We are living in a green and golden world, experiencing the miracle of relationships.
If we dare to meet your eyes at this moment, it would help so much if we could see in them that you respect us – not because of what we’ve done or left undone, but because we are fellow humans going through the worst days of our lives.
Held in warmth and darkness, the embryos await the light
Grow whole and plump out of the broken
Push their rumpled heads out of the night
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not have needs
He maketh me to be just fine, thank you, and I have it covered
What you said did not hurt me and what you did does not make me angry
But I have a friend you could pray for, she is really having a hard time…
Let’s say that the mister and missus are going outside to dig in the yard. Maybe she needs a new flowerbed, or maybe the septic system is acting up again. One of their two shovels is a little unwieldy; the other is the perfect size, strong and reliable, with a comfortable handle grip.
WHO GETS THE BETTER SHOVEL?
I am the light you cannot see, searching, piercing – not the mild sunlight of a summer day or the glimmer of candle and firelight, but the unescapable blaze of a streetlight on a deserted parking lot when all around is darkness.
I love you.
Why didn’t I engage there? Because I felt the medium couldn’t handle (perhaps I couldn’t handle) the nuances, and the high likelihood of misunderstanding.
I have a severe case of poison ivy on my wrist, and a new set of daffodils blooming in my flowerbeds.
I have never seen a man’s back worn to shreds by a cruel whip, but I have seen crisscrossed lines of despair in the wrists of a friend.
Here are some newer releases shared with me by friends: deep books for truth, joy, and healing.
Perhaps dark books are an unwise choice for a woman who is walking her way out of grief. Or perhaps they are a safe place to know the truth without being undone by it.