more the patient.

it's almost like I can touch it -
this intangible grace,
as my hands run up and out and over the traces of the good He is

fingertip glancing the softest touch - for oh, how the softest one both thrills and humbles me
over this life-abundant, swollen with Him
doing worship as I look, and see, and love
and song burst from the heart, out to His glory to Everlasting

I think of how
there has been no ease, but there is rest
there has been no momentary quench, but deep satisfaction grows
and a more genuine smile, a more understanding ear,
a more broken and healing heart, more the patient than ever anything else.

   Enjoying Psalm 63 - inviting you to share.

the pulse of men & women

The sense I get when I read the first chapters of Genesis - where the world and humanity, unfolds in the Creator's hands is that we, male and female are lovingly and tenderly made. Our action and intention perpetuated by the breath of God, pulsating with purpose to move and to think and to speak - to tend and to help. God made, him and her, human, in Him - in His image.

Tonight's spooky incident was the apex of a train of thinking I've been on lately.

While I walking home alone in the dark this evening, some guy ran at me - his face masked with paint, and scared the crap out of me. He used words to intimidate me, and I was alone. His friends got a laugh, and I cried - in the wake of the misapplication of human influence.
I felt similarly a few weeks ago, when I held the bleeding face of a man who had just been mugged - beaten with a rock in the face until he let go of his laptop. Brother broken on pavement, for a piece of plastic that will be obsolete in a matter of years or months.

How we can so easily make priorities out of `things, and miss the 'apple of Christ's' eye in the meantime.
How simply we can act upon our propensity to deny God's image in the people beside us.
How easily we can rape.

You know, sometimes I think I should just buck up and trust less. Laying bricks of fear and bitterness feels safer, definitely easier than vulnerability. It is less emotional than rending the soul before God in brokenheaertedness over sin and pain.

But it`s a lie to merit myself alone above creeps in dark streets - to judge for myself alone, another adequate or inadequate of Christ`s unmerrited compassion and grace through, the betterness of what I do with my time or days.

Without God, I`m not far off being a creep in a dark corner, really - from using the intent of my pulse for my own ends, to wield my influence in pride, insecurity, lust or anger. Maybe somethings don`t seem immediately negative or innately wrong, but over time they impact the heart - and change the rhythym.

In the Creation story, we're given a pulse, human impulse and influence - things we do every day: naming - using language, defining, refining, proposing, sharing, describing; and tending: to work, to school, to children, to relationships, to gardens, to our hair, to our dishes and vacuuming. We`ve all got that common rhythm, that intent to process and do - to eat and to live.


In relationship with God, naming is full and good - a work of shaping and affirmation of `being` that He has created. Tending with Him through Jesus Christ, is a work of justice that flows from value beginning with Him.

jump. right. in.

I am not one prone to rash decision.

No, I tend to be the level-headed, calm, planner.

It serves me oh, so well,

against the fear of unknown.

What planning can't afford though is change.

I'd always wanted a rabbit, and I was missing a little creature to come home to.

Longing for close, after so much loss.

So, on a whim, I went to a friend's barn in search for

a ginger and cream bundle of bunny-affection.

If you knew her you could imagine the disappointment

when I brought home Nutmeg instead.

Orange, white and ornery. Unleashing a fury I was not aware such a small thing could possess.

caring for Nutmeg demanded my heart be changed,

my actions become deliberately compassionate:

subdueing with love rather than rigidity -

slowing enough to learn to care rightly.

a friend and I were recently talking about wanting to discern the will of God in our lives -

not wanting to chance a misaligned step toward Him:

fearing the trouble and potential all around, losing faith.

Meanwhile, the boat was far out to sea when the wind came up against them
and they were battered by the waves. At about four o'clock in the morning, Jesus
came toward them walking on the water.

They were scared out of their wits. "A ghost!" they said, crying out in terror.

But Jesus was quick to comfort them. "Courage, it's me. Don't
be afraid."
Peter suddenly bold, said, "Master, if it's really you, call me to come to
you on the water."
He said, "Come ahead."
Jumping out of the boat, Peter walked on the water to Jesus. But
when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost
his nerve and started to sink. He cried, "Master, save me!"
Jesus didn't hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his
hand. Then he said, "Faintheart, what got into you?"
The two of them climbed into the board and the wind died down. The
disciples in the boat, having watched the whole thing, worshiped Jesus, saying,
"This is it! You are God's Son for sure!"

