Archives for posts with tag: hope

I adored the oak but was drawn by the sounds of the playful sea. And so I find myself stuck neither here nor there because those waves always move me but I should know by now they wouldn’t keep me.

It’s always this impression of freedom – the wild thrill of those waves in the wide open – crashing, lulling and bubbling around my toes, ankles, fingers and hips, and I should leave but it moves me. It pulls me until I am covered, dripping, floating, thirsty, happy, searching, giggling, surrendering, held and left, and held, and … Read the rest of this entry »

Did you know in Canada of every 100 incidences of sexual assault, six are reported to the police. Six.

Did you hear? Six of 100 sexual assaults.

One in four women across North America alone will be sexually abused in their lifetime. Now go ahead and count the number of women in your family, since 80 per cent of these assaults are happening to them.

Include your extended family members.

Now consider your female friends.

Can we talk yet? Read the rest of this entry »

Well I suppose I’ll always love the look of flowers in bloom. Is there anything as beautiful as the colour, the scent, the warmth, or the light they bring to any old room? But today I want to tell you a little secret; roses in bloom will never bring me so much joy as those hiding behind strengthening green backbones.

I see the ones in bloom, I do. They’re lovely. They are a beautiful fragrance, a warmth, a light. But more often than not I’m transfixed on the ones who’ve yet to open wide their arms and reveal in true vulnerability all that they are.

I guess there’s just something about them; they’re patient, they’re strong, they’re humble. I have never known a flower to bloom before its time, and I wonder like a little kid if they whisper to God each day, “Is it time yet, today?” Read the rest of this entry »

My eleven year old nephew ended up at our place for a sleepover and I remember waking up to this fuzzy haired boy on his second bowl of Lucky Charms, awaiting the adults to wake up so we could play. Read the rest of this entry »

Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face. The “worst” is never the worst. Why? Because the Master won’t ever walk out and fail to return. If he works severely, he also works tenderly. His stockpiles of loyal love are immense. -Jeremiah the Prophet

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The Red Center, AustraliaAfter so long in the desert, a girl could learn how to survive alright in red dirt and starry skies. Key word here? Alright. I could survive alright. Read the rest of this entry »

I was looking at a picture of furrow-browed men while the speaker in a full room talked about language. The picture was in black and white and the brave men were walking both full of fear and full of courage. Nearly in the center of the frame was Martin Luther King Jr. who, with sweat dripping like tears of an exhausted, hopeful, renegade soul stared back at me.

I’d heard the speaker say that rioting was the language of the unheard. I hear it was Martin Luther himself who said it, and it has rung through my lungs since then. Like a language, he said. Read the rest of this entry »