What but faith would make the golden leaf let go of life and whisper where she fell, it shall be well?
I could pine with the evergreens, I could spread my empty arms like branches, aching for the snow to fall, to cover all my weary world in white. I could sway with grief in the warm winds. I could weep with the clouds in the rain— I love a winter far away. But You are … Continue reading Pining
At my table, I would have feasted on sugar. But You refine my taste with vegetables, not sweet on my tongue, but grown sweet to my soul as I gain strength.
Oh, Joy, You came to us in the night— a baby boy—made like us— oh, God of might, small in Mary’s arms, whom Herod could not kill.
That Christmas comes at the end, in the final breaths of a wasting year, is best. After the muscle-ache of trekking graveside and back, graveside and back; after the haunting loneliness— of beauty-gazing and solo-missions, of incomprehensible party chatter, of home without its people; after the long war— the blitzkrieg of unrelenting lies, and the … Continue reading In the End
feel the thrill of going fast! the spine-chill of a sudden blast— the wind, the wind, the wind! and countless train tracks crossed! But in the end something is lost of sunlight cast upon the hill the full beauty standing still where one goes slowly.
I walked with the stoics to the cliffs of death . I peered over the same ledge, down into the same ice black waters . and I tried so hard to breathe in the rush of freezing ache . kicking and squirming and trying not to make a sound . while they sat with their … Continue reading Observing Death with the Stoics
My family defies the word finity. I have brothers and sisters from all ages and many places and though I have not seen their faces, the memories I’ve traced on pages of history seem to whisper— Remember our Father. You too were born for eternity.
The sun rises every day and sets again. But when God dawns upon a soul, He turns His eyes into the darkness, and rests His gaze on the one and steps toward him purposefully, the glow of His glory pushing back the dark— slowly, steadily— as He prepares the way to the perfect moment. Then … Continue reading When God Dawns
Where has my faith flown? leaving me to the misery of godlessness when You are my own? And still You have shone like a mystery of lovingkindness that—can it be—I have never known? When were the seeds sown? Or have the vines of death, present from birth, slowly and deftly grown to choke and leave … Continue reading To Believe