiously
as if it all depends on us,
not on the tide or the rhythm

of the sea. Fearing falling,
we forget to lean
into the waves, forget

to check our position
and what we might have
to depend on. Forget, too,

to relax our bodies
into suppleness,
cut ourselves some slack.

Instead, we waver,
like uncertain skittles,
wobble around,

choke, sink close
to drowning. Until we hear
a calming voice calling,

speaking softly
to our souls, then more
urgently than before. His voice

rises clearly above and cuts
across the choppy waters,
urging us to let him be

the wave we need, the support
to lift us when we fall, the one
who carries us effortlessly.
© joylenton

If you, like me, would appreciate a reminder of hearing waves breaking on the seashore, maybe this short sea breathing technique video from former M.E sufferer, meditation author and creative communicator Liz Babbs will help, and relax your soul. 🙂 ❤

window: finding an opening for joy to flourish

April 23, 2020April 21, 2020 / Joy Lenton / 14 Comments

Joy is a bit thin on the ground at the moment, isn’t it? So many of us are feeling overwhelmed by individual and collective sadness and grief, with longings for change going unmet and unaddressed.

It’s like the whole world is in a state of mourning and we don’t know how to get through it or where to find joy anymore. Or maybe we do. Perhaps joy is much closer to home than we anticipate.

Indoors with our loved ones, or just outside our window, perhaps, even if we can’t see a great deal because it resembles a concrete jungle. You may be wondering: What kind of joy can those things bring to me?

More than you might think, my friend. Due to decades of being housebound by chronic illness, and suffering episodes of depression, I try to discover any window, any opening to joy I can find.

I seek to focus on my heart’s longing for joy and what encourages it to flourish, which means looking at the simple, small, and often overlooked. And it includes developing a deeper gratitude for my loved ones.

Longings

Window watcher that I am,
let my gaze linger with sacred awe
longer than before,

to truly see each tree
and flower and leaf as portents
of hope and promise.

I want to drain
the last ounce of joy I find
in every day,

drink the cup dry of it,
keep memories as dregs.

I long to hold
the wonder found right here
and right now,

like a fragile butterfly,
let it loose to climb the sky.

I seek to find
the holy ordinary
in people, trees

and leaves, clouds, fiery sunsets,
in everything light reflects.

I desire to dream
with intentionality,

let purpose unfold
like a story I have known,
full of hope beyond this world.

I yearn to touch
earthly things stamped with grace,

trace God’s footprints,
sense them moving in my soul,
where I will never grow old.
© joylenton

The view outside my window is far from scenic, but I do take pleasure in watching sky changing colour, seeing variable shape and type of clouds, noting emergence of greening tips and flowers on plants or observing a solitary tree as its leaves alter with the seasons.

Even a concrete wall can be interesting because it attract insects, has different patterns of stone within it or changes shade, depending on where the light falls and catches it.

Having chronic illness has taught me not to despise the tiny, mundane things of life. Whether in lockdown or not, it helps to appreciate the blessings before us rather than dwell on what we’ve lost.

Your longings are a window into your soul too. What are you longing for, my friend? Where are you experiencing your longings being met in these challenging times? May the joy of the Lord be our strength today, and always.

PS: This post was inspired by Chronic Joy Ministry’s Poetry Prompt: Windows and Trees. Do check out their great resources! 🙂 ❤

nature: its ability to calm and heal our souls

February 20, 2020February 18, 2020 / Joy Lenton / 12 Comments

Few sights are as cheering to winter-weary hearts than spotting a red-breasted robin in the garden. They are welcome visitors who cannot help but make us smile because of their lively hue and perky hopping.

In the English countryside, robins feature heavily in our sightings for large parts of the year. They’ve also inspired today’s poem, which was prompted by thoughts of my daughter-in-law.

She’s a keen gardener who often finds solace (and a necessary distraction from her busy business life) when she’s outside, getting her hands dirty with tasks. Being in touch with living plants helps shift vestiges of SAD-induced sadness in her heart.

The robin

Water-logged and rimed with frost,
sodden leaves get trodden underfoot
as she makes her way across
the uneven garden path.

Her heart sinks as low as her boots
as she contemplates the work
before her—clearing cluttered ground,
preparing for winter to fully come.

As her spade sinks in, she glances
up and sees a robin hopping
around, close by but no longer
shy or uncertain, more a bold thing.

She smiles at her avian
companion, who had graced
the garden in summertime
with brief glimpses now and then.

No longer intent on nest building
or family, she hops contentedly,
pausing to check on her human
friend who she converses with.

