At the family greeting area with my parents and Jeff, just minutes before the bombs went off.

This past Monday was the fifth anniversary of the Boston marathon bombing.

I ran that race on my 28^thbirthday. It was an exhilarating day that ended in horror. The height of humanity’s enduring spirit sidled by the depth of humanity’s pain. I wrote about my experience here….

I haven’t seen the movies made about it. I haven’t run a race since. Someday, I will do these things….

But each year, something shifts – even soars – in my spirit as I watch the coverage and read the results. I’m taken back to the essence of the day, which is one of goodness and perseverance and overcoming. The evil that happened that day has not held victory. Every year, thousands still gather to run together. They take back the ground in the name of beautiful strength with each stride and stomp of their feet.

This year, as I read the coverage with my broken foot, I was awe-struck by the story of Sarah Sellers who finished second for women on Monday. No one knew who she was. I learned that as a senior in college, Sarah had a broken foot and didn’t run one step for a year. She has been working as a full-time nurse, and the race on Monday was only her second marathon. She didn’t even realize when she crossed the finish-line that she’d taken second place. When asked what she would do with the award money, she said she’d try to pay off her and her husband’s student loans.

Or how about this story?! Talk about tremendous.

The affirmation I hear in this and to which I keep returning is, We are overcomers. I am an overcomer…..

It can feel like we barely catch our breath from one setback before the next one surprises us.  Author Paul Coelho says, “Life has many ways of testing a person’s will, either by having nothing happen at all or by having everything happen all at once.”

The overcoming rarely comes in one, big wave. It’s more like a series of cascading waves that roll in and recede. But each wave will bring us further up the shore….

***

Strong and Loving God,

In You,

through You,

because of You,

I am an overcomer.

I keep my eyes forward

that I might see the beauty

before me.

Thank you for

helping me trust

amid the setbacks…

for helping me see that progress

isn’t a straight line,

but a squiggly one.

The simple choice to try again today

is victory in your book.

Yours is the coaching voice

I need most,

speaking directly in my ear

as you run alongside,

stride for stride.

I believe in you.

I am with you.

We will overcome this together.

Amen.

“Tree of Life” oil canvas by Arianne Braithwaite Lehn

A blessed Good Friday to each of you, my friends.

I am grateful to be writing after some long radio silence – sick kids, meaningful visits from loved ones, new baby developmental milestones that equaled wonky sleep around here, and the like (I forgot how the ability to stand up and cruise around in a crib throws things off!). I am praying this Lenten journey has been a grace-filled one for you, even if your moments to reflect have not come as often as you would have liked. It can be enough.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about death and new life. Especially today. Before being taken away for crucifixion, Jesus talks to his disciples about seeds. New life comes from a seed when it goes into the earth and “dies.” And death, as we know, comes in all kinds of forms.

The part of Jesus’ final discourse that really stood out to me this week was when he says,

Right now, I am storm-tossed. And what am I going to say? ‘Father, get me out of this?’ No, this is why I came in the first place. I’ll say, ‘Father, put your glory on display.’ (John 12:27-28 The Message)

Jesus said ‘yes’ to the death because he knew that particular ‘yes’ was also ‘yes’ to a whole bunch of other things.

As we hold space today for Jesus’ yes – to a cross and ultimately to new life – I am praying for you in the personal forms of death for which you are holding space right now. I pray there will be lots of room for both the death as well as the new life, because they always need each other.

You are brave.

***

Wonder Worker,

When I peered up from the hole and saw no way out,

When what was taken away gave no warning,

When I didn’t think I had the courage

(or even the energy)

to live into a life looking nothing like it did before…

Something was happening.

The thing I I thought would break me –

that did break me –

is now making me.

“Great is the mystery of faith…”

The pieces of life’s puzzle come together here and there,

or shockingly in a big patch at once,

and I see You,

active and good in all things.

Your power to redeem –

to take the most painful death and losses

and grow from them living, breathing gifts

that take my own breath away in awe.

Somehow this hard, hard, hard thing –

when given in earnest to you today

(and many tomorrows from now!)

becomes an open channel where

something amazing will flow.

A passage echoing

with a tender Voice –

You can trust me with all the things….

in all the things…

This too.

And yes, this.

Why is it, God, that

death is so demanding –

commanding space in my soul,

in my schedule,

to really lean in

to the new reality I’m asked

to embrace?

It took your disciples a while too.

