Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
My neck is killing me. (The lavender-laced, rice-filled warming thingy helps a bit. ) My massage therapist says my neck muscles are so strained from being in this position they have ridges in them. Ridges? That cannot be good. Protocol dictates I come see her once a week for the next six weeks. I’m grateful…
I could be a parade marching or a flag waving or a barbecue grilling but what I really am is FREE because of the Son …
Summertime is either noisy busy, with houses full of now-at-home children and the moms who want to make the most of the days, or, well….just plain busy.God is in all of it–the kidsounds and joy–and in the quiet, when we can coax it out of our day. Here are some shhhhhh…..thoughts for finding the some…
When I started writing online in January 2012 I christened my website Three Way Light. I chose it because light has three properties: it warms cold places, reveals what is hidden, and shines and reflects on what is seen. Processing the world through words gives me a chance to do that–pour a little light on…
I grew up in Southern California, in the ‘shadow’ of Disneyland. My husband’s uncle owned a home on the street behind the Park and we often sat on the hoods of our cars and watched the fireworks over the trees. They appeared at 9:00 on the dot every night in the summer. Some things never…
The light is too bright, hollering, “pay attention!” as it shouts from the sky across the clouds. The evening kidsounds beckon and burst across the air saying, “come out and play”, and night birds dining on dusky bug meals chatter in their bickering, “feed me! feed me!” Quiet is hard to find on these long-lighted…
Three more days of school. It is nonstop season–parties, graduations, showers, weddings. Noisy celebration time and a ‘come out and play’ summer ahead. Fireworks and family on the horizon. Mini trips to the beach, anniversaries and relatives visiting. The words all say ‘busy’ to me and I’m wondering how I’ll ever find time for the…
My brothers are strumming their guitars in my sister’s living room and I’m thinking of the miracle of it all, how our mother loved to sing and each of these men taught themselves to play beautiful music because of that gift and their love for words and song. The miracle is I’m here to witness…
Across the dining room chairs over the lamp and past the plants through the window, I spy silhouettes that awaken and dance like the pebbled stones in a child’s kaleidoscope, shape-shifting black against the not quite white night sky. Here the leaves move, there they bend and turn branches like sky-borne seaweed in an ocean…
We’ve returned from our warp speed visit to be with my family in Southern California for my nephew’s wedding. It was a magical, storybook event from start to finish.I could share 161 pictures with you, but perhaps that would mess up my bandwidth or something. Smile.Here are two photos–one of the wedding party–lovely bride Jade…