Hunting for Red in October
as the maples mark the cooler days
Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
as the maples mark the cooler days
W CROSS R D S Lamb. Perfect. Hung. Alone. Naked. For me. Abandoned. Blamed. Spit on. Mocked. Forsaken. For me. Loving. Spotless. Alone. For love. Blood poured out. For me. Broken. Crying. Praying. Dying. A garden beginning, A garden His ending. On a hill he hung for me….
Doors are like plans. . Sometimes people hold a door open for you when your hands (your life) are full. You also use them to leave and head out into the world. Doors open/close, open/close–traffic comes and goes, we come and go in and out to find pasture. Sometimes they are closed for a…
My son and his family live only 3 hours away from me in Portland (Oregon) and I often relish the drive down there for a visit. I have time to myself, just me and Jesus and my thoughts. (And really loud worship music. Bethel.) When I was ready for my return trip last week I…
My grandchildren Abigail and Paul, ages 5 and 3, are inseparable playmates. Abigail most of the time wants to play some kind of Princess pretend–Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty–and Paul is very often decked out as a Princess as well. He is a good sport about dressing up. They take turns playing damsel in distress…
“The seed catalogues are a further promise of warm days to come. I class them as fiction and love to read them. Oh, the beautiful roses and tall spikes of delphinium and the flowering bushes-not to mention the carrots as big as telephone poles and the peas that practically shell themselves… We get some pretty…
C. is after her purse in the back corner cabinet of the classroom. She’s got just a minute to reach for something and turns her head to answer a question, her back to the cupboard. Out comes a cascade of bloodshot eyeball ping pong balls, tumbling to the floor…..oh, it’s just another day in Room…