I know you promise

I have as much time as I need,

and that fruit will continue to

bud and burst.

Amen.

Photo by Susanne Moorman Rowe

Great Love and Loving One,

I look around me…

How I crave your

true and powerful and unifying

(of the deepest kind)

love.

More than a Valentine’s Day love….

I look around….

Seeking your gritty, steady love

that humbles itself into gracious relationship.

That lays down to listen.

I look…

Remembering again and again

how you are Love itself,

moving into any dark holes of unloving –

including my own shadow side –

bringing beams of

pure, unconditional love.

A love that loved me first

and loves me still….

as I am

where I am

(even if I still act like I need to earn it

every.single.day.)

With looking eyes

and tuned ears

and a *somewhat* open heart,

I see that your Love – that you –

really are everywhere.

There are all of these amazing

people who are beacons of you,

standing united in mercy and compassion,

telling the world how connected we all are

and that you are our source.

Our Source of Love.

I’m joining in.

Amen.

Photo by Susanne Moorman Rowe

Let’s make room today. Let’s clear out what we’ve been using to numb or avoid or block. Let’s trust that in the quiet, open space there is healing.

And then let’s listen….

***

Patient, Gentle, God,

I can be so afraid of emptiness.

There are so many ways to stuff out

the echoes of hollowness….

fill the house with unneeded stuff,

fill the wallet with money,

fill the garages with spares of this and that,

fill the belly with more and more food,

fill the mind with whatever distractions can be found,

fill the time with busy-ness….

But it won’t pad the emptiness,

or fill the void.

Give me the courage, God, to clear this clutter!

To see in this empty space a sacredness,

a needed gift,

a place you will come and get to work.

Make me be alone with you

and with the things within me

I’ve been avoiding,

or not even aware of.

Use this open space to

bring about transformation

where your Spirit shapes my attitudes,

leads my thoughts,

guides my decisions,

covers my conversations.

You promise that

to be filled with your Spirit

is to be in formation –

to head toward the abundant purposefulness.

With your Spirit in me, I am never empty,

nor is my life.

Fill and form me, Loving One, today.

Remind me I have all I need in and through You,

and that there is no reason to be afraid.

Amen.

Photo by Susanne Moorman Rowe

We are half-way through December and I wonder how your heart is faring. Winter’s taken a dramatic dive into colder temps and snow (at least in Chicagoland), and I think our inner soul landscape often feels the effect of that. The stretching hours of darkness and frigidity the earth now endures reminds me we often face the same in our hearts.

Perseverance in such conditions can be hard when we might find ourselves overwhelmed or stressed in preparing for the “happiest time of year.” If you’re feeling this way, you might read a prayer of mine from December last year.

I think about Mary and Joseph making their own journey toward Bethlehem. I’m sure it required every ounce of trust and perseverance they had. I bet that each day, they had to freshly overcome their fear and questions about what awaited them upon arrival. Their trust in God’s promise had to be bigger than the swirling apprehension or flat-out exhaustion (Mary was very pregnant!).

So, I pray you are encouraged today, my friends, as you walk a path that might be taking all scraps of strength you’ve got left. Keep your eyes on the star.

***

Warm, enveloping One,

You gather me in when

the wind of anxiety and fear whips,

when I feel my face, my heart,

tighten against the cold’s force.

With wide, warm arms,

you bring me into your heart

where my angst melts by

the fire of your love.

And it is there, as I rest and thaw

that you remind me…

Remind me of the unbelievable power in perseverance,

the choice to open my eyes each morning and say,

Yes, I will keep going.

And I will find joy here

and grace

and I will live with courage even when I’m uncomfortable

in this brutal winter.

As my brittle fears drip to my feet,

you let my real self come through.

A self you love so much…

My path toward transformation comes through acceptance,

through affirming that I will be

gentle and forgiving toward myself

because that’s how you are with me.

I will lean with all my weight into your ‘enoughness.’

Into the warmth I feel here.

My solace and strength in life’s winter.

Amen.

I have missed you!

I have missed this!

We welcomed our precious Simon Thomas Lehn in the wee hours of the morning on June 17^th. We couldn’t be more grateful for this miracle in our household. At the same time, the transition – especially in the first couple months – was extremely exhausting and heart-wrenching.

