I think Thoreau was right when he implied
That if you want to live deliberately
you better go to the woods.

We better go to the woods!
or perhaps out to some desert, or garden
maybe not entirely unlike Gesthemane -
in order to bury our willful straying self in silent soil
under leaves of repentance

held deep, in dark earth, but also the arms of Christ’s everlasting forgiveness.
We need to bury our tears there that are falling
heavily to the ground, full with the weight of this world’s pain,
ours and others’ we were never meant to be separate from.
The salt will dissolve in the ground and spread out to the roots of plants
Seasoning their juices, readying for life to come balm for the journey:

recollection of those before who battled will and tears
in aching hope reaching for rest and light,
who are gone, but in joy, us and others await.

We also need to bury there our fears that freeze us.
Kneeling down to the power greater than ourselves
which is burning, like the sun, with the warmth of such love
that alone can (and wills to) thaw us.
And once we are all buried we’ll lose the emptiness that clung to us
And come back, return home more ourselves than when we left.

Life Together

It is quiet and cool, breath catching

upon the breeze, up! Somewhere

into the high heavens - Somewhere

we feel but cannot see.

It is quiet here. We do not speak.

But our roots gently, slowly, carefully

begin around each other to weave.

We look and breathe out onto the night

stars shine above us like promises

that came as old as Abraham upon this

world and still, brightly stand.

We do not speak. But Something is speaking

and in our silence, we are responding.

A Poem for My Mother

We only get one mother.
One heartbeat that God chooses
To bring us into being
Beneath.
One voice that shapes us
As we hear her talk, laugh, sing,
Whisper to herself as she walks
Alone among the trees.
And later she became the fruitful tree
Under whose shade we would take refuge
From storms, bullies, or bad dreams.
And her wisdom, vision, inner convictions,
Became the fruit we were so blessed to eat.

I am thankful that God chose you, mom,
To be my mother.
You have given me more than I could dream.
Your down to earth-ness, kind humility,
Gave me the roots I needed
To ground me in wonder
At the gift of life, loved ones,
To tenderly behold and care for,
The world around me filled
with God’s rich and mysterious glory.
Your ability to see, create, and bless
All the beauty around you
Comes from your graciousness
Towards the Creator and every created thing.
Your faith gave me wings.
You believed for the best when waves
Of darkness and confusion were crashing over me.
And I know, in the face of the world’s darkness
that you, too, have weeped.
But always, you always found joy –
And your contagious laughter!!
As many of us so well know, catches
everyone near you up into some kind of
hopeful heavenly glimmer
of delight. A glimpse of that Day
when from hardship and suffering
We shall be delivered.

And one more thing – your strength
Taught me how to fight.
To not give up, to wait for the dawn
Of every night.
For example, with your store, “Back Porch Antiques”
The hours, days and nights, you put in,
Miles you traveled to get that perfect piece,
In the end you worried it wasn’t worth it all,
But what I learned was courage, as you gave
A piece of your heart to the world.

We, your children, were fortunate enough to receive
Your heart in its entirety.
We are grateful
To have listened to your heart steadily beat
To have heard your laughter brightly ring
To have grown under the shadow of your life
Blessed by your example of love and grace.


I love you mom! Happy Birthday!