How can so many people write off such a huge segment of our humanity because of a label? This can be applied to race or gender or any number of characteristics, but none of the labels can ever begin to describe the soul, that eternal light and energy that is so breathtakingly beautiful to behold.
Looking around me, I can see that sometimes we get so wrapped up in our business, we lose ourselves. The wind comes, our branches shake, and we forget to grip the earth with the roots God gave us. We don’t remember who we are and why we’re here, we feel ungrounded and become blind to what is most important.
Picking the cover for Finding Love’s Way was the hardest decision I’ve had to make yet. I was stuck between two options: a brown one with beige lettering and a beige one with brown lettering. They both fit different aspects of the book and I loved them both for different reasons.
As I’ve been working on writing the last 10% of the book, I’ve also given a lot of thought to the illustrations. Though in an earlier post I shared I would be creating a few drawings of my own for the start of the sections, I have gone back and forth whether to use a graphic of a labyrinth or my own art.
For weeks, I’ve been working with a manuscript made up of my editors’ original papers all marked up with four different people’s edits. Having already entered all the changes in to the computer, what I had in front of me no longer reflected what the actual poems were. I needed to print out a clean manuscript.
When I started talking to my editors about this book, I gave them special permission to ask any question they wanted, inquire about the back story of any poem. They have only taken advantage of this once and when they did, it was to ask if a poem was about romantic love.
I sat across from Sue at one of my favorite places to eat breakfast – the meal I most enjoy sharing with a friend. Though a work day, Sue had the day off (mostly) and I enjoy… Read More
The river was quiet and the night cool. From my vantage point standing in the back of the boat, I peered through the darkness trying to spot any trees or rocks poking above the surface — clues there was far more hazardous material lurking underneath needing to be avoided. During a night practice, it is not an easy task. Though the lights of the city illuminate the slough to some degree, it’s not enough to make the dangers obvious.
Within the beautiful scene of deer grazing in a sun-drenched meadow where the wildflowers sing in chorus, it’s hard not to notice God. But I wonder — what about in the unlovely? What about in the unpleasant places, the old and the abandoned? Is God in the dirt, in the garbage, in the scenes where hope seemingly has no place to go? I’ve seen so many beautiful places but have never stopped to look in the grime of the gutter. Can God be just as present and noticeable where we never stop to look?