"Thou art lightning and love, I found it, a winter and warm".

Freely you have received, freely you shall give. How far we have strayed from this precept, forgetting that all we have is a gift from God.

Dear Eva, I walked to the old quarry this morning. I have known it for six years.

If only this grief had voice, how it would sing. When I remember the meadows, gilded golden by the sun; the pine trees in winter, burying the deep scent of a coming spring; the times spent on a solitary bench, with only the gulls crying out in the distance; then and only then, does this ache in my heart ease a little, for I remember you, how you filled all things...

Dear God, your word is wide and expansive, it encompasses the universe. I know not how to navigate it, lest you guide me with your spirit...

You ask me how I am feeling. I’m not devastated, no. But I can’t shake off the thought that if I peer into my own soul, the landscape is a little bleak...

...To have a stronger heart, to have a wider imagination, to have the beauty of a craft, these seem more corporeal than a vague promise of divine sufficiency flooding mortal frailty...

I had a wonderful cycle through a forest of leaves and light. The heart was glad with a quiet gladness it has not felt for awhile...

The heart wobbled on Thursday and Friday, nagged by old insecurities...

Lord, it is not that I do not want your glory. I want it more than anything – but not merely in the chorus of angels, or the flight of eagles...