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Wednesday, September 28, 2011

more on hope...

late bloomer

It's a hard thing to believe in a promise-
to live by it, day after day,
to see it in the night sky
and hear it in your name
and see it again in your lover's eyes.

It's a hard thing to believe in a promise with
no power in it to make it come true.
Everything is in the future tense –
the land, the child, the blessing
Everything will happen, by and by,
but in the meantime, how do I live now?

And yet. What better way to live than in the grip of a

To wake in the possibility that today might be the day...
To search the face of every stranger
in case it turns out to be the angel of God.

To take nothing for granted.
Or to take everything as granted,
though not yet grasped.

To handle every moment of life
as a seed of the promise
and to plant it tenderly, never knowing if this moment,
or the next, may be the one that grows.

-barbara brown taylor

Monday, September 26, 2011


I choose to hope.

I will not fear

although the shadow stands so near.

I choose to see 
the shining light
that makes the darkness clear and bright.

I choose the joy 
of loving life

despite the pressure, toil and strife.

I choose to pray, 
for you are there.

"Jehovah Shammah" is my prayer.

I choose to hope,
 rejoice and pray.

For You, O God, are here, today."

-denie, 2009

Thursday, September 22, 2011

lessons of the garden...

it's a war out there in the back yard.

the garden is full of life- and death.

every delicious green growing thing is a meal to something...and that something- usually a bug or worm- is a meal to something else.

life yields to death.

death yields to life.

the seeds i plant bury themselves deep in the ground and die, while the life on the inside of them stands up and reaches for the sunlight.

as they break free of the soil, they are instant targets for predators.

bugs and worms beset them, and then the birds come in and peck the bugs/worms off everything...and then my cats kill the birds...and the dogs chase the cats...and the guards come looking for the dogs if they get loose...and i'm not sure how far to take this since i can't think of anything that comes chasing the guards.

but you get my drift.

too much rain...too much sun...killers.

it's a war out there, folks.

i look forward to the day when death permanently yields to life- the eternity where somehow God takes this convoluted circle of life and makes it all work together and the lion lays down on green grass with the lamb and they are friends.

no more food chain.


Thursday, September 15, 2011

this grainy black and white photo is all i have of a great-grandmother on my dad's side.

she was a pioneering woman- settled with her husband on the prairies of Canada more than a hundred years ago.

a picture , they say, is worth a thousand words...but what i wouldn't give for some words from her.

to hear her voice.

to see the color of her eyes.

the listen to her stories, her laughter, to watch her hands in motion.

all i have is this tiny bit of a photograph; and it makes me hunger for more.

i just don't know enough.

she's part of who i am, and i don't even know her.

how precious heaven will be...we can spend as long as it takes to get to know the long-lost loved ones we've only seen in pictures.

i imagine she's waiting too...watching...wondering...part of the cloud of witnesses that i anticipate will greet me there.

some days heaven is just so real, so close, i can almost taste it.

on days like this, i long for home. my heart's home.

and this photo makes me oh, so homesick.

Monday, September 12, 2011

sometimes in my dreams i see this picture.

i hear the wavelets lapping on the sand and the dry rustle of grass in the small breeze.

i smell the tangy scent of salt water and the strong nose-crinkling odor of sea creatures hiding on the beach in their snug little holes.

i see the thousand blue-greens of the ocean and the paler blue of the arching sky.

i feel the kiss of the wind, the warmth of the sun, the tingle of the sand between my toes, the stretch of my eyes to the horizon.

i taste the spray when the breakers roll in, taste the sweat on my lips, taste the deliciousness of this perfect spot in the universe.

some people love

me, i love the sea.

this is my perfect place.

Thursday, September 8, 2011


i love them.

these two have a story.

molly, the white one, we found hiding behind boards in our garage, starving and terrified. dennis sliced his arm digging her out from behind left-over panes of took a week to get her to come out of hiding...she hid in the wildest places. she was a pathetic, demented, sick little kitten.

at about 2 weeks old, she developed a fever of some kind and was so ill i thought she would for sure die. she staggered around, shaking and losing control of her hind legs. i didn't even bother to take her to the vet...just tried to keep her safe and comfortable.

we had a houseguest at the time who prayed for molly...loved her...talked to her...gave instructions as to the proper care and feeding...and persisted with faith.

sure enough, after about a week, molly recovered. she has grown sleek and graceful and is a frightening killing machine. (think, baby birds- ACK)

the other cat, goliath, is a black shadow that my granddaughter found hiding under a car in front of her house. he (i think he's a he) was a skeleton with wounds all over his body, eyes and nose full of green matter, and no voice. 

for the sake of my granddaughter, i did take him to the vet. he was on antibiotics for a week and found his voice, and his personality. very different from molly. goliath is a lover. a purrer. a snuggler. 

strange how two little animals from similar backgrounds of abuse and neglect can turn into lovely pets with such different personalities. 

they make our days brighter and our evenings cuddlier. 

they have learned to co-exist.

and this is what i found them doing today.


and i love that in the shadow of his black fur you can't even see goliath's blue eyes.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

i walk in bare feet in my garden.

my soles feel the dirt, the stones, the weeds, the prickle of the "shy" plant with the terrible thorns...

i walk.

i look.

i prune, pull, plant and pray.

i need to be in my bare feet, despite the thorns and the stones.

how would i know what i was walking on if i could not feel it?

how could i pull each weed, throw away each stone, feel which part of the soil is dry and which is too wet, if i could not feel it?

a lesson learned: to know the condition of your life, you must be barefoot in your soul. you must be open and vulnerable and feeling. you must sense the dryness, the flooding, the pain. you have to feel the sting of the nettles, the sharp jab of the thorns.

bare feet.

skin to earth.

heart to life.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

sore eyes

i thought i'd maybe escape it, but no such luck.

emma had "sore eyes" (viral conjunctivitis) for a week, and then was ok, and a week later, i was happy that i hadn't got the bug.

until today. now i truly have it- in the same eye i had it last time.

not pretty.

of course, putting in the meds and taking care of it- my dear little gray-blue-green eye...

i'm so thankful for you, dear eye.

get well soon.