Wandering Home; 2019; 21″ x 14″; mixed media: monoprint, collage, ink, watercolor, watersoluble crayon, chalk.

We feel the passion and delight of God, sailing clear channels.

Then suddenly storms swirl, currents drag us under. Flung far from our intended destination, we wonder: has God forgotten what He said? Negated His promise?

Sucked into the darkness, we survive day to day. The hopes and dreams of the past fade to a pinpoint, then shadows swallow them completely. We are hidden.

Moses tended sheep for forty years. David hid in caves under threat of death. Joseph languished in prison. We find ourselves in the company of a great cloud of witnesses. Still, we fear: are we the exception, doomed to the end of all we hold dear?

Then, inexplicably and without warning, we are plunged into light. The curtain tears and freedom calls. Joy outweighs pain once again. Resurrection. Dark passages no longer threaten to kill. Instead they release, yielding their treasures.

Suffering becomes the source of power.

The passion and delight of God lure us on onward, wandering home again as never before.

If I take the wings of the dawn,
If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,
Even there Your hand will lead me,
And your right hand will lay hold of me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,
And the light around me will be night,”
Even the darkness is not dark to You,
And the night is as bright as day,
Darkness and light are alike to You.
Psalm 139:9-12