Monday, February 20, 2012


the body is a house of many windows: there we all sit, showing ourselves and crying on the passers-by to come and love us.

`robert louis stevenson~

as a creature of habit, i tend to see the same people around the same location on my running route [when i make it out there].  there is this one man especially whose appearance on my route was so dependable he might as well have had the physical permanency of a tree or lamp post. there was no major exchange between us, but there was a clear acknowledgement that we were used to seeing one another on our routes, expected it.  just a head nod, a half-wave 'hello.'

but the past few weeks, i haven't seen him.  i have started to wonder, forming all sorts of theories: is he sick?  did he get injured? has he moved? i never knew his name.

and i began to think about how we are given a certain amount of time in everyone's life that we meet: sometimes mere seconds other times a lifetime.  but in all cases, we are mere passerbys.  in terms of eternity, [a perspective only God has, something we can only hint at conceptualizing in poetry and art], time on earth is a drop in the ocean ['a bucket' is simply too small].

i find myself often thinking that when i know a relationship or acquaintance-ship will be brief, that my actions 'don't count.' even with friendships i will retain long term i often am not actively engaged in seeking to see how the Spirit is prompting me to dig in deeper.  however, every path crossing with another individual is a chance for God to use you as a source of His love in their life.  who are we to underestimate the way God can use something as simple and momentary as a nod or half-wave hello?  and if something so simple blessed my mornings as they did, then how much more profound can a soul-sharing conversation or mutually-bearing-of-a-burden be?

we all leave ripples in our wake.  it is the design of our movements, how we choose to invest our time, invest in others, that determine their shape.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012


musty earth
wind swept samplings
speckled windows
and tousled hair.

white-crested seas
barren branches
accumulating humidity
and speckled windows

veils of haze
charcoal clouds
and quivering leaves

tictac air
whispering breeze
the Creator’s presence
in shades of grey