Trouble in this world, a poem

I suppose faith would indeed be seen as weak,

those who pity us 

who rely on the unseen. For true strength

rises up on the wings of broken 

hearts and flesh, invisible

not because of what we have done but

because of who HE is.

the true

pity is for the ones who do not know

who cannot see the goodness 

in the land of the living,

who cannot help

but mock and reopen the stripes of the 


who died for even them. No 

justice comes 

from arguing about the shade of red to a blind man.

And so we traipse 

on, the bruised and weary land

I love thirsting for the one drink

they refuse to taste.


Mercy. A poem. 

Mercy, it’s morning at last, 

glory and grace 

rise like dawn,

the night shadows

fleeing with 


as justice 


their play.


my cup



Sometimes dawn is enough to make joy rise in our hearts again, isn’t it? I’m thankful this morning for so many of the Lord’s mercies and His unfailing kindness and goodness, His steadfast love and protection. 

In this season of busy-ness as school winds down and summer comes at last and new journeys begin, what blessings of the Lord make your heart overflow today?

Letting go…

So yeah, it’s Monday.
The world hangs

on our hearts.
is about letting


and embracing, both
at once,
and how else can we
do that except
with the Lord’s help?
Help to release
with grace
and to accept
with graciousness,
help to remember
that when seasons


and we feel
that He is enough.
He is always enough.
And He is good.
All the time.