Outside my window, the world is covered with night of the lulling-est kind.
A steady rain drips from the sky, pittering the sidewalks, pattering the rooftops.
I step outside to soak up the night while it soaks me up.

Smoke from the chimney next door tinges the air with the sweetest gift- the scent of fall- of burning wood on a cool, dark night. How odd in spring- while trees are laced with new green leaves. But what a kiss of beauty.

To stand in this night, my face lifted to the sky.
To be alive, to be a part of all this bittersweet beauty-
the passing of time, the comfort of seasons- what joy.

Pure unadulterated joy in spring.

Spring Tree

On the Run

“For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.” (
New King James Version, James 4:14b)

A rushed life. A hectic life. Busy, dizzy, blaring. Intoxicating, nauseating.

Why do we live such roaring lives? Why fear the quiet, the halt?

Is it because we are running away?

A blank calendar leaves us space to recall we only have so many days. A turned-off screen brings us back to reality where we’re finite and frail.

So tiny in the scheme of things. So little in the light of eternity.

It’s terrifying really. Here we are, fantastically intelligent creatures, housed in magnificently-tuned bodies, plopped in the middle of a glorious planet, swirling in an endless sea of universe.

How can we be so magnificent yet so fragile, our lives ever hanging in the balance?

Distraction shushes our terror.

And yet.

And yet what if there is something better? Something better than this sickening distraction?

What if we are called to fully uncover our weakness- to fill our eyes, fill our souls with the nakedness and the glory of our existence?

Our souls are bare before God. How far we fall from His perfect standard. We are an almost invisible vapor; He is the immortal Matter of all matters. Seeing our bankruptcy on every account causes us to run to Him. He is the deep well we must draw, He is the eternal life we must have. If only we let Him, He takes away our shame; He removes our failings; and He covers us.

We can face our finiteness and our frailty- because He is strong. We can face our weakness- because He is good. And we can face our smallness- because it means we fit in His hand.

No need to run anymore.



Hide me under a rain-soaked tree,
The weighted tendrils dripping over me.

I’m in love with these rainy weeks,
And all the grey days they bring.

Like autumn redone-
Though just a fleeting gift-
‘Fore the season of summer.

But I’ll take this excuse,
And choose the scarf, tea, and covers.

I’m so in love with these days.

Me and my mini-Oregon.

Weighted Tendrils

Under the Covers

Our walk with the Lord looks different in each season. Sometimes it’s an early morning run, praying with each pounding of the pavement; sometimes it’s a journal and coffee date; and sometimes it’s snuggling in bed.

*     *     *     *     *

Just want to snuggle with You under the covers, where thoughts are so clear and Your voice is so loud. If I get up, I know my mind will go racing. I’ll lose the stillness of this moment.

You see, there are dishes to do, a checkbook to balance, and a baby to chase. But here, nestled in my nest of blankets, there’s only You and me.

In the quiet, You heal my heart. Your love washes every hurt, listens to every worry, and breathes new life again.

How good You are to me.

You Think You Know

Crowds all around me, streaming with fluidity.
All so close, but far.
So many faces, smiling at me.
But they don’t really see me.

In familiarity and the security of association real knowing is lost.
You think you know me- but you really don’t.

I’m tired. Tired of trying to be Little Miss Sunshine.
Tired of looking interested.
Tired of asking questions.
Tired of listening.
Tired of investing.
Tired of giving.
Tired when it feels you don’t even care.

Don’t forget that I’m a person, too.
Don’t forget that I want to be known just as you.