On Saturday I will be attending the Women’s March here in Portland.
I am attending for many reasons.
As I walked along the Emmaus road this time I held an image of a blown glass heart. Perhaps this has been coming to mind because many I know right now have shattered hearts. Glass can be melted and molded and filled with breathe and life – but only when it is warm. . .
We were in the second half of the bout. I had not skated competitively in almost a year, and here I was – jamming in the second half against an All Star team. It wasn’t pretty . . .
We are exhorted in our hymns to “let our little light shine!” Yet – there are times when shining light into the world, even when called by our faith, seems impossibly exhausting. We do ourselves this disservice when we begin to believe that we, ourselves, must be the light...
I was convinced that I would name my own daughter Miryam someday. Since I began learning the Bible story, I have loved that name...
I run to the gardens when my own story gets muddled. When I’m feeling like my brain is a bottle of ideas all shaken up and cloudy and lost - I find my way up the hills and to the gates.