Heather

Growing up in Wisconsin, this was a familiar scene—a wide open field, blackened and charred from its recent burning. It’s stark and shocking for outside eyes. Farmers do this to burn away the old and dead parts to prepare the earth for growth that will come later in the spring. Although ugly and harrowing, it is good. In the end, it will be good.

As you may have noticed (but more likely may not have) I have been absent from the scene. I have been struggling— as I am sure we all are—with the isolation and financial burdens that came with this unforeseen pandemic. But I have also struggled personally. I’ve suffered a great loss, and I didn’t feel up to post much of anything.

I stumbled across these portraits—some that I took during the thick of my trial—and I astounded once again how God has used this art to teach me, love me, and humble me. This is Heather. She has been a therapist, a counselor, and a friend to me. We took these on her farm where she lives and writes about her mental health journey, and her story of adopting her three children from Russia, and just the ruddy truths about living with pain and uncertainty. She too has suffered loss. And its mixed up all inside her along with victories and joys and time—years of all of those things growing up together. And she’s more beautiful for it.

So as I walk through this part—the painful burning away—I know that others are walking this too (whatever that looks like for you) and it is good to be reminded that the pain and the burning (if we let it) can produce cleansing. It makes way for newness and growth. Maybe not right now, but soon. Hang in there, hold on.