Blooming

Spring is coming. The flowers will be blooming soon, and you might not.
These words circled through my head, a descending corkscrew into the cold clutches of fear. I had been sick for six months. The earth was on the complete opposite side of the sun, and I felt just as far…

From Whom

A poem written out of overwhelm with the Father’s provisions, both perceived and unnoticed

Every blessing from above,
Poured out from the Father’s love,
Perfect, good, and true;
From the roof over my head,
To the needed daily bread,
All gifts come from You;
No blade of grass nor flower,
Springs up outside Your power,
You make all…

Moving Mountains

It was the last place I expected to be on a Thursday during business hours: in my bathtub, submerged to my chin in icy water, tortured by the realization that no work was getting done, no tasks completed, nothing produced until my body’s reaction subsided. The frigid water seemed…

A New Lens

“Look at that picture wayyyy down the hallway. What do you see?” the bald man with tinted pink glasses asked me. I thought he was nuts.

“Umm…nothing? White? Am I supposed to be seeing something?” I was unaccustomed to not having the answer. He instructed me to close my eyes. I…

My Desert Song

We all know that one person that hates music…wait what? No we don’t! Music is a silver thread of words and rhythm that flows between the tapestries of generations and is completely interwoven with the human condition.

That being said, I have a confession: I have a love-hate relationship with…

Chasing Freedom with Shackles

I have written quite a few words since turning the final page of Falling Free; none of them particularly about the book, but all of them shaped by it. Falling Free met me mid-free fall, an upward draft in sync with my life’s ostensible downward spiral.

This book will did not leave…

Washed by the Water

A poem of mourning written the day we were supposed to leave for our honeymoon to Kauai

High sky descends to low ground,

Leafs frolic as rains pound,
Lofty trees submerged in Gray.
World bereft of rhythm,
Reveals internal schism,
My faith begins to sway.
Our perfect plans of sunshine fail,

Water floods this dismal vale,
Not supposed to be this way.
I…

The Gray

I do not like maybes, no I do not. I prefer to dwell in black and white, where gray must choose a side or risk obliteration.

Perhaps this is why I became an engineer. Either the answer is right or it’s wrong, as defined by fundamental truths.

But I do not…

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