“There is life after this. There is faith after this.”

Rachel Held Evans wrote “There is life after this. There is faith after this.” on November 14, 2016. Some of you know the context of why she wrote those words. Some of us have moments in our own lives in which statements like these become our mantra.

Our hearts yearn to grip something when death strikes our world with grief, when moral compromise undoes our momentum, and when tragedy and trials beset our hearts with gloom. We need to know we are not alone. We need the banner of role models who show us that standing for what we believe in has merit. Whether heroes of the faith or unsung heroes of community development, our elevation to a better world is inspired by those who accept the challenges and chase hope anyways.

We see court case verdicts perpetuate racism. We see patriarchal systems still sear ceilings for people’s progress. We still need our quiet thoughts to be emboldened by the bravery of the vocal when injustice occurs in our neighborhoods and nations. We must stay in the work of shalom.

There are leaders who shatter unjust status quos; let us follow them. There are those who stabilize the tumult of division; let us walk with them towards unity in humanity.

To those with restorative practices, anti-racist convictions, and empowerment to the disenfranchised, please keep the courage and brazen boldness to ask us to be more.

“There is life after this. There is faith after this.” RHE.

Life is here, even in loss.

Beauty is here, even in fatigue.

Faith remains, even though the race is long.

Valor and victory remain.

Great souls who teach us to love leave their legacies for us to live strong.

Friends, to what shapes your emotions today and grounds your health along the journey, to the warm light of the sun and the new air of each breath… forge forward, the world needs your song. Floods and wars, fear and family strife, these undo us, but the anthem of hope shall stay.

#hopeChaser

The Blue Marble, a photograph of the planet Earth made on December 7, 1972 by the crew of the Apollo 17spacecraft

What it meant to be ME today 

It meant that I laid my head on a friend’s lap in recalling nightmares I had just hours before in my sleep.

It meant walking away from a commitment to find rest for my body and an intentional restart on my day.

It meant staying in a space despite racism and harsh triggers.


It meant saying yes to good opportunities, working hard in meaningful tasks and relationships.

It meant learning to take a compliment and also granting myself an end to internal criticism when I was maybe over confident and wanted to take words back.

It meant accepting that I could not comfort all who grieved or encourage all who felt lonely or frustrated–but the ones I could, I did.  The ones I couldn’t, I whispered a prayer for.

It meant feeling the hurt and hearing the voices of others. It demanded advocacy for change.

It meant wanting marriages, partnerships, and families to carry less strife and trial.

It meant taking the joys and wins of the day and letting them put air into my step and refill for my outpour.

It meant proffering service to local community and demonstrating  gratitude to places that fight for justice and mercy.

It meant not taking to labels nor ignoring them either.  Refusing to crumble in fear, but honestly not rising to potential in every moment either.

It meant celebrating young people, respecting elders, fighting demons, and holding my sons.

It was a day.  Much like many days.

Not so unlike yours.

As you navigated your employer, your past, your obligations, and your irritations…

As you met your family, lived your faith, found your policy, saw your community…

As you exchanged the emails, listened to your therapist, walked with the co-worker, and visited the medical provider…

As you journaled your story, read wisdom from others, found a crowd to stand with or a corner to be alone in…

As you reacted to politics, started an application, thanked the store clerk, or looked in the mirror…

A day–no so unlike yours.

A thousand choices, a hundred chances, 10 seconds to move to action and moments to reflect quietly on being wounded or being a warrior as life swirls around.

The wind blows strong here in Minnesota tonight.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Stand up.

Breathe.

Do the one day in front of you.

#perservere

Not a post as much about me as the title and words’ surface convey.

More or less the truth that life–it’s here.

Let’s live it, foibles and fortitude both–do another day, fellow sojourner, do another day.