At the conclusion of my sabbatical, I penned this reflection in honor of the space given. Even as a little girl I loved words. My calling as pastor and opportunities as writer have continued to push me to create, shape and articulate. And with hope, I share this tribute again, in hopes of what mightContinue reading “Words”


Blessed be the Holders

I wrote this poem just weeks into the quarantine and isolation forced by the global pandemic. Now as we move into the stages of “languishing” and “pandemic senioritis” the need for these words of recognition and blessing remain. Oh to be a child again To have lap to crawl into when the world overwhelms ToContinue reading “Blessed be the Holders”

Grief Work (Still)

Last year I wrote and posted this poem in the last weeks of my mother-in-law’s life. I revisit (update) and share these observations and hopes as we now find ourselves living the third stanza. Then As buds bloomed As grass greened As the horse and plow turned the soft dirt in neat rows We wonderedContinue reading “Grief Work (Still)”

No Return Policy (a poem about grief)

Grief is a roller coaster Trapped on a ride you didn’t choose Raising existential questions on a mundane Tuesday afternoon Grief is a marathon Tears unbidden as you unload the dishwasher and fold laundry  Unfinished business rising without hope of a pretty bow Grief is a runaway train Relentlessly rolling over anything in its pathContinue reading “No Return Policy (a poem about grief)”

Ordinary Friday? (a poem for Good Friday)

Was it an ordinary Friday for some? Chores and meal prep? Betime stories and prayers? A typical Passover Maybe someone birthing a baby Some burying and grieving their dead Did they know? Were they caught up with the crush And rush of what’s happening to Jesus? What about those on the edges? In the country?Continue reading “Ordinary Friday? (a poem for Good Friday)”

Painted Sky: a morning poem of awareness + blessing

Would I have noticed the sky this morning   if I hadn’t been dashing out with the trash can between frying the eggs and packing backpacks?   Would I have noticed how black turns to gentle grey; how soft pink creeps in and bleeds to orange    if I had been lying awake long before the alarmContinue reading “Painted Sky: a morning poem of awareness + blessing”