Silver Thread

 How

is it possible that in this place - 

so temporary,

so transient,

so fickle and fraught with ugliness 

and jagged-edged despair -  

how is it possible that this place that we call

HOME

can simultaneously be so 

terrifyingly horrible

and so tangibly beautiful?

Fiery-red sun sighing settles low,

Brittle snow and ice glitter and crunch beneath our feet,

black-eyed juncos flit and flutter

and the great arc of sky stretches and yawns above.

How is it possible that this place 

which can tear our life apart in a moment

or the blink of an eye

so that we are shredded by grief

and sifting through the trauma-torn pieces; 

how is is possible that this place that can feel like hell

can also make our hearts soar?

It must be the possibility and mystery

that can only be

GOD.

Bringing beauty out of gutted brokenness

And healing to ravaged hearts

and colour to bled-out lives

and hope to despairing emptiness.

Not 

a silver lining around our sorrows

but the thread of

constancy

and 

steadfastness

and 

faithfulness

that runs right 

through 

them.