it’s difficult when things are taken away. when the comfortable old shoes can’t be found and then you remember that you gave them away because you knew it was time. i’ve been hearing god tell me to stop doing some things for a long time. and i agree intellectually – i mentally assent, but dallas
my daughter told me i have a beautiful heart and that i needed to keep my peace, keep my calm, so the morning after the election i ended up at a yoga class. the instructor arrived and unlocked the door. she was a young black woman. she said good morning and i said it back.
O Lord my God. Teach my heart this day where and how to find you. You have made me and re-made me, and you have bestowed on me all the good things I possess, and still I do not know you. I have not yet done that for which I was made. St. Anselm I
i heard good things today. richard foster praised silence for writers. bret lott shared that we will never master writing because it is filled with self-doubt and loneliness. anne lamott said that writing takes much longer than you think it will and remains a struggle always. this is good news. i was told to keep
the confining christian life. the wires and the pruning. the relentless discipline to become a miracle of sorts. a seemingly impossible spot of shade and shelter in an undisciplined world. could anyone look at me and see a towering tree in miniature? i wonder. we visit another church. ever since we stopped trying to start
children pick up dolls and start to play while i pull bed sheets tight across twin mattresses. “let’s make this bed, please.” someone totters over to the other side and begins to chant, “tuck. tuck. tuck.” i am down on my knees and i watch my son’s legs walk past me. it seems all pant
someone told me i was disobedient and just not simple enough. why can’t i take god at his word and believe? great. just great. okay, it wasn’t actually a person who said this. it was a book. alright, it was a theologian from 1916 yelling across time. fine. it was oswald chambers. i really like
internet. i’ll see you in forty days.
we talk about god speaking to us. i heard god say this or that. i’m not immune to this type of language or the experience, but lately i’m wondering if he could speak up. then there is the thought that god is always speaking. through circumstances, through people, through his own still, small voice, through
how long is one required to walk by faith and not by sight? it can seem too long sometimes. when the shadows fall so harsh because the autumn sunlight is so bright, i shade my eyes and feel like i can’t see a thing. there is just color and looking away. i am coming to