Reset: A fresh start. A return to zero.
We humans reset our clocks & lottery jackpots,
bowling pins & broken bones,
odometers, iPhones & circuit breakers,
alarms, passwords & user names,
devices & diamonds & letterpress type.
I’ve been sick for 100 days. I am undergoing a reset. Disease has streamlined my life. Food, elimination, exercise, rest—I feel pared down to the basics. Vulnerable as a newborn.
Painfully aware of Self.
- Self-interest
- Self-pity
- Self-deception
To name a few.
God seems to be tinkering with my innermost clockwork.
A God who is beyond great, must, by definition, work in ways that are beyond our understanding.
So says Ann Voskamp.
I believe I’ll recover—perhaps with a new normal. But for now grace meets me, again and again, despite my ailing body’s fussy demands and dismal, unending commentary. Grace inches open a door.
Like the evening I’m ladling out soup. Yet another bowl of bone broth. And the phone rings. My friend Robert must rush his wife to E.R. It’s 3:00 a.m. in England and all their friends are asleep. Will I pray?
Love and compassion ignite. Purpose courses through me. I’m needed—by someone a continent away. God moves in their lives and in mine as well. Hope shimmers, a devotional reset.
O I could tell you so many 100-day stories!
Instead, fresh off the altar, here’s a new song, fitting for resurrection week. My gifted friend Bryan Bogue composed the music, and I wrote the lyrics.
NO MORE SORROW
Another night is gone, and nothing like the dawn seems to be breaking.
You lie in bed and pray, just aching for that final day of waking
light years from here, beyond all fear.
Faith used to be so clear; now it’s elusive as a cure.
Nothing feels sure.
When clouds look like a bruise, and early morning news inflames your spirit,
the steep and winding Way feels more remote each day, and still you choose it.
Bodies grow frail, and memories fail.
Passions wax cold and stale. Ready your mind, your soul, your core.
Here’s what’s in store . . .
No more sorrow. No If onlys. Lonely nights will cease.
No more weeping. Grieving wanes as pain gives way to peace.
The world looks on and jeers, the fleeting gift of years can be deceiving.
Our pipe dreams run aground and don’t always rebound. We stop believing.
Vanities pall, as empires sprawl,
prey on the weak and small.
Call to mind promises foretold. Rise and take hold . . .
No more sorrow. No If onlys. Lonely nights will cease.
No more weeping. Grieving wanes as pain gives way to peace.
No more sorrow. No tomorrow cancels grace today.
God will stroke each lifted face and wipe each tear away.
No more sorrow, Solace calls. Lift your face as mercy falls . . .
Oh, Laurie. I’m just getting to this. I connected to my little Bluetooth stereo turned up high–and repeating. This is a song for every day. I love this so much. And you. Please, please, please get well soon.
Sandy, how amazing that you can listen on a teeny-tiny, portable sound system. I find that the chorus replays in my head at unexpected moments, Those promises from Revelation reanimate me, a (painless) shot in the arm, a transfusion of hope, a reminder to take the long view (and enjoy the scenery). I’m so grateful for your fine mind and generous soul, and for your friendship and tender concern. Love to you on this April day.
Thank you, Laurie and Bryan. Your song is balm to my soul.
Linda Jo, thank you, my friend, for making time to listen as well as letting us know the song brought ease to your soul. That is an answer to prayer.
Oh that song just gave me such comfort! My double broken heart was just give a bit of hope and joy back…I will listen often to renew my strength. Thank you Laurie! May God bless and refresh you.
Dear Mary, what a kindness to be told this, especially on Easter morning. You write that you feel a bit richer in hope and joy and comfort, and I hear echoes of resurrection.
I read this prayer yesterday, and again this morning, and pray it here, in print, for both of us:
“O God, give me greater patience in my hope, and make me more constant in my love” (from A Diary of Private Prayer).
I’m so glad “No More Sorrow” eased your heartache. May each listening strengthen you for the days ahead.
Laurie…
Bryan…
Thank you…
Breathing in Yahweh with every word and note of this song.
May the showers of mercy fall on you today.
And on and within and through you, dear Roberta.
“No tomorrow cancels grace today.”
Oh Laurie. Thank you for sharing. I’m blown away. Sending you love.
Donna, how lovely to hear from you today, my ever-creative friend. I’m glad and grateful that line spoke to you. If I could somehow tattoo those words on my fickle brain . . .
