dumbstruck

 

I am here

merely dumbstruck

for a season, but

holding space

for words return

Seasonal shuffle

Yesterday morning, several pair of Bohemian waxwings were hopping about among the blossoms on our crabapple tree.  A sure sign of Spring, they seem to make an appearance every year.  I'm not sure where they fly off to from here, but they never linger long.

This morning, the fragile white of the flowers was covered with fresh falling snow.

God sees.
God knows.
God laughs.

This, I believe.
He Is, as always, in control.

 

Rust in the cracks

Rust fills in the cracks
the day seems too long and yet gone in an instant
my heart feels hard
but fragile
brittle enough to open far too easily
leaking passion

What do I do with a wheel fixed in place?

There is something calling to me
I can't sense the direction
the wind swirls and jumbles
but I know the Source
I have promised to listen
to follow
to obey

No I am not good at waiting
as my old wood splinters
wobbles and creaks
trying to find beauty there
as rust fills in the cracks



Walking an imperfect road with Emily and the broken but redeemed