The lamp smoke smudged the walls. Jesus was standing in the corner, his forehead on the wall, peering out the window from the corner of his eye. Read More
Waiting can shape, sharpen, and make us more sensitive to that which sustains us. Read More
Take me to the water
Waves snuggle the shore
Teaching to breathe
There are many kinds of silence.
Companionable, awkward, and that of the grave.
There are many kinds of hushed.
Snowfall, waiting, and that of the whisper.
There are many kinds of quiet.
Tiptoe, longing, and that of the heart that knows that it is beloved.
What is it about humankind that makes it hard to rest?
What is it about us that makes us turn up the lights, press “Next Episode,” or chatter away on the phone given the space of one commute?
To the love in which you were created
To the breath that first hovered over you
Ashes represent a reduction, a simplification, an equivocation of all things. Garden rose and wayside weed both burn to calcium carbonate—the stuff of egg shells and pearls. Read More