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The tonnage of this load exceeds all legal limits; the bridge cannot be crossed. Its crushing weight of granite grief will split the spans and send you spiraling down. Unless (and I am no engineer) the load is properly distributed on this barren, buckling asphalt, heaving under the pressures of your shattered, tear-stained hearts. We…
Prayer at my desk over pasta reminds me I’ve been away from this place way too long. This familiar pathway back to this quiet corner with Him– like a trail worn through the woods towards home or a boat returning to anchor in the harbor. It’s this Presence I remember, the sweet rest of…
Summertime is either noisy busy, with houses full of now-at-home children and the moms who want to make the most of the days, or, well….just plain busy. God is in all of it–the kidsounds and joy–and in the quiet, when we can coax it out of our day. Here are some shhhhhh…..thoughts for finding the…
The noisy birds squawk and squeal, an out of sync chorus bent on harmony as discordant as a traffic jam. In between the garbled avian speech I hear a finch and a robin announce, “It’s morning!” In my very vague 4:30 a.m. brain I succumb to the sounds of Creation’s alarm clock and I am…
Hanan Samuel Collins, Age 8 Multnomah Falls, OR I wrote this poem on the January day in 2003 when my first grandson, Hanan Samuel, was born. Your birth today unequivocally proved that science still can do nothing at explaining the miraculous. The day you came into the world the…
Josh Groban is heavenly hollering “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” The sweet and gentle resolution of the violin and oboes slows me down to hear your soft love. Not the out loud from the rooftops kind, but quiet as the roots of a tree digging down in the dark, seeking support where we need it….