Gloria Rose

If crisis arrives deep heartbreak cuts you down what are you going to do where are you going to go where will I go?   We must know be reassured there’s a God, a Heavenly Father with all the love and power that Name implies.   We must know we  are seen, heard, and there’s a Love at work to intervene.   Today, this moment I need, I hurt, I’m stretched across an anvil feeling the force of pound after pound fear and ache, fear and ache fear and ache. Oh God. Oh God. He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit. Ps. 147:4 (NIV) Oh God. Oh God. His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of a man; the Lord delights in those… who put their hope in his unfailing love. Ps. 147:9-11 (NIV) I leap…full on.

    When a stop light turns red, I can’t bear 20 seconds of silence. Pull my cell phone out of my purse to check emails. I can hardly read a full chapter in a library book without fumbling for a distraction.   News and analyses via journalists, gurus, talking heads mask our emptiness. Ridicule, shame, bullying—the new life skills clothed with an air of sophistication— replace boredom.   We’re robots caught in the worldwide web of shining artificiality. Addicted to the dopamine rush a social media “like” gives our brains we pursue relationships via electronic messages and connect to imitation friends.   Human touch. Eye contact. Real faces expressing nuanced responses. Out of style. Life is lived in a collective garbage heap of fakery.   I’m outraged. Anger-near-despair at our precious world gone awry. Humans are the highest form of being in the created world. How could we forget this?   Why do we all ma...

  T ake a drink and stand it up! Grab those barbells and let’s do hammer curls. One, two, three… Wide box step—right foot first.   Our faithful leader, Amanda, calls out the moves to 30+ seniors in our SilverSneakers exercise class at the YMCA. Five days a week.   I’ve not attended anything five days a week—until now. As a senior, I must be serious about exercise or I will quickly lose the mobility I still have.   The classes have taught me more than how to get a full-body workout. Three life lessons have also enriched me:   1.Showing up is a gift. When I miss class for a day or two, my classmates notice. Are you OK? they ask when I return. I heard you had the flu. Are back to normal? On the days when it’s cold outside and some participants don’t attend, it affects all of us. Even more noticeable, however, is when everyone is there and the gym is crowded with exercisers. There’s greater energy in the room. The exercises seem mo...

  My family broke apart. Our home and possessions—gone. My career teetered close to extinction. In the middle of my midlife crisis, I bought a 99-cent composition notebook. I didn’t habitually journal, but I suddenly felt drawn to write down details of the unfolding events, who did what, and how I felt about it all. I also wanted to write prayers and capture anything I might receive as an answer. Answers came in many ways, including thoughts and impressions that floated up during those writing sessions. I gained perspective. Felt heard by God. Filling multiple notebooks played an important part in my survival and ultimate thriving. Medical studies show that writing about one’s emotional upheaval can cause improvement in mood, lessening of depressive symptoms, reduced stress, lower blood pressure, better liver function, enhanced wound healing, lessening of asthma, improved immunity, and more. Neuroscience reports that writing about trauma lessens its impact....

Children being murdered…at school. Families fleeing Russian missiles in Ukraine. Right now life isn’t going very well for someone I love. I miss my family and feel alone… Today life seems dark, discouraging, hopeless. A cloud of sadness descends on my chest making it hard to function. I must pull myself together to do ONE THING—something to help another person. The way I lift my load is to lighten the burden of another. I recall the first time this lesson rescued me. One Sunday I returned home from church to eat lunch. In earlier years Sunday was a family day and an opportunity to get together with friends at restaurants. Now, on my own, new to a big city and a newcomer to a tiny downtown church, that was no longer my life. On this particular day, my losses fed a grief that threatened to undo me. Sadness made it difficult to breathe. I knew I had to do something—quick. A posting in the Sunday bulletin came to mind. The church was furnishing an apartment for a single mother with childre...