Thank you. Laurie (and Bryan and Scotty). Just beautiful. Thoughts, words, and song.
Rob, you are so welcome. Thanks for listening. And Happy Easter to you and yours!
Just came across this… may you be blessed by it as I was.
Sometimes A Light Surprises
Sometimes a light surprises
The Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord, who rises
With healing in His Wings:
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining,
To cheer it after rain.
In holy contemplation,
We sweetly then pursue
The theme of God’s salvation,
And find it ever new:
Set free from present sorrow,
We cheerfully can say,
E’en let the unknown morrow
Bring with it what it may.
It can bring with it nothing,
But He will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing,
Will clothe His people too:
Beneath the spreading heavens,
No creature but is fed;
And He who feeds the ravens
Will give His children bread.
William Cowper, 1731-1800
Georgia, so many times during this ordeal God has surprised me: sometimes through the generous cards and gifts and gestures of friends, sometimes with lines in a book, or poem (like this one!), others times with a gentle impression of nearness, I came to the last line of this poem and grinned. I can’t tell you how glad I was when the Infectious Diseases Doctor told me last week I could keep making toast. Bread is my comfort food.
Precious 💜
Have a wonderful Easter😘
You too!
So beautiful, treasure every word and your heart and soul behind it. Prayers continue for you Laurie. Thank you for this cious song, Laurie and Bryan.
Georgia, your words arrive like a present—alongside my last remembered image of your smiling face. Thank you, thank you for those continuing prayers!
Thanks, Laurie! Thanks, Bryan! Nicely done, all.
Dan, thank you. Easter blessings to you and G and those you hold dear. He is risen!
And, Laurie, I had meant to say how beautiful and heartrending is this song. It is you singing it??
Scotty Ingersoll sings lead. He’s marvelous, isn’t he? Artful, ardent, authentic, He makes me hear every word, every nuance.
One hundred must feel like one thousand must feel like one million, when you are stretched thin and strung out, your body sprawled and stalled, and you are oh so sick!! I’m so sorry, sweet Laurie. I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you and those who love you.
One hundred days. One hundred nights. One hundred tears. One hundred pleas. And yet, from what you are saying, amazingly, midst it all, one hundred blessings.
I couldn’t help but think of The Old Hundredth, penned in 1674, a song of praise and blessings and hope.
Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Blessings flowing. praises singing. Heavenly hosts gathering. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost all giving and receiving… giving blessings, receiving praises.
You say:
“Call to mind promises foretold. Rise and take hold . . .”
Abraham was 100 years old when the promise to which he had been clinging was finally birthed, in the miraculous arrival of his son Isaac, whose name means laughter. When all looked lost, his wrinkled, weakened body withering away–despite all that, all that was impossible–his spirit rose up and took hold of God’s promise. And God was faithful. He gave Isaac a son in his old age, in his very old 100 years. And his laughter rose up to the heavens when he saw that promise face to face, bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh.
It is my prayer for you, dearest Laurie, that your 100-day ordeal (this very old and very tedious and very burdensome illness) will rise up on the wings of the promises of God who heals, who sends hope, who births laughter, who bestows blessing: 100 blessings, and more beside. May He give you the strength to upturn your face and uplift your hands. His mercy is overflowing; it’s already falling. Receive, dear Laurie, receive it now. Let your laughter rise to the skies.
All my love,
Lynn
Lynn, so lovely to hear from you today.
The Old Hundredth. I’d forgotten that name for the Doxology and am absolutely delighted to be reminded. And then to move from there to the story of Abraham’s hope. I get the sense of how Moses might have felt as his friends propped him up during the battle. Your glorious riff on 100 enacts a transfusion of joy in me—a giddy, almost dizzy hope. A simultaneous spring tonic and shot in the arm. Easter, come early.
Wonderful song and lyrics!
Karl, my friend, thank you for listening and letting me know the new work moves you. Blessed Easter weekend to you and yours.
Precious heart felt worship and grieving. May God hold you close as you process this chapter. I found Imagine Heaven by John Burke very encouraging during my times of deep reflection. Love you dear friend.
Susie, I’m so taken with the image your prayer evokes in me, “being — and feeling— held as I process this chapter. I will look for the Burke song, thank you. Love to you and I hope to see you next month!
100 days. Wow….God is so present in the hard and impossible places, friend. What a give of grace to be able to pray.
And that song so beautiful–what timely lyrics–wow!
