Thriving in Community

Tree and MossI walk past this old tree covered in moss almost daily.

So often I smile at her perseverance.

But most days I notice her willingness

to allow the moss

and fern

to put down their roots with her.

They need each other

these vibrant lives,

each beautiful in her own way.

But bound together as they are–dependent, yet independent.

Separate, but interconnected.

Individual, yet thriving together.

This is where I see true beauty.

Where I am reminded of our connectedness

and how we thrive in community

how we see beauty

and find God bound up in the mess of togetherness.

As I walk by I gently smile

and I say softly, “Yes, I remember. Thank you for the gentle reminder.”


Seek out the Sacred

ImageWhen I walk.

In the woods.

Along trails in the Gorge.

Beside the ocean.

I step into the thin space.

To the space where light and breath and beauty

transform the way I live.

I come alive.  

All my senses sing praises.

This is living!


These sacred spaces open me to look outward.

And, as I look outward–toward the sacred–I can see inward.

Where I have ignored my senses.

Closed off my heart.

Where I have become bogged down in the mire of the mundane.

And so I seek out the sacred so that I might remember to live fully.

So that I might be open to the full mystery and joy of life.

The Season of Waiting

Ute Trail Rocky Mt. National ParkI wait.

With anxiety.

Or fear.

I live in the “what ifs.”

In the future.


But this is not how I want to live.

I want to live in the present.

In hope.


I want to sit vigil.


I want to make the waiting sacred.

Hold this space.

Sit with my anxious spirit.

As though it were a good friend.

Breathe comfort into it.

Acknowledge it.

Simply be with it. 

Wait with hope.

In the here.

In the now.

In this season of waiting.


Clear Night


I grab my coat and the leash.

The dog needs a walk in the late hours of the night.

We disappear under cover of darkness and I breath in cool air.

The awake air.

The air that reminds me that I am alive.

That reminds me that I feel deeply.

We wander slowly, for the dog is old and tired.

I’m patient tonight, and I glance up at the sky.

Clear night.

Vast darkness.

Dots of light burnished on her cloak.

The boundless cosmos humbles me as I gaze into her silent presence.

Feel deeply.

Lean in.

Be present.

The clear night will pass.

Don’t miss it.

Breathe in the awake air.

Remember you are alive.

the dead of winter


today as I walked in the dead of winter

I saw new life

newly emerged life

among the fallen pine needles

among the rotting leaves.

a mushroom broke through the decay

an iris hoped for spring


the dead of winter fools us

for deep down, it is not a time of death

it is a time when deep work occurs

when we reflect on what has been

when we imagine what may come

and, eventually,

as the solstice passes, and days of darkness wane

light and life and hope break ground

and we see ourselves, the world, in new

and vibrant ways.



where is your sanctuary?

that place where you find refuge from the storms of winter

where you sing praises

or  sit in the stillness

in awe of creation

in prayer for salvation

the place where you fall to your knees

where you seek the presence of the creator of all

where you feel safe and sheltered and whole

when you are broken and shattered?

where is your sanctuary?

and when did you last visit?

when did you last sing praises

sit in stillness

in awe

in prayer?

when did you last pray

or fall to your knees

and seek the presence of the creator?

your sanctuary calls out


find peace here

come and find refuge

come and sing praises

draw near

draw near.