And Still, I Notice

It is not the pulse of the oars dragging into deep and shattering still to stir. It is not the slide that brings you forward and back,...

Hastening river and hushed mossy green, you, unaware of my presence, unconcerned with my adoration. My heart abundant and unscarred, deluged by peace in your presence. It is in this quiet place I know myself best. I want and need for nothing. For it is here, God cradles me, an embrace I pain to break.

There is a relief in having your smallness laid out before you.

As certain as the sun rises in the east and rests in the west, so assured is true north. Safely we rest in the knowing that it is He who...

Hearts are not made to be won taken as if by conquest by some overwhelming force. They are only made to be given away gently and freely,...

hireath (n) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostagia, the yearning, the grief for...

Sometimes life gets messy. Choices - ours and others bleed into one another, colors muddied beyond recognition, until we can no longer see what we meant to create. And so we hide the canvas, afraid others will judge the way we handled the paint. And at other times we get it right, the medium flows effortlessly, our life art is beautiful and vibrant, a masterpiece that we gladly share with the world. But have you noticed? when you look back a month, a year, or a decade later

Walls will find us in this life walls and fences and so many reasons to give up, give in. It is up to us, and only us, to climb them, to cling to them like vines and grow anyway. Let the light shine through for there are always cracks. Grow, grow defiant against the walls that tower around you the fences that lock you in. I passed this wall in Seattle's Pioneer Square one morning. I love how the vines escape the cage, defy its bleak surroundings, and cling vibrantl

Here it lies before us - another year, unturned pages linen stark white, preface and epilogue and we, the scribes. What will we etch into blankness of fiber awaiting the drink of marking? What words dwell in the flow of veins from wells deep of our within? Ah, the reveal of chapters to come, a nakedness far whiter than the blank of page. ~sf #newyear #writing #whatwillcome #yourlife

Autumn is painting change everywhere, And I, a season of my own.

Days, moments, years… clock movements interrupted or oiled by people, events, choices, and the inner voice that speaks my name ...

Life is often not what you think it is. People are often not who you think they are. How sad that so many pretend… and, sadder still that I always believe. ~sf #pretend #false

What would they say? the words, all the words, if allowed to fall upon paper as they fall upon my heart? Droplets of my soul bleeding...

How do you not lose yourself? How do you hold on when perched upon a tree of seasons, adventures, and love fused in the life of two...

Little boys feel it early - the magic. In the October of life, I felt it today, for the first time. It’s rumble announced its coming...

And so, there it lies, soaked in mud of angry heart and victim mind, spread like a blanket beneath feet that thrive on anything ugly. The...

Such are
the matters 
that shatter our understanding, 
 shake our foundation, break our hearts. Such are
 the matters 
that birth...

To those I love that struggle with the crippling disease that wraps life in darkness, blinding and pushing away all the signs of love,...

It is not the pulse of oars shattering surface, dragging deep into water causing all that is still to stir. It is not the slide that...

Lives, moments, time, crashing and passing without notice, without pause. A montage of vagueness. shadows and light, faces, walls, and doors, with everything in common, and nothing alike. What stories do you tell, what secrets do you keep in fortresses, with invisible moat, and streets crowded with life passing life. ~sf