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.

break.down.

ended up sitting in the middle of mess- surrounded by pieces that impossibly fit together - listening to His voice to know when to move one, and where: to follow holy as I have never before.

break.down.
Ignorance threatening terror - but these words are of the most delicious of all.
If I know Him who whispers them,
The One who brings our bodies up with His, through sin - brokenness - and blood,
The One who crushes walls - no matter the magnificence, to get to you - to me.

craving: the frankness of one's insidious sin,
Death to be risen,
And Grace, the soothing balm to mend the ache.
I dance, limping - contented sways of hip to the Master's hum.

break.down -
by violent crash,
or Lover's potent whisper,
into the sweetest Landing of this World.

And be

all. swept. up.



- with Em and others
much peace.