May spring return to you little by little each lightening day, in small, forgiving signs: a green shoot springing up from earth, a morning warm enough for bare arms, a bird preening on a distant branch, a feather turning slowly through the air.
May you remember that the world is not made safe by your fear of it.
May your heart race and still carry you forward. May your hands tremble and still find the handlebars. May you pause when you need to, listen to the warning in your body, and continue only when you are ready.
Bless the paths that open around the tall gums. Bless the companions who call, “INCOMING!” and stay close until the danger passes. Bless the creatures who defend what they love, even when their love arrives with sharp beaks and beating wings.
And when something soft falls unexpectedly into your keeping, may you receive it as a sacred gift that holds a lesson especially for you in this particular season.
May you enter this spring with courage tucked into your pocket— small, imperfect and weightless, and may you discover that you can be afraid and go back (or forward) anyway.
A “sermon” on The Lord’s Prayer from Luke 11:1-13 If only it was that easy: people giving good gifts to neighbours in need and to their children according to their requests – “For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds;and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” But much of…
This is the opening for my service on the Lord’s Prayer last week which created space for a variety of prayer forms for people to experience. #breathprayer #imaginativeprayer #confession #visiodivina Breath prayer Light a candle in recognition of the presence of God with and within us Take a few deep breaths and settle into this…
Watch the Triune face give three-fold shape to our faith: ev’ry day is grace. Last week, I shared on my Substack how I was wrestling with the purpose of my preaching at the moment and how identifying the purpose of it within this current season of my life would likely necessitate a change in the actual how…
In his book, “Story“, Steven James writes: You clothe yourself with daylight.You wrap the stars around your waist.Crickets chirp from the folds of your garments,Grizzlies growl from the deep pockets of your evening robe.Where do you set me upon yourself?Am I an earring, dangling in the moonlight?Am I a necklace, flashing by your breast?Where do…