Isolation made me
yearn for all the undone
to be fixed and put right and so I
put up homes and perches
for the birds,
my own sort of tuppence tossed
out the back door where the wee-est search
for breadcrumbs. They plead
with their broken songs to be
And we, safe inside our white house watch,
noses pressed to the glass
as they jump from branch to branch.
And still they sing,
the sparrows. Maybe they know
His eye is truly on them.
“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.”Matthew 10:29 ESV
I stopped putting a tally in this space.
All numbers do is smear and blur the pain and fear.
All numbers do is feed the enemy’s lie that it has the power.
Today I took my dog on a long walk
in the woods. Deliberately,
of course. And just to see
if there’s any marrow left in the world.
For a time
when we were out there alone and all we could hear were birds of all kinds and the swish of still bare tree limbs in the wind
I almost felt
Just me and him
like the good
old days—when was that?
Oh. Yes. A handful of weeks ago.
I almost couldn’t remember
Or is it just that it hurts too much
to think of all we’ve lost so
fast? “Front only the
“living is so dear…”
432,596 confirmed cases
I took a walk
around the yard this morning.
Birds sounded louder.
Flowers looked brighter.
The grass glowed emerald
despite the hail that beat it down
hard last night.
How impossible it has been to look up and around and
outside the hyper focused panic of this pandemic,
where mercy reigns
and grace reins in
my wobbly heart.
Last night I sang and sang and sang until
I finally started to believe the words that
We are surrounded
by more than the monster before us. Rather,
we are held
fast by Him.
“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed…” 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 (ESV)