Day Begins

It’s dark when I rise these days. Still night, really. Certainly too dark to step out on the deck and greet the morning (I stopped doing that a few weeks ago when I encountered a black, hard-shelled creature the size of a Volkswagen). I sit in a wing chair near the window where, eventually, I’ll

The Better Work

I will spend the rest of my life figuring out how to do these things, doing them, not doing them, and trying again to do them well. Whether I worship with others in a sanctuary, a cathedral, a park, on ZOOM; in solitude; or while walking through a forest, along a beach, or tending a

El Roi

Some things hit me like a punch in the gut and the terrible seems far bigger and louder than the beautiful. Other times, I lean in, look closely at something small and quiet and easily missed and there I find wonder that washes me in peace. I don’t subscribe to the theory that if I

Morning Prayer

Good morning, Lord. Thank you for the gift of this day. There’s this thing that weighs heavy. Look at the eastern sky. I don’t understand this thing . See the shades of pink and red and yellow. I’m concerned about this person and this situation. See how it changes colour. I can’t wrap my mind

Leisurely Sunday

“Are you ready for church?” I call downstairs. ”Yup. Be right there,” Gerry calls back. And like we’ve done every Sunday for the past ten weeks, we gather in the den where I work some magic to get my phone display to broadcast on the big screen TV and we have church. Afterward, we talk

Dawn

It’s dark when I wake and I spend the first moments of the day in silent conversation with the divine. I have questions. Requests. But mostly I just bask in the holy presence. I’m sipping soy milky frothy coffee from a favourite mug as the eastern sky grows pink. I watch as the hues change

Weary

Honestly, we’re growing weary. Some days the weight feels heavier than others. It’s challenging to see delights which, of course, makes finding them even more important. But some days the effort takes more energy than we can summon. Or maybe that’s just me. Lilacs buds in the backyard are fat with promise. Or so I’m