Where my Faith is weak
My candle nearly snuffed out
I need a living flame
A body to encourage me.
Oh, come, Savior, O come
This advent I need
And from that need a child of hope is born in me
Again
The Everlasting One
That I know that I know
I have sought this before here you come again rescuing with your love
Heightened, holding a
Tentative taut twine of hope
Clutching, releasing
--
Cautious steps
Of hope, fear hovers;
Fragile bloom
---
Disappointment is
A heavy burden of grief
Sad futility
--
Feeling the
warmth of sunshine; a
moment's gift
---
Transformed by
Inviting changed mind
Surrender
I'm by the river
One bridge of lit concrete,
One bridge of light,
The reflection, a false
Horizon.
I'm alone here
Maybe just where I'm supposed to be.
-----------------------------------------------
Murky stank, but you can't
Smell it in the pictures of the moon peaking, the river's cadence...
Faded intent, sad gleams,
I've got so little in me
its an instinct, a response.
Incredible, the support,
I should have taken a picture.
If Dick could have seen that...
so many turned up. So many cared.
Even when you were hard to be around, sometimes-
Still, the river drifts on.
I am calmed, I am
Claimed.
I don't recommend wanting
or hoping
because you're sure to be disappointed
but I also don't recommend numbing
or giving up
because you're alive and made for living
what is there to do?
One day at a time
Moment by moment
Grieve
Share
Cry
Hold yourself in a cocoon of compassion
One day at a time
Moment by moment
Daily dose of sunshine
Deep breaths to fend off the doubts and fear
One day at a time
Moment by moment
Being present to the thoughts, feelings and emotions in your body
One day at a time
Moment by moment
A blooger, a blogger, a booger
Almost the 20th anniversary; two decades of writing these occasional inspirations
Overflowing to the modern outlet, the cacophony estuary of the internet
Inspired by a professor assigning extra credit if we "try out this new medium"
And does it still stand? Yes, and no,
We've got X and Insta, Youtube and TikTok and whatever is coming next,
We've got to communicate that's the thing
Cave walls, tablets of stone, papyrus, printing press, newspaper, mail, electronic mail....
We've got to share to be alive, even if it's just with ourselves
We live in glory days, my fingers funneling focus (fragmented) - ciphering it through code into HTML into the world. Why a glory, what a mystery,
Here we are- 20 more to go?
This morning, a chipmunk beneath the kitchen sink
Months before, a mouse at the back door rug
A year ago, his body found on the floor
And before that? I know not; being born and dying happened at home,
So commonplace the endings and beginnings of this vapor life.
Why so much toil and tumult?
When the house has quietly stood for 85 years, unweighted by the suffering plaguing the children of men
Can I release it to the one who holds it all together,
Holding faith that in the crashing markets and blockaded lands,
He'll never let go.
Even the chipmunks days were marked and spent well in their own glory.
Couldn't I try to do the same?
Greeting death as the doorway, not the enemy
To the true rest our sick bodies and stretched minds long for?
You know not when he will come;
Welcome.
You are strange to me
I want to be familiar
Not strangers.
What is exchanged?
Current states of mind in bursts of time.
Obligatory compliments;
An overflowing lack.
Quite a curse,
Carrying-on with this unfulfilled long-ing.
Stultified with sadness
Breathless with wind chasing.
Go, girl, to dig your own well
And may it be well
with your soul.