Archive | January 2018

blue sky

sky blue.jpg

There are days

many days in fact

that I cannot bear to look down

even if looking down

will help me to not fall down

on the ice or in the crack in the sidewalk.

I walk in town

and on the trails

looking up

for blue sky

and starry nights

for something

above and beyond

the step by step

in front of me

next thing.

I will not





the pull


knowing full well

that everything else

is pulling me down

gravity bound

and yet…

there is that

blue sky.




This morning I received a prayer from a friend who invites folks to take and re-mix what he has to offer into something new. Maybe Kyle believes there is nothing new under the sun. Or maybe that everything and everyone is being invited to be made new. Here is a bit of Kyle Oliver from Creative Common Prayer and where it  took me.

“In praise of the grace that makes all things new,
we offer ourselves to your shaping
once again:
to be muddied and befuddled and delighted and beloved.

In the name of your Beloved, who is With Us. Amen.”

Muddied and befuddled and delighted and beloved

Blessed and broken

Given and delivered to breathe on our own

We arrive wide-eyed

At what and who is standing

In front of, around us, in between us too

Inviting us to become someone new. Amen

pexels-photo potter at wheel



O Christmas tree

Yesterday we undressed the tree, dragged it out to the porch, and boxed the strings of light back to the attic. tree on the porch

It is time. New Year’s Day is passed and the Magi are fast approaching Bethlehem. The song of the angels and the hungry birds are changing as the seconds of light increase every day. And that big hungry moon? Surely a sign. As Howard Thurman so eloquently said, the work of Christmas has now begun – starting for me with putting the stuff away and letting the tree have a few days out in the cold to get a better look at the neighborhood before the tree gets hauled off to the dump. We can’t bear taking the lights out of the windows so in the dark of night they act like flashlights for the tree who it seems to me is eager to see who is walking by on their snowy way. Are you hungry or cold? Are you lonely or frightened? Are you walking around in some kind of personal prison? Or are you one of the lucky ones with somewhere lovely to go to and something sweet on your mind as you pick your way carefully along the frozen sidewalk? The tree, sprung from a few weeks housebound captivity, knows what to ask the daytime and the night walkers. If only you would walk up the steps and sit a while. What conversations you would have – my tree and thee.