For my teachers
You wove a thread of words -
a hundred,
a thousand,
an infinity of words,
all twisted and
twined.
One thread
and then another
and yet another,
until there were
a hundred,
a thousand,
an impossible -
improbable -
infinity of threads
that you wove into
a rope
that twisted and
twined
and climbed
into the Up
and the All
and the Everything.
It bound me
to the here
and the sky
and the You.
A breath.
A word.
A thread.
A rope.
Tied and twisted
and leading me home.
I write, mostly to keep my head from exploding. It threatens to do that a lot. My blog is the pixelated version of all the voices in my head. I tend to dive into what connects me to God, my community, my family and my doubt. I do a lot of searching, not as much finding. I’m good with that. I have learned, finally, to live comfortably in the gray. I n the meantime, I wrestle with God, and my doubt and my joy. If nothing else, I've learned to make a mean cup of coffee.
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