Sunday, November 6, 2016


In an attempt to pray and capture the swirling thoughts and feelings of my sleep-deprived brain; feeling the sting of missing worship at my church on All Saints Sunday, yet giving thanks for the new life I cradle in my arms - I offer these imperfect, yearning words.   

A one month old swaddled in sleep.
All Saints Sunday.

Rare quiet moments
To wonder
On the joys and sorrows of life
The tug-o-war playing out in my heart
For life gone by
For life beginning

There is laughter
There are tears
In both.

The passing of time,
How life does change in one year
One month
One week

The close of one chapter
That beckons a new beginning
Whether we want it
Or not.

The whisper of a saint’s final breath
Lingering in the starlit space
Waiting to fill the lungs
Of a newborn’s cry

And the quiet thanksgivings
The bittersweet goodbyes
For those who lived well
Loved hard;
Touched the world with
Kindness and grace

These rare quiet moments
Are yours,

Swaddled safely in the God
Who is yesterday, today
And always.