How the Sky Makes a Chuppah

It feels like…” he rolls his eyes up thoughtfully. “It feels like I’m tending this little patch of grass and I so want it to grow bigger.”

He chuckles, self-conscious.

I think about how high the grass is back home—how it’s only mid-March and it needs mowing already. How sometimes spring comes early.

So I tell him the words that I need to hear—this thing I’ve been struggling with too.

But,” I say, “The growing can’t happen without the planting. And sometimes, we may not get to see the fruit.”

He nods and we talk about dreams and we dream together for the future generations and I do my level best to affirm his work, because I have felt this too. I have felt the tired of the empty hands after the long labor.

And it seems like this is all I’ve felt lately: tired.

This morning when the alarm goes off at way-too-early A.M., my hand shoots out to still its steady whine and I proceed with mine: But I’m tired, Lord.

But I’ve made this promise, so I rise and light the candle and in the still of the morning I read these words:

Each day Jesus was teaching at the temple, and each evening he went out to spend the night on the hill called the Mount of Olives, and all the people came early in the morning to hear him at the temple. (Luke 21:37-38)

Each day…each evening…early in the morning…

It strikes me how tired he must have been. And I ponder that just a wee bit. Imagine. Then I move on to the second reading.

Then there is this:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Matt. 11:28-30)

I wonder about the deep soul-tired he must have been when he gave us these words and this tender root burrows into the soil of me and I am grateful for the tired…I am grateful for all that brings the weary.

And I pray for this little patch of grass that I tend and I stare out the window at the sky spilling red on the horizon—how charcoal clouds hover like a chuppah over that burning glory. And I remember a teaching I heard—about this traditional Jewish wedding canopy—how it is open on the four sides so that the glory God pours on the bride and groom will spill out over their guests … so that all will share in this wondrous gift.

And I stand in this glory spilling out from the sky and give thanks.

And the wind blows the grasses in the meadow beneath the red sky.

With my sweet friend Jennifer today: 

And with kd:



  1. says

    Again you breathe life into words that speak to so many…praying for more fresh revelations in your relationship with Him!

  2. says

    Just beautiful words, tired and all. I have been to a renewal of wedding vows with a chuppah and your imagery brought it to life. I understand the tired. Don’t know if it is the pollen or losing an hour but I am worn out and glad the weekend is here! Love to you friend.

  3. says

    Bless you, Laura, for honoring a promise,and spending time with God even in your tired, and how He ministered to you, then you ministered to us here…Thank you…praying that He would continue to give you His rest, sweet Laura 🙂

  4. says

    Dear Lord,
    I pray you will give Laura a spirit of rest and a spirit of deep, satisfying peace. May she be filled and renewed every day with your refreshment. Thank you that she has learned to see your hand, your love, your presence in everything she encounters. Thank you that even when she’s tired, in her spirit she dwells with you in heavenly places in Christ Jesus. Amen.

  5. says

    Everything you write is like a lyrical love song Laura.
    I felt His weariness, and yours, in the words. Isn’t it overwhelming to realize that He did it all wearing this human shell – leaning always into the Father? It makes my heart ache, and it fills me with such love. You bless dear heart.


  1. […] And overhead? A white-blossomed canopy framed up against blue sky. The sun broke through the branchy chuppah all at once and I was held in warm hands. The breeze stirred the trees as I lay, cupped and happy, […]

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