Maybe this is no coincidence
in these colder months, with their
depressing, darkening days and drizzle,
that she would appear by chance.

Perhaps there’s hidden symbolism
here, as her furry friend is known
to signal spiritual rebirth,
the new, divine, and the next.

Work stops for now as her mind
follows that thought, making space
for a sign from God to lift her
heart in these chilly wintry months.
© joylenton

We each try to find a way to help alleviate the darkness that can inhabit our hearts. Sometimes, just reading about nature helps. I’m dipping into ‘The Wild Remedy: How Nature Mends Us – A Diary’ by Emma Mitchell and finding it comforting.

I know I feel so much better when I can get outside, even briefly, and surround myself with nature’s natural sedative, calming effects, instead of sitting indoors brooding about my problems.

Also, looking out the window or watching nature programmes is enough to temporarily plug the “craving to be outside” gap which M.E and chronic illness tend to leave in their wake.

While many of us in the northern hemisphere struggle with wintry ills and chills, may we aim to encourage ourselves with remembrance of God’s faithfulness to us in the past. Let’s keep signs of spring and flames of hope alive in our hearts. Because that’s how we survive and thrive during hard times.

May listening to this robin singing help make you smile, and give you hope that winter’s grip on your environment or mind will ease soon. 🙂

How have you experienced nature’s calming or healing effects? Do share in the comments below... ❤

goal: when our priorities get shifted by life and chronic illness

June 14, 2019June 14, 2019 / Joy Lenton / 22 Comments

Life can be reduced to goal after goal. We can get so hung up on achievement and ticking things off our list that we forget to pause, breathe or appreciate it. It’s like a never-ending treadmill.

If we’re too goal oriented, our hearts can become frantic, our minds cluttered and our ears resistant to listening to what’s wisest for us right now. And it can happen without us noticing because we’ve failed to pay attention to the signals our bodies and souls have been frantically sending us. Then we end up in overwhelm, with no way out, or so it seems.

At that stage we have choices to make: do we pause/stop/reduce our expectations/stick with more manageable, achievable goals/reset our thoughts or move the goal posts wider apart than before? If we have chronic illness, then this kind of quandary occurs pretty frequently, if not daily, because the ability well runs dry with alarming speed. With relatively minor tasks, exhaustion and depletion set in and we are forced to pause.

Over the last few months, I’ve been caught up in completing and publishing my latest book. Fuelled by adrenaline. High on the rush of getting something done. Trying to drive this slow carriage of mine full steam ahead. But it soon protested. And crashed. Just when I had completed the task… phew!!

As I saw the word for five-minute-friday, I smiled wryly. And searched out my folders for something to share because I’ve got very little fresh creative juice left. The poem that made the cut took longer than five minutes to write but it perfectly encapsulates what my next priority should be.

Pausing

My worth and value
do not lie
in the words I write
or the thoughts I share
on social media,

or how I might
be perceived by others
who view my life,
my deeds and tasks.

But they are rooted
in my relationship with God
as he creates, shapes and takes
each thought
and provides the reassurance

that I need for strength,
as his cherished child
and his dependent, sufficient
beloved one.

So I will not blanch
or pull back
from what he asks of me
with quiet persistence
but offer him

my surrender willingly,
as he invites
me to pause again and taste
his holy rain.

Even though it hurts
to become invisible
to others,
I already know I can only
give of my best

when I yield to his grace,
accept this season
of online inactivity
and simply rest.
© joylenton

“In the drivenness of our society, it’s hard to make time to relax our efforts and find transforming energy. That’s why we need this particular posture of waiting so much. When we sit in this way we’re relaxing the bow; we’re coming to rest in a very deep way in God, allowing ourselves to be cradled in the sighing mystery of Christ’s prayer.” – When the Heart Waits: Spiritual Direction for Life’s Sacred Questions by Sue Monk Kidd

I’m thankful for a stack of unpublished poems to draw from and the ability to join the fabulous five-minute-friday writing crew as we share our thoughts on this week’s prompt of “goal.” Come join us here and read the great variety of posts being aired.

Friends, sooner than planned, I’m needing to lay down my poetic pen here for a while to recover from my latest M.E relapse. I want to embrace a season of rest, coupled with the goal of paying closer attention to God, my health and family. I’m seeking to savour summer relaxation and sort out my cluttered soul and home.