Like his older sister, Simon has suffered from severe reflux disease and was in terrible pain because of it. All of you have done and would do whatever it takes to comfort someone you love, and so you know what this is like – the seemingly endless search from point to point with no clear “landing spot” as you seek what will bring relief and answers.

After a couple months, Simon became a different baby. Whether it was the medications finally taking effect or the shifts in my diet or the maturation of his body or some other healing gift from God’s tender hands, we don’t know. And we don’t need to know. The blessing of breathing (and sleeping!) more easily was enough.

            Until I broke my ankle!!!

Following a doctor’s appointment, I was carrying Simon out to the parking lot. amid a drizzling rain. With Simon strapped in the car seat (we know how light those things are), a loaded diaper bag, and my purse, I completely missed the curb over which I stepped, flipping my ankle and bringing all of me and what I carried forcefully to the ground.

What has long been one of my greatest fears has now actualized in what seems to be one of the worst-timed seasons. I haven’t been able to bear weight at all on my ankle, and will be transitioning to weight-bearing in a boot soon. Of course I asked the doctor about running and the answer was, “four months.”

Our friends and community of faith kicked into gear immediately. Crutches were sitting outside our front door when we returned from the ER. Dinner arrived at 5:00 p.m. that evening. Another friend came after work to help get Eden in the bath tub and to bed.

Through daily life, God is asking of me a whole new depth of surrender. I’m challenged with questions about where I really find my identity. I’m forced to sit in the stillness, the quiet, and not be able to move – HARD.

My new hashtag has become #dailymanna as I experience God’s enoughness and goodness. My only goal is to live as best I can another day. My crutches have become, in a strange way, a kind of sacrament. As I press my entire weight into these blasted crutches, hobbling around our home with four flights of stairs, I’m reminded of who is carrying the weight of my weary, worried soul.

After the accident, I lamented to a friend my incapacities and long haitus from running. She said, “I pray you can keep your gaze above the current waves to see your Savior as the one who gives power to walk on water, even if you can’t run.”

And so I’m trying to fix my gaze. Lifting with my eyes the hearts of so many others whose lives have been turned upside down recently in catastrophic ways. People facing hurricanes – literally, emotionally, spiritually, all of the above.

***

Sustainer of my broken body

and humbled spirit,

When I feel overwhelmed and

want to hide,

When I feel trapped and

want to escape,

When the cleansing tears of

dependence,

loss of control,

and fear

wash me over….

I come back to today, today, today.

I open needy hands

for daily manna.

I look for the joy in this

because of what you are building

in me.

And I scrawl some more

on ever-growing list

of your faithfulness in the

path toward healing.

My heart can sing,

can cry,

can hold the linking arms of faith and hope

through this crucible of transformation.

Use it for good.

Use it for good.

Use it for good.

Amen.

Photo by Susanne Moorman Rowe

Summer blessings, my friends. I hope and pray the earth’s greening and pending shifts in life routine are creating some breathing space in your soul.

I am now 36 weeks pregnant.  I feel it. Eden arrived at 37 1/2 weeks, and so there’s a chance this will be my temporary “signing-off” prayer for a period of time.

In the third trimester of my pregnancy with Eden, I developed severe Sacroiliac Joint pain. It completely stopped me in my tracks. And almost like clockwork, the pain descended again during this pregnancy journey at the exact same week and point. While trips to the chiropractor, yoga and “spinning babies” techniques are helping ease the pain, there was a stretch of time where I couldn’t even do the daily essentials.

I know so many of you, my friends, struggle with the burden of chronic pain. Maybe you have for years. My own pain in this last month has deepened my prayerfulness for you. How you inspire me with the brave and trusting way you walk the path everyday.

I’ve been reflecting on limitations and how I struggle within and against them. On how we can channel our breath toward the places in our bodies (or thoughts, or lives!) that pain us the most, and how that can be healing. And on how the more I can relax and breathe into my pain, rather than tense up and fight, the more centered I am in how I really want to live.

Feel my love and prayers with you in the weeks to come. How excited I am to share updates of new life soon.

***

Tender Holder

of my hurting body

and tired heart,

I still and settle my soul

in your hands, giving to you

the places of pain,

asking that you channel your breath through mine,

bringing balm and comfort –

even for a moment.

You softly tend with a

soothing Spirit to the

sharp spikes of pain, spearing their way with suddenness

and stealing my breath for a second.

You don’t leave me alone

to face my limitations.

You are teaching me to lean into them,

and find there a whole new depth of

sustaining grace.

