Marking the Moments.

Lately, I’ve been remembering.  Someone close to me is walking a path I’m all too familiar with so I’ve been her “person.”  I’m the one she calls when she’s spiraling.  The one she calls when she’s processing.  The one she calls when she needs safe ears to absorb all the cuss words.  I’ve heard that cry several times–it’s one with which I’m well-acquainted.  It comes from the depth of a broken heart and shattered dreams.  It is unlike any other cry I’ve ever heard or cried before or since.

And so here I am—remembering.  Recalling things I’d stuffed down and hidden in my healed-up heart.  And suddenly the old feelings feel real again instead of just like faded, distant sentiments I filed in the “been there, felt that” folder.

When they first came flooding back, I began to feel myself slipping.  But just because you’re slipping doesn’t mean you have to fall.  

Years ago, I did a Bible study written by Beth Moore.  We had to draw our timelines–divide our lives up into segments of 7-year stretches.  We had to mark events and draw it out; connect the dots.  As I drew those metaphorical lines from one event to another, the faithfulness of God unfolded before my very eyes.  I saw how He sewed His promises together with a thread of hope.  One tragedy to another.  One triumph to another.  He met me in each one and sewed the holes tightly together with hope.


Today I caught a glimpse of my own ink in the mirror.  The tattoo that marks my back also marks my soul because it’s a reminder that when I fix my hope on His faithfulness I set it in the very safest place.  My story wasn’t written in the tragedy or in the triumph.  My story is wrapped up in Redemption.  It is His holy, sacred handiwork.

Everything that was stolen has been recovered.  Everything that was burnt down has been replaced.  Everything that was lost has been redeemed.

Every. Single. Thing.

All because of Him.  All because of hope.


Maybe you’re gimping through a season of devastation and despair.  It feels like it’s never going to end.  It’s real and painful.  You didn’t ask for it and you’ve done nothing to deserve it.  Maybe the memories of a time long past are creeping in–whispering, haunting, and they just won’t let you forget. Maybe your feet keep slipping and your mind keeps wandering and you’re groping your way down the path but it’s just to dark to see the light of hope.  But just because you’re slipping, you do not have to fall.

Stand up tall.  Stand up brave.  Stop and mark this moment.   This is part of the story but it is not the introduction nor is it the final chapter.  Remember that the story begins and ends with Redemption.  It always has, and it always will–so long as you’ll allow it.

This is what my wise and wonderful friend Andrea calls a “kintsugi moment”.  Go ahead, click on them and read her words–they are brief, but they are exquisite.  This is where the broken and repaired becomes the history, not the whole story.  This is where the precious pours into the cracks and makes the foundation strong and lovely and quite a sight to behold.  No tear is wasted on moments like these.

This is the birth of a masterpiece….so I encourage you to mark the moment.



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