move & be still

we heave boxes with a groan
in the cold
and the sun drips through the
snowless ice
while a pan of brownies chills through on the granite countertop
the world is still weary
as we slide back into it from rest
and discover that our skin is still flawed
in the cold waters of january

gardening is often thankless –
by nature, not of it’s own accord
because the harvest rolls around
at certain moments
after days & months (& sometimes years)
of labor and bone-breaking
and sweat pouring down our eyes
from planting and tending and praying
over the ground
and in the winter all is still

but stillness does not require
or weariness
it is a time to drink deeply
of the sky
and press forward toward the Son
as the planet turns around its own horizon
and let learning come.

this afternoon as I tried to nap
I wrapped myself in blankets
and thought about Psyche
in Till We Have Faces
and realized that
if beyond repair
& beyond change
is what I fear
then I have a chance
just like Psyche’s sister,
faceless and alone
like all the other stubborn followers
that You bought
in order to give our lives a value
we can see
and trust
and hold to.

we are not alone,
one an echo, the other Life itself
and that is enough

to make it.

and not just that, no
but to flourish
in the winter.



2 thoughts on “move & be still

  1. Your metaphors and words ❤ I can't even comprehend how you use such words and tie them into the strands of poetry the way you do. You find hope in everything: even in the crumbling pieces of life, and I admire that.

    Also, that picture of the lights on planet earth ❤ So much love! You know what else? We find that the light shines so much brighter when it is dark. I'm snagging that photo (hehe), and this definitely inspired a blog post.

    Thank you for sharing your thoughts, thank you for being one to turn others to Christ: especially being a light for our generation. Lights like you in our generation are so rare.

    1. aww, you’re making me all weepy! thank you so much – it’s been a long road, but I think I’m learning to see the light more clearly 🙂
      thank you, too, for being a light – your art and words are beautiful, and full of hope, and point back to Christ 🙂


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