A Letter To Ann Voskamp

Dear Ann,

Last night I had a dream that you invited me to stay at your farm for a welcome retreat from the battles I face. You were so excited to share healing with me, and I was overwhelmed by your generosity and nurture. But sometimes Ann I look at your pictures, even of your messes, and think you don’t understand pain. But I know better. I’ve read your book. Purchased several copies to share. Counted to 300 something. And even though I know your life has been harder than most, you’ve decided. Now I decide. I decide to see beauty in struggle as my ugly caterpillar self waits in quiet darkness for what comes next. For my embryonic state only declares to me that new birth is coming and I can choose, if I dare. I can choose to be content in the warm and safe place of His arms, trusting His hand to craft wings of color to my worm body.

I can choose as my heart breaks in two for the desperation of others to see my most prized possessions: two bushes ablaze with beauty, one with lilac and the other with pearly peony.

I can choose to be relieved that my cocoon is dark because then I can not see the scalpel performing surgery on my broken pieces.

I can choose to see hope in the hard, singing in the sad, trust in the trial and love for the lost.

And you know what? It’s my choice, not anyone else’s. I can choose to be grateful. No one can take this from me. Because as you have so beautifully said, “when I give thanks for the seemingly microscopic, I make a place for God to grow within me.”

So I’m starting my list over and this time I won’t stop. I will come to the place you’ve created as a retreat for me and other weary travellers. And I will rest on the front porch rocking chair. Back and forth, back and forth, to the rhythm of His heart beat. I can not walk this road alone, so I will re-learn gratitude, with your beautiful list, a respirator of thanksgiving, I breathe in, out, in, out. Breathe out thanks, breathe in gift, breathe out thanks, breathe in gift. I will learn to spirit-breathe again, but I might cough and sputter a little, because I have allowed my air to be polluted with death wishes and dream killers. So let the breathing treatments begin. And Ann? Thanks for the invitation.

1. For the invitation to really see… herehere

Three things orange?
2. #2 pencils scratching on lined notebook paper
3. Daughter’s orange scarf peeking out of basket.

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4. Splash of orange cheer on my Dunkin

…sharing a playdate with Laura:
and at a new place for writers Unforced Rhythms of Grace.

and with beautiful Jennifer Dukes Lee…{\rtf1\ansi\ansicpg1252
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And with my dearest Emily…