I made a house of wood,
Of cubits and inches
and fashioned with tongues
and grooves, and
all the pieces fitted together,
just so.
It was beautiful to behold.
Inside, I placed soft feathers
and stones of quarry gray.
They rested in shadow
and were cold to the touch.
Just so, they burned
my hands
based on Deut. 10:3-5
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.
Monday, August 15, 2016
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