- Matthew 14:26-34, MSG

Faith might invite that you feel the sting of the storms, or a rabbit's generous bite.
But to change - to come close, you have to jump.right.in.

hearts&tales.

In the romantic dream of a sage who teaches you the world's and better ways
is where I often live.
With an honest, in-the-chest yearning for oldness,
history, wrinkles to tell their tales
to speak of human life. To draw me to a warm hearth - and tell me desperate stories.

I have no such formal sage.
Though I searched, and beat my breast when there was none to be found:
a bit like an orphan - wondering what daily life in Christ looks like.

No, but I am in the company of many,
and in the economy of mercy - I am one, with them.
The night of my conversion, the speaker spoke to us on the ground,
"get up, and turn around - welcome to the family of God".

I have read Lewis, Augustine, Keirgkegaard.
Theresa, my Mother of faith, Nouwen,
and His tracings scrawl across the lives of the enlivened and upon the rocks that call.
The stories, yes - desperate. The telling of them unique, human-voiced: loud, boisterous, crying, painful, laughing; and heart felt.
Mmmm, that He might make our hearts the listening hearth upon which His stories tell and resound.

the light of Life.

It's snowing and I have my rain boots on
and I smile thinking about this:
If I were at work, I would be thinking - assessing, 'wow, this person is not dressed appropriately'
and make judgement. Intervene.

Hee =) I'm nobody's patient today, under the scrutiny of my Holy God who loves me.
Today, these boots are just bringing me joy - these hand-me-downs with diamonds and hearts.
I smile.

My uncle is sort of a legend when it comes to duck-boots, and I'm not trying to perpetuate that... I'm not for annointing rubberboots.
But, I'm thinking about His gifting Self. How those silly boots are a gift. How He brings joy. How He bestows the simplest treasures only a fool child's eyes can see and heart can hold.

I giggle at sparkley things. I keep bubbles in my purse.
I like to laugh, really loud and hearty - until tears come, because why laugh just a little when you mean it.
And I love Jesus Christ.
Because I'm overcome in His foolish love.

He says He's the light of life. And that the dark in us and of us, doesn't get it. The laughing Messiah who brings joy in the midst of real sorrows. How can a chuckle cast away all of our fear-stained longing for change?
His smile weighs hearty in the victory celebration of the soul. His hand slaps to His side to the rhythmic clap of my boots that call out to puddles to jump in, though the day is sunny - melting the white.
He laughs for His Kingdom is come, and there is joy. Though tears still stain our faces, and pain will pierce our hearts, and times are unhappy - the Joy King sows seeds of His Kingdom in the simple and blinds us with light that makes us know and grow in joy.




Please join me dear ones, and sharing a joy treasure or two.

much peace.

(P.S. It's over half November, and who wants to contain Christmas-ness any longer? Not moi.)

no more want.

my life consists of the fluttering of paper.

the pages of Word,
the print-outs of new knowledge - of ideas,
of observations,
of inspired hopes,
of disillusioned reality.

I am reading, reading, reading - for Life, for work, searching for conceptualization of what will become my thesis.
What will be hours, blood, sweat, strain and passion: poured over in conversation and rumninated over in the mind;
What will begin to describe current reality and hope of future.

He helps me climb, what seems insurmountable. Right now, I just climb up from my knees and open my hands to open the pages, and open my mind and heart to embrace His way. No farther than He guides, no more vision than Hope. No more want than His peace.

This is my journey prayer.
Amen.

jubilee.

Funny that it started as the day finished,
just like that first day:
me hearing You. me in full want, grasping Your grace ... just even to remember the anniversary. even to know what day it is.
and, yes - the celebrating.

Yesterday marked seven years of history,
of following,
of repeating: running,
down,
falling,
knees,
and Your grace, incarnate in history,
even still,
running down to me on my knees.
Your glory, bursting to life a heart wantonly wilted,
now willfully surrendered.
You and I celebrate. Each day, together.



