Beauty for Ashes
"He gives beauty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness
for mourning, peace for despair.."
( adapted from the song "Beauty for Ashes" Crystal Lewis, based on Isaiah 61:3. )
I am beautiful.
Okay, don't go thinking I am conceited. I am basing this purely on the beauty of the truth of "beauty for ashes. "Although, I do have great eyes and a great smile. I have had more than my share of ashes, and let's just say....at this point, it looks like the great fire of London.
The Great Fire of London was a disaster waiting to happen. London of 1666 was a city of medieval houses made mostly of oak timber. Some of the poorer houses had walls covered with tar, which kept out the rain but made the structures more vulnerable to fire. Streets were narrow, houses were crowded together, and the firefighting methods of the day consisted of neighborhood bucket brigades armed with pails of water and primitive hand pumps. Citizens were instructed to check their homes for possible dangers, but there were many instances of carelessness.
So it was on the evening of September 1, 1666, when Thomas Farrinor, the king’s baker, failed to properly extinguish his oven. He went to bed, and sometime around midnight sparks from the smoldering embers ignited firewood lying beside the oven. Before long, his house was in flames. Farrinor managed to escape with his family and a servant out an upstairs window, but a bakery assistant died in the flames–the first victim.
Sparks from Farrinor’s bakery leapt across the street and set fire to straw and fodder in the stables of the Star Inn. From the Inn, the fire spread to Thames Street, where riverfront warehouses were packed full with flammable materials such as tallow for candles, lamp oil, spirits, and coal. These stores lit aflame or exploded, transforming the fire into an uncontrollable blaze. Bucket-bearing locals abandoned their futile efforts at firefighting and rushed home to evacuate their families and save their valuables. ( History.com )
The miraculous thing about this fire, is although four fifths of London was destroyed, only 16 lost their lives.
Why the history lesson?
The last several months and even the last few days have wielded unrelenting ashes.
I can say without any reservation, every single thing I imagined about my life or where I would be at age 50, is no where near what I dreamed or thought.
Every single plan. ashes
Every single dream. ashes
Those whom I trusted. ashes
Finances. ashes
Health. ashes
Relationships. ashes
Family dynamic. ashes
I have cried. I have complained. I have blamed, and fumed and asked why, and begged for help and screamed for answers, all while standing so close to dimly lit embers of what "I thought should be," I have felt like God left me standing before a burning edifice with only a cup of water.
But, here's the beauty: I still had that cup of water.
A handful of people who have never once left my side. beauty
A daughter who calls me every single day and would carry me, physically if necessary. beauty
A dear couple who are willing to be godparents, should the unthinkable happen. beauty
A new appreciation for what is left behind after the ashes are swept away. beauty
A new love for myself that outweighs opinions, judgments, assumptions. beauty
When my oldest daughter was little, she would sing the song I referenced at the beginning of this post like so: "He gives beautiful lashes, strength for fear...."
Beautiful lashes, after showers of tears, see? That sounds just like something He would do. ( I told you I do like my eyes. )
In 1986, London's bakers apologized to the lord mayor for setting fire to the city. I don't know if I will ever receive apologies, explanations or answers for what has happened over these last several months, but if I do, what purpose will it actually serve? The city of London didn't receive an apology for 320 years. I don't have that long to wait; sorry.
The picture with this post, really sums up this whole experience. There is a gorgeous, vibrant blossom, growing out of a dying, diseased vine. Something is eating away at the morning glory vine, and it will return to the earth, much like ashes. Yet, out of that dying comes a vibrancy, a beauty that not even devastation can halt.
I am beautiful, not because of physical attributes, but because out of the ashes, He still gives me that cup of water, that blossom, that hope; and that is a promise.
for mourning, peace for despair.."
( adapted from the song "Beauty for Ashes" Crystal Lewis, based on Isaiah 61:3. )I am beautiful.
Okay, don't go thinking I am conceited. I am basing this purely on the beauty of the truth of "beauty for ashes. "Although, I do have great eyes and a great smile. I have had more than my share of ashes, and let's just say....at this point, it looks like the great fire of London.
The Great Fire of London was a disaster waiting to happen. London of 1666 was a city of medieval houses made mostly of oak timber. Some of the poorer houses had walls covered with tar, which kept out the rain but made the structures more vulnerable to fire. Streets were narrow, houses were crowded together, and the firefighting methods of the day consisted of neighborhood bucket brigades armed with pails of water and primitive hand pumps. Citizens were instructed to check their homes for possible dangers, but there were many instances of carelessness.
So it was on the evening of September 1, 1666, when Thomas Farrinor, the king’s baker, failed to properly extinguish his oven. He went to bed, and sometime around midnight sparks from the smoldering embers ignited firewood lying beside the oven. Before long, his house was in flames. Farrinor managed to escape with his family and a servant out an upstairs window, but a bakery assistant died in the flames–the first victim.
Sparks from Farrinor’s bakery leapt across the street and set fire to straw and fodder in the stables of the Star Inn. From the Inn, the fire spread to Thames Street, where riverfront warehouses were packed full with flammable materials such as tallow for candles, lamp oil, spirits, and coal. These stores lit aflame or exploded, transforming the fire into an uncontrollable blaze. Bucket-bearing locals abandoned their futile efforts at firefighting and rushed home to evacuate their families and save their valuables. ( History.com )
The miraculous thing about this fire, is although four fifths of London was destroyed, only 16 lost their lives.
Why the history lesson?
The last several months and even the last few days have wielded unrelenting ashes.
I can say without any reservation, every single thing I imagined about my life or where I would be at age 50, is no where near what I dreamed or thought.
Every single plan. ashes
Every single dream. ashes
Those whom I trusted. ashes
Finances. ashes
Health. ashes
Relationships. ashes
Family dynamic. ashes
I have cried. I have complained. I have blamed, and fumed and asked why, and begged for help and screamed for answers, all while standing so close to dimly lit embers of what "I thought should be," I have felt like God left me standing before a burning edifice with only a cup of water.
But, here's the beauty: I still had that cup of water.
A handful of people who have never once left my side. beauty
A daughter who calls me every single day and would carry me, physically if necessary. beauty
A dear couple who are willing to be godparents, should the unthinkable happen. beauty
A new appreciation for what is left behind after the ashes are swept away. beauty
A new love for myself that outweighs opinions, judgments, assumptions. beauty
When my oldest daughter was little, she would sing the song I referenced at the beginning of this post like so: "He gives beautiful lashes, strength for fear...."
Beautiful lashes, after showers of tears, see? That sounds just like something He would do. ( I told you I do like my eyes. )
In 1986, London's bakers apologized to the lord mayor for setting fire to the city. I don't know if I will ever receive apologies, explanations or answers for what has happened over these last several months, but if I do, what purpose will it actually serve? The city of London didn't receive an apology for 320 years. I don't have that long to wait; sorry.
The picture with this post, really sums up this whole experience. There is a gorgeous, vibrant blossom, growing out of a dying, diseased vine. Something is eating away at the morning glory vine, and it will return to the earth, much like ashes. Yet, out of that dying comes a vibrancy, a beauty that not even devastation can halt.
I am beautiful, not because of physical attributes, but because out of the ashes, He still gives me that cup of water, that blossom, that hope; and that is a promise.
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