Whidbey Island

Last September (I'm behind on my editing) I went to Whidbey Island with a friend. We left at an unreasonable hour (it was still dark) so we could watch the sunrise from Deception Pass Bridge.

                          It was definitely worth getting up super early.

                                               Deception Pass Bridge

                           After the sun came up the fog rolled in fast.

              I found these carnations left on the end of the bridge charming.

 After we crossed the bridge we found a park to wander around in. I love the reflections on the still, fog covered water.

                                        These crooked trees are fun.

 The park brought us around below Deception Pass Bridge. The sun was still coming up and gave the area a beautiful golden glow.

 My friend Dale as we wander around different places on Whidbey Island

 One of our stops bordered this hay field. Dale and I had fun shooting the large round bales.

Blessed Are Those Who Mourn

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted ~ Matthew 5:4

I never understood this verse. How can you call someone who is mourning blessed? I think someone mourning would think they were anything but blessed.

Then I found out what it really means to mourn. I know what it feels like to be so deep in grief you forget to breath. I know what its like to feel the crushing weight of grief so heavy that you can't breath. I certianly didn't feel blessed. And I still didn't really understand this verse.

Yet, it was in some of those moments of grief, that I felt God's presence and heard his voice. It's hard to describe what it felt like one day to have this overwhelming peace spread through me. To know that it was from God and to hear him tell me he had everything under control. It was a "peace that passes all understanding"(Philippians 4:7) that only God can give.

But I still didn't understand. I'd lost everything that mattered.

Then the other night I was thinking about all the times God came along beside me in my grief, all the people he sent to pray for me and support me and then it dawned on me . . . . I'm not blessed because I mourn, I'm blessed because in my grief God made his presence known and comforted me.

It's in the word "comforted" the blessing lies, not in the mourning. It is an amazing blessing to feel God's presence, especially when he's all you have left. 

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 

Thank You . . .

Its weird the directions one's life can take. When people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I had a ready answer for them. But my life has not gone the way I had planned. When everything you know about your life is ripped away, you find yourself on a new path. One you never even imagined.

Sometime last year I started kicking around the idea of going back to school. I was thinking about becoming a counselor so I could help others whose lives had been turned upside down. Yet I didn't think it was something I could . . . or even should do. It seemed like such a crazy idea, yet I was interested in it. Of course I had all kinds of reasons why it was the wrong direction for me. Yet the idea wouldn't leave me alone.

 As it happened one evening in September I was visiting with my college psych professor and his wife. I wanted to talk to him about this idea of becoming a counselor, but felt silly bringing the idea up. Because as I already said, I thought it was a crazy idea.

However, my professor validated my idea so quickly I almost suspect he'd already had the idea himself.  We spent the rest of the evening talking about this crazy idea of mine. By the time I got home it wasn't such a crazy idea anymore and I started looking into applying to graduate school. You can read about that adventure here. I am now about to finish my first semester and am excited about what my future holds.

So I'd like to thank Doc and Anita Bailey for giving me permission to pursue a new direction for my life. It's hard to explain what that one conversation did for me and my willingness to follow what I think  was God's tugging at my heart.