For Troy (Childlike) This is the hope of glory: rebirth with access to doe eyes, to boyish naivety or girlish glow. There is a growing young.
This is the hope of glory: to know the world of monstrous men who rule by violence, sex, and tricks, and to remember fear of this dark.
This is the hope of glory: clomping in creation’s garden, wobbly-kneed in father’s boots, laughter spilling into Spring’s buttercups.
This is the hope of glory: feeling the decadent evening love rising warm in pinking cheeks, covering eyes to things not for children.
This is the hope of glory: the wonder of traveling mercies, snowy peaks and Carolina tide, and ever asking “are we there yet?”
In the most recent Tiny Letter (my once-a-month, insider newsletter delivered straight to your email), I'm discussing the Lenten season, the darkness of my heart, and the discipline of quiet reflection. If you sign up today, you'll receive a FREE DOWNLOAD of the song "Train Wreck." It's a song I wrote about pain, loss, and the love of God.