We wonder why it is so hard to love the world around us. Why we are the withered branch, the kite at the will of the wind, the ship adrift at sea. The answer is simple – We’ve become untethered from the vine that sustains us, the string that holds us fast, and the anchor entrenched at bottom of the sea. 
So often all we can see is ourselves.
We’re kept so busy looking in the mirror at our feelings, our views, our offenses, our agenda, that we fail to see all the Lord has set before us.
We are living in a time where peace is a hard thing to find. There is only One source that is sure, that source is – Jesus. He is where I find my peace, He stills my soul and my racing mind. I will choose to be His reflection- A person of peace, of love, of kindness. 
It’s going to be quiet here for a bit.
I’m half way through a project that is close to my heart. I have taught the Women of Christmas in a verbal storytelling form for several years.
Now I’m taking all of my notes and research and writing their stories down in a Christmas devotional.
I’ll mix in a little poetry and a lot of prose as I tell the stories of these three special women – Anna, Elizabeth and Mary.
I love that Jesus loves women and I love that they are instrumental in His coming to Earth.
I hope to have this little chapbook ready to go by the first of November, Lord willing.
I have a lovely artist friend who is designing the cover and I hope to have print and ebook editions available.
Hold me in prayer when you think if me. 💗
Happy Monday! It is crisp and clear here in Northwest PA and most of us are about to watch the glorious dance of letting go.
The air is crisp, as the dance begins
The dance of letting go,
ebbing into color,
a glorious sunset in the trees.
Glory, turns to fade,
they cling to the familiar,
a twisting, a turning, a wrangling to stay.
The winds of change will win,
bringing bittersweet release.
The wild finale
floating
twirling
a falling to the earth
The place where death, becomes new life.
I have been on a treasure hunt these last few months, choosing to find God’s Glory in every small thing. It truly is a choice, to choose praise over panic, delight over dejection. I recommend it, it does a work in the heart that is slow and good.
One delight I wake to each morning is my morning cup of coffee. I wakes me nice and slow and is truly a gift from God.
May you never drink your morning cup the same. 🙂
Morning Coffee
The glass pot is worn, golden
it sits waits each morning,
my faithful friend
I pour the water,
scoop beans, grown from trees,
picked by human hands
I grind the beans,
until they look like dirt, rich and brown
a planting, a growing of courage for the day
I watch as the hot water pours,
taking bits of the bean with it,
soaking in their taste, their flavor
As if magic has taken place,
steaming toffee colored liquid
drops into the pot,
drip
by
drip
I stand waiting, watching,
waking to the day,
a slow waking is what I like best
At last my cuppa is ready,
I curl up in my chair,
wrapped in my fuzzy robe
Holding it close to my chest,
a steaming cup of liquid gold
I breath it in, sip it slow
Its energy warms me,
wakes me, soothes me,
this simple comfort found in a cup.
We are living in times where we feel discouraged and out of control on so many levels. This is a perfect opportunity to remind ourselves, to take moment, Selah, To Pause in His Presence. In those moments we recognize that He is our Shield, He is our Glory, He is the Lifter of Our Head.
But You, O Lord are a shield for me
My glory and the One who lifts up my head Psalm 3:3
Selah
I wake and press my feet onto the cool morning floor
What does the day hold?
Will I laugh with joy?
Will tears fall?
Will rage rise, or sorrow come?
Will I see the unjust,
unwanted and unaware?
Will I hear of suffering,
neglect, the cry of the forgotten?
Will I wade through lies,
twisted truths and propaganda?
Will sickness suddenly come?
The sun begins to rise, questions loom as fog,
I whisper a prayer.
I pause in His presence, Selah
The quiet purrs in my ears,
no words are spoken, no answer comes
A head bent low, must lift
I see the sun in all of its glory, a new day begins
Made to be filled,
yet always pouring out to empty.
I have been the pitcher, empty,
poured out
until
the
last
drop
I have been the pitcher, full,
to the brim,
filled
with
living
water
in the pouring, in the filling,
is a life of delights.
