Hard Eucharisteo

sometimes life is a pile of salt washed drift wood

and there is no order

or sense in it

and it's a mess

and sometimes you are like a tree

weathered, worn and broken

planted by still waters....

not so much

and sometimes, with sun obscure

you are standing in the grey

and there's not much left to do

but embrace the wood

of another kind of tree

sometimes that's just how it is

Counting with the community of the grateful:

~  understanding that knowing the truth and hurting is better than being the fool

~  finishing the little orange book

~  the admonition, blessing and encouragement we received from it

~  not knowing much, but knowing Him, and how that really is enough

~  the pain that comes from the loss of something that brought great joy

~  watching how one who is loved well, loves well

~  the healing that brings, like a balm on a burn

~  sending off dear ones

~  the adventurous journey ahead of them

~  the emptiness the leaving causes only because of the fullness their presence meant

~  how life was good with them

~  how they are gifts

~  how it's hard, but we are thankful, because who are we to say, 'it's bad', so

~  we count it as good