Early Summer

It’s been a week where every day has felt like Friday so I’m relieved this morning that it’s finally arrived. It’s been a week of slow and steady, weary and wonder, doing things and letting other things go. I wish it was warmer but I remember smoky summers when forest fires ravaged our province and I am grateful for clear, fresh air. Summer isn’t turning out the way we expected but it’s unfolding as it should.

I lean in more to intention. I think about stages and phases and how we look for signs but none are forthcoming and, if we’re wise, we stop looking and do the better work of learning to love God and our neighbours.

What have we learned these past four months? Do we hold things looser? Pay closer attention? Are we listening?

So many things hurt my heart and I learn to protect and preserve it for my better work. I focus more on creating than consuming. I read good books, listen to good words, seek solitude and silence, and pray.

Maybe the thing we need most of all is to abide. We’ve been too busy to see it. We thought we’d find answers in accumulation and promotion, we thought we’d quiet the noise by making ourselves louder, but the void only grew vaster. Now we look up at the miracle of dawn and dusk and pluck tiny flowers from the yard and set them in a clear glass vase on the dining table and find peace.

Yeah, I wish it was warmer, that we weren’t in the midst of this pandemic, and that we could trust unbiased news reports. But it’s not and we are and we for darn sure can’t, so we look to timeless and eternal things to ground us. It’s what we needed all along.

And the divine embraces us and the poets guide us and it is well.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things.

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