It's Your way,
humbled and the cross
of entering the celebration of You - Your grace.

Seven years. Amen. Seven years.
Captive free. Debt cancelled. Amen.

the gospel. Monday at dusk.

on my couch, surrounded by piles of academic papers and bunny-fuzz
I used to think a house should be squeak-clean
but now, I think differently
it's meant only to be devoted back to You.
and the dishes, are half done. The laundry, still in the dryer and the bed never was made.


Monday afternoons, I used to think should be rigidly defined. By work, and with work's purpose, and structure,
but, it's only meant for Your purposes:
so I give thanks for the nap that I had and needed; for the permission to do so, because the paper-writing would so not be happening right now otherwise. On to a second cup of coffee, and an evening - just like the day, filled with Christ and His word when I listen.

You measure with justice, mercy, love and grace.
I give thanks. Thanks.

there, your treasure

treasure

is buried

leaves, dirt, rocks, sand - mess

And you believe, it's better that way:



part of it's worth is in the planning

the dig, the find

the raising up and glory of it

as it crests the edge of the earth and is lifted above



settled for a life of dirt?

settling in the dirt,

sifting through - down to a laden trunk's temporary bed

Seeking and found by the One that is sought.





searching & finding with Em & more at:

if I didn't know I have nothing...

I'd never learn how sweet the rain and wind are
even if it messes your hair.

I'd never notice the dance of light on rock,
as a sweet answer to prayer.

I'd never know the delight it is,
to be embraced and to embrace.

I'd never be drawn to You,
to satisfy, to teach, to lay and learn in listen

I'd never know that You are - Everything;
without You, no being.



Joining Em & Ann today - broken, cracked for He pours out.

peace to you this weekend, in His fullness.


Enjoy a favorite song :)

walk

When I read you, watch you
other-steppers and faith-walking seekers, followers of the Way:
I see all the ways we are walking before Him
Not many ways to -
For there is One and only One.
But how many ways to fall and crawl into His outpouring of mercy!
And lap like a wee kitten to its spill of milk…
Or a thirsting man lapping at puddle-side in drought.

When anxiety rises at the breadth of my gait - the measure of my steps
And, if they are good and right and true?
I need only remind myself to trip into your grace.
So remembrance rinses away pretense and pride-
And Fills and envelops with you, Graceful Master, Gentle Lord.

housework.

Today - the third day of summer, I spent part of the day on housework.

Some might call this anal - I stay on top of it as I go along. And, with the change of a season comes new priorities.

Dusting, scrubbing, laundering, sweeping unseen corners, taking into account stock in the cupboards, and, my summer edition to household chores: checking, setting, and fine-tuning mouse traps (yes, what a fun thing to discover on my foot the other night...ugh).

Life is like that - at the change of a season, God shines His love-light so I see all of Him in me, and the streaks of friction on over-used parts and dust gathering where work has stopped.

And together we take account and prioritize steps ahead: Him shining and sharing, judging and redeeming; and me, thanking, resting, wanting and willing to be wiped clean again, so I reflect better - to be rolled through the wash cycle and set out to dry warm in the sun, so I smell of His fragrance.

I am thankful for:

• laughing - because it's ironic when you are feeding the mouse you are trying to catch.
• floating soap bubbles.
• big, dark storm clouds.
• surprise.
• a hidden book of prayers.

steadfast.

Today time just seemed to really sneak by.
His graces remain steadfast and solid. Time passes, He punctuates :)

Tonight I am thankful:

• that the Lord hears.
• for safety.
• for being held.
• for grace and mercy.
• for Skype french lessons.

sweeping

Every day is a resurrection.
I was thinking about this as I got my sleepy bones, sore muscles (from yesterday's very great and long bike ride) and tired mind up from under the sheets and to my feet - to step into the kitchen for breakfast; to step into the day for its opportunities.

Today is a chance to walk with Christ, out from the cave marked Death to surrender to the power of His resurrection - to be lifted up, not by man but in the glory of Christ. In today is always the chance to embrace His Shalom heart; to find that others and you are swept up in the breeze of His ascension. The same is there for us tomorrow - and in the next and in all nexts.

