statue by Angela Johnson I have to share a thought about a woman I know well and whom I have never encountered. She is a woman of my own time and part of a story begun long ago. I think of her regularly and have spent today in her company. There was a woman afflicted…

7:19 AM I am in the rocker at the window with a glorious mug of caffeinated goodness…the proportions fell just so and settled into a fullness beyond the average…A nice morning for that to have happened, too–today is the fourth anniversary of my final vows. And here I am, celebrating this life in Canada…who’d have…

The Measure of Extraordinary   Must I settle for only sipping at the depth of the poured coffee quotidian adventure of life? Must I die my last death before walking the ribbon of wonder you weave throughout my days? What restraint must I show? What awe not proclaim, what passion temper for the nearness of…

8 January, 2015 From Isaiah…via the Gospel of Luke in today’s readings– The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free,…

5:37 pm. 1 January, 2015 The house is quiet…the kitchen smells like butter, cinnamon, and toasting walnuts…there is a cool draft coming in the window to counter the heat of the oven…all is well. Thank you for the gifts of flavor and spice and my senses that teach me so much about who you are…

  The desk in my bedroom has a squared-u on top of the back part of it. There is a wide flat top to the u that up until several days ago held most of my books. There was a pile at one end…a line of books…and a pile at the other. Since putting volumes…

Advent III, 2014 My counter-weight, my center down, my metronome, my joy, my song, my strength, my fascination, my hope, my help, my rumination, my wonder, awe, best inclination, grace, cry, laugh, word, moving me out to the neighborhood; Born a baby, born of yes, born to journey, born to bless. Joy to the world,…

ADVENT II, 2014   Where the voice cries, plaintive or piercing, at the bend of becoming and no return, I am watchful for the low words that draw me down center, that humble me, impassion me, steady me, move me, move my light, move my being, into the here and the now of the still…

Advent I, 2014   With bare spread arms and fullness of being I ache for your coming and praise you already in the becoming colors where night awakens the sun with stories and visions and hope. Where day bows to starlight and promises tales when next they meet to dance on the edge of Mystery’s…

The Offering Tree I understand your desire to bend in an open offering of self– Transparent in ache and yearning, willing to let go into the becoming colors that hint at the infinite, almost, not quite, stars remaining, new day rising, glorious fullness and subtlety of being that is God, that is God, that is…