PS: Any poetry shared over the coming few weeks will be on my Facebook page and/or my Instagram page. I’d love to connect with you in those places! 🙂 You can check out my new book, Embracing Hope: Soul Food to Help Chase Away the Blues in the sidebar here or on amazon. Sending you goodbye hugs until we gather here again. xo ❤ ❤

opportunity: when rest is an opening to God’s presence

May 3, 2019 / Joy Lenton / 20 Comments

Do you struggle with having tunnel vision of the kind where you get so focused on the tasks before you that you miss a golden opportunity for rest that is sitting within reach? I do. We struggle to see the light as our vision narrows and there seems to be no way of escape from where we are situated.

It happens frequently when my work with words consumes me. It’s hard to pause or come up for air when we’re dying to get things done and putting pressure on ourselves, even if our energy is limited and we’re chronically ill.

But what if we could seize an opportunity to stop, breathe, be in the moment, would we welcome it? Might we begin to notice more than we did before? Though I long to press on with those things that are important to me, I quickly tire and reach burnout before I know it. Before that happens, I need to slow my soul and take a break. We could all benefit from seeing times of rest as opportunity, rather than sheer necessity.

As I recently pulled myself away from a thorny writing problem I was wrestling with, and sat resting in my bedroom, I could feel sun’s warmth on my neck like a soft caress. It felt like an invitation and opportunity rolled into one. Soul-care spots are like refreshment stations, refuelling us when we get dry, depleted and drained.

While I rested, I sensed God’s holy presence permeating my soul, His voice whispering wisdom, and His love wrapping me in a holy hug. Just as the sun was relaxing my tense neck, God’s presence was ironing out the knots in my mind and heart.

Though taking opportunity to pause is something I have to practice on a daily basis, there was something different about this one. In sensing presence, I was reminded of other times and places when God speaks to me. And He will do the same for you too.

Sensing presence

You are sun’s warm caress upon my neck
wind gently rustling through spring leaves
chattering voices as people go off to work
each day’s gift of grace and opportunity

I sense you in the womb of my bedroom
I sense you when I am weary as can be
I sense you in days hard to get through
I sense you softly speaking love to me

You’re in the marvellous and the mundane
your footprints are just waiting to be found
my responses to you may not be the same
but we always meet on your holy ground

I sense you less when my soul is darkened
I sense you more when I’m washed clean
I sense you most when I’m not hardened
I sense you speaking in my dreams

You are reaching out continually
seeking to gain my soul’s attention
hoping I will finally hear and see
develop deeper comprehension
© joylenton

I’m grateful for the opportunity to share my five-minute-friday poem in community here, as we write on this week’s prompt of “opportunity.” You are welcome to join us and read the great variety of posts being shared here.

Let’s conclude by giving praise to the God of all our days, all our ordinary moments, whether they’re busy or restful, hard or hope-filled. God delights to provide the shelter, strength and wisdom we need to carry on.

just: when the wound of inadequacy is no match for grace

February 22, 2019 / Joy Lenton / 25 Comments

There are times when my illness hurts my heart just as sharply as it affects my body. I experience an emotional pang on the inside. It rises when I am brought face to face with my limitations. And it feels as if I’m looking out on the world from behind a thick hedge. It doesn’t happen often but it stings, nevertheless.

Yesterday we had the pleasure of our young grandson visiting us for a few hours. I had worried in advance because I thought he might get bored in our rather sedentary company, and we might struggle to entertain him.

The rest of the week had been very physically active for him as he went out and about with his granny, aunt and cousins. But I needn’t have feared. God ensured that time with us would be a welcome quiet breather in his otherwise hectic schedule. It flew by and we loved it all.

And yet, when I heard about his earlier exploits, the heart wound of inadequacy became freshly opened. I mourned my lack of physical health and strength, and in doing so I nearly failed to savour the strong bond we have with him. It’s no less real or important for being different.

Fatigue and pain are high today and I didn’t think I could write anything. Until I flicked through my files and found this here’s-one-I-made-earlier poem, which seemed perfect to share.

Just this

It doesn’t feel like much, this tiny
offering she brings, a small seed sown
for the one who is known as King of kings.

And her heart contracts, flutters a bit,
because it just can’t be enough, can it?

All she has to give to him is broken sleep
and broken dreams, a weakened body,
weary and sick, where deformity sits.

She has no riches, no wealth, no treasure
to share, nothing tangible, just herself
and the pain and stiffness she bears.

Yet she hears a voice calling her forward,
gently encouraging her to walk toward
him with ungainly feet and aching limbs.

And he lifts her chin, smiles into her downcast
face and draws her into a loving embrace.

Rest here, my child, rest your heart and mind
and rest assured I receive your tears like they
are ocean-drawn gifts and precious pearls.

I know how much your heart aches to bring
me a suitable offering, and longs to have
a different kind of existence to be living.

