Almost a month ago, Odds stacked negatively, November night, Torrential rain, He went. Approaching the stop sign, I was the enemy I saw in a flash Of car headlights On white belly And sprawling, airborne legs The desperate flight. I slowed. And stopped, Before continuing past the sign, To look back hoping. I saw him … Continue reading Encouraged by Desperation
The third part of the "Toronto Trilogy" She Worships ...raising her hands above her creamy coffee-toned skin and tight, dark curls. ...closing her eyes and singing along with the praise song. ...leaning against the sprightly, accountant-type, balding husband of hers. He Worships ...joining our motley choir, grabbing a song folder. ...thanking us and the God … Continue reading She Worships
In Different Ways Written Sunday, July 10, 2016 I see you worshiping in bare feet, And look down at my dress shoes, I hear you singing your language to instruments, While I sing my four-part, English acapella, You raise your hands and face to the sky, While I clasp my hands and bow my head. … Continue reading Travel Journal: Cambodia 4
God, I just don't know How to love that person, I don't know, If I should wait or move on, I don't know What deserves my time, I don't know What to prepare for in the future, I don't know Where you want me to go, I don't know Why this is now, I don't know … Continue reading All You Ever Need to Know
We all have at least one person in our life that try as we might, we cannot muster any affection for them. They rub us the wrong way. They embarrass us when we most want to impress. They show up when we are most tired and worn down. I have been begging God to help … Continue reading Love Is
White, As winter’s snow, Soft, As rose petals, Smooth , As silk, Slim and long. These are pretty hands. Brown, From the hot sun, Rough, From days of toil, Scarred, By nails, Large and calloused. These are beautiful hands, The hands of Jesus.
When I was small, My mommy would make our daily bread, Her loaves were round-topped Golden, delicious softness. But still, I liked it better to make my own, She gave a lump of dough, Showed how to sprinkle flour, Formed her large loaf. I formed mine. And when, all baked, the loaves came forth … Continue reading Not Kneaded