Taking the Slow Way Home

Things happen fast. Here in southern Saskatchewan, we went from winter to summer in the about two weeks. On Friday, my granddaughter and I went to Regina for a bit of retail therapy and when we returned a lilac bush next to the driveway was displaying the first green of leaves. In the backyard, other

Paradox

Living in Moose Jaw makes me happy and I feel at peace here. My heart is broken and I’m grieving the loss of my boy, Murphy. These first days of 2023 are paradoxical. I’m reminded of what Frederich Buechner wrote about the paradox of this life in Wishful Thinking. “The grace of God means something

Now It Is Spring

“Oh, hello!” An involuntary delighted whisper escapes from my lips when I catch a glimpse of the glowing almost-full moon high in the southeastern sky from the window in my den. Now it is spring, and that makes two delights first thing in the morning, and I’ve yet to take my first sip of Chai

A Monday Prayer

Faith is not science. Faith transcends logic as love transcends calculations. Faith is not statistics but a relationship with God that over time makes one wise, not certain. Scot McKnight Lord, keep me from the propensity to want to be right and certain and puffed up with knowledge. Meet me in the mystery. Teach me

Breathing Space

I’m sitting here listening to the sweet sound of rain. RAIN! At long last! The heavy weight of fire season is still with us but with many alerts and orders being rescinded and fires being brought under control, there is an easing of the burden. Skies, though not completely smoke free, are clear enough to

A Certain Cadence

Outside my kitchen window, the surprise brightness of a crescent moon high in the east gives me pause in my morning coffee making routine, and I whisper an involuntary “oh!”. Later, with my hands wrapped around a warm mug, I stand at the living room window and look to the east to see what kind

Grounding

For a time I watched the moon. Rising, as is my practice, in the wee hours, I stood at the window on a succession of days when the night sky was clear, and grounded myself in its movement and crescent shape that was thinner every day. The cacophony of the world at large, silent. The

Morning Hope

In the sweet stillness of early morning I light a candle. There’s nothing special about a bit of white wax and a wick in a small glass container but as the flame flickers it casts a glow where I need one. Come . . . There’s nothing magical about it; it is the hope candle because