All I ask from you is that you believe who I
AM and open your heart to receive all the gifts
I delight to pour into your soul’s reservoirs.

Your brokenness is a great gift to me, because
I work best within an open, contrite heart
and a surrendered soul, just as you are.
© joylenton

“God is in her citadels; he has shown himself to be her fortress.” – Psalms 48:3 (NIV)

Friends, let’s try to remember that our inadequacy is no match for God’s grace. He fills our insufficient souls with His equipping presence and love. He gives us strength when we feel weak. He holds us close when we are hurting.

We don’t need to drown in discouragement, only rest in the One who knits us back together again. God alone can heal what is broken and wounded in us, including our thoughts.

Today’s offering is linking hands with friends at five-minute-friday. This week’s prompt is “just”. You can join us here and read the great variety of posts being shared. 🙂

begin: for when you can’t quite hit the new year running

January 11, 2019January 11, 2019 / Joy Lenton / 23 Comments

Dear reader, I’m curious about something: did you hit the new year running, eagerly embracing resolutions, ready for the new and the next, planning and pushing ahead to your heart’s content? If so, that’s great and I rather envy you. 😏

Or are you more like me: crawling on your knees, flattened with illness and fatigue, and sighing because January finds you less than fit and able? The latter? Please raise or vaguely wave your weary arm in my direction. It’s good to know we’re not alone.

For years, without fail, I’ve always succumbed to flu or a heavy cold before the Christmas and New Year celebrations are over. Each January I’m hugging the duvet, coughing into my pillow and barely surfacing.

Sadly it’s not due to enjoying myself, but because I have a faulty, inefficient immune system that easily succumbs to viruses and overexertion of any kind. I keep hoping things will improve. But they haven’t. Not yet.

Experience has taught me to listen and act on the information I hear from my depleted body. Namely to rest and take care of myself. Because trying to press on in the face of increasing debility has never been a good plan for me. It only exacerbates my pre-existing chronic conditions.

One thing that never stops being active and running like a mad thing is my mind, even when my body stills due to increased sickness. Yours too, perhaps? It chunters on like it’s got something really important to process, while my weakened body is trying to shush it into silent, restful submission.

And I’ve been mulling over what to write. How do we begin again when we’re feeling lethargic, muddy-headed or uninspired? The wonder is that whenever our well, our energy, inspiration or abilities run dry, we only need to ask and God replenishes, restores and revives our limited supplies. And we can begin again with Him any time we need to.

The poem below came to me as I was resting. May it speak to all who are in the throes of illness or lack creative inspiration. I’m also rejoicing that my current ailment seems to be more of a persistent cold than full-blown flu this time. Hooray! Progress!

Writer’s woes

I want to begin
make a mark on this page
this year
on the lives of others
with my thoughts and words

I don’t know how
to begin to write a thing
without assistance
because my brain is muffled
and my thoughts are befuddled

I am uncertain
wondering how to choose
what will speak
louder than my husky voice
of love and grace, hope and faith

in the end
all I have is willing hands
empty though they be
just waiting to be filled
before a drop can be spilled

holy whispers
encourage me to start
right where I am
with surrender, trust and truth
as inspiration filters through
© joylenton

Praise God for gifting this snuffly writer with something to say when she felt empty! Hopefully normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. 😉 Do let me know how you are, especially if you’re also below par, and we can pray for one another.

Never forget that rest, recovery and healing are vital soul and body work. You and I might begin this year slow like tortoises but we can still end strong by the grace of God. With love and virtual (germ-free) hugs to you. xo 💜

	Joy Lenton on dawn: the emergence of light g…
	Mother Wintermoon on dawn: the emergence of light g…
	Joy Lenton on dawn: the emergence of light g…
	Bettie G on dawn: the emergence of light g…
	Joy Lenton on garden: a place where God meet…

Poetry Joy

sensing the sacred in the everyday

#livingwithME

lift: how life’s small mercies encourage our hearts

wintering: hibernation for body and soul maintenance

poured out: when you feel permanently exhausted due to having ME

wave: seeking to stay buoyant in life’s choppy waters

The wave we need

window: finding an opening for joy to flourish

Longings

nature: its ability to calm and heal our souls

The robin

goal: when our priorities get shifted by life and chronic illness

Pausing

opportunity: when rest is an opening to God’s presence

Sensing presence

just: when the wound of inadequacy is no match for grace

Just this

begin: for when you can’t quite hit the new year running

Writer’s woes

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The wave we need

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Longings

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The robin

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Pausing

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Sensing presence

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Just this

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Writer’s woes

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