Running

Mike was a police officer. Joanne was a nurse.

They birthed children, fostered children, adopted children.

Special needs.

Mike and Joanne played soccer in college. Their kids played practically from the time they could walk.

Mike and Joanne coached.

They lived life on the run. Church activity to church activity. Doctor to doctor. Game to game. Goal to goal.

Then Ben began to run. Away from the family. Into trouble. Back home to steal money or a car.

To run some more. Away from the law.

A black blanket billowed over Mike. He burrowed under. Grateful for the insulation.

One day Mike and Joanne argued. Over some small something.

Joanne ran to the store.

And Mike ran.

Joanne found him an hour later. Behind the house. With his gun next to him.

And the weight of his pain fell on her.

And she ran, pounded pavement. And the pounds melted. And the weight fell away, leaving a bony frame that enclosed an empty shell of life once known.

She clawed her way from under the darkness.

But still she runs.

Without a goal.

A young man once ran. To chase the ways of the world. To find his fortune.

And his father waited. Watched. Until he saw him in the distance. Coming home.

And he ran to him.



"I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward--to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back." Philippians 3:13-14 (Message)

Where are you running today?

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Framed Memories - Part 3: The End

The storm struck. The barn collapsed.

In one sense, relief reigned.

Nobody hurt.

No more worries about who or what hid in the shadows.

No more energy burned in worry about the future. Like what to do with an old barn that faced inevitable demise in some form since restoration was not a viable option.

Nothing left to do but capture frames of memory.

Nothing left to do but to make a memory as we celebrated memories.

The wake lasted three days.

Captured here in a handful from dozens of frames.

The barn is dust.

The landscape forever changed.

And we treasure the memories.

As we look toward the future.

Letting go.

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Matthew 6:19-21 (NIV)

Where is your treasure? What do you cling to?

Note: This post is in response to Claire Burge's PhotoPlay prompt "Frame It" at The High Calling Blogs.

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

For the Fathered and the Fatherless

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Would You Risk a Pinch for a Vision?

St. Patrick's Day.

All things green. Shamrocks. Corned beef and cabbage. Beer.

And pinches if you don't celebrate "properly."

But maybe we should instead celebrate vision. Perception. A way of looking at life. A way of reaching up and out. A willingness to risk a pinch.

When he was about 16, Irish raiders kidnapped Patrick from his family's farm in Britain, took him back to Ireland, and forced him into slavery. He worked as a shepherd and grew deep in faith during those years alone. About five years later, he apparently received a vision to run for the coast where he would find a way to escape. He returned home only to have another vision--a call back to the land of his imprisonment. A call to set his captors free. A call to spread the gospel in a foreign land. A vision worth a pinch.

"Be Thou My Vision," the beautiful Irish hymn, has its roots in an ancient Irish poem possibly written by Dallan Forgaill, a 6th century martyr. Mary E. Byrne translated the old Irish in 1905, and Eleanor Hull set it in verses in 1912. The medieval folksong, Slane, named after the Hill of Slane, carries the lyrics. Now we connect this hymn to St. Patrick's vision and to a flame that once burned, possibly on this hill.

Side Note: I find it interesting that Slane (Baile Shlaine) means "homestead of fullness."

Tradition says that in 433 A.D., Patrick risked a pinch when he lit a paschal fire on the Hill of Shane. In doing so, he openly defied a decree that outlawed any fires in the vicinity of the great festival fire lit at nearby Tara to honor the spring equinox. This infuriated the king who could have killed Patrick, but the king was apparently so struck by Patrick's courage and commitment, and perhaps eloquent preaching, he allowed him to continue his missionary work.

Patrick had a vision, an inner flame that allowed him to rise from adversity, to use the flames of adversity to light a flame for the Light.

Do you have a vision? Would you "risk a pinch for it"?

" . . . I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, lofty and exalted with the train of His robe filling the temple." Isaiah 6:1 (NASB)

"Where there is no vision, the people perish . . ." Proverbs 29:18 (KJV)

Sweet melody. Sweet voices.



Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Born to Die - The Bridge

Have you accepted the gift? Will you?

"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life." John 3:16 (NIV)

Copyright © 2009 by Sandra Heska King