Written by Ann Voskamp
Posted on 24 April 2024
You know life at your limits. You, with your promising calendar and brave to-do lists and begging prayer journal, you with your dog-earred how-to books and your determined jaw and scuffed up knees and weary shoulders, you know exactly what it’s like to live at the edge of hope, at the very brink of dreams, at the cliff of prayers and gaze out with longing for all that is beyond. You know what is like to come to the end of yourself, the end of earth as you know it, and stand there on the last inch of land, and witness the surrendered way of waves, and long to go deeper, long to go all the way straight through. Straight through with the straight-up impossible with this one child, straight through the storm of one exhausting, tumultuous relationship, straight through and out of what you’d do just about about anything to find any exodus out of. The surging surf of your life keeps slapping at your feet, waking you to ways way beyond your depth. And there’s a story you have to know that the Jewish Midrash tells. That there was a guy named Nahshon ben Aminadab, who was a […]
