The birds and I flit about in this gray dawn inspecting windfall treasures, breathing the dense perfume of damp earth and spectacular blossoms. The trees wait in silence for whatever happens next and now so do I. This day is one that God has made; he has a plan, and I will stay alert toContinue reading “The Alert Wait”
Tag Archives: poetry
Grateful, Listening
Under the wet grass crickets crick-crick; perched high near the sky winged things sing melody. If I don’t pay attention I miss the concert. A rooster crows, reminding me to listen. A coucal adds her commentary, counterpoint in alto. Are You speaking, too, and I’m just unaware? The world is drenched with Your kind blessing.Continue reading “Grateful, Listening”
On a Thread
It’s a quick walk on a fine thread, this gift of life, this privilege of breath and beating heart and strength to step ahead. So many disappear, flash out of sight, thread cut off before its final length unwinds. We shout “no!” and cry, and move along, subdued, with more awareness of the dangers, rightContinue reading “On a Thread”
Worshiping Like Mary
(John 12:1-8) If I were to honor you like Mary did that week before you died, what could I do? My worship seems so paltry. Mary, the disciple who had sat at your feet, learning, brought expensive perfume – worth a whole year’s wages— and humbly rubbed it on your feet, that sacred space forContinue reading “Worshiping Like Mary”
Look Up!
Look down, and you see withered leaves, parched gravel, litter blown in caught on crushed twigs: death, thirst and brokenness. Look up, and you see the tent of love I’m making you, tiny green popcorn exploding each hour to dangle like grapes of gold. Remember, hope is high above your world and only seen whenContinue reading “Look Up!”
What He’s Weaving
Some winds are long-awaited refreshment from heavy heat. I love fresh breezes that make the grass shiver in delight. But when the winds ramp up to high speed, they become terrifying, destructive. Trees that are aged or wedged into shallow soil topple over, even homes are not safe. One year in Ferkessedougou, a tropical cycloneContinue reading “What He’s Weaving”
When Garbage is Blown About
If I were still across the ocean, north in the woodland savannah where Ferkessédougou, Côte d’Ivoire, is situated, there would be cool wind when I walked outdoors in the morning. Right now the harmattan blows daily south from the northern lands, where it scooped up dust as it crossed the nighttime Sahara then miles ofContinue reading “When Garbage is Blown About”
Transition Stress
Sometimes I run across a poem written ages ago that somehow applies to the Now, or I want to share some thoughts that came to me while meditating on Scripture this morning. Sometimes I just want to share the joy that unexpectedly came my way. If you would like to walk this journey with me,Continue reading “Transition Stress”
Linnea’s Lines Take Off
I’ve been a writer since I learned the English alphabet, and throughout my growing up years I discovered that picking up a pen expressed things deep within. These thoughts sometimes surprised even me. It was fun most of the time. In moments of distress it helped me to debrief in a safe place. And poetryContinue reading “Linnea’s Lines Take Off”
Linnea's Lines 