Intimate Ransom

Beautiful Life with Cancer

His skin was thick from years and years of work, work with his hands, carpentry.  We sat, hand in hand, not talking, just sitting and being together.  My head was rested on his shoulder.  “I want to sit here forever.” I pleaded knowing it couldn’t be.

He smiled and squeezed my hand softly, “You know that I am always here for you.”

“I know, but can we just stay here forever?  Don’t make me ever get up.”  Even in the middle of it happening, it was hard for me to ever give up the moment.

He took his other hand and rubbed my cheek.  His hand.  I held his right hand in my two hands, rubbing it gently.  He was everything, everything to me.  “Why?  Why did you have to do it?”

“For you.”  I knew the answer.  He had saved me, but it still hurt that he had to…

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571. There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast. ~Charles Dickens

We look at life from the back side of the tapestry.
And most of the time, what we see are
loose threads, tangled knots and the like.
But occasionally, God’s light shines through, and
we get a glimpse of the larger design with God
weaving together the darks and lights of existence.
~John Piper


No moon, no stars, no sun, no blue of sky… No bees, no butterflies, no adoring, garden paramours… Only a foggy Sabbath steeped in silent, grey stillness as bit by bit by bit color empties out of the landscape leaving in its wake pallid, watercolored remains to blanket the lawn… Autumn has but a fortnight left before she relinquishes her throne to winter’s chilling reign. So I wonder if she’s weeping, if the falling mists are her crestfallen tears. It would certainly seem so as gloomy and grey as her recent days have been. Her palette, once streaked with chestnut and chocolate, maroon and mahogany, mauve and mulberry, orange and ochre, red and russet, is soon to be washed of all but grey and beige and evergreen. Thankfully, however, there are the brightly colored lights of Christmas to brighten the dying year’s ever-increasing, muted days.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. ~James 1:17  ✝