The sun rises in the eastern sky on this morning that anchors my faith. I remember the terrible things—and there are many. I hold them up to the light and they are washed in Love. Love and light; my risen Lord. Indeed. Indeed.
A blush appears at the top of the eastern hills. I watch it grow in brilliance, peak, then fade. Now there is no indication that moments ago the sky over the hills was bright pink. I would have missed the magic if I had run for my camera. Sometimes the wisest thing one can do as
This string of quiet days that have fallen gently, like precious pearls dropping silently on to clouds of fluffy cotton, is drawing to an end. We will spend a (not so quiet) morning at church singing, praying, listening, and worshipping. Today is the day of Epiphany, a celebration of the revelation to the Magi—gentiles—of the
A phrase in my reading captures my attention—walk gently in this world.—and I spend some time thinking about what it means. In my mind, I return to an antique shop we once visited in a small town in Alberta (Why that one comes to mind is a mystery, we have visited many such shops over the
it is far more likely that we do not recognize God’s presence in our lives than it is that God is not present in our lives. Robert Benson, In Constant Prayer I’m thinking about time, and how, at this time of year, it can feel as if there isn’t enough of it. Or, conversely, for
You enter the extraordinary by way of the ordinary. Frederick Buechner I step out of the bathroom, still warm, and maybe slightly damp, from the shower. My mind is on the day ahead, and words—always words. On auto-pilot, I walk toward my dresser. (It’s a chiffonier. It will always be a chiffonier to me, but does
I am haunted now as I never was before by the sense that we all of us have the mark of God’s thumb upon us. We have the image of God within us. We have a holy place within us that gets messed up in a million ways. But it’s there, and more and more