on a less-than-perfect start to a year, and second chances

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. John 1:1-3

This year has gotten off to a shaky start. 2013 was full and challenging and nourishing and I am g-r-a-t-e-f-u-l. I didn’t want to let go of it, as evidenced by the spilling over of 2014 happenings in the 2013 journal, this year which I haven’t been ready to embrace.

This year, I know, holds much of which I am afraid. Changes in the tide; changes in circumstance, career, life-patterns, friendships, church, family. Much of which I wish I could just halt for a while, hold at arms’ length. Continue reading

love languages

When all said and done, it’s those hours that I cherish. The hours spent in the green Jeep under the gentle watch of the sweeping mountains on either side.

If God is beyond our humanly-defined modes of communication and we each hear from him in different languages, different ways, ways unique and personal to us, we must each have something precious to teach one another about God’s love languages.


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of jumping in – and surfacing

So much has happened lately that I feel I’ve dived underwater and am waiting now to resurface. Trouble is, I seem to have grown accustomed to life below – a nagging sense that I’m growing webbed feet.

And the whole time there has been silence on here. I’ve scribbled words, thoughts and observations down in my battered black notebook that have followed me around.

But I never felt brave enough – or able – to join the dots and tell the different stories. And I feel poorer for it.

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on being stirred by words


I was reminded tonight on the power held in words. Sometimes not even held in the meaning, just in the sound and the texture. Crisp and then around the bend languid, and long. Sometimes not even held in the word but the in-between, in the silence and the breathing and the pulsing rhythm of the connect flowing between listener and speaker.

I was reminded of the power of words to stir and shape, to remind that the stories we live can be told in a myriad of ways. As JP Cooper sang his heart-song in soulful tones which made my eyes squeeze shut and Alysia revelled in crescendoing fullness of all she was born for I felt it deep. And I breathed easy and hard at the same time as I felt the release that can only come from being in the presence of people released into their gifting.

Alysia Harris told me that Continue reading