On Friday, July 20 th, 2012
A s she swings higher at twilight, there is only quietness. Only all these quiet prayers with the sun on the nape. And the prayers, they are doing something, and it can be felt in the bones. Prayer isn’t merely talking to God — it is being transformed by God. Prayer is this moving towards God, heat of a holy fire, and feeling the dross burn away, burning away tha...
On Tuesday, June 05 th, 2012
No one receives the peace of God without giving thanks to God. Thankfulness is the deep, contented breath of Peacefulness. “I tread no path in life to Him unknown, I lift no burden, bear no pain, alone; My soul a calm, sure hiding place has found: The everlasting arms my life surround.” - Robert Browning from “God, Thou Art Love“...
On Tuesday, April 24 th, 2012
To be read, prayed, slowly… ‘O God, I bless thee for the happy moment when I first saw thy law fulfilled in Christ, wrath appeased, death destroyed, sin forgiven, my soul saved…. I want no other rock to build upon than that I have, desire no other hope than that of gospel truth, need no other look than that which gazes on the cross… May m...
On Wednesday, March 21 st, 2012
It’s hard to know what that is — when it’s a spotlight that heats up a prophet’s fervor. When ardency kindles with a microphone and holiness is this blazing performance for audience and applause. But what is that, that zealous ember in the dark, when a woman wipes the drool from her father’s chin and carries him down the hall to ...
On Friday, March 09 th, 2012
Iam from dirt fields and Case International tractors and waving fields of wheat hanging heavy in the heat of August afternoons. I am from an old red brick house under a stretching apple tree with limbs like a ladder for barefeet, and Cowboys and Indians and hiding out behind the barn when company comes up the lane. I am from the Queen Anne’s lace lining roadsides and ...
On Friday, March 02 nd, 2012
It only seems canned, like that dented tin you pull off the markdown shelf, this life tucking in cotton sheets, chopping onions, clipping socks to the line with wooden pins grooved grey by sun and wind and spinning earth — and there are days, the drowsy ones, that I blithely buy it, pay my dollar ninety nine and think that none of this is shockingly cosmic, not a quest, ...
On Thursday, February 16 th, 2012
Bless this nest, Lord, of fragile things, encircling the breakable and broken in grace, in the ever warmth of Your wing, in the sheltering shadow of Your face, us the clinging ones, You our clutch of hope, singing to us the song of home. Resource: Bless Our Nest
On Thursday, May 06 th, 2010
Robin blue, a bit of the heavens where the redbreast flies, falls generous to the cupped earth a triplet of fragility enfolded in the grasses of ground wound into a natural ring and set safe under a veil of leaves… sky jewels held loose like in a mother’s yielding hand. I read your notes. I read your strings of words, bits of your lives, and they wrap round, a ...
On Saturday, April 24 th, 2010
I feel along walls, looking for openings, gold windows in stone, patches of light in need of no mending, stitching me up in hope. M ay all your wanderings this weekend, kind friends, lead you in The Way through, and out towards the Light on the other side. All’s grace, Photos: Subiaco trails Share your thoughts? If you would like Holy Experience posts quietly tucked...
On Thursday, March 25 th, 2010
One thing I ask of the LORD,this is what I seek: … to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD… Psalm 27:4 ‘We’re to seek for beauty…and refuse to see anything else.” ~Anne of Avonlea Lord God, I pray for monocular vision the joy of having only one eye — an eye for beauty only. Photos: bloom in Subiaco greenhouse Share your thoughts?I...
On Tuesday, March 09 th, 2010
Her poem for me, the one she wrote for me who wrote of living anxious agoraphobia, her poem lines come again to me. When I stand in line at customs in Canada, turn and wave tear brave to my Mama still standing at security, smiling me off. And again, when in Dallas, when the flight up to Arkansas gets cancelled at ten o’clock at night after four hours of waiting and I swa...
On Friday, December 25 th, 2009
W ord who birthed the starfields births on a stable floor, vowels that ignited a cosmos running the veins, The Word made firm flesh, with fingers to cut out the hearts that lie rocks in our chest walls, and to set into our hard emptiness, hearts of the pulsing, pulpy flesh, hot like His, this God on the ground in the dark, wet with the womb waters, with muscle and red-blooded p...