The story of Leah, often overshadowed by her sister Rachel, portrays a neglected and weary woman finding solace in the God who saw and heard her. Despite societal disgrace and personal injustice, Leah’s life ultimately shaped the lineage of the Messiah. Her untold suffering resonates across centuries, showcasing God’s ability to bring beauty from ashes. … More A Poem: Weary Girl
I tried to put the key in my head to unlock the life I long for. Then someone told me it doesn’t go there but goes right in the middle of my sternum where my heart lives alongside the life of a little girl who used to be curious full of adventure and fearless as … More A Poem: Whole
March woke me up with her atmospheric rivers, and unrealized crises, and pea-sized hail, and burdened sleep, and gentle rain, and school shootings, and warming sunbeams amidst brisk, prolonged Winter air and a cosmic war, and flooded fields and homes and roads and lives, and bright evening walks to look at the painful gift she … More A Poem: March in my bones
I am heavy with my own mortality, unawake to it until someone reminds me of Lent, the season a great cloud of witnesses remembered and embodied throughout 2,000 years — “from dust you came, to dust you shall return” — with the Hope in mind that the Son would rise again and with Him, we … More A Poem: Swallowed up by Life
Help me stop and look at what is remarkable around me — let me see what I thought was ordinary and recognize it as hallowed ground — help me to behold the sacred, and keep hold of it, even if I panic with holy fear, so aware that I am but dust — for even … More A Prayer: to recognize God
Will humility always feel like sudden death? Like arrows in my back that force me to the ground and leave me with just enough strength to drag myself a little further and cry out, have mercy on me, Son of David! Nothing left to give but a broken body and small breath in my lungs. … More A Poem: Humble One
I am guilty of keeping a record of wrongs. Each offense wrapped around my heart — the words like chains, gripping me, cutting deeper wounds, festering, bleeding, choking out any longing to love and remain. No strength of mine can break these chains away — I need a different set of hands, Ones with nail … More A Poem: Forgiveness
Grace is the free gift of God’s enablement. – Mildred Bangs Wynkoop I am a living thing, with a body, a soul, and a mind — living, even with a body broken, sometimes unfamiliar; living, even with a soul sometimes unexplainably sick; living, even with a mind finite, failing me into frustration. I am a … More A Poem: Living
Winter’s settling in and I know Creation’s letting go of all it bore and carried throughout the year; and it, too, is settling into the hands of Winter who offers, not death, but rest — deep, long, hungered-for rest to the hemisphere whose turn it is to stop, and wait, and sleep — if only … More A Poem: Rhythms of Winter
I am one who is always pining for perfection: in body, soul, relationships, etc. This is usually a subconscious motive or end goal I always have churning in the back of my mind. I’m very unaware of it until it’s so obviously bursting at the seams again. I can’t escape it, this deep, intrinsic longing … More My Peace I Give to You