With you, I can be whole even as I don’t feel healed.

I can rest in the cradling of your love while together we wait

for a mending of the muscles

and renewed strength in my heart.

This, too, will pass….

you promise.

And that is enough hope

to get me through today.

Amen.

Photo by Susanne Moorman Rowe

Lord Jesus,

How blessed I am to have your love,

your peace,

your reassurance –

you give me the comfort I need to live my hardest days.

How blessed I am, God, to have your strength,

your courage,

your self-control –

you give me the determination I need to make tough decisions and follow through.

How blessed I am, God, to have your grace,

your forgiveness,

your promise of new life –

you give me the mercy I need to say, ‘I’ll make different choices today’ –

and then do so.

You see me, God, as I truly am –

that core within me that’s been there

since I was a baby and blossomed as a child.

It’s a core so buried beneath all of these…layers.

A layer of responsibility here and

layer of image there,

plus the layers of expectations

others place on me and

the layers of self-doubt and fear.

Please help mes shed the layers, God,

and return to the core.

Help me reclaim who I truly am – the person you’ve created me to be.

Help me live boldly,

speak confidently,

love unconditionally,

forgive readily, and

trust deeply.

Shape my life to match my soul.

Thank you, Lord Christ, for loving me I am –

may I embrace my true essence and your work for me today.

Amen.

Photo by Susanne Moorman Rowe

Ecclesiastes 3:11 – God has made all things beautiful in their time….

Timing….

It impacts everything, doesn’t it? We can have a clear picture of what we want/need to happen in our lives, but find ourselves at a standstill because of timing. You’ve probably heard the quote, too, that “the right thing at the wrong time is the wrong thing…”

And yet, the waiting is so challenging. It requires every ounce of trust we can muster, and a daily decision to surrender (again!!!). I’m not speaking of resignation or passivity. Your soul, your prayers, your inner work still progress toward and believe in the hoped-for-end. But you are willing to let the necessary earlier steps have their place.

You let God’s hands hold things until God says, “your turn.”

And in the meantime, while God does God’s thing,

we can enjoy the beauty that’s already there….

***

God of all seasons,

You make all things beautiful in their time.

As I prepare to enter the weekend before me,

please open my soul, God, to the beauty –

the surprising beauty –

around me.

My prayer is that I will journey

through this day with an awareness bringing

gratitude,

celebration, and

fresh hope.

So often, God, I miss the beauty

or even blind to it when it’s before me.

Your blossoms can draw me in

from distraction.

May I witness your brightness in the greening earth and birds’ song

as well as the restaurant waiter or the child’s sidewalk chalk.

Help me journey through the seasons –

even the seasons within this day before me –

with a grace and a patience that makes others feel at home.

Loving God, I rest in you

and your working to make all things beautiful –

someday, somehow.

In the name of the One

who showed us true beauty in human life,

Amen.

Taken on my run last week at Sugar House Park in Salt Lake City, UT….

Where do you look for help?

When things are hard? When life feels overwhelming? When you can’t break free from the same debilitating thought patterns or behaviors that just won’t shake off?

My family I spent last weekend in the mountains of Utah while visiting my brother and sister-in-law. It was tangible therapy for my heart, soul, and bone. I went for a number of runs at a park nearby their home, and this was the scenery.

The steadiness of the mountains was such a grounding, restorative gift. After months of transition (which we continue to live into every day), I was reminded in a very physical way the source of my help. Where I can find my strength and my hope and my perseverance…

Psalm 121 has always been one of my favorite psalms. I return to it time and time again, and last week’s retreat with beloved family and steadfast mountains brought my soul to it once again.

Rather than write my own prayer this week, I want to share the words of this psalm. Perhaps we can all picture the mountains and in them, see the strong, resilient presence of God in our lives.

***

A Pilgrimage Prayer – Psalm 121 

I raise my eyes toward the mountains.
    Where will my help come from?
 My help comes from the Lord,
    the maker of heaven and earth.
 God won’t let your foot slip.
    Your protector won’t fall asleep on the job.
 No! Israel’s protector
    never sleeps or rests!
 The Lord is your protector;
    the Lord is your shade right beside you.
 The sun won’t strike you during the day;
    neither will the moon at night.
 The Lord will protect you from all evil;
    God will protect your very life.^[a]
 The Lord will protect you on your journeys—
    whether going or coming—
    from now until forever from now.