• My Poems,  The Church Year

    Anna Waits {a #poem}

    Light is coming she’d heard and read, and widowed, she had nothing calling her name but His across the years like an echo from The Garden so long ago. She’d been seeking (was He hiding?), steadfastly determined, for what else was her life but this–an always looking in the temple courts, trusting the doorway would be darkened some day when Light came into the room. (sharing from the Archives)

  • The Church Year

    The Day I Cleaned the Front of My Fridge & Found the Heart of Advent

    The arrival of Advent marks the beginning of the church year, anchored  on the fourth Sunday before Christmas. In the year of our Lord 2020, the date is November 29th. Side note–New this year for 2020 FREE PRINTABLE cards for each Sunday of Advent. Just click HERE. The word ‘advent’ is from the Latin word ‘veni’–adventus–coming. The cornerstone of the Advent season is the idea of making room for God to come.  It is a time of waiting, as Mary did, with the impossible promise that a Saviour would be born, the miracle of light coming to a dark world. What does that have to do with refrigerators? Let me…

  • Book Reviews

    Poetry Interview-Susan Cowger

    Susan Cowger confesses she was the ‘black sheep’ in the family, not quite fitting into the mold of family vocations–nurses, pharmacists, sensible people. Instead, her first language was art, a calling that led to a BA in Fine Art (1977) from Montana State University and subsequent MFA in Poetry with a secondary emphasis in Art from Eastern Washington University in 1997. Susan is a sculptor, visual artist (oils and watercolor) and a writer. What made her take the leap from two dimensional and three-dimensional work to words? “Art is often abstract. I wanted to help people enter into the art, so I started writing little poems. It seemed to help,”…

  • Life in General

    No Anchor But Jesus {{#backtochurch}}

    “Where do people put such things when they live by Plan? Our entire plan is simply Miscellaneous.” -Gladys Taber, Stillmeadow Seasons, 1950 Last Sunday was our first time back in a building to gather and worship for church since March of this year. I refer to that time as “2020 B.C.” as in Before Coronavirus. Guided by our pastor and staff, we were properly spaced in family or couple groups, masked up and elbow-bumping our hellos to one another. It was….. weird. And it was somehow wonderful at the same time. Why? Because we were together again with our brothers and sisters, standing in the same room with live music.…

  • My Poems

    Contemplate {a #poem}

    I’ve no chisel but this pen chipping at paper like stone, carving words, not to build but bend graphite like steel, curve the bones (Dear God, not break) but lay in place and then form a space to hold a new edifice, sculpt and rest and tap some more while You hand me bricks to begin, restore. *** The word contemplate is from the Latin, and literally means to carve out a temple, from the two parts-‘com’ and ‘templum,’ i.e. an “intensive space.” Words are swirling everywhere lately and the voices are l o u d. Seems no matter where I turn there is something to fear whether it’s danger,…

  • My Poems

    Five Haikus for Spring

    Blue Door Sapphire welcome says hello at the start of day I walk and wonder. Wisteria Dropping amethyst Translucent emerald trailing Reflected treasures Haiku for Spring Drops of see through gems moisture gift drips slowly down Silvered honesty. Accompaniment Devoted songbirds Daily raise their melody No maestro but Spring. Aerial Hummingbird sips blooms From windows I spy each zoom Birds in lilacs appear I’ve been writing poems throughout this season of #lifeinthetimeofcorona and very grateful for the sure thing provided by Spring, which listens to its own Maestro, Creator God. Regardless of ‘lockdown’ everywhere else, His presence is not isolated inside. The familiar form of haikus–3 lines with syllable counts…

  • My Poems

    Accompaniment {a #poem}

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com Birds, their tones both winged and bright Harmonize from branches out of sight Know their parts, score memorized Flash and zoom before my eyes. Soprano, alto, second, bass Throaty praises from branchy place Echo, float, reverberate A pause, then celebrate Mornings’ rise first slow and quiet Against dull backdrops now a riot Their songs a span of treble and bass Background my day, this hallowed space. ***** The daybreak song of birds seems brighter and more clear than ever before. Have you noticed? I tried to to capture their music ((impossible)) by playing around with meter and rhyme. I hope the joy comes through the…

  • Life in General

    Naming our Losses {#lifeinthetimeofcorona}

    When Washington State brought the country’s first case of novel Coronavirus to the US, we had no idea what had begun. While the sudden deaths of loved and aged family members was a shock, the nursing home tragedy was still an hour and a half away from where I live. Things moved quickly, tho’. Suddenly the virus was way too close to home and there were deaths of a different kind, no less significant. Travel plans were curtailed and questioned everywhere. A writer’s retreat I’d been looking forward to for a year was prayerfully and tearfully cancelled. I would grieve for weeks. Folks were elbow tapping each other the last…