I Built My House on Sand

Emerge

“Never, never pin your whole faith on any human being: not if he is the best and wisest in the whole world. There are lots of nice things you can do with sand; but do not try building a house on it.” - C.S. Lewis

If my grief was weighed on a scale for purchase it would be tied up in a neat package and sold cheap. I am most certain many would not only buy it but trade it for theirs. I would stand and see that the scale could not hold the weight of theirs, yet mine would still leave me pitying the poor soul who carried it away.

They would get home, perhaps make a cup of tea, pace a little and stare at the twine that holds it.

Upon opening it they would find hope, happiness, vulnerability, love, creativity, confidence, music, joy, an aching heart, a health condition, the slamming of a door, questions, lonliness, pictures playing on the t.v. loaded in lonely desperation, preachers talking, silly songs produced for grandchildren, walks, photographs of a brooding sky, an eerily quiet neighborhood, masked children. There are open books of poetry and faith, desperation, hopelessness, grief, an accident, dreams of dying, revival, a bridge, a movement, a “choice,” a road trip home, a fall, a fire, a collapse, a dog passes, no voice, God is near, angels on earth, love, fellowship, death, a dog passes, agony, rebuilding, accepting, what is, unvaccinated, canceled, uninvited, where is God, anger, no voice, forgiveness, anger, sudden reconcilation, a glimpse of beauty, my feet on the ground, time lost, memories faded and a home built on sand.

Perhaps my package was traded and there I stand staring at a new one. A fresh beginning, hopeful that the deal I sold was returned for a better one.

I pace my garden. My how everything has grown. Sun burned it down, rain built it up and my hands have aged as I rise with the fresh blooms. The kettle is on and my new package sits on the table.

I’ll wait a day, or maybe two.

Verses and memories of beauty, little feet, pitter-patter, good food, laughter and the confidence that my house was not built on sand but in those moments it was enough to last every storm..

I run to the new package. The house is cold. In it I find a beautiful family, joy, love, the death of a son, the tears of friends who are just like me, the questions, gaping wounds, aching hearts, family estrangement, minds failing, and entire homes built on sand.

I have laid it all out here in my writing. I have held virtual hands and prayed with and over people for nearly three years of suffering, similar to my own and beyond. I have found that in the sand lies truth, decency, harmony and hope and that dying to one’s self, being stripped of all you cherish and value in life is survivable.

When what comes back to you, that was lost, if that is even possible, whether literally or figuratively in the sense that God has a way of putting before you His gifts of eternal living to grab., that love is truly patient and kind. Of which, love does not envy or boast, nor is it arrogant or rude and cannot find it’s own way. That love indeed musn’t be irritable or resentful nor rejoice in wrong-doing, yet uncompromisingly rejoices in the truth - then our home, my home, your home can be rebuilt on that which holds no wrongdoing - yet is only found in a heavenly love.

A Love that emerges through the pain of loss and grief, even in reconciliation, without the words you long to hear, I’m sorry. A love so Divine that you can carry it with that package and use it as a heavy stone to weigh it down when you expect of any human, including yourself, to behave in the way that only Love can behave.

Three years. I emerge this new year with the greatest teaching of all. A guarded heart. Not a mean or angry heart, but a heart that is unwilling to cast His love aside to do life and love my own way. To consider the building materials and weigh the costs.

Thank you if you listened to the little podcast with my mom. We had some sweet feedback and it was much appreciated. It’s in these light-hearted times that I see the true meaning of “Let It Be” as we navigate the heaviness of nearly 3 years. Hoping to return to the Stories of Home series as we rebuild ours again and again. I’m sure you can all relate. ox