The door opens and the innkeeper kicks a couple of old sacks aside and pulls some extra straw from a loft and leads the donkey to another corner of the room. He throws a rough wool blanket at the young couple and hold out his hand for a payment. He rubs the coin and stalks away.
“Joseph,” Mary whispers. “I think that it is time.” Continue reading
I have been trying to fix in my head an image of what “home for the holidays” means to me. It’s pretty easy to remember what it meant for me as a child. I have lots of sepia-toned memories — you know the ones that have been pushed so far away by time that they are more memories of memories now. Continue reading
“I am the vine and you are the branches. If you remain in me, and I in you, you will be fruitful.” – John 15:5
It seems a simple thing. Just stay with me. Just let me stay with you. And life will blossom.
It’s what I want. It’s what you want. And then my day begins and all clarity disappears.
What do you want of me today? What does fruitful look like?
I am a sweet potato, stuck with a few tooth picks, hanging on the top of a pint jar. My toes are in the water and my face is toward the sun and here I sit. I can feel the slight itching of the stem that reaches out from my side and unfurls its leafy fingers. My toes have grown into roots, slipping into the water and curling at its base. The sun is deliciously warm. And so I grow. I don’t plan the strategies for leaves or count the roots or calculate the candle power needed for a stem. I do enjoy the breeze and the alternating light and shadow. My woody heart is content and grateful. I’m stuck here, for a bit, but my leaves continue to unfold more and more across the window sill. Perhaps that is enough for now.
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[photo cropped from P1030348 by Jessica Reeder is licensed under cc 2.0]
Thinking, thinking, thinking
Wandering, wandering, wandering
Hoping to find the solution in a pristine idea – and knowing it cannot be done
Reality is not about truths, but about relationship
About true relationship –
One that honors each identity fully and yet finds the deep resonance between them
That makes each one more
Love is the deep truth that emerges, because love is the source of it all.
“Tell me again, Uncle Zach, tell me the story of the angel, when you were in the temple.” Jesus is staying over for a few days and is helping his uncle with his work.
John rolls his eyes and looks at his cousin. Not again. John is intimidated by the story. It is his father’s story, but the weight of it rests on him. ‘The spirit and power of Elijah’ the angel had said. Sometimes, in the quiet, John felt inside himself for the stirrings of this prophecy, fingering his own soul, looking for signs of Elijah or of any real power at all. Nothing. So, he hides a secret fear that he will fail the prophecy. Hearing the story only makes it worse.