• 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

    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…

  • The Church Year

    What’s in a Name? Only Everything {an Advent Post}

    There can be no manner of doubt a name is more easily remembered when its meaning is understood.  –A.J. Macself, from the Foreword, “Plant Names Simplified” I forgot to plant my amaryllis bulb the week of All Hallow’s Eve. I wrote about the practice in my Christmas season book, how planting a crinkly, brown bulb with antenna-like roots can be a lesson in patience and waiting during the Advent and Christmas season. But I was too busy to remember. Goodness. So, I potted the inglorious bulb the other day after soaking the accompanying ground-up coconut shreds in warm water, watching them miraculously expand and nearly overtake my 32-ounce glass measuring…

  • My Poems

    Leafworks {a #poem}

    Like the bound bud in the almost bloomed magnolia, there is life ready to burst, tight secrets on the God side buried within these cool, bright days. I’m waiting, watching, counting the sleeps until a quiet wonder world awakes. Amazed, I waltz between the longest watch from each dormant doorway, through the chill and darkened mornings to a heart like an open gate. Ear cupped, poised for my next birth, I linger for delivery of the morning’s message– free and God-breathed– a silent, green unfurling. ——-

  • My Poems

    January Bird {a #poem}

    Where have you been? Out of town like those who flee our chilled clime and metallic skies? Elsewhere, warming up your voice to herald today’s sunrise with your song? I welcome your morning melody making its way to my ears, stirring memories of other songs on sullen, silver days when your music was my only companion, a balm for the emptiness at the edge of my days.  

  • My Poems

    Begin Again {a #poem}

    September’s singular day arrives with the turning of many pages, paper or otherwise. Limbs of another rich and growing year branch upward, leading to vistas bright and unknown. An imaginary climb, I’m grateful for handholds, eyes on the open, azure sky. Did Eden’s first morning in that tree-filled glade startle the couple awake, their eyes on a new dawn? Burst with the gift of hope, that unknown need of a fresh start? I say yes. This new day, like that one, rich with possibilities awaits as we journey. Now at a walk (or sometimes fly) and fall, sure of a steady Hand to right us. Our steps re-turned to the…

  • Poetry

    The Ministry of Trees {a #poem}

    Autumn morning, my eyes are trained through windows to the shadow show on tree trunks, crayon box of colors falling through space from newly-revealed branches. Creator comes to mind, how He carries us, colors us, covers us with His power, tree-like arms our strength, raising us Heavenward. Aware that sap is invisible, a pulsing, sticky river, carrying nourishment in its wake while eyes are trained on cottonwood, maple, Evergreen. I rarely wonder at their hidden strength, seldom stop to remark, Would you look at the energy feeding those trees!? And still it flows. Likewise we fuss and worry that God may not be at work while we grow our leaf-filled days.…