The first day.
To be alive on the first
markedly balmy day of the new
year is to feel
a beckoning like instinct
a call to the woods or the seashore.
Invisible hand extends – one finger
curled, motioning.
and receive free, Jen’s song “A Kind of Grace,”
a finalist in a recent Maine Songwriter’s Competition.
Three years ago today, I flew home from a service trip to Haiti. We built a huge chicken coop for a nearby orphanage in the hopes of providing much-needed protein and revenue opportunity for the children and their "family administrators". As the plane left Port Au Prince, and before...
Read moreThis lump in my throat is my heart crying. These tears that fall silently and then not-so-silently are insufficient motions for an inexpressible grief: One more White Rhino has been slaughtered for its horn made from keratin – the same stuff as my finger nails; another female and her...
Read moreOn a day when winds are raw, rains insist
on their priority,
and fog is playing stingy
with the view
don’t climb Diamond Hill in some
stubborn display of endurance.
No panorama rewards your foolishness.
I like to imagine
the carver's desecration halted
mid-letter --
E C \
(was it to be a 'V' or a 'W'?)
by the Fairy Queen herself
outrage propelling her through
the veil to our
dense air.
(From a guest sermon message at Union Church – November 16, 2014)
I want to share this very human idea that God is someone we call on, or return to again and again, when in fact, God never leaves. It is we who leave. And yet, we ask over, and...
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