joy independent

The invasion and theft gouging a wound of vulnerability

The heartache of a life willfully taken by its owner hushing those around me.

Words cruelly announcing a beloved life taken by its maker too soon

A phone call to share a joy instead sharing the sorrows of pain and devastating consequences

The loss for words plagues me. Empathy soaks my face. Guilt darkens my soul.


Though the fig tree should no blossom

nor fruit be on the vines

the produce of the olive fail

and the fields yield no food

the flock be cut off from the fold

and there be no herd in the stalls

yet I will rejoice in the Lord

I will take joy in the God of my salvation

God, the Lord, is my strength

Habakkuk 3:17-19


My faith is my joy independent of my sorrow.