You searched for church on a perch

I know where the cardinal goes…

Well… I know where OUR cardinal goes, anyways. I spent a good part of last weekend gazing out of my upstairs bedroom window at the wintry mix of ice and snow. You see things from up there that you might miss, otherwise.

When Old Man Winter makes his appearance, I love to sit there and do my morning work of the soul. I gaze, read, daydream, pray, sing and write in my journal. This post was part of that journal entry, one of those, “How do I know what I think, until I see what I say?” kind of things that just seem to spill out when you get too full. I was pretty full the morning I wrote this.
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I received a message recently from someone who reads my nightly gratitude post, “Counting it ALL Joy” on Facebook. Here’s what it said: “Your Counting it ALL Joy is killing me.”

I’d been posting a lot of things about my new little granddaughter including an adorable picture of her in her hedge hog Halloween outfit, so I thought she meant it in a nice way – killing her with joy. But then I read further.

“ …we face issues that do not have a shred of joy in them. I stand here in front of your words and beg my Father to help me, in faith, believe it and to live it. This formidable mountain casts a deep shadow.”

Oh my heart. She’d been reading not just the gratitude posts but also the blog series on climbing the mountains in our lives. Her mountain was so vast the shadow was blocking out every bit of light. All I could do was empathize because I’ve been there. That’s how this whole practice started—when I was drowning in the depths of my own darkness. It’s one thing to count your blessings when you can look out your rustic farmhouse window, see the sun rise and the light fall on that patch of glorious sunflowers you planted last spring. I looked out the window and all I could see was the dumpster. I get it.