The second her car pulled up, I was out the door to meet her, probably as fast as I’ve run in a decade or two. My sister, whom I hadn’t seen for eight years, had come for a five day stay.
Now I haven’t exactly been without her. We text and call and FaceTime. Regularly. Often.
But still. Nothing like wrapping my arms around my tested-Covid-free-disinfected-traveling sissy—my Maid of Honor all those years ago and my beloved friend—whose heart and history are wound into every fiber of mine.
Face-to-face across a (wide) table, or with arms locked while skywatching, or as we stared into a campfire, dug spuds in the garden, or parked in the hammock or on sofas with books in our laps, we talked and laughed and knit ourselves closer than ever. Without letters or tech as intermediaries, we passed uninterrupted hours with love the only thing in the air between us.
And we hiked. Through fields with the dogs. Along the creek, where coho fingerlings gilled in pools and bullfrogs leaped at our advance. Around ponds, where we pulled tansy until our fingers blistered.
All the while talking. Listening. Being together.
And then we drove to the end of the Mt. Baker Highway and set off on foot, just as peaks emerged from the morning clouds—and where our attention shifted to the Maker of mountains and trees and birds and sisters and friendship.
The next day she was gone, and I’ve been teary ever since.
Then, in the night, the song at the end of this post awakened me, oh, four times, maybe five. Running through my dreams. Waking me with a holy nudge that “all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.“
Even when the world crumbles—or when sisters fly away.
“Like cold water to a weary soul is good news from a distant land.”
(Good morning, Mt. Shuksan)
“Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.”
And in an eggshell, other posts from the week:
When stems become birds.
“For as he thinks in his heart, so is he.”
Just because. 💝
(Berthusen Park, WA)
Sometimes we need to do a little digging.
Is He Worthy? by Andrew Peterson, Ben Shive
Do you feel the world is broken? (We do.)
Do you feel the shadows deepen? (We do.)
But do you know that all the dark won’t stop the light from getting through? (We do.)
Do you wish that you could see it all made new? (We do.)
Is all creation groaning? (It is.)
Is a new creation coming? (It is.)
Is the glory of the Lord to be the light within our midst? (It is.)
Is it good that we remind ourselves of this? (It is.)
Is He worthy? Is He worthy?
Of all blessing and honor and glory
Is He worthy of this?
Does the Father truly love us? (He does.)
Does the Spirit move among us? (He does.)
And does Jesus, our Messiah hold forever those He loves? (He does.)
Does our God intend to dwell again with us? (He does.)
Blessings, friends. I’m glad you’re here.
Watching Nature, Seeing Life: Through His Creation, God Speaks.