Finding fresh ways to write timeless truth.
Barbara Brown Taylor (author of many books, including one of my favourites, Leaving Church), in a conversation on the Encountering Silence podcast, refers to silence as “God’s love language”. I sit with that thought for a time. I can’t claim to understand exactly what she meant, but believe silence is, to some extent, everyone’s love
Man, I am tired. Weary, yes, of the din of news cycles and media of all kinds, but the weary in my mind has morphed into something physical. I wake unrefreshed after a full night’s sleep. My body aches with pain I struggle to identify. It’s there, but where? Everywhere? Nowhere? What kind of pain?
Eleven years ago, Gerry and I were in Saskatchewan thinking about buying a farm. It was a crazy dream, one that would have turned our lives upside down but, man, we had fun with that dream. We finally decided that it wasn’t the right thing for us and, as we headed for home, our hearts
Long before dawn I stand at the window in the den and look up at the moon. It seems especially bright and beautiful in the south west sky. My imagination flits about, and I think about the ancients and the superstition and stories they crafted around this light in the night. I expect that among these
I peer out the window over top of the blind in the den and see a cul de sac bathed in light. It’s not the artificial light of streetlights, (They’re off. I’ve never been able to figure out the schedule they operate on.) but the ethereal glow of moonlight. I knew the moon was full
We think about taking the dogs for a walk in the sunshine after lunch but the wind kicks up again. Instead, we leave the pups at home and go for a drive. We stop by the community garden for the first time this year and see nothing reaching through the straw covered area where we
It’s noticeable. Dawn comes earlier and dusk, later. We’re on the other side of the recent cold snap , tiptoeing ever closer to spring. There’s still a ways to go, and spring fever hasn’t kicked in yet, but there’s a sense of coming through that’s undeniable. Meanwhile, we’re still jigsaw-ing and enjoying multiple daily chess
Some weeks drag, others seem to pass by in the blink of a eye. This was one of the latter. (On that note, we seem to be moving through February at an equally swift pace. Strange, for a short month that usually seems so long.) Anyway, it’s time for Friday’s Fave Five—an opportunity to look
The cold snap eases its grip slightly, begrudgingly, giving in to the inevitability of change. If we hadn’t rocked over our front flower bed last year, I imagine I would have seen the green of brave crocuses by now. They would have been covered by snow, and uncovered again, and I’d marvel at their tenacity
It’s dark when I stand in the kitchen wait for coffee to pour from the Keurig and stretch. My eyes wander and light on a little plaque above the window. God bless our home, it says. God bless our home where we are sequestered safe, so they tell us, from a virus named COVID. God
There’s a lot of loud distracting and drowning out. But I’m convinced by wisdom clothed in stillness. The kind of truth found hiding in plain sight in ordinary things and extraordinary moments. A word in season. Eye contact. The scrape of a paring knife on a potato. A pile of peels. A man standing at a