He calls, in a way no man expected. He calls, whispering in the unanticipated silence. we hear we do not understand, or know.
My God our God why do I know that we are not forsaken? We are your people, as the lilies and the wild roses, sparrows in your eyes. Sacred. Un-alone.
And the hopeless vista of your love.
Our lives are shaken, our building undone. We are children, no longer laughing in our childish, interrupted play. And we have learned at last to weep.
He calls, in a voice like thunder in falling concrete and ruined walls. He calls. NsB 14-09-2001 "he calls"
We'll be heading out on Saturday for a month-long mission trip to Papua New Guinea. Committed to trying to blog daily while there - will be sharing…
In case anyone is wondering what my daughter is up to these days, here she is! In other news, today was an ER day from hell, and I'm going to bed…
Sauntered in at 0730 with the intention of meeting fellowship director, who gives a lie to the old-dogs-new-tricks mantra, for a little chat about…