“I speak it to God: I don’t really want more time; I just want enough time. Time to breathe deep and time to see real and time to laugh long, time to give You glory and rest deep and sing joy and just enough time in a day not to feel hounded, pressed, driven, or […]
Still Saturday: Being is Not Wasting (Day 13)
“Perhaps one of the saddest things we can do is waste time, as Shakespeare knew when he had Richard the Second cry out, ‘I have wasted time, and now doth time waste me.’ “But being time is never wasted time. When we are being, not only are we collaborating with chronological time, but we are […]
Still Saturday: Last Days of Fragrance (Day 4)
“Clarence died full of years and short of breath . . . In all the time Clarence attended the church where I pastor, he never did a thing other than show up . . . But the roots ran deep, and the branches stretched sturdy and long, and oh, the fruit. That man was clasped […]
Still Saturday: Go Sit
I’m hanging over the edge of the Frio River in Texas this weekend. I scheduled this post before I left, but it didn’t “take.” My apologies. Sending love and praying you have a most beautiful, grace-soaked weekend. Go, sit upon the lofty hill, And turn your eyes around, Where waving woods and waters wild […]
Still Saturday: Coming Apart
Coming apart for a couple of days so we don’t come apart. Seeking a bit of peace so we don’t fall to pieces. Because sometimes we have to hide to find. Spending a handful of days to reap a heartful of Him. Praying you find a few quiet moments today to hear His heart whispers, […]
When We Remain
“Do you want to eat there? They have a cafe.” He stops, backs up, and turns into the long drive to Sandhill Crane Vineyards. I’ve never eaten at a vineyard before. I don’t remember visiting a vineyard. We did drive north across the Golden Gate into wine country on our honeymoon, but I don’t remember […]
Still Saturday: Still Again
I stop. Still. And wonder. Why does the breeze ripple the lake everywhere but in its center? Why is the center so still? So calm? So clear? Is it because it’s gone deep in the center? Or is it because it’s simply centered? And can’t be ruffled? Or touched by the wind? I am hushed. […]
