There is a hurt that comes from the hands of others, and It is the hardest to carry quietly. A friend who became a stranger overnight. Christ knew this road: “When He was reviled, He did not revile in return; When he suffered, He did not threaten, But entrusted himself to him who judges justly” (1 Peter 2:23). And from the cross he whispered, “Father, forgive them, For they know not what they do.” This is nobility: Not the proud refusal to be hurt, But the quiet refusal to ha

Late in the evening when the house is still, The quiet can feel like an absence. I have known that darkness and The prayer that comes with it. It makes the heart ache and The mind vacant. There's the Name too. It's hard to whisper in those moments Because the fear of His abandonment feels real And the desire for wisdom seems fake. I've been there. I'll bet you have, too. It makes you close your eyes and Hold your arms tightly across your waist. Eventually .... and There's alw

I look up and I ask Why me? You have the whole of heaven And the entire universe And all the angels and the saints. Nothing and no one that grows weary. Yet, You still know me and Care about me You come to me in my sin You come to me in my silence You even have a will for me As if You have nowhere better to be and No one better to help. But this is Your way. You walked in the garden In the cool of the day, Calling and calling. As it turns out, I was the one who heard You, And

A cool breeze Moves through the Late afternoon like a Generous thought. Unhurried Unannounced Loosening the hold of the new Heat, which waits patiently To take on everything and Everyone. Never asking, just arriving and Demanding summer. But the wind, sudden and full, Spills out from the ocean and Stretches across the sky Insisting on spring and lots of laughter The most human of sounds. Unguarded, contagious, and Committed to briefly abolishing All the seriousness of life. R

Have you ever stepped outside Just before sunrise and Right after sunset? What did you notice? The sun, certainly. And the moon, too. But what about them? Each arrived with a unique, and equally Exquisite opening act. Both disappeared with their own Version of a curtain call, too. But in different ways. The sun is bold and generous. It floods the world with deep Confidence, knowing, and purpose. Its setting is a lavish surrender of Molten amber, dusky rose, and slow ceremony

Spring's light does not arrive by force, But by a slow, faithful return. Each day grows longer, and What was once frozen strives to become A little more alive. Discernment shares this rhythm. There's rarely a blazing stroke of clarity, No sign carved bright in the sky. But a patient, quiet thaw. A subtle brightening, a gentle breathing. The soul leans into this warming Because it waits for the Spirit To whisper through what clamors. Stirring the inner life Relieving the soul

Bleak winters and Bright Summers Falls that are crisp and Springs that brighten the spirit. There's never a time that Lacks love, save the hearts that Cry for help and souls that Search the dead. Even so, the barren ground still Holds the colorful promise That under a cold silence New green is being kept. And we, like the seasons, Return and returning, To find something deep within. A warmth, a light A sprig of peace Watered by the tears that Wash away the fear, and Give birt

I live at the end of the road Literally. I live at the far end of an island Where the land gives way to water And that water stretches far and wide. First through a gulf Then to a sea Onward into an ocean. Every day I watch that water Lap at the sand, Break onto the rocks, and Rush over my feet I think a lot about where those waters come from And where they're going. They make me think of my own origins, My comings, my goings, and my destiny too. In that ebb and flow I hear a

I spoke to the moon once and All I heard was the light of the night. I spoke to the sun too and All I heard was the heat of the day. I spoke to the sky and All I heard was the wisps of the clouds. I spoke to a tree and All I heard was the creaking of branches. I spoke to the rain and All I heard was the patter of droplets. I spoke to the ocean and All I heard was the rolling of waves. Then, I got to thinking ... These things that I saw and that I heard ... gave me peace ... A

I fixated on the many shades set against The yellow, late afternoon sun as I was staring out the window. I hadn't planned to be there, Exactly in that moment, and I didn't know why it caught my eye. But there I was Transfixed by the Greenest of leaves Bluest of skies Grayest of clouds and Deadest of eyes Focused only on What was in front of them ... Instead of Creation. The sheer wonder of its Goodness, and Beauty The absolute Truth of its Complexity and simultaneous Simplici