as you go
may it be faith
that leads you
through the
unknown

as you go
may it be hope
that keeps you
moving through every
yes and every no

as you go
may it be love
you leave behind
so others may know
so others may grow
so others may go

- from As You Go: Words for the Unknown

A year ago this week a thousand copies of my second book, As You Go: Words for the Unknown showed up at my house.

It’s a book of short poems I put together during the pandemic.

Words I think bring comfort and hope.

Words that you can sit with and that can sit with you.

Words that invite you to be still.

A lot has changed since these books arrived on my doorstep.

Pancake has gotten bigger.
Sarah started a new job.
I’ve written another book (due out this November!)
And I’ve started working on another book.
And another. 

We’ve said yes to new things and no to old things. 
We’ve shut doors and opened new ones and climbed through a few windows.
We’ve asked more questions and even found a few answers.
We’ve waited and wondered and took out the trash.
We’ve held joy and fear at the same time.

This past week we were on vacation.
It was a much needed vacation.
I think all vacations are much needed, but this one truly was.

A friend once told me that a trip is not a vacation.
And this was not a trip.
This was a vacation.

It’s been on the calendar for more months than I can count and overdue by more years than I have fingers.

I ate a lot of pastries and hardly moved.
Pastries make it hard to move.
I think that’s one of the rules of vacation: eat and don’t move.

So, that’s how I spent the past few days.
Eating and being as still as I could be.
Most of my time was spent in the pool.
I floated and thought and prayed and wondered and rested and applied sunscreen, but not enough sunscreen.

My shoulders sat below the waterline as I bobbed up and down like a child who had to go to the bathroom.

And most of the time I did have to go to the bathroom.

I was as still as I could be for as long as I could be.

I told myself it was okay to rest and not work. 

God even rested. 

I watched the sun reflect off the water and I decided to do the same.

I reflected. 

As a writer this is something I’m naturally good at, unlike resting and applying sunscreen and saying no to pastries.

You’ve had a wild year, too.
I’m sure of it.

Not everything is what we thought it would be, but we were celebrating.

Celebrating how far we’ve come.
Celebrating the small steps forward and back and to the side and to the other side.
Celebrating change and answers and questions and loved ones.
Celebrating what is to come.

Even though we do not know what is to come.
We were still.
We were celebrating. 
… with pastries.

We were celebrating because He is still good.
And faithful.
And true.
(I’m talking about God here, not Pancake.)

 And now that we are home, that’s what I’ll continue to remember and rest in.
He is good and faithful and true.
And that is always worth celebrating.

For more of my poetry, check out my books!