abluvion

what do we do now? what do we make of this? where do we go from here?

throw down all the empty vessels onto the floor, burn up all the broken pieces, smudge the pretty colors, let the flames consume and purify. ironic how the fire washes away the impure.

make puppets of skeletons.

make-believe.

i guess i'm just aching to return Home again.

even today. 

especially today.

return

no father should ever live to bury his own son.

but to see your dad speak Isaiah 55:8 over himself and your family in the midst of grief and sorrow and unanswered questions.. it renewed a hope in me which i never thought needed to be renewed.

you're home now, Mark. face-to-face with the Beautiful One.

til we meet again, singing together unto the King.

hiatus

this is my success: to love You and be loved by You.

to love You and be loved by You.