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 health. Still, still was the only…

Staying Still

Continued from Moving Mountains The forest was dark, the kind of darkness that grips the soul as strongly as it veils the eyes. Even if she could see anything at all, nothing would look familiar. As she cautiously toed the path that she thought would lead to the safety of her tree stand, ominous noises called…

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,…

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 the only relief from the hives…

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 music.  I started playing piano…

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