His Someone

She didn’t have much. What she did have she was probably shameful of. She was nothing. Nothing. To herself, to others. My opinion is that she had probably been told all of her life she wasn’t good enough, so she bought into the lie and lived her adult life that way. Like she was nothing. Worthless.
Now, here she stood. Probably wrapped in some small piece of fabric. Trying to cover herself as they drug her out into the middle of the square. This nothing. This unimportant nothing of a soul, was suddenly the most important thing in their life. She was now their target. They were going to rid the world of her “evil”, of her worthlessness. I wonder if they even let her halfway cover herself. I imagine her looking like a scared animal. Her eyes wide with fear….probably the first real emotion she had felt in years.
I imagine her cowering, maybe even trembling, because she knew what was coming. I wonder if she thought “Wow. All this for me. Me. I’m NOTHING. But suddenly, I’m everything.” Everything wrong. Everything unholy.
These men, rocks in their hands, were making a show out of a “nothing soul”. Not the man they caught her with. But of her. She was the evil. I imagine them as being loud. Screaming and yelling. Spitting on her and lunging at her. Maybe even laughing as she crouched in fear.
She was brought to the temple to be used as a trap. In layman’s terms I can hear the Pharisees saying “ Ahhhhh…. the law of Moses says……what do YOU say?”
BUT….. Yes, but. JESUS steps up by bending down.
He bends down, writes in the sand and waits.
It wasn’t immediate….it wasn’t righteous…..it wasn’t loud….
The reaction to the writing was thuds and footsteps.
Each accuser reading truth written in nothing more than dirt.
Jesus – God in flesh – walks to her. Talks to her. In one small moment, gives her worth. “Where are your accusers? Has anyone condemned you?” I imagine she glanced down at her toes before raising her eyes to meet his
guilt and shame will always make you self conscious –
and then she answered him “No one sir.”
I wonder if he spoke gently. If he looked into her eyes to confirm what he was saying. Any way it happened he declared “Then neither do I condemn you. Go now and leave your life of sin. “
She was someone’s daughter. No matter her choices, no matter her position, no matter her sin ……. she was someone’s. How often we want to pick up stones, label someone due to their sin, condemn someone due to their past, and kill their spirit with our self proclaimed righteous judgment.
BUT GOD.
He speaks – or writes in dirt, or simply drenches one in grace and mercy – and speaks
THIS ONE IS MINE. THEY ARE MY SOMEONE.

Over the Bridge

It’s been one week since my feet were buried in the beautiful sands of Sullivan’s Island. . .

One week of work. One week of family. One week of normal. It seems like it has been months. I adore the beach. Well, water in general, as anyone who has read my posts know. Mesmerizing is the only word I can think of to describe water in my life. Water soothes my soul……

There were many places and things that caught my attention last weekend. The sand, the food, the people, the water……but my favorite was the bridge.

I was drawn to the lines, the sheer massiveness, the beauty of this bridge. Every time we crossed it I reached my hands out of the window…..I don’t know why. Touching it at any rate of speed would be dangerous. I just reached for it. Like a kid trying to touch the clouds.

I told my hubby that I had to get pictures of it. So, one morning, I put the phone faced up on the dashboard and hit the button until we had passed over it.

Doesn’t it remind you of a harp? It is so beautiful.

I attributed my fascination with it to my obsessive personality – and always looking for aesthetically pleasing objects – and carried on through my week. I didn’t tell anyone about my love of the bridge or even show them the pictures. I don’t know why.

This morning I was reminded of my bridge. Maybe I was fascinated by it because that’s where I am in my life right now….crossing my own “life bridge”. It’s a massive bridge, connecting my past to what will soon be my future. Who knows what lies on the other side? I don’t. However, I know that both sides are important, and my travel across the bridge won’t last forever.

It’s been a hard bridge to cross though.

Hopefully, I will begin to see the beauty of my “life bridge”. Knowing that it is: stable, though suspended; short, though seemingly long; and strong, though the supports seem like thin strings……..