When I tuck myself into bed tonight I will be changed, because of His love and power and will, because the day is about resurrection - from less of our condition into more of our beautiful hope.

Today, I am thankful for:

• participation.
• thanks in wooden bowls.
• new, real bookmarks.
• the paradox of the general and the particular ;)
• hope held out on handle bars.

until we meet again.

Soft breeze drifting in skirts and sun glows with dusk-rich intensity though its slipping into hiding. Hugs given, eyes captured once more - grace until we meet again, with grace and stories and papers behind us. Sunlight rich at lake and city edges and in reflection of moon; reminders that it has been and will be again.
My mind is full, my heart ready for quiet evening, full of song and dance and rest to Him - as the week's work has been to Him.
Nestled into summer's night in that hammock way with reading ready. Doze. Smile at bunny jumps and kisses and bites.

I am thankful for:

• liking your own skin.
• most precious words.
• peeks through white-painted gates.
• guests.

ties that hold

We've been sitting around the table, talking hope for the future.
We come together to be sent out.
So, we will go off again to walk out that hope - in ties that hope, that hold fast to vision and dreams and faith.

I give thanks for:

• walks home.
• suppers with such incredible colleagues.
• ducks catching crumbs tossed at rivers edge.
• friends with common languages.
• tenacity.

okay.

We pass through times:

Of standing and sharing - of declaring intentions, commitments, acheivements, imagination and hope. Excited joy meeting holy dread. Struggling to learn this new movement in unfamiliar clothing: checking and rechecking labels, just to be sure it really is meant for you;"will I grow, up into this?" asks a heart and head captured in this moment of drooping sleeves, hems past knees, tightness at neck and new colour. Knees shake, cheeks blush - cold and hot, sweat. Mind racing, and wondering if there will words or voice - and then the mind blanks as if thought had never dwelt there.

Open eyes, heart, ears, will and faith to God. And you step, step, step...

Do not be alarmed if you find yourself wondering who and where you are; wondering how the mantle fits; wondering why this path and when is the right time to move? Ask and He.

it is okay if you get tossed in the tumult - for He calms torrents.

it is okay if you don't have the strength to move - for He is the breath teaching lungs to expand.

it is okay if you can speak only silence - for He is Truth and Word.

it is okay if you are vulnerable and weak - for He clothes the naked, heals the broken and gathers children - nestling them beneath His wings: comfort and protection.

it is okay if you simply are - for you are fearfully and wonderfully made; He has redeemed you from all Hell's grasp and He has called you His - you are His; as you are, as you will be.

it is okay.

Not polar, discrete, or one way or another - just a simple, okay.

Peace, filled of gentle and might, finds us - finds me there;

in the flux of wait and hope and blossoms of fruit trees.

Today, I am thankful for:

• blushing side glances of small girls.


• flushed faces of intention.


• quiet, courageous eyes, looking out and taking in.


• sleep, in quiet corners of an old house.


• a few, brief, rich words with a dear dear friend.

her of Him.

Settling down to homework and soon bedtime.
I am listening to the beautiful work of Helma Sawatsky.
So striking. So rich. So home for me.
Drawn to the mother-breast of God - in an infant's awe that memorizes her face; drinking in everything about her in touch, and smell and taste.
"Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!"
Psalm 34: 8

I am thankful for:

• the resonating words of my mother.
• the book I can hardly remember, written on child-painted paper, telling things she loved - simple things.

a joy and crown.

My friendship with L is a gift.

She was the first of kindred spirits found here in Ottawa.


L and I hike together, sweat together, crawl through caves together, dress up and go for dinner together.


L and I chat about life, food, good hiking socks, trees, men, grad school, fish, haircuts, photography and our first Love.


I am so thankful to the Lord to know her and for the plans He has for her as she leaves Ontario for Saskatchewan. He makes us ready.


Today, we traipzed aroud 15 km of gorgeous hiking trail in the warm sun, and enjoyed each other's company another time - in the knowledge of tomorrow, yet enjoying today in its fullness. I'm thankful for that.

Therefore, my brothers, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown,
stand firm thus in the Lord, my beloved. Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 4: 1, 4-7