Medicine Man

“I have been drifting,” she said.

This week and one day later her words still with me.

I turn them over and over, let them hollow me out.

Haven’t I been also?


A broken heart turned her rudder.

What of me? What will shake me out of this hapless meander?

I am…


Beginning to wonder.

So I wander instead.

Outside at dusk.

Sit on front stoop and listen.

Watch bats flap maniacally.

Full moon rises over three of Billie Jo’s trees.

She planted them when she wanted a baby so badly. Empty inside; so she grew things. The yard is lush with shrubbery and flowering bushes.

But these three—Cyprus trinity with golden eye above.

They make me think of little Sarah who now sleeps in Billie Jo’s nursery.

More bats.

They seem so…frantic.


Crazy wings fanning, senseless dips and dives.

I turn my mind to Him. Deliberately turn the rudder. Focus heart on Him…

and listen.

One of my patients recently told me that when he was dying, in the moments when he almost left this world, he felt it.

“The peace that surpasses all understanding.”

Philippians 4:7.

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

I grope around for it, blindly reaching.

Where are You in all this, Lord?

Sometimes He makes me wait, further molding my character. But tonight, He knows my desperation. He comes to me and tends my heart. Wraps me in His love. And I feel it too…this peace.

A firefly alights beside me.

I am bemused.

Lucy Mae tries to eat it.

I think of the love trees. And the crazy flap of a bat’s wings.

And it all makes sense.

The Spirit inside directs my steps.

It feels haphazard. It feels empty sometimes.

But there is a reason.

This, I trust with all my heart. Sometimes, I just need to remember.

For other stories of how His Word lives…

holy experience


  1. says

    I have come to visit from other blogs. This is such a beautiful, touching post Laura. I am drawn to good writing – writing that has its genesis in Him.
    Thank you for sharing your heart and encouraging mine.

  2. says

    The story of your neighbor’s luscious garden awaiting a child and then the gift of one was so touching… a beautiful sharing of your stillness with God.
    Here, in Christ,

  3. says

    You created quite a picture for me. Wow!

    Thank God for his word of peace.

    Yes, I need that. His peace. Not from this world.

    I wish you a peaceful night’s rest.

    Rest in Him. He’s nearer than you think.



  4. says

    drifting, floundering, wondering, waiting … fireflies and Lucy Mae. The makings of a good night in WVa.

    Ponder well.


    PS: If by weekend you’re referring to She Speaks, I didn’t go. Other priorities kept me home; a very good decision.

  5. says

    [Deep sigh of relief] Thank you for breathing His peace inside me.

    Tears have been flowing sporadically today…Buddy is sinking fast, a co-worker lost her brother suddenly this morning and got the news moments after praying for him, and a co-worker coldly rejected me. Peace.

  6. says

    Goodness, a bit speechless. Your words ring in my heart and spirit. I’m going to need to read it again.

    Thanks for splashing me today in Him!

    Blessings from Costa Rica,
    Sarah Dawn

  7. says

    Ok, Laura, this one hits. I, too, have sometimes felt haphazard, floundering. And your thoughts remind me that we, as human beings, maybe as women are much the same. I am there with you on the porch (I think), watching bats, pondering love trees, and yes, watching Lucy Mae eat the firefly!
    His Peace, yes.

  8. says

    “Empty inside; so she grew things.”

    Oh, girl.

    You write and collect bits of haphazard me and I feel whole. That’s the Jesus in your words, right?

    I send so much love, Laura, my heart hurts…

    Thank you … for being real… and remembering.

    All’s grace,

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