The other end of the line...

Sometimes I want to walk away from the water

But something keeps tugging on me

Telling me to wait-just a little bit longer

If Wisdom speaks, it is the language of patience

Saying I don't have to know it all right now...


Are you my blessing?

Are you my curse?

Standing in the blazing sun

Fan the flame of love-an uncomfortable burn

But there is one thing I've come to

There is no where else to run to

You've given me the sign

I believe you're the one on the other end of the line


Just another random call

meant nothing at all- a check off the list

And there you were again

out of the blue-your voice bringing me to you

And I'm sure you didn't know

Do you even wonder?...


Are you my blessing?

Are you my curse?

Standing in the blazing sun

Fan the flame of love-an uncomfortable burn

But there is one thing I've come to

There is no where else to run to

You've given me the sign

I believe you're the one on the other end of the line

22 years ago today...

My family moved from Southern California out to Arvada, Colorado on August 11, 1985. We arrived in our 1983 Two tone blue Dodge Ram Van that early morning. I remember that trip, bits and snippets of it. I remember the last thing I did before leaving California was to get a doll from my friend, Sarah. She was gone out of town, but her mom delivered it for me telling me that Sarah said she would miss me and wanted me to have her baby doll...and I still have it. I also remember the trip across the Nevada desert in the middle of the night. There's this strange feeling that I'm still 7 years old every time I make that trip, even now. It's the cool of the night, the glow of the semi-truck red and yellow side lights as they pass you- almost like a race in slow motion. There's the memory of staring out the van windows at the utter blackness and stars while laying on my back after we reclined the van bench seats down into the queen sized bed...seat belts? Nah. I also remember that my dad would play oldies and light rock, but when we'd sleep, he would adjust the radio to only play through his speaker up front, so it was this soft melody mixed with the sound of the road as I drifted off to sleep. There was one song that said "every time you go away, you take a piece of me with you..." My dad would add "Cuz' you stuck a booger in my pocket!" I totally didn't get the joke and my sisters had to explain to me that if someone stuck a booger in your pocket, you would actually be taking a piece of them with you...hahahahahah...but, yes, I still remember that, too! I can vividly remember pulling into my aunt and uncle's house up in Blue Mountain in the early morning and seeing my then 11 year old cousin, Luke spill out of their 5th wheel in his superhero pajamas rubbing his eyes and sprawling around with his lanky arms and legs all over the place to welcome us.

The funny thing is that I've always remembered this anniversary. I have no idea why it's always stuck in my mind. I mean at 8 and 9 years old, I was remembering this on my own and I don't think a year has ever gone by that I don't think of it and figure how many years it's been. I think it was that much of a monumental event in my young experience that it has always stayed as such.

Now, I think about how different life would be if we hadn't moved. I really can't even fathom it. I think about it again in light of my recent move back to Arvada after 10 years in Nebraska. Already, I can't imagine not having made this move. So much has happened to show me that this is exactly as it should be...rough roads to get here and all. I am reminded of a beautiful tapestry that the creator of time and space is weaving and how skillfully he places each thread precisely in it's place. I am reminded that it is much bigger than the thread that I can see and that I can trust that these steps are ordered and that so much more will make sense as it is revealed.

I am grateful for much of the journey being unknown at the time we take it. It is only in the stepping, the changing, that we see that it was in the plan all along and that our lives are much bigger and more interwoven than ever thought possible.

So I take joy in these 22 years of adventure and I welcome the next 22, hoping that I can embrace all the roads that I must take to get to the unknown destination where I am going.

Happy Birthday to a Miracle Man...

I'd like to acknowledge and say Happy 59th Birthday to my dad, Phil Francis. The reason that I say he's a miracle man is because I've seen miracles in him, especially in the last 10 years.

There was a time that he was so lost in his own sin that I couldn't imagine him ever coming back. That was also the time that I had so much hatred for him in my heart that I could never imagine having, much less ever wanting a relationship with him again anyway.

Now, I'm not saying that things are perfect now, of course they're not! but what I do want to say is that our God is a redeeming God. He takes the utter mess of our lives and exchanges it for his healing when we cooperate with Grace. This is the action I've seen in our lives.

So, I'm thankful to have a restored relationship with my dad. I'm so glad he's turned his life back to the One who gave it to him in the first place. I'm glad he's out of the "fog" and that he has peace of heart.

I'm glad that I can tell my dad "I love you" and really mean it.

Happy Birthday, Dad.