Playfully Pretending

c.s. lewis quote

after a long time of forgetting how
a solemn soul stands down
gives way to play
and rises up to say
that after the dark nights and winter days
the shortened hours of living lasted long but did not linger
and now is the hour of our play days
the ones where to do lists are short
but full
of things like fill the vase and light the grill
stare at stars and wish for fish
laugh too loud and eat three ears
of corn or more
and forgive what needs forgiving
forget the what is past perhaps
put forth a ball of clay out on the counter
roll it into scenes of wonder
let the cat in let her out
and sit back
and write a poem
playfully pretending you remember
how to play

Joining Sandra Heska King today for Simply Saturday

Have I Told You Lately That You Bless Me?

deep crevice fave pic

Have I told you lately that you smooth  rough patches and make soft grooves of grace in my very soul?

Have I whispered lately that your words are balm and healing ointment on my aching head?

Have I breathed  gratitude and thankfulness over all the spoken, written, holy words that come from You and yours?

When I read the words of Yours and all the Saints who drip and drop the words of gentleness on an stirring soul, I have to stop and say,

Have I told you lately that you bless me?

Do you know the power of words so tender on the tough dry patches, where the world can wear a callous on the spirit of a child?

Where all the tears and rips need healing from your very lips, the words, a  salve on grooves left by salty tears?

Have I told you lately how your grace poured out, blesses in the crevices, running deep and staying there, a soothing sought after lather on the wound.

I will tell you often that you bless me.

And bury my soul in the words from your Holy mouth and listen gently with a tender heart to the words from all your Saints.

Can you hear me tell you that you bless me?


Joining Jennifer, Duane, and Ann.

A Grateful Hand

May we walk together,
all together as a bold one
into a land
of extravagant generosity…
time &
words &
prayer &
we unfurl from the white-knuckled grip of the insatiable I and me.

Linking in community today with the folks at Still Saturday. Thank you Sandy.

Opening the door for you my friends, may we always open the door for one another in a community of His love.

And holding it open for a long while, as you walk into the wonderful wonders of your week’s end.

Wrap Up A Word in A Poem, Wrap up A Word In Love

(Today’s post dedicated to my mother Maggie on this, her birthday.  She has taught me to love and hold on to Words.)

Moments like pebbles jet- skim over water, thrown out hard,  fast from child’s hand, speed along, bump, skip along. Ripple space, dent, ripple path. Fall hard.

Speedy jump all bullet shot out of angled hand to delight.   Race on. 

And words thrown out, caught in heart nets. Tossed,  captured,   pondered. We grab, wrestle with these letters all clustered up, woven in wonder.  Knitted for warmth, encouragement, teaching, healing. Put forth for comfort and hope.

 Grab hold of time, wrap it in words with love. Cherish its beauty, its singular lightening fast, quick flash, steamy quick rising temporariness. Hold hard to words telling story of moment.

Put a word on a wound.  Place a word on pain , wrap it in God-breathed, God-given hope. Send it out in a prayer built of words, fragile and sweet.

Put a word on joy, put a word on wonder.  Cinch it in silver shiny wrapping with bow of beauty.  Deliver it in Mercy, signed with signatures of Grace.

 Speak them, write them,  sing them, show them , shout them, whisper them,
sling  them– those grace-notes, love-notes, words dredged from deep heart places.

Watch it , this word chosen in care, delivered in love. Watch it skim across the hearts of one in need. Leave a little love dent, a kind ripple, and fall hard on the soft places of the inside place.

See hope take root.  And healing take place.

Words skipped all tippy toed school girl happy hopping poetic on the spaces of need. Choose them with care, toss them in love, your words, this Sabbath,  this day and every one given by Him.

Poetry most often communicates emotions, not directly, but by creating imaginatively the grounds for those emotions.  It therefore communicates something more than the emotion; only by means of that something does it communicate the emotion at all “–C.S. Lewis, “Studies in Words