I have found it helpful to write a creed for myself every now and then… It’s been eight years or so and it felt like the right time.

I believe in awe, wonder, and curiosity; I believe in listening and being still and cultivating an imagination that dares me to believe that just maybe, with enough of all of these, and a certain letting go, I might actually get to see Inside one day…Inside rocks, inside the ocean, the structure of a leaf, the mind of a honeybee tipsy with pollen. I believe in complimenting a neighbour, a stranger, the dog with bed head and the cat with impressive whiskers. I believe mashed potatoes and apple sauce should both be a little bit lumpy and I believe in the comfort of freshly brewed tea and scones right from the oven—and if the mug is chipped or the plate doesn’t match, I do not care. I believe in appreciating the perfection of a plum and admiring the aesthetics of both Matisse and muscle cars.

I believe in finding ways to share what I learn; I believe in questions and mystery and the good of not knowing. I believe in understanding the basics of plumbing, how to use a crescent wrench, how to turn off the water main, and where the circuit breaker boxes are hidden. I also believe in reading instructions and looking at parts before attempting assembly and that well composed instructions are worth their weight in gold. I believe in directions that include landmarks noted by purpose and colour, that exits referenced should include numbers and off which side, and that “You’ve gone too far if you see…” is a helpful corrective for off-course navigation.

I believe in a God of hope, ah-ha, and insight, omniscient and omnipresent, passionate and utterly astounding and from whom I can never be parted. I believe in Jesus, fully human, completely divine; in the light no darkness can overcome; the power of the Word well proclaimed; and the profound preaching that happens in simple welcome and care. I believe in love and the beautiful difficult honour of living it well and that this Love is what calls me to act, calls me to put my gifts and talents, such as they are, at the service of a wounded world teeming with contradiction, violence, devastating righteousness, grace-filled humanity, deep beauty, and unshakeable hope.; I believe in the freedom to shake dust; to follow; to hesitate; to weep, to wander, to return. I believe that a story can save; that love can save; but that neither can do so all of the time. I believe in breaking bread and that bread becomes more than bread in the sharing of it.

I believe that suns will continue to awaken and moons will nightly ease, that fallow times come and visions expand and wonders never abate. I believe that laughter and dancing both help and that God enjoys riddles and poetry as well as the concise clarity of “I am.”

I believe too that I am, my neighbour is, and so are the daffodils, the chipmunks, and the mice that boldly cha-cha across the kitchen floor…And God sees it all. Sees it all. I will say it again, sees it all and says ‘Yes. This, and so much more.”

I believe the invitation is mostly irresistible; enticing, and beyond my wildest dream.

I believe in gratitude and the call of blank pages waiting for ink.