Jody, my friend, thank you for that affirmation of God’s presence in seemingly impossible places. I’m so grateful for your prayers. And glad the song resonated with you.
On another subject, I finally watched “Mary Poppins Returns.” After listening to that song link you posted (about where the lost things go). I knew I had to experience the story. I’m glad I did.
Happy Easter to you!
For a moment I was taken to a peaceful place… A place I vaguely remember and haven’t been to in awhile. What a gift! Thank you..,
Karl, how marvelous to find a much-needed respite within the music. Thanks, friend, for listening in and responding.
Wow! Beautiful, heart-wrenching song!
We continue to pray for you all!!
Angela, I’m glad you found beauty and meaning therein. Thanks so much for letting me know. And thank you even more for those prayers! May you enjoy a blessed Easter.
I can only imagine being housebound for 100 days. Dear Laurie! It is indeed beyond my understanding why such a burden has been placed on your life. But praise God you press on and in the process, this jewel of a song has come forth. Not only is it fitting for resurrection week, but for the lives of many living in a valley of shadows with no hope of change anytime soon. Thank you for sharing your hauntingly beautiful, poignant, and hope-filled song with us. Praise God there WILL come the day when he will stroke each lifted face and wipe each tear away! Glory!!
Nancy, I’m deeply grateful the song touched you. By this age, seems we know all too many people coping with wrenching circumstances and situations. Among others, I think of the challenges you and Steve are meeting head-on.
It has been a wonderful privilege to work with my friend Bryan. This is the second time we’ve collaborated on a song. Feedback like yours is such an encouragement. Thank you!
Your voice balances chaos. Our “betters” – those we still think we elect suddenly become insignificant when you speak of your perspective on the disease that threatens you. You make us all view our troubles in perspective. Rotten, gnawing verminal disease BE GONE!
John, thank you. Your perspective adds meaning to weathering the current siege. And your new-minted word . . . verminal . . . perfect! I agree 100%. May the verminal uber-bug vamoose!
Oh, so perfectly beautiful. You are a treasure! Thank you for lifting a song in response to your trials… A song that uplifts and encourages everyone e around you… I don’t like it at all that you have been living in the House of Quarantine for 100 days! But I am imagining the possibilities of what other gems will emerge from this difficult season. I love you, my dear, and am so thankful for our long-distance friendship. You never fail to inspire me with your precious offerings from a wonder-filled heart.
Pacia, you are so welcome. 🙂 It has been both a trying and strangely rich season. I’ve been reading a book about how to be a healing presence for others. Perhaps that will manifest as one of the “gems” in the aftermath. Lord knows, there’s plenty of chaff and slag among the occasional dazzle. But I am learning things I might not have learned any other way. I love you too, dear lady, and pray for your increasing joy. Happy Easter to you and C!
I like to think that the reset is getting you ready for the rollout of a new and even better phase of life. I look forward to all the fun we’ll have when it begins!
Reset to rollout. I like the way you think!
Here’s to shared fun, waiting quietly in the wings . . .
Happy Easter, dear friend!
What a heart felt song.
Rick, thank you so much. I’m glad the song touched you.
I hope recovery continues apace for you, my valiant friend. May these holy days fill you with remembrance and joy!
Thank you Laurie for letting God use you to encourage us all in the midst of your trial. Besides welling up while listening and feeling the words of this song it took my mind to Ps 23 where God promises to be with us regardless of our trials and in fact anoints our head with oil…. Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow us all the days of our life and we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for your faith and trust regardless of circumstances and for the encouragement you are.
Sandi, thank you for reminding me today of that tranquil psalm with its lavish, incomparable promise. And that image of healing oil is timely. I could sure use a dab on this poor old head of hair. Ongoing lack of nutrition has taken its toll. Vanity vanity. At least I still have hair! 🙂
Sending love to you two!
100-day stories. That is LIGHT in a dark world. ❤️
Susan, thanks for suggesting I add a grace sighting to the post. It was really heartening to go back through my journal and be reminded a-fresh of the small, unexpected lights steadily emerging alongside the path thus far. Thank you!
Thank you for so honestly and gracefully sharing, Laurie. What a gift to read the real life moments of one who walks by faith and fabric of the God of love.
Donna, thank you for walking alongside in prayer. It’s quite the tapestry-in-progress, and I tremble to think where I’d be without the grace of faith and caring friends. Grace and peace to you as you walk through these holy days of remembrance, my friend.