Tuesday, January 13, 2015


I have made you, and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you. Isaiah 46:4b  (NIV)

The picture over my living room couch beautifully illustrates the comforting poem, Footprints. A blue/silver beach scene: dunes, grasses, gulls, a stretch of soft sand churned by one set of footprints.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, that poem’s promise gave me focus. The need to gather information, make decisions, and prepare for my time of disability was overwhelming. Often, as I rushed past, I glanced at the picture, remembering that even this battle is the Lord’s. 

But the gold and browns of frame and mattes struck a discordant note with me. “I’ll be spending a lot of time looking up at that picture”, I thought, on my last free morning before major surgery. “I’ll at least replace the mattes.”

I put the picture behind my truck seat and headed for the frame shop—only to find it closed. I checked the picture and found it safe, then drove home. 

Though I had carefully avoided bumps, when I took it out again, the glass was broken across a lower corner. Swallowing my disappointment, I hung it in its place over the couch.

I did spend a lot of time looking up at those footprints that summer, groaning as all creation groans. When I couldn’t ignore the broken glass and clash of color, I focused on the poem and its message of hope.

Months later, as I looked up at the picture, insight dawned: How appropriate is this gift of broken glass! It completes the poem—for it’s a broken world He carries us through.



Avi, I have no words. Hear my groans as I call to You, and understand. I would rather be in Your arms in this broken world than in Eden without You. In Your holy name, Amen.   



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