Like the day five years ago when my husband first saw the house I had bought for us in SC. The yellow duct tape holding the door sills together was warning enough that the preretirement home his wife bought was about to wipe him out of time and money, and there was no turning back.
Other times—downright confusing—senseless even.
Like when we returned from Guatemala much sooner than we planned:
" I wore the year following our return from Guatemala as though it were a lead apron on my chest. We moved back into our New Jersey home. Bob returned to his job in the electrical union, dutifully leaving at four a.m. for the daily commute to New York City two hours away. Lily donned baggy jeans and pre-teen concerns without missing a beat. The only apparent remnant of her foreign life was the long hair-wrap she had acquired that first day on a sidewalk in Antigua."
"The ripples from the boulder that had been tossed into my pond ebbed away, and life resumed as though it had never been interrupted—except for the vague depression, the persistent ennui, and loss of direction that dogged my every move—except for the knowledge that something big had displaced the waters of my life and was still there under the surface." –Call of a Coward
And in the worst of times—downright hopeless.
Like when we have no means within ourselves to carry on except to fold up to die. One of my favorite movie scenes to capture this absolute resignation is from The African Queen. Having exhausted every effort to free their boat from the mucky, reedy channel that entraps them, Rose and Charlie lie down to die.
Sometimes we too can’t see around the reedy bend in our river. We‘ve lost our view of the plans, possibilities, and purposes of God in our lives.We see only the Friday vision as our hero and hope dies bleeding on a cross, no different than the ones hanging next to him. What now? Who can save us?
But as the camera pulls back on the two figures huddled in the bottom of their boat, we see that the channel is really only feet away from the lake, which is hidden by the reeds. Unbeknownst to the sleeping two, rain begins to fall, the channel swells, and their little boat rises to freedom.
In Friday’s gloom, the disciples couldn’t see Sunday’s glory. But we know the impossible was possible.
As I conclude this week’s photo journey from Call of a Coward, I pray you would be encouraged to fix your eyes on that Sunday vision—on that empty cross and abandoned tomb—on the Living One “who makes cowards courageous, ordinary lives purposeful, and dried-up dreams fruitful.”—Call of a Coward
|first birthday cake|