About Me

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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. In the meantime, I wrestle with God, and my doubt and my joy.

Thursday, March 12, 2015


I searched for miracles,
for signs and portents
of wondrous delight.
I longed for
a pillar of fire,
or maybe a column
of dark ash,
that smelled of incense
and myrrh.

There came then
a fierce wind,
a great gust of air -
or perhaps merely a breeze
with just power enough
to lift my hair
and cool my skin.

Wonders and miracles
are counted on
the wings of angels
who dance on
the sharp end of a pin,
and whose feet come
away bloody.
They are a mighty host
of smoke and mirror
to move the heart
of God.

I searched the horizon
for a Sign,
for a portent
of Wonder.
I almost missed
my Beloved