Life is Good - Except When It's Not

 

A one dollar thrift find yesterday - this little wooden sign that I've put beside my pot of fresh basil.  I like it.  It fits with the overall upbeat decor vibe I've got going on, not only in the kitchen, but also generally, in my purposeful engagement of life.

And while I remain convinced that elements of chosen joy and intentional gratitude do indeed set the stage for a positive mental and spiritual approach to each gifted day, I do know, and you all know that sometimes life actually isn't good.

Even without extending past my own relational orbits, there has been so much that has come to my awareness just in this last week that is shocking, harsh, painful, sometimes brutally sudden, sometimes hellishly ongoing, and all of it deeply disruptive.  

This is life -- not so good -- and it's happening to my friends.  

So to acknowledge the un-goodness of certain situations right now, I carefully and respectfully offer what I hope to be comforting inspiration from the Bible I know as being fearlessly honest about suffering.  I choose just three this texts morning, all from the Psalms.  I realize these are 'just words' in some ways, and none of them will change what's happening to you.  Still, I lay them gently down here, with a prayer that they just might be something of a little light in dark places you find yourselves right now.

"The LORD is close to the brokenhearted

and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Psalm 34:18

"Though you have made me see troubles,

many and bitter,

you will restore my life again;

from the depths of the earth you will bring me up.

You will increase my honour and comfort me once more."

Psalm 71:21

"My comfort in my suffering is this:

Your promise preserves my life."

Psalm 119:50

The Sky Though

This morning's sunrise.

Full disclosure though. Despite what might be a recurring landscape on my social media, I am not out doing my 'full' 4.5 km walk quite yet.

That trek takes me out into these wide open spaces where the wind chill is, well really chilly. Plus the sidewalks along the way are not always conducive to a steady, or even safe, stride. My winter-walking takes me into the sugar bush trail very close to our house, and I'm good with that. That stroll I do that most often during the day, so I don't really catch the sunrise, which happens way too late anyways.

So for now, from the window of the van, here it is. A glorious way to begin a day, I gotta' say.

I am thinking this morning of dear friends who are right now planning how they will mark the lives of beloveds who have recently left us, two of them from separate orbits of my life. And I'm thinking of others who are coming up to a one year marker of the same.

And the colour screams across the sky in defiance of the night that releases it. And the promise of a new day that can't be contained.

"My comfort in my suffering is this:
Your promise preserves my life."
Psalm 119

I'm still puttering about this psalm, the longest one, the one that gushes about the Word of God. And one thing is, the author clearly knew suffering. It's punctuated throughout the psalm, and always in context of how a reorientation to the promises of God and the good boundaries of obedience to it, bring hope and life and comfort and delight.

I wish all those things for my friends in the throes this morning. For all of us, really, since life can bring many sorts of sorrows.

I pray screaming colours of defiant hope to light the way,
and remind us all that goodness prevails.