A year ago, while sheltering in place, I experienced a strange, new kind of rest.Continue reading “The Rest of Creation”
I drafted this on Indigenous People’s Day, but wasn’t able to get it finished and posted until now. I offer this imperfect, searching reflection on the toll of perpetuating injustice.Continue reading “A Reflection for Indigenous People’s Day”
I planned to return to the blog with a piece about what I have been learning during shelter in place, but the events of the last few weeks can’t be put off until a more convenient time. And so, I hope you will accept this poem as an offering, a moment of soul-searching as I listen to the cries for justice happening across my nation, and an invitation to my community to listen well and seek clarity of vision as these events unfold.Continue reading “When It All Unravels”
Next to the great thinkers,
The builders of castles
It seems I have not the resources nor the skill
To contribute to the arc of human understanding
As much as I desire to think and write
What might change history
I find myself instead twisting gold filigree
An inch at a time
To adorn the thoughts of another Continue reading “The Goldsmith”
Today was a mess. Not the end-of-a-great-day kind, but the drive-me-crazy kind. The kind where we barely reach bedtime with sanity intact, and then are faced with cleaning up the aftermath of the day.
Tonight, he offered to switch places. Continue reading “Making Peace with Putting Things Away”
(Part 3 of 4 in the “Grief in a Season of Joy” series)
Be gentle with yourself in grief
You cannot hurry it along by tackling it all at once
You cannot sweep it away without so much as a glance
You cannot dam it in an ever-increasing reservoir Continue reading “Be Gentle with Yourself in Grief”
(Part 1 of 4 in the “Grief in a Season of Joy” series)
In this season of anticipation, I ought to be anticipating not only the birth of the Messiah, but also the halfway point of my fourth pregnancy. Instead, I find myself grieving loss, recognizing that grief is not always something you can defer to a ‘more opportune time’.
At an Advent retreat last week, I sensed an invitation to begin posting what I’ve written during my grief process, even though Christmas is nearly upon us.
So, for those of you who grieve your own losses in this season of joy, the next few weeks are for you! May you find the freedom to be present with grief as we remember the moment God came to dwell with us, pain and all.
To a Little One I may not get to meet Continue reading “Grief in the Season of Joy”
In the interest of simplifying Advent, this week is a re-post of my favorite Advent blog from last year! Blessings to you as you find small ways to rest in this season.
“Oh no, for real?” I thought to myself as the band began to play. “Of all the Christmas songs, why this one? Can’t we sing “Oh Come Emmanuel” or something? This is a kid’s song…”
Despite my internal protests, the drums beat steadily, soon followed by the incessant refrain: “PA RUM PUM PUM PUM.”
And then I started to cry. Continue reading “God in all the Wrong Places”
On December 1st, the season of Advent quietly ushered in a new church year with its uniquely poignant mix of anticipation and longing.
My three-year-old, to whom minutes feel like years, jumped right to the end of the month and began asking if it was Christmas every single day. My oldest, on the other hand, has been around the Christmas block before and loves to point out everything that’s great along the road to December 25th.
After a couple of days, the youngest stopped asking about his future presents and started asking about the gifts of that day – Who’s turn is it to add a magi to the nativity scene? What shape will my chocolate be today? How many candles do we light tonight?
They are learning through candles and chocolate and calendars that Advent is about more than just the destination, it is a journey worth paying attention to. Continue reading “The Journey of Advent”
In the middle of wasted moments,
glistening with promise
until that empty *pop*
In the presence of uncertain ends
sticking out in all directions
and the tangled coils of even-less-certain means
Into the mess of all my playthings
— You Breathe —
And Your Breath is