Sandra Heska King

daring to open doors

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I’m Sandra, a camera-toting, recovering doer who’s learning to be. still. Read more…

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Slowdown in the passing lane.

Slowdown in the passing lane.

How about another sunset picture from tonight’s

How about another sunset picture from tonight’s walk around the neighborhood?

“Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is m

“Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.” ~ Mary Oliver in “Messenger”

So we the made might never hunger or thirst. So we

So we the made
might never hunger
or thirst.
So we might have endless
light for our journey
hand in hand with the Maker who never sleeps.
That in our weakness, we are strong.
So we might live forever,
He was born to die.
🎄
Merry Christmas!

Sky. That is all.

Sky. That is all.

A Christmas reflection I wrote a few years back.

A Christmas reflection I wrote a few years back.

Seed of Yahweh

I’ve been thinking about this seed of Yahweh
conceived in love, then planted in the cave of a woman-child,
confined and nurtured in her soft dark womb,
nourished with her every heartbeat.

How cells of cell multiplied until he fluttered light,
then stretched and rose like yeast bread in her warm belly
until her body could no longer contain him.

How the walls closed in, contracted, kneaded,
and she expelled him down that painful passage toward the light.
How with a gush of blood and water he slid wet into the night
and was laid in a cold stone trough.

Whose hands touched him first, this son of man?
His earthly father’s?
Some midwife's?
Did his parents count his perfect fingers–
the fingers of God himself?

I think about those tiny hands that fisted around their fingers,
that held their hands as he grew,
about those hands that planted seeds in soil,
shaped wood, chiseled stone,
hands that touched and healed and held a scroll,
fingers that wrote in dirt.

How one day he, light of lights,
staggered down another narrow, painful passage,
toward the darkness, pummeled and beaten by hands of others as his own slivered palms quivered
with the weight of a heavy cross.

How he was stretched wide, this bread of life.
How this one whose hands pounded nails to build
accepted pounded nails meant to break Creator by created,
and how his mother’s heart exploded
with the pain of it and for the love of him.

I think of how his own limp body could not hold him,
how with a gush of blood and water he slipped his earthly life,
and how his mother may have caressed
and kissed those blood-stained hands.

I think about this seed of Yahweh,
this son of man, planted in a cave of earth,
confined to cold, dark stone
until the tomb could not contain him,
how he stretched and rose, this bread of life,
and how he comes to us still and plants himself in our hearts,
becomes our heartbeat for the love of us.
So our hearts explode with the pain of it and for the love of him.

And we cannot contain him.

~SHK, 2011 See less

There’s something blocking our view. What we fou

There’s something blocking our view. What we found in our front yard this morning!!! Is this a good place for the word “gobsmacked”? ❤️❤️❤️

We have no idea. Well, we do have a couple of ideas. We live in the best neighborhood and have the best neighbors! 🥰

Just wow! And thank you—whoever you are. You have totally made this milestone extra special. ❤️

Time out from wild things for a little wild news.

Time out from wild things for a little wild news. We were a May-December marriage. Met in May and married in December in Northern Michigan snow. The big 5-0 seemed thousands of miles away back then. I don’t think we ever thought about it. But now …

The Kings have left the Cousins after a whirlwind

The Kings have left the Cousins after a whirlwind and memorable Michigan Thanksgiving that circled from Detroit to Dewitt to Wolverine to Olivet and now back to Detroit.
🌲

My daughter and family live in the little retirement home on Big Creek that my in-laws built when she was just a babe. She’s kind of become the family historian, adorning her garage with memorabilia that used to adorn ours. She also inherited the old farm bell when we moved to Florida. (Including a couple miscellaneous country snaps to hold me until next time.)

Definitely beautiful. But I’m okay to not live w

Definitely beautiful. But I’m okay to not live with it any more. An annual visit is enough. ❄️⛄️🌨🌲

Good Friday morning. Sitting outside guarding Gray

Good Friday morning. Sitting outside guarding Gray Kitty’s food from the likes of these who come around every morning to steal it if they aren’t caught in action. This sweetie showed up a couple weeks ago and has been hanging out. Never eats much. The last couple early mornings it’s been curled up on a rocking chair on our patio. Super sweet. We need to see if we can scoop it up to check for a chip. I was able to pick him up once…but not after I’d just shoo’d the ducks.

Five minutes of beach therapy tonight.

Five minutes of beach therapy tonight.

Mr. Grumpy Pants is in the neighborhood.

Mr. Grumpy Pants is in the neighborhood.

Peek-a-boo, Moon.

Peek-a-boo, Moon.

Our lake from a different angle. And just another

Our lake from a different angle. And just another sunset.

Walked out behind our neighborhood tonight. (See p

Walked out behind our neighborhood tonight. (See previous post.) Critter count: 4 bicyclists, dragonflies, bees, a spider, a couple camera-shy birds, and a tricolored heron overhead, probably headed to our backyard. No bobcats or gators or boars. Not even an iguana.

So that over there is the Everglades. And on my ri

So that over there is the Everglades. And on my right is our neighborhood. That’s how close we actually are. We’ve finally heard about a path we can cross over. On the docket for the weekend. Not with the dog. Lions and tigers and bears… oh my. Or bobcats and wild boars and coyotes.

And the stork went a-storking. Good Saturday morni

And the stork went a-storking. Good Saturday morning, Sir.

“Since Poets have told of sunset, What is left

“Since Poets have told of sunset,
What is left for me to tell?
I can only say that I saw the day
Press crimson lips to the horizon gray,
And kiss the earth farewell.”
~ Effie Lee Newsome in “Sunset”
🌴
Food truck date night. Perfect.

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