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

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

Drifting can be floating free, at ease, falling asleep, And dreamy, too. Drifting can be wandering afar, listless, and confused. It can also be stubborn. I pray and I wish to be the former. I fear and I know I am the latter. When I want to be lifted up, I fix my eyes to the heart. When I want to be pulled down, I let my eyes run wild. I hate that. Let not the winds of the world Toss me about like leaves Drifting and blowing Like scattered thoughts and sinful whims. Send the H

When in the morning A light breeze awakens my mind, I remember You walked the earth. When in the afternoon A hot gust shutters my senses, I remember You suffered on the cross. When in the evening A cool wind enlivens my heart, I remember You resurrected on the third day. When in the night A silence settles over the cosmos, I remember You ascended into Heaven. All this? For me? For us? And there's more? Unworthy as I am, I ecstatically await With bated breath For the coming of