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Finding hope in the chaos

A few weeks ago, clouds of Queen Anne’s lace billowed chest high on both sides of the path as I biked between the two loosely-woven walls of flowers framing the path.

To peek through to the view over the city from a perch on a bench, one had to part the stems.

Now, where there was a cottony cloud of white, there’s mostly green: a sea of tall, waving grass; thimbleberry vines reaching prickly arms toward the path; and the leaves and stems of fallen blossoms pushing up tall and strong and free.

There’s a wildness here, a reminder that folk walking the well-trodden paths can’t contain the growth happening along the edges.

Life changes. Living things grow. And this is grace.

Yet sometimes change – even good and necessary change, even change we desperately want – comes first with shock and ache and chaos which steals our breath and leaves us reeling.

In those moments when I’ve cried out to the One who hears and begun to listen for and take whatever concrete steps to which I might be called, I find myself invited to turn and receive rest and hope in this great grace:

“Look at my servant, whom I uphold.

He is my chosen one, who pleases me.

I have put my Spirit upon him.

He will bring justice to the nations.

He will not shout

or raise his voice in public.

He will not crush the weakest reed

or put out a flickering candle.

He will bring justice to all who have been wronged.

He will not falter or lose heart

until justice prevails throughout the earth.

Even distant lands beyond the sea will wait for his instruction.”

Isaiah 42:1-4 (bold mine)

Thanks be to God!

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