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Fireworks have nothing on me, no man-made show can match this explosive display. Shocking green here, shouting magenta there, showy white front and center. No gunpowder could blow breezes like this to bristle trees, to “whoosh” the wind across the skies, no factory fierce enough to produce this bright beauty. Spring’s verb says the growing…
W CROSS R D S Lamb. Perfect. Hung. Alone. Naked. For me. Abandoned. Blamed. Spit on. Mocked. Forsaken. For me. Loving. Spotless. Alone. For love. Blood poured out. For me. Broken. Crying. Praying. Dying. A garden beginning, A garden His ending. On a hill he hung for me.
When God insisted on Winter I think Jesus chimed in and invented ice skating rinks (or at least the ice–well, of course, the ice!) All that whirling and twirling jumping and spinning going on. Pratfalls and crashes and grown ups and children whizzing by and falling– re-upping their bodies umpty-million times. Fun and risk and…
Ripping paper tears, tape(d) to the back of yesterday, rends asunder the frame of today’s reality. Too bad the glue that held the lives in place, frame-wise, could not extend to the flesh and blood heart-wise. ~~~~ going through family photos and sorrowing over the lives of people torn apart by life. There but…
House finches flit, flit, flit and hummingbird whirrrrrs, hovering over birdseed an arm’s length away. Red finch jets elsewhere, bearing left at the bushes and the chickadee perches, eyeing the feast. Crows alight silently on the trees straight ahead, swooping at nothing as they loudly announce the morning. The waterfall sound of freeway cars and…
When you have walked through the valley of the shadow and death came anyway (not to you, for you did.not.die) and there is breath in you to greet the day. when you survive the shredding of your soul to its core and the disappearance of dreams, all other challenges– man made, God-breathed– like snow— can…