Mercybaby

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The Days

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I found this butterfly on the sidewalk one day. It was lifeless perfection. I couldn’t help but wonder if it just fell out of the sky mid-flight when the end came.  It feels like that every time someone I know dies. The end comes abruptly and unexpectedly. It catches in my throat when I think about it. Sometimes there is no warning at all.  When Dale’s dad died, I kept thinking, “That’s it. He crossed the finish line without seeing it coming.” There was no time to get better at living. There was no grand finale. It was game over. I’ve always lived with this idea that someday I’ll feel like I’ve arrived on a plateau where I can say, “This is it! This is the place I’ve been working toward all these years.” I’m starting to believe that doesn’t exist here. God designed us to faithfully walk with Him, day by day, through mountains and valleys, good times and bad, always moving but never arriving.  With that knowledge, I want my regular, ordinary everydays to bring glory to the...
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quicksand

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  I had my first hand-held video game when I was in grade school. It had two buttons, L and R, that were used to dodge cars and debris in the road. I was insanely jealous when my brother was given a watch that he could play Pac-Man on. I love video games. I love them too much. When Dale and I were first married I used to sit at the computer and play Burger Shop for hours and hours. As a young mom I spent all my free moments playing Solitaire on the desktop. In my darkest depression I played Diner Dash while the days and weeks passed unnoticed. I can remember feeling the shame of wasting so much time staring at a screen. My hand would cramp up from holding the mouse, and instead of taking that as a cue to stop, I’d shake my hand out and keep clicking away. My vices, while they may seem harmless, entrap me nonetheless. Sugar and video games work like quicksand. I dip my toes in and before I know it I’m sick to my stomach and I can’t move my hand. Pornography is an easy dodge. Overind...
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finishing

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I was in an English class in high school studying handwriting analysis when I learned something really insightful about myself. I'm not a finisher. When I write my name without a real concerted effort, I start with big, strong letters, scrawl out the middle and end with a swoosh rather than anything legible. If you tried to interpret it, you might guess my name is Rebew Sutt. This is very telling. I am a visionary. I start strong, work diligently for about 80% of the project, and then finish with a scribble or a line or a pile of supplies and tools in the garage, leaving the last 20% undone indefinitely. That's why it felt like such a big deal to me when I placed the last piece in this puzzle. Early in the spring, Dale registered us for the ETS Annual Meeting in Rhode Island. He booked airfare, rented a car, and reserved our room. I was over the moon in anticipation of it. I love that part of the country and couldn't wait to go back. By the end of the summer, the conference...
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