Monday, June 18, 2012


my fingertips trace
along rough grain.
Aged wood
of a centuries old tree
passes slowly underneath my hands
like braille for the blind.

Barely touching the timber,
I feel along grooves
and over knots,
for a place
that my weak hands
might cling
to the crudely-formed cross.

I must be careful,
for the wood's not been sanded.
I must find a place
that does not threaten
to scrape or splinter
my delicate hands,
I long
so deeply
to cling to it
with all of my strength.

I trace the tree
and wonder
what might happen
if my fingers
and palms
white-knuckled fists
and I was brave enough
to hold on

Monday, January 2, 2012


I'm not much for making New Year's resolutions, but I pray that for me this is a year of growth, joy, reflection, and peace.

Since I started my big girl job in August it seems like my world has become a giant blur of people and events and emotions and tasks. Whenever I get the chance to stop and catch my breath I don't know what to do with myself.

I pray that I learn what to do in those moments. I pray that I learn how to use those moments; how to not waste them. How to really truly rest and reflect and enjoy